#I truly cannot believe that I never posted this?? I made it back when the finale came out

[ewwww-what]

When are the cignifiant figure’s releasing their album made specifically to bully Ruben Hopclap?

[sketchtastrophee]

old art again!! this time a rough animation of sawyer and yarnaby 😎 (looks better if u click to view 😭)

im working on a short ppt animation rn. im thinking i should post it to my youtube channel, though im not sure if people here would see it. i think i can link videos on here?? idk

okay I'm gonna talk abt more chapter 4 stuff.. this time about prototype's previous identity.. ch4 spoilers and also a theory below..

hiding the solo yarnaby under here LOL

people theorized 1006 was elliot, which was recently disproven in the chapter 4 tape where poppy refers to elliot as her dad and wishes he were there. in the same tape she addresses prototype as a completely different person. also recall that elliot died in the 90s, meanwhile prototype met theo in 1989. so yeah, they aren't the same person

I've also seen people say rich is prototype, which cannot be true either. in a ch4 tape he speaks to one of the employees under his supervision. the kid mentions his coworkers joking about him going missing. before the bbi, it would not make sense for this to be a common rumor at the company, which means this tape had to happen after harley was hired in 1990; at a time when the company would have a reason to silence people

prototype existed in 1989 at the minimum, but considering he says "it's always been about you and me" to poppy, he's likely the prototype of HER. she's elliots daughter, she died in the 60s, meaning prototype was probably created around that time as well.

this means that rich can't be the prototype because he was human long after prototype was made

if you want my take on who prototype truly is, i'd say his identity doesn't necessarily matter. i don't mean to say his origins aren't important, just that his name and specific role in the past probably doesn't mean anything in the long run. i've never believed he was elliot or rich, and maybe in the future i'll be proven wrong but for now i'll tell you the theory i've had since june of last year

elliot's daughter dies in the 60s. he divorced his wife in 1930, so his daughter is probably in her 30s when she dies. she gets sick or injured, maybe she's actively dying or already dead by the time elliot begins his research. he looks for ways to bring her back, but it doesn't work on the rats (as he mentioned a note in the 2nd chapter)

so what does he do? he tries it on something bigger as he said he would: a human. of course he's not going to try this experimental method on his own daughter, even if she's already dead, so he finds someone else to use it on. we know that elliot wasn't evil or anything, so it's unlikely he killed anybody to use for the experiment. considering the orphanage isn't open yet (it opened in the 70s, not the 60s), prototype probably wasn't an orphan child either. if i run with my simple version of the theory, elliot may have dug up a body in a graveyard and used that. maybe a fresh one, who knows. he tried it, it worked, then he revived his daughter with the same method.

this is likely what harley wanted to know about in the chapter 3 tape (the "i learn something new about you every day" one), and also what prototype is asking harley to figure out in the ch4 tape they're both in. in that case, sawyer never actually figured out how to revive people with the poppy substance. sure, he can transfer people into the toys, but he can't bring anybody back to life

more reason to believe prototype and poppy are of the same "batch" is because it seems they are the only two who don't need food. it's outright stated about him in the ch1 trailer, and insinuated with her saying the "toys will starve otherwise" when she's talking about how nasty them eating humans is. she refers to them, not herself. her and prototype are probably the only 2 who were ever brought back from the dead, which circles back around to his monologue and gives meaning to the "it's always been about you and me, poppy. what we are". when i heard him say that i felt like my theory was lowk confirmed 😭😭

no guarantee this is right, but it's been my guess for a long time

[thatbadadvice]

Help! I'm A Private Person!

Neil Gaiman, Journal.NeilGaiman.com, 14 January 2025:

Over the past many months, I have watched the stories circulating the internet about me with horror and dismay. I’ve stayed quiet until now, both out of respect for the people who were sharing their stories and out of a desire not to draw even more attention to a lot of misinformation. I've always tried to be a private person, and felt increasingly that social media was the wrong place to talk about important personal matters. I've now reached the point where I feel that I should say something. As I read through this latest collection of accounts, there are moments I half-recognise and moments I don’t, descriptions of things that happened sitting beside things that emphatically did not happen. I’m far from a perfect person, but I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Ever.  I went back to read the messages I exchanged with the women around and following the occasions that have subsequently been reported as being abusive. These messages read now as they did when I received them – of two people enjoying entirely consensual sexual relationships and wanting to see one another again. At the time I was in those relationships, they seemed positive and happy on both sides. And I also realise, looking through them, years later, that I could have and should have done so much better. I was emotionally unavailable while being sexually available, self-focused and not as thoughtful as I could or should have been. I was obviously careless with people's hearts and feelings, and that's something that I really, deeply regret. It was selfish of me. I was caught up in my own story and I ignored other people's. I’ve spent some months now taking a long, hard look at who I have been and how I have made people feel.  Like most of us, I’m learning, and I'm trying to do the work needed, and I know that that's not an overnight process. I hope that with the help of good people, I'll continue to grow. I understand that not everyone will believe me or even care what I say but I’ll be doing the work anyway, for myself, my family and the people I love. I will be doing my very best to deserve their trust, as well as the trust of my readers. At the same time, as I reflect on my past – and as I re-review everything that actually happened as opposed to what is being alleged – I don't accept there was any abuse. To repeat, I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Some of the horrible stories now being told simply never happened, while others have been so distorted from what actually took place that they bear no relationship to reality. I am prepared to take responsibility for any missteps I made. I’m not willing to turn my back on the truth, and I can't accept being described as someone I am not, and cannot and will not admit to doing things I didn't do.

Dear Neil,

You, sir, are nothing other than fundamentally misunderstood — indicated in every sense by this, a smart and good post that you published on the whole-ass internet for literally the entire world to read.

The important thing is that you're learning! And you deserve infinite credit for that. Not nearly enough people appreciate how much you've learned about yourself in the course of ~ allegedly ~ committing sexual assault against multiple, probably crazy, women and the aftermath thereof. Less enlightened men would disregard the experiences of women who have highly specific and detailed accounts of being sexually abused, but you are open to the idea that the women who foolishly believe you assaulted them were simply mislead by your interminable charm! For which you cannot be held responsible! What a gift you are, friend; your generosity and open-mindedness are unparalleled.

Truly, whomst among us has not been where you find yourself now? Come, enjoy the company of friends who understand the brutal loneliness that results from being misunderstood by hysterical bitches who fail to appreciate the privilege of having your masterful fingers shoved up their asses without notice!

Again and again, women love men like you too much. They want you to be emotionally and sexually available! And that is just so, so much to ask. You have a lot going on! It's not a ding on them — of course they find you irresistible, being as you are an intellectual titan — and they may find themselves confused and intimidated by your sexual prowess, unaware that you exist in a world beyond pedestrian notions of consent. That is what makes your work so particularly meaningful and powerful.

You write about a man who does a bad thing, but you do the other good thing! You do a good thing, but in your work, a man does a bad thing! This is the stuff of sheer brilliance, capturing the sturm unt drang of the human condition — or, at least, of the humans whose conditions matter most, which is to say, men of your creative stature.

The sorry truth is that despite your best efforts, no one understands you, the author of 40-plus years of written work in which you had every fucking opportunity to emulate literally any character of your design who was not an unrepentant rapist. Whomst among us has not struggled with such quandaries? Whomst among us has not wondered: Should I rape women in the presence of my child, or should I just the fuck wait a minute and destroy my marriage by other means? Should I order a cinnamon bagel, or an egg sandwich? These are the questions men such as us must grapple with in a world where cancel culture has run rampant, and where people are liable to believe anything they hear from over half a dozen unbridled harpies (story idea! make sure Katee Robert doesn't see this, she seems like a bitch with designs) whose indeterminate fantasies have been aggressively fact-checked by risk-averse media legal departments.

You're right and everyone else is wrong, and that's exactly the take-away that everyone will have from reading this thing that you posted! Great work, great instincts, great writing. It's like Stardust, but hotter. You know what I mean.

A+ all around, no notes other than: you should share this with more people directly so they have the clearest possible idea of where you're coming from. Don't hold back, bud!

[edenesth]

Arrows and Affection

Pairing: warrior!Yeosang x fem!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Admiral Kang never misses his mark—until today. No matter how many times he draws his bow, the bullseye remains untouched. The wind hasn't changed, nor has his skill faltered. The only difference? The presence of a certain someone who has somehow turned his unwavering focus into a battlefield of its own.

Genre: fluff, comedy

A/N: Y'all when I saw these damn pics Yeo posted, I knew I'd have to write something. Then I heard Fallin' by Bang Yedam and couldn't stop thinking about this scenario.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

I still cannot believe this man is real.

The thought echoed in your mind as you struggled to tear your gaze away from him. With effortless precision, Kang Yeosang drew his bow, his stance steady, his movements practised to perfection. Years of training had made archery second nature to him—so much so that watching him was almost hypnotic. He wasn't just any warrior; he was the Admiral Kang, the youngest and most revered commander in Joseon, a man whose victories in battle had cemented his place in history. And yet, despite his fearsome reputation, you still found it surreal that you could stand this close to him.

"Wh-what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here right now!"

The urgent whisper jolted you from your thoughts. A senior maid stared at you in horror, eyes wide as she took in your pitiful attempt to hide behind a paper door—one that did little to conceal your presence. You flashed her a sheepish grin and waved the washcloth in your hand. "Relax, I'm just cleaning. No one pays attention to a maid doing her job."

She sighed, exasperated. "That may be, but the admiral specifically requested complete silence during his training. We cannot risk disturbing him."

You huffed. "Well, then that doesn't make him a very good archer, does it? If he's truly the best, he should be able to shoot well anywhere. The battlefield isn't exactly a peaceful place, now is it?"

Her face paled at your audacity, and she frantically motioned for you to lower your voice. Then, as if realising she wouldn't win this argument, she reached for your washcloth. "Please, just this once, listen to me. Besides, you know very well you're not—"

Before she could finish, you pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "I've been good all week, haven't I? I did everything you asked—no complaints. Just let me stay here for a bit and enjoy the view, yeah? You can have my meal again tonight," you added with a wink.

She shook her head, already resigned to her fate, too tired to argue or remind you that everything you had done over the past week was merely your duty. "Fine. But promise me you won't distract the admiral, and make sure you return to your quarters before—"

"I will, I will," you interrupted, beaming. "And I promise, you won't get in trouble because of me!"

You clapped soundlessly in victory as she handed your washcloth back, shaking her head in disbelief before walking away. But not before shooting you one last pleading look, silently begging you not to cause any more trouble. You only grinned in response, sticking your tongue out playfully and waving goodbye before returning to your so-called task—wiping down an already spotless door. A door that, conveniently, gave you the perfect view of the admiral, deep in focus as he trained.

A small sigh of awe slipped past your lips, your earlier mischievous grin softening into a dreamy smile as you watched him. He checked his bow with practised ease before getting into position once more, gripping it firmly. You bit your lip, anticipation bubbling inside you—this was your favourite part. He raised his bow, holding an arrow in place, lifting it just high enough to aim. Then, with calculated precision, he closed one eye to focus on his target.

Damn.

This pose—this was the one that always left you weak in the knees. Just when you thought he couldn't possibly be any more attractive, he went ahead and proved you wrong. Every. Single. Time.

Despite his fearsome reputation on the battlefield, Admiral Kang was, at heart, a little... adorable. When he wasn't fighting wars, he always seemed lost in his own world, absentmindedly staring at whoever was speaking to him with that cute, dazed expression. He was a unique character, to say the least. And maybe that was why you loved seeing this side of him even more—the version of him that was serious, focused, and completely in his element.

It was just so freaking hot.

Until it… wasn't.

Your futile wiping came to an abrupt halt as you furrowed your brows, watching the unfamiliar scene unfold before you. For the first time in all the years you had known him, he let out a sharp curse, frustration flickering across his usually composed face. He reached for another arrow, aiming with a little more force than necessary. Your gaze darted to the target board—only to realise that he had missed the bullseye.

Your mouth fell open. He missed?

A tiny gasp escaped you because, quite frankly, that was unheard of. Admiral Kang never missed—not once since he had built his legendary reputation. It was practically the first rule of the universe: the sun rises, the rivers flow, and Kang Yeosang hits his mark every single time. Yet here he was, missing the target like some rookie foot soldier.

You bit your lip, suddenly concerned. Was he okay? Maybe today just wasn't his day. Maybe that's why he had insisted on training alone.

And then—thunk! Another miss.

Your concern quickly morphed into something else entirely as you took in the sight of him, all tense muscles and narrowed eyes, jaw clenched in frustration. Oh. Oh no. Why was this... hot?

You didn't think you'd ever witness the day Kang Yeosang would be this visibly mad—not at you, not at anyone, but at himself. And somehow, instead of feeling purely sympathetic, your brain short-circuited with an entirely inappropriate thought: angry Admiral Kang was stupidly attractive.

His brows knitted together as he grabbed yet another arrow, muttering a string of curses under his breath, his voice lower and rougher than usual. It was such a stark contrast from his usual soft, slightly dazed self that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Oh, this is dangerous.

You had to press a knuckle to your mouth to stifle the delighted squeal threatening to escape. Because good god, if this man got any hotter, you might just pass out right then and there.

"Goddamnit," Yeosang cursed under his breath, his eyebrow twitching as his fourth shot missed its mark.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, forcing himself to quell the frustration bubbling inside him. He couldn't believe he was letting this affect him. He wasn't a fool. He was the youngest admiral in Joseon, after all—he had noticed your presence the second you stepped foot inside.

But he hadn't said anything.

At first, he assumed it was just some clueless new maid who had wandered in, unaware of the rules. He was ready to ignore it altogether. But then—he heard your voice. His sharp hearing picked up on your hushed negotiation with a senior maid, who was desperately trying to shoo you away. His pulse quickened.

It was you.

And like a complete idiot, instead of brushing it off, he found himself wanting to impress you. That's where he had gone wrong. His focus had wavered, and now, for the first time in his career, his shots were landing anywhere but the bullseye.

Who knew a single woman could have such an effect on him?

Annoyed—mostly at himself but also at you for making him embarrass himself like this—he finally cleared his throat, loud enough for you to hear.

"Just how long do you plan on hiding there?" he called out, finally turning toward your direction.

He had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing at your absolutely pathetic attempt at concealment. Pressed flat against the paper door like it would somehow make you invisible, your familiar silhouette was outlined perfectly against the thin material—especially with the sunlight streaming in from behind.

He sighed, setting down his bow and taking a step closer. "I knew you were there the moment you walked in. Show yourself."

Crap. Crap. Crap.

You thought you had been sneaky, but apparently not. If he had known you were here all along, that meant trouble—because you were supposed to be elsewhere. And, worse, he knew that because you weren't just any ordinary maid.

Your only hope now? Act like one.

With your head lowered, you stepped forward hesitantly, bowing respectfully. "A-apologies, my lord. I was only here to clean. I know you asked to be left alone today, and I shouldn't have lingered," you murmured, voice small. "I'll leave at once."

You turned on your heel, ready to flee, but his voice stopped you cold.

"Hold on a second."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Oh, no. You had promised the senior maid you wouldn't cause trouble, and now you were on the verge of dragging her into this mess.

"If you knew I asked for privacy," he mused, his voice deep and steady, "why did you come here in the first place?"

You gulped, fingers tightening around the washcloth in your hands. This was not how today was supposed to go. You had planned to admire him for a while, soak in the view, and then sneak back to your actual post. Not get caught red-handed.

"Answer me," he pressed.

Your breath hitched. His voice was much closer this time.

Too close.

"I-I was wrong, my lord," you stammered.

He sighed. "That's not what I want to hear. Because of you, I lost my focus. Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth."

Slowly, you turned—only to find him standing right behind you. There was no escaping now. No more excuses. It was time to own up to your mistake.

"I… I just—" you blurted before throwing your hands up in defeat. "I missed you, okay?! I wanted to see your stupid face before going back to my boring duties. Is that a crime?"

Silence.

Then, Yeosang smiled. "See? Now, was that so difficult?" he teased, leaning down slightly to meet your pouting face.

"You knew it was me all along?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He nodded.

"How?"

He smirked, fingers tilting your chin up until your eyes met his. "How could I not? You're far too beautiful to be just a maid, my lady."

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you huffed, swatting his hand away. "Ugh, I really thought I had you fooled."

His grin widened. "So, does this mean you finally admit you missed me? What happened to 'I don't want to see your dumb face again'?"

Your jaw dropped. "You did not just bring that up."

"Oh, but I did." He leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. "Verbatim."

Scoffing in disbelief, you pushed at his chest—though, of course, he barely budged. "You're impossible."

Turning away with a dramatic hmph, you muttered, "Go ahead, tell your mother I sneaked out. I'll take whatever punishment she has for me, as usual. Not like you'd ever stand up for me in front of her."

Before you could take another step away from him, Yeosang moved swiftly, wrapping his arms around you from behind. His voice was softer now, warm against your ear.

"I'm sorry, my love." His embrace tightened slightly. "You know how she is when it comes to the duties of a daughter-in-law. I wish I could do something, but as the admiral's wife, you have to set an example for the people. I know those lessons bore you to death, but she's only here for the Lunar New Year. Just hang in there for a little longer, yeah?"

You sighed, finally allowing yourself to melt into his warm embrace—the very one you had gone without for nearly a week.

You had been giving him the silent treatment ever since he failed to defend you when his mother insisted you attend etiquette lessons for the entirety of the Lunar New Year. You had protested, of course—this was supposed to be the one time of the year when your husband was free from his duties, a rare chance for the two of you to be together. But instead, she had taken that precious time away, forcing you into lessons you had little patience for.

Deep down, you understood her reasoning, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. You had been looking forward to this time for weeks, only to have it stolen from you. And so, out of pure stubbornness, you had refused to attend the lessons diligently. Your frustration had driven you to banish Yeosang from your shared quarters in the heat of the moment—a decision you regretted almost immediately. Sleeping in an empty bed had been unbearable, but your pride had been too strong to call him back from the guest chambers.

So, today, desperate for an escape from yet another dreary lesson, you had feigned illness and slipped away. If your mother-in-law discovered your empty room, there would be consequences—not just for you, but for the poor maid who had dared to help you.

The admiral sighed against your hair, his arms tightening around you as if afraid you'd slip away again. Then, with gentle insistence, he turned you in his embrace, his warm hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs brushed over your skin, wiping away the traces of your lingering pout.

"You're so stubborn," he murmured, his tone laced with fondness. "But I suppose that's part of why I love you."

Your heart skipped a beat. His gaze, steady and filled with an emotion so tender it made your breath hitch, held yours captive.

"I missed you too, you know," he admitted at last, exhaling as if finally releasing a weight from his chest. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to sleep without you? To wake up every morning and not see your annoying little grin first thing?" His lips quirked up slightly, but there was sincerity in his words.

You blinked up at your husband, guilt slowly creeping in.

"I know I should've defended you more," he continued, his voice softer now. "But it's not that simple, my love. I already defied my mother once when I chose you—when I turned my back on the noblewoman she wanted for me. I chose you because you are everything I ever wanted. You're bright, bubbly, and full of life. You make even the dullest moments feel exciting. And though she may not understand it now… you are the best decision I have ever made."

Your breath caught in your throat.

He let out a quiet sigh, his thumbs still tracing circles against your skin. "I just… I only want the two most important women in my life to get along. That's all I've ever wanted. I know it's not easy for you, and I know she can be difficult, but if you could just try… even a little, it would make things easier. For both of us."

Your chest tightened. You had been so caught up in your own frustration that you hadn't once stopped to consider how hard this must have been for him too. Balancing the expectations of a mother he respected and the love of his life—how exhausting that must have been.

Your gaze softened, and you lifted your hands to rest over his. "I… I didn't think about it that way," you admitted, cheeks warming. "I was so focused on my own feelings that I didn't realise how hard this must be for you too."

He said nothing, only watching you with patient eyes as you let the realisation settle.

You sighed, leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "I promise… I'll try to be better from now on."

At that, his entire face brightened, relief flooding his features as he pulled you in closer. "Really?"

You gave a small nod, lips curving into a sheepish smile. "Really." Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you added, "I promise I won't be sneaking off to give you surprise visits like I did today again, Admiral Kang."

His jaw dropped slightly, and you could practically see the flicker of realisation in his expression. You had him. As disciplined and upright as he usually was, even he couldn't deny that your little intrusion today had made things far more exciting. Damn the impropriety of it all—he loved you for that.

"Oh, you little minx," he muttered, shaking his head in faux exasperation before a smirk tugged at his lips. A breathless chuckle escaped him as he dipped down, capturing your lips in a soft yet lingering kiss. His warmth seeped into you, his touch grounding you in the moment. He kissed you as if he had been waiting for this forever, as if every second apart had been an eternity.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his grin utterly boyish. "Does this mean I can move back into our quarters now?"

You huffed, pretending to think it over, watching as he waited—far too eagerly—for your answer. His hands remained on your waist, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your sides, as if afraid you might slip away again.

Finally, you sighed dramatically. "Fine. But only because I missed you too."

His laughter rang through the air, light and full of joy, before he swooped in to kiss you again, sealing your truce with all the love he had to give.

When he pulled away, neither of you moved for a moment, eyes closed as he pressed his forehead against yours again. He simply breathed—cherishing the warmth of your presence after a week apart.

He knew you had been upset, not just about the lessons but because he hadn't sided with you when you protested. But what could he have done? He was caught between the two most important women in his life—his mother, the woman who raised him, and you, the woman he vowed to cherish. It was never a choice he wanted to make, so he had remained neutral, though it had pained him to see the disappointment in your eyes.

Still, that was why he had spoken to his mother later, asking her to go easier on you. You might not have noticed, but she had—she never truly reprimanded you for your inconsistent attendance, and Yeosang had never made a fuss when you kicked him out of your shared quarters, knowing you needed space. No matter how much it killed him to be away from you, he respected your emotions.

But now, feeling the way you held onto him just as tightly as he held onto you, he was glad. Glad that you were willing to meet him in the middle. That was one of the many reasons he loved you so much.

He could still remember the look of surprise on his mother's face when he had, for the first time, broken out of his usual quiet and composed demeanour—other than the time he had first brought you home, announcing with unwavering conviction that you were the love of his life and the only woman he would marry.

It had shocked her then. And it had shocked her again when he spoke up for you, telling her how much you meant to him and how he wished for the woman who raised him to care for his wife the same way she had always cared for him.

And surprisingly, she had understood.

Truthfully, his mother had never truly been against you. At first, she had been wary—sceptical of how well a woman as lively and outspoken as you would fit into their composed and traditional household. But over time, she began to understand why her son had chosen you.

You were bright—perhaps a little too much at times—but she had come to admire your honesty. She never had to worry about a two-faced daughter-in-law who smiled sweetly in front of her but harboured resentment behind her back. You were genuine—straightforward with your emotions, never afraid to show your displeasure or your affection. And above all, the love you and Yeosang shared was undeniable. At the end of the day, that was what mattered to her most. That her son was happy.

And as the admiral held you now, he knew that happiness was right here, in his arms.

"So, tell me," Yeosang murmured, tilting his head as he gazed into your eyes, the ones he adored so much. "How exactly did you manage to slip out of your lesson today?"

You bit your lip, knowing there was no use lying when he was already staring at you so intently. With a sheepish grin, you admitted, "I told her it's that time of the month and that the pain was too unbearable to continue."

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to squish your cheeks. "And yet here you are, sneaking around in a maid's uniform just to watch your incredibly handsome husband practice. You must've been desperate for me, hm?"

You scoffed, prying his hands off your face only to squish his cheeks in return. "That's right, admiral. I came all this way just to see you fail miserably at hitting a bullseye over and over again. All because your wife was watching."

His jaw dropped in exaggerated offence as he gasped. "You wound me, my love," he declared dramatically before bending down to retrieve his bow. Then, with a smirk, he held it out to you. "If you're so clever, Lady Kang, why don't you show me how it's done?"

"Gladly," you shot back, grabbing the bow with confidence—only for your bravado to falter the moment you realised just how heavy it was. Your arms wobbled slightly under the unexpected weight, but you cleared your throat, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Your husband noticed. Of course, he did. But to his credit, he bit back his laughter, unwilling to embarrass you further. Instead, he simply watched, eyes gleaming with fondness. If only you knew how much his heart swelled with pride and affection at this moment—seeing you attempt something he had always wanted to teach you. He had dreamed of this for so long, hoping to pass on at least the basics of archery, if only as a means of self-defence. But the opportunity had never come—until now.

Clumsily, you reached for an arrow, fumbling slightly as you held it up. He softened, stepping behind you in an instant. His arms slid around you, one hand lifting the bow's weight with ease, the other steadying your trembling grip as he helped you pull the arrow back.

You glanced up at him, feeling the warmth of his breath near your ear, the solid comfort of his presence surrounding you completely. You had never felt safer. It was moments like these that reminded you just how much pride you had in being his wife. That even after everything, you still found it hard to believe that this man—this strong, kind, and loving man—was truly yours.

"Now focus and aim," he murmured. "We'll release when you're ready."

Nodding, you focused on the target, narrowing your eyes as you slowly closed one to improve your precision. You adjusted the bow slightly, remembering one of the things he had always told you—aim a little higher than your target, especially at longer distances, because gravity will always pull the arrow down.

"Ready," you whispered.

And then, together, you released. The arrow soared through the air, cutting cleanly through the space between you and the target. And for the first time that day, an arrow struck the bullseye.

We did it!

You blinked in disbelief, your eyes locked on the arrow firmly lodged in the bullseye. Slowly, you turned to your husband, who stood beside you, mouth slightly agape.

"Did you see that?" you gasped, your excitement bubbling over.

Yeosang let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "I must be dreaming. My wife, an archery prodigy?"

Grinning, you nudged him playfully. "Maybe I should take your place as admiral instead."

He clutched his chest dramatically. "Stealing my title already? You truly are ruthless, my love."

Before you could react, he suddenly scooped you up into his arms with ease, making you yelp in surprise. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yeosang! Put me down!" you giggled, squirming in his grasp.

"No can do," he hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You impressed me today, so you deserve a reward. And since you did lie your way out of lessons just to see me…" He trailed off, a mischievous and suggestive glint in his eyes.

Your brows furrowed in suspicion. "Yeo, what are you planning—"

Before you could finish, he started making his way toward the exit. But just as he reached the doorway, he stopped abruptly. Because standing right there, about to step in, was his mother.

You gasped, tightening your hold around your husband's neck as he froze in place. "M-Mother…" he stammered.

Old Madame Kang's gaze flickered over the scene before her—her daughter-in-law, who had earlier complained of agonising menstrual pain, now dressed in a maid's uniform, being cradled in her son's arms. She blinked. You swore you saw her eye twitch.

"I-I can explain," you started, and Yeosang quickly set you down, clearing his throat and smoothing down your ruffled hair and hanbok as if that would somehow make things better.

His mother levelled you both with a withering stare. "Please do."

You gulped, exchanging a nervous glance with him, both of you shrinking under her sharp gaze like children caught red-handed.

"She just missed me, Mother," Yeosang admitted, gripping your hand firmly. "She didn't know how else to say it, so she… snuck out to see me."

A beat of silence passed.

Then, to your utter shock, the elderly woman rolled her eyes. "Is that it?" she huffed, exasperated.

You both blinked. That was… oddly forgiving?

She crossed her arms. "You couldn't have just told me? Why go through the trouble of sneaking out and dressing like a maid just to see your own husband?" Her expression softened, though her tone remained firm. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? I brought you herbs, only to find your quarters empty. I came here to inform my son that you'd vanished, and instead, I find the two of you making fools of yourselves…"

Your eyes darted to Yeosang, who looked just as stunned as you felt. Was this really happening?

"…I swear, you two are impossible," she muttered, shaking her head. Then, as if realising just how ridiculous the situation had become, she pinched the bridge of her nose, suppressing what you swore was a reluctant smile. "So, I take it there was never a real period?" she asked, arching a brow.

You swallowed, nodding slowly, unsure where this was going.

She observed you both for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small shake of her head, she finally spoke. "I'll forgive you on one condition." You perked up, hopeful—until she continued, "Give me grandchildren soon."

Your husband choked on air. You stiffened, eyes widening in sheer horror as heat flooded your face.

Meanwhile, your mother-in-law remained entirely unbothered, watching your reactions with the calm of someone who had just commented on the weather. "Well, now that I know you're perfectly healthy, I'll be on my way. See you at your next lesson."

And with that, she turned and strode off, leaving you both rooted in place, still processing the absolute chaos she had just unleashed.

The moment she disappeared down the corridor, you exhaled a breath you hadn't even realised you were holding.

Yeosang cleared his throat, glancing at you with a look that was equal parts mischievous and smug. With exaggerated flair, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a playful kiss to your knuckles.

"Well, you heard her loud and clear, my love," he murmured, his voice rich with amusement. "Shall we begin fulfilling our noble duty right away?"

Your eyes widened in mortification. "Kang Yeosang!" you hissed, smacking his arm harder as your face burned. "She can still hear us!"

And sure enough, a quiet chuckle echoed from down the hall.

Your husband only laughed, unfazed, before intertwining his fingers with yours and gently tugging you forward. "It's fine, my love," he teased. "She understands."

Hand in hand, the two of you strolled back to your chambers, his warmth a steady comfort beside you. His lighthearted humming filled the air, and when he stole a fond glance at you, a smile tugged at his lips.

The admiral had never imagined he could feel anything but frustration over a missed shot—but as he reflected on everything that had unfolded, he realised that if losing his aim led to moments like these, perhaps a little imperfection wasn't so bad after all.

No bc I just love how I started this with a vision and somewhere along the way, I didn't know how to end it so I just kinda winged it lmaooo hope this was decent HAHA

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@blueberrychan @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar

@bunny4yungi @zl-world @quailbagutte @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @cixrosie

@cristy-101

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[thedeskofaltoclef]

How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk

[mayaree-darling]

mastermind

from aree: The Harbinger Trailer has consumed me yall are getting a brainrot. (I made this when the trailer first came out and have never posted it so here it is).

tw for yandere content

Yandere!Harbingers with a "darling" who is the right hand of the Tsaritsa herself. Not a Harbinger, but nonetheless important because they're the main strategist of the Fatui. I can just imagine the pain for the Harbingers because although darling is within arms reach, they're not allowed to make a move lest they anger their ruler.

Childe who first sees you akin to a younger sibling amongst the Fatui - you're no underling, on par with a Harbinger in importance if not more, protected almost as much as the Archon Herself - it would be hard not to be protective of you. And yet as you fix his wounds after another fight he started, telling him off in place of Her Majesty, giving him tips on how he could've fought better in whispers in between, his growing need for your attention consumes him. When he kisses your cheek (as thanks, he says) in front of the other Harbingers he's already looking forward to you treating the injuries they're sure to beat into him.

Scaramouche who grins when the Harbingers bristle as you walk side by side in the halls of Zapolyarny Palace - he says you should consider it an honor to walk with him, and it inflates his ego when you reply with a small nod and a smaller smile. Behind the others' backs, he follows you like a lost child, always walking behind you, gripping on to the back of your clothes like you might slip away if he's not careful. He's obsessed with the way you look at him and ask him questions about his creation. He fails to see that the adoration you hold for him is as hollow as he is.

Signora wonders if you know when she is at her lowest, that would certainly explain things, wouldn't it? She thinks she has lost her mind when she sees glimpses of her lost love when turning corners too quickly, haunting her when she lets her guard down but then you're in front of her, greeting her with a soft smile that feels all too familiar and she realizes she has gone mad in other ways (she welcomes that newfound madness like the lover that it is, finally coming home).

Pantalone who believes that one of life's greatest pleasures is to own what others cannot - to collect the rare, the exquisite and the hard to obtain - and to have you, a person of great mind and ranking, be dangled right infront of him on a piece of gold thread held by the Tsaritsa, who was he to resist the urge to make you his? (after all, he deserves only the best) The longer he does not have you, the more your worth rises in his eyes.

Dottore who initially wants to pick apart your brain (quite literally) but his interest shifts and doubles when he reaches an epiphany that what he truly lacked from the Akademiya was someone who shared his intellect, a genius to match his own. Maybe you don't share his affinity for biology, but he loves the way your conversations keeps him on his toes (if you weren't a being close to perfection for him before, then you certainly are now.)

Arlecchino who watches as you care for the children in the orphanage, checking in on them even long after they've joined the ranks of the Fatui and compares it to the frigid ways of the other Harbingers. For the first time since being a part of this cold nation, she is envious of the warmth you give (why must you have so much love to share?) She thinks that should the day come she turns her back on this frigid country, she would surely take your hearth with her.

Marionette who finds herself being drawn to the way you move around a room and hold yourself up in front of people, marveling at the intricacies of each part of your body and the way they make up the being that is you (you could trip and fall and she'd still sigh in awe). Her fascination turns you from muse to future subject. Surely such a specimen must be preserved, right? Not to mention, there would be no greater honor than to turn the Tsaritsa's best into a perfect unchanging doll.

Damselette who usually goes quiet when you're in the same room as her, always eager to hear you talk, almost hissing when a Harbinger tries to speak over you. She finds your voice is the one in her head who speaks reason to her when she gets a bit out of control (Does she listen? No, but your voice is always ever so lovely). Wouldn't it be so nice if you're the lone voice she hears always, the same way you're already always in her thoughts?

Capitano who is thankful his mask covers the fond look he gets when you turn to him - not with fear like the lower ranking Fatui or haughty like the Harbingers - but as an equal, leveling him with a gaze that leaves him fooling himself that it means something more. He's less thankful for his mask when someone calls your attention away from him and he can't control the glare he sends their way (maybe if they saw the way he looked at them, they'd finally be put in their place).

Pulcinella is quick to put you in a pedestal - you are someone to be respected and someone to be kept at a distance. And yet as he watches the Harbingers fall deeper and deeper into obsession, he takes it upon himself to protect the Tsaritsa's favorite and the Fatui's brain from whatever his co workers are plotting. As he spends more time with you (making sure the others do not occupy all of your time), the pedestal he keeps you on crumbles until all he sees is another child to keep under his wing. He fails to see he has only fallen into a different hole as the rest.

Strategist!Darling who may pretend to be oblivious to the Harbingers' feelings but is actually letting it all happen to make sure they all stay under the Tsaritsa's rule one way to another.

Does Pierro know what you're doing? Maybe. It's not like he is blind to how the Harbingers act around you, subtle as they try to be. If you spend enough time with him, you might be able to tell that he enjoys watching you play the part of a fool, dancing around the others and making them dance for you, too. He might even step in once he thinks the other Harbingers are stepping out of line, but it all depends on what he gets out of sticking into your business.

I also like the dynamic where although the Harbingers cannot make a move to claim what is "their's", darling is just as trapped. Although they always sometimes want to leave, they know as much as anyone that the Tsaritsa is the only thing standing between them and the others. The moment they try to leave the Tsaritsa's side or they lose her favor, it's all fair game for the Harbingers.

Everyone is stuck in a stalemate until someone makes a misstep.

✨ Masterlist ✨ 

Taglist: 💛@anime-allover  💛@faeriessky  💛 @prksolon 💛 @dai-tsukki-desu 💛 @wonpielle

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

[lopsicle]

Arcane season 2 spoilers

/////

I have been thinking A LOT about Jayce and Viktor, mainly the scene where Viktor is reborn out of his pod of Hexcore.

Mainly because it means a lot for Viktor’s character. On a fundamental level, he never seen much worth in himself, but he did see worth in inventions, the things he made, it’s how he could prove himself to the world. This is why he becomes so concerned with his illness and the legacy he’ll leave behind on the world; he needs the Hexcore to work because he doesn’t have anything else.

But now, he is literally fused with his invention, his invention that he has grown to hate because it killed one of the only people who truly saw value in Viktor, and not the things he could, partly due to his own negligence. Viktor put it best, in his pursuit of greatness, he failed to do good.

He doesn’t really know how to process what happened to him at all, he’s a smart man, he can clearly deduce that his body has undergone some cybernetic change, he can probably remember the explosion in the council room, but other then that, he’s just confused, hence why he asks Jayce, “what am I?” Viktor’s body is entirely different and unfamiliar, and taking into context that the Hexcore, his greatest invention which he tied all his worth to, has failed before this, it’s likely Viktor had lost sight of who he was, and his new body only served to further that descent.

Jayce can’t think about any of that though, he’s just happy that his partner is alive and who wouldn’t be, he’d been waiting for days, possibly weeks for him to wake. Viktor’s mortality is one of the things that Jayce has struggled with the most in the series, which is what makes his survivor’s guilt so much more pertinent. A lot of people claim that Jayce grew up rich and coddled, and I think that’s true to an extent, but they forgot his family were workers, tool smiths. Jayce seemed to grow up with the idea that he wasn’t that fortunate, that he was a working, middle class man who was going to change the world, and then he meets Viktor, a “poor cripple from the Undercity,” and then he sees what the Undercity is really like and the conditions people live in. And that’s when Jayce realises; he had it good. I believe this is what encourages part of his admiration of Viktor; he is what Jayce thought he was.

Tangent aside, I feel that their hug is a very, very important moment, mainly because of Viktor’s reaction.

He isn’t relieved or uncomfortable, it’s just…nothing. Given what Viktor says about how he doesn’t feel that it’s cold and just recognises that it is cold, I believe this is the moment where it fully sank in how much his body had changed. He couldn’t feel Jayce.

And like, first off, that is such beautiful symbolism for what he says later about how they’re relationship was only held together by affection. Viktor physically cannot feel said affection anymore and know has no reason to stick by the side of someone whose views have become so contrasted to his. But more emotionally, it’s representative of Viktor’s belief that he is unloveable, his new body is merely proof at that, he can’t touch Jayce, he couldn’t save Sky, he couldn’t make the Hexcore work properly, he couldn’t even get Jayce to destroy the Hexcore. To himself, Viktor is a failure who is unworthy of love.

But, he still huge Jayce back. Despite not being able to feel Jaycee’s warmth anymore, despite it feeling like his whole life has crumbled, Viktor wants to give Jayce one last act of service. Perhaps to prove that he still has use, or maybe this was the moment where he decided he would have to part ways with Jayce, and just wanted Jayce to remember his touch, even if Viktor couldn’t remember his.

Anywho if enough people like this dribble, I may post my take on the rest of this scene because it shattered me

[burst-of-iridescent]

well since i can already tell that we’re all going to be subjected to the same old tired mai & mai.ko discourse for the foreseeable future, let’s get it clear right now that the atla comics have never been, and will never be acceptable mediums of character development, and here’s why:

1. the comics are given the benefit of hindsight, which impairs organic character growth.

it’s become extremely clear over the last few years that many of the comics are made as, or include, direct responses to criticisms of the original show — especially when it comes to katara, mai, and the canon pairings. aang didn’t ask katara for consent? look, he’s checking if he can kiss her! mai doesn’t care about fire nation imperialism? here, she’s an anti fascist! iroh was a creep to june? don’t worry, here he is apologising!

many of the things the characters do or say in the comics feel unnatural because they are not written as characters, but as mouthpieces for the creators to address fandom complaints from the original show.

“but that’s good, right? they’re trying to make it better!” i mean… sure? it still doesn’t change the fact that it’s damage control, and that no matter what stories span the middle, the arcs of these characters still begin and end with avatar: the last airbender, and the legend of korra, both of which are fixed and immutable. the comics cannot retroactively fix the issues of either show, because they’ve already been defined as the goalposts of the characters’ lives, and there is no way to undo that.

it’s like if you eat a meal that isn’t to your satisfaction, and maybe the chief makes you another dish, which is all well and good — but it doesn’t fix the fact that the original meal still sucked! sometimes, accepting criticism means accepting that there’s no way to go back and fix it but to do better next time, with the next story you wish to tell.

if the legend of korra didn’t exist, and the arcs of the characters were left open after atla, then maybe there would be for the room for the comics to function as character development if not for the fact that…

2. the comics are intended for a very different audience than the show.

it’s obvious that the audience for the original show vastly outnumbers the audience for the comics, likely by thousands, if not millions. this isn’t the mcu, where the installation of any atla property is vital to understanding the next, and so on. you can skip the comics and miss nothing whatsoever (and honestly your life would be far improved by doing so).

those who read the comics are likely only the real diehard fans of the show — and the creators know this, which is why we have the whole issue of point one above. but this difference in audience matters, because it reflects the significance of the story being told, and how important it is for the audience to know it. this is why, if the characters’ development and storylines in the comics truly, genuinely mattered, it would have been in the show already.

i’m not saying that the gaang wouldn’t have continued to grow and change post-atla, but generally stories exist as closed circuits, self-contained within themselves. when you end atla, you’re meant to believe that those arcs are finished. that’s the whole reason the comics deal mostly with fun silly adventures, or with quick, temporary conflicts instead of grand, overarching narratives, because they are not truly meant to function as a continuation of the story of atla, or its characters.

(if you ask me frankly, they’re meant to be nostalgia cash grabs, but that’s neither here nor there.)

creator intention matters with the atla comics (or any atla property, in fact), because creator intention was the subject of criticism for the original show in the first place. why must we rely on the comics or the cookbook or avatar legends to tell us that katara did things with her life outside of aang? why do we need to turn to something released nearly two decades after atla to find any evidence that mai denounced the fire nation’s imperialist indoctrination, when she’s romantically involved with one of the show’s most important characters? why are these stories relegated to a medium with far less reach, far too late?

the answer is that the writers didn’t find those stories to be originally worth telling, and that is the real problem fans have been pointing out since 2008.

so, tldr:

[kyri45]

✨ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU Q&A ✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: sometimes when im bored i just go to your profile to position your pfp to siffrin's hands so it looks like they're holding you

I feel threatened bc if Siffrin would know what I'm making them pass through with the next comic updates he would crush me insteantly with a fist.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Damn Siffrin is dying and no one will ever remember them. 😔 Oh Loo~ooop!

Loop coming to save the day even tough they aren't paid enough for this shit

Anonimo Siffrin isn't aware of the hole in the wall you can go through for those two statues without having to get pelted by rocks smh my head. (said jokingly) ((Love your comic btw!! Thank you for this AU, I love it))

THE

WHAT?

YOU CAN GO THROUGH A WALL TO GET THEM WITHOUT RUNNING FOR YOUR LIFE?????

Anonimo My reaction to this chapter of ISAT COTL CROSSOVER AU (10/9/2024) GO BBG YOU GOT THIS IN THE BAG!! OH YOU DO NOT GOT THIS IN THE BAG.. oh now you're out of the bag oh god ruh roh

Oh yeah he does NOT have this.

Anonimo pst hey hey are you gonna pose the statues, it would be funny i swear totally not more heartbreaking for siffr- WAIT HOW WOULD THEY REACT TO THE FACT YOU CAN BARELY SAVE ALL OF THE STATUES WHEN YOU REACH THE FOREVER STORM PART-

he has enough memories that he should recover a good amount of statues. It's not a matter of wheter or not he can save everyone, but mostly themself....

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hey so I cannot believe I am so late to see your ISAT and Sky AU because I love!! Both of them!! So much!! And I just wanted to thank you for making it and sharing it with us because it’s really cool! And both fandoms need more attention imo <333 @ucorpwhalingyaoi ha chiesto: I know NOTHING about cotl but my god your isat au of it has made me want to play it so bad 💔 (very /pos…) @primrosechronicles ha chiesto: HEYYYY ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE SENT AN ASK!! Ive been silently reading the isat comic since my last ask and im very very proud of you for making this far!!! mwahh!!! Thank you for inspiring me to play sky again, cuz if not i wouldn't have able to meet my sky friends Anonimo ha chiesto: first of all, I came here from the shadowpeach au but your comics dragged my ass to the ISAT fandom second of all, HOW DARE YOU PLAYED WITH MY HAPPINESS LIKE THAT (love your art and story telling, I wanna eat it like a fancy dinner) @prince0fghosty ha chiesto: It's been hard for me to find Sky: Children of the Light content anywhere! I found you through a friend and not only are you interested in Sky but also Lego Monkie Kid this is truly the best day ever!!! I got back into the game because of you. I like to help moths out in Eden @phoenix-is-here ha chiesto: You are the person who introduced me to the ISAT fandom and I gotta say thank you for that. That's one of the best games I've ever played and I would have never known about it without stumbling onto your account first (because of a strong hyperfixation on a show about monkeys ofc) so.. Accept this virtual cookie and glass of milk as a gift : 🍪 Anonimo ha chiesto: I followed for the shadowpeach, stayed for Sky CotL, keep cookin

HIII!!! AND TYSM!!!!!

@elianaroselight ha chiesto: This feels a little silly, but what is ISAT? I read through your ISAT Sky AU comic and I feel like I am missing half of the story. I love what I'm seeing so far and want more, but I also don't know or completely understand who the characters are and why I should care about them (more than I do already at least). Sorry if this is silly. I just want to understand.

ISAT is short for "In Stars And Time". It's an RPG game made by @insertdisc5. ABsolutely go check it out otherwise you wont understand a thing about the characters of the AU!

when i was reading the most recent page of the In Skies and Time™️ comic I had the most hilarious image in my head of just a bunch of sky kids smacking down on the same area and making this. sky kid pileup????? [since it seems liek theyre all gonna come back like that..] it was super funny to imagine 30 CAR PILEUP 🔥🔥🔥

AWWW SKY KID MOUNTAIN!! Lol probably it would happen? Like when you do Eden just after reset and when you get reborn there's like 7 other players clipped in you rebirth animation in the aviary /home space

Anonimo ha chiesto: Awwwww Bonnie was so excited 😢

poor Bonnie they will get their comfort moment eventually

@sohrleas ha chiesto: YOU YOU'RE THE REASON WHY I got Sky 'cause I saw your isat sky au and got super curious about the game Your art is beautiful and I love it 💚💚💚

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: HOPEFUL STEWARD WOOOOO-

IT'S MY BOY!!

@o0mochacoffee0o This isn’t related to you Bio dad AU Like my usuals- I just saw in your abut that you like CotL! Now you share two of my interests!! I’m curious to know your favorite parts of the game, if you have any ships, head canons, etc!! I always love listening to people’s opinions on things I love!

About Scotl? I don't have any specific headcanon, but I do ship Moments Guide and Reassuring Ranges. The only thing that I crave for that game is MORE LORE GODDAMN IT

Anonimo ha chiesto: When I said the fun was dying. I did not expected this. I'M SCREAMING AND PUNCHING THE BED NOOOOOOOOOOOO SIFFF

*sips coffee* welcome to hell (literally)

Anonimo ha chiesto: "is that thing a sadness?!" sweet summer child that thing is a menace of death

It absolutely is

Anonimo ha chiesto: Poor Siffrin’s gotta be absolutely TERRIFIED Big scary beast thing spotted them AND suddenly getting bathed in the color they associate with bad stuff? I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t be quaking in their boots.

He is in desperate need of comfort that wont come in like- a irl month I think

Anonimo ha chiesto: I know you won’t be doing the golden wastelands but… Once the party discovers that the groundwater has the same effect as the forest rain, Isabeau decides to bridal carry Siffrin the whole way. Leaving Siffrin a blushy mess. Also, almost if not everyone is scared shitless of the Dark Dragons/Krill (totally not projecting)

ooooohh that is soooo cute i'm dying!!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: THE FAKE ACT 4 LOOKING SMILE . THE ACT 5 EDEN MOMENT. THE PARTY BEING SENT BACK . DIES "oh yeah if I still have energy I can loop back" ← me when I'm lying

@starlight-and-clockwork ha chiesto: bawling and kicking and screaming and pulling my hair out THAT PANEL OF SIFFRIN ASKING HIS FAMILY TO REMEMBER HIM WILL HAUNT ME FOREVER YOU ARE SO TALENTED AND CAUSE ME MUCH PAIN THANK U<3

@aro-aces-world ha chiesto: I just caught up with ISAT sky au Fuck you /affectionate

Thank you! Be ready to be even more destroyed by the following updates!

@cherryblossomventi ha chiesto: I’m gonna go feral, Sif did that because he knows he can kinda come back from this with the shooting star thing Im guessing but the others cant/might not because they aren’t from this land,,, oh buddy why didn’t you tell them stop being cryptic idiot

Sif doesn't really remember that he can be reborn like in Sky. He knows only that, if he can reach the light right at the base of the cataclysm, then maybe he can return as well.

[pedriache]

I miss you, I’m sorry — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything about you and Pedri’s relationship was rocky, yet you cannot seem to stay apart for too long—neither of you being ready to let go.

Word count: 530+

Disclaimer/s: Angst with a ?? ending, no pt2, toxic relationship

A/N: i literally don’t know what it is about angst that gets me out of my writing drought but here i am ig.. also i believe i might’ve already wrote one w this title but wtv idc anymore

“I miss you, I’m sorry.”

His voice was light, barely audible, but you caught it. Though the line was cracking the farther you got out of the city and into the outskirts of Barcelona. Tears pricked at your eyes as you mumbled incoherent words.

You didn’t want to leave, but you shouldn’t stay. Even then, you found your hands gripping the steering wheel, turning into the nearest gas station, and heading back into the city.

The line had long since cut.

Memories of the past month burned in your brain. Memories you would kill to experience once again. The good, the bad, everything in between.

Parts of you wondered if he even remembered the good. They were few and far between towards the end of the relationship, but they were still there.

You missed his lash outs, how he’d break dishes when disappointed, when he couldn’t keep his anger in anymore. When you would push his buttons just to see if he truly cared.

You missed his kisses, the way he’d mumble how he loved you and couldn’t stop the smile the pressed into your skin. You mostly just missed his gentle side, the one that had always been there even during the bad days.

The street lamps burned your skin, shaming you for not being strong enough to let go the closer you got to Pedri’s house.

You were angry, so, so angry—yet you were still so, so full of love.

Pedri felt his gut clench and pull when he saw your headlights flash through his house. It made him sick the way he pulled you back in when he was supposed to be letting you go.

Nausea arose within him when he unlocked his door, meeting your depleted face. Your shoulders sagged with an all too familiar exhaustion clear in your body language.

Neither of you spoke as you walked inside. In a way, you both made each other sick.

This never ending game of tug of war with each other was disgusting in the most passionate of ways. Your love burning far too strong, and far more powerful than either of your could admit.

You were still silent as the two of you walked to Pedri’s bedroom, one that you’d once called your own, but was now filled with the cold emptiness of your belongings; the same ones that were packed in the trunk of your car.

Every corner of the room was haunted with memories of screaming and shouting, others filled with kisses and sweet nothings.

Slipping out of your clothes, you grabbed a tee shirt from Pedri’s dresser, slipping it on. He waited in bed, his eyes watching you carefully, assuring you’d truly come back.

Shuffling into bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight, you allow the man to pull you into his arms. The only sounds in the room were your labored breaths and shaky exhales.

“I love you,” Pedri speaks lowly, his hand flattening out your tousled hair from hours of pulling and running rough fingers through—further showcasing how stressful the last argument was. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a calmness spreading throughout you. “I know.” You whisper, “I love you, too.”

Likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. Lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future Pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @sakashq @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie @cececarmona17

[oliviasroses19]

Just thinking about how happy I am that we got a more complex, deeper friendship with show!polin. I did enjoy the book, don’t get me wrong. But at the start, book!polin was pretty one sided on Penelope’s part. We know she loves Colin literally from the first page, but Penelope was what feels like an afterthought for Colin. It’s only when he returns from his tour and spends more time with her that he starts seeing her as a friend. He said it himself, they were acquaintances, and only more recently does he consider them being friends. He went from liking her company to Colin “my wife” Bridgerton real quick (this form of Colin exists in both bridgerton universes, thank GOD). Their story feels more like acquaintances to lovers in my opinion.

What makes show!Polin so magical, and I’m sure is the true reason for the choke hold they have on us, is the fact that we got to see their history as childhood friends develop to best friends and then to lovers. We can see the love Pen has for Colin from the start, and while he hasn’t come to his senses yet, he clearly adores her in the beginning as well.

Then we have the letters. My dear, sweet, completely inappropriate letters (only in regard to the lack of propriety). Yet another contrast between show and book Polin. Their letters truly fortify their friendship to the viewer and add even more magic to their story. Penelope is eager to talk to the man she loves and she is elated that he wants to talk to her too. And Colin gets the space to be himself in these letters. Penelope has never once made him feel silly for his rambling about the places he’s visiting while his family doesn’t shy away from brushing him off or chastising him for talking about his travels. He knows that there is at least one person back home that is excited to hear from him. His heartache confusion over not hearing from her on his second tour only solidifies how dear her letters and friendship are to him. Penelope plays such a large part in his life, he spirals when he thinks he lost her friendship. “Is there something wrong, Pen? Between us, I mean” gets me every time 😭.

We see the yearning from Pen for two seasons, see her protect and love Colin in secret, and heartbreakingly see her give up hope that he will ever love her in that way. We also get to see Colin look for her at every social assembly, protect Pen multiple times, and when he FINALLY realizes his feelings aren’t completely platonic, we see his own yearning. This makes the entire journey all the more gratifying for the viewer.

I can’t believe it sometimes that we finally made it. We got our Polin endgame. It’s been a long few years but those years just made the reward all the more incredible. The boost of serotonin I get watching them finally end up together is truly unmatched and hasn’t diminished no matter the amount of rewatches/GIFs/fan edits I see.

It’s been 6 months and not a day has gone by that i haven’t thought about my babies finally getting their happily ever after. I cannot, will not, do not want to give up the choke hold these two have on me.

——————————————

This post ran away from me but are we really surprised? Thanks for letting me dump out the contents of my brain, y’all are real ones.

[nightscythe]

let the world burn

→ talos valcoran x inquisitor (unnamed, she/her) → 6.6k, 18+ (no smut), tw character death, mentions of and implied torture/flaying, usual inquisition and night lord antics ig → post-heresy, talos is captured and challenges an inquisitor that ends up trusting him with both her life and her death

“I will take you,” Talos says, dividing the peace between them momentarily. She raises her eyebrows, though lets him continue. “Wherever you want to go. I will show you the stars. I will show you everything.”

“You truly believe we would make it that far?”

“Would you trust me enough to try?”

She should hate herself for answering without question. “I’d trust you with everything.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The air is freezing. 

It was usually cold in rooms plagued with heresy and abominations, but this was something different. This was frozen and heartless, the souls of thousands of innocents dragged around to follow their killer. Even with the smoke of the incense, the quiet hymns of the God Emperor dragged through the otherwise silent room, it was undoubtable that this man was evil. 

She’d read his file. She’d heard the stories, watched the tapes closely. Heard his words of praise for his long-dead primarch’s dream. Every single note made on him was in her possession, yet she could not have prepared herself for the man before her. 

He cannot see her. Not yet. He stands against the wall, gravity chains preventing him from moving, his psychic presence dimmed to a near non-existent level. She had watched the men go in before her. She’d not grimaced as they beat him, used every trick they knew to try and get him to speak, not even as they flayed him. Each time another blow hit him, he laughed, never showing an ounce of regret or pain. She’d ordered it to be worse each time they returned. Revenge, she saw it, for everything his legion had done. 

Her jaw tightens as he looks towards the glass she stands behind. To him, it should have appeared black, though she could feel his eyes directly on her. He makes no movements. Blood drips down his body, his skin a mix of its usually pale shade and blue and purple, but he doesn’t even look angry. There is… nothing. 

She crosses her hands behind her back, letting her eyes fall to his file once again. She believed she was in his head, though what really was there to think about when he was little more than a rabid dog? Feral, unwanted, evil. To others, he was a prophet of darkness from a time long before. To her, he was another monster to be used, catechised, and discarded. 

She hears his laugh as the door opens, another set of servitors returning from receiving nothing. He mocked them, even without words. It was a futile effort. It was her turn. 

She closes his file. Her approach to the door is silent, until she curls her fingers around the steel handle of the door, when a quiet voice behind her speaks up. “Will you require us with you, Mistress-Inquisitor?”

“No,” she answers. She pauses for a moment, catching the gaze of the monster through the small viewing port. “It is not effective. You are dismissed.”

They obey her command and leave her in the room, though she knows they reside behind the next locked door. He had been given the most security they could afford. One locked door with the chains and every other precaution was never enough. A silent prayer leaves her lips.

He doesn’t react at first. He watches, silently, as she closes the door behind her. The long dark robes that cover her sway against the floor, her golden jewellery shining against the dim candles that offered just a touch of light. When she stops before him, they watch each other. She feels sick with just the sight of a man like this. Her lips curl downward as she looks down at him. 

He laughs. 

He’s been forced on his knees, stripped of any armour or protection that remained, laid bare before strangers, and taken further than most others could bear. 

Yet he laughs. 

She doesn’t speak, expecting him to stop. He tries to double over, but the chains stop him from moving so far. She hears the hiss in his laugh as his wounds pull and snap, but it doesn’t deter him – not until his laugh turns to a cough, which he tries to ignore. He coughs blood to the ground below him. A drop, no bigger than a coin, decorates her right black boot. 

She doesn’t take her eyes away from his. She moves her foot forward, using his own tortured flesh to wipe the blood away. His thighs are visibly tense. He smiles, blood covering his teeth. 

“Come to play?” he jests, amusement in his tone interrupted by more coughing. She takes a step back to avoid his slaver this time. “What could you possibly have to threaten me with, Mistress-Inquisitor?”

She watches his dark eyes, almost as black as the night sky, look over her. “Everyone has a limit. Everyone has something they want.”

“You’d assume so much of me?”

“Of everyone,” she tells him, “but you would know what it’s like to break people. You have spent far more time than I ever have looking into the eyes of the innocent and watching as they realise you never meant mercy. What is it your father said? No justice without fear, no fear without suffering.”

His laughter falls flat. His movements still. “You believe your beloved Imperial truth does not cause millions to suffer each day?”

“It is the will of the God-Emperor.”

“It is the will of the False Emperor.” He pulls against the chains once more. She does not react. “You see me as a monster. A tyrant seeking death and destruction for every moment of hate we have received. Yet you would turn a blind eye to all the death and destruction your empire makes, shielded by the gold lies you all worship. Do you think we are any different?”

She breathes, her response slow. “I would not kill a child.”

“But if your corpse-god commanded it?” he asks. 

“I would not make that decision of my own will. I could not say the same for you.”

He hums. He leans back in his chains and, for a moment, lets his body relax. He breathes a heavy sigh, his head falling back, eyes falling shut. “Should I be ashamed?”

“I would be.”

For a moment, there are no words. He recovers. His scarred and bloody skin is given time to rest. She does not interrupt him. She could, but there is no need. It would be harder later. She would not prevent the servitors from returning to flay him, to beat him, to torture him until she returned. 

“We are no different, Inquisitor.” He finds her eyes again. “We both use fear to control others. We both commit hideous acts in the name of the truth we believe. But I can admit my failures, Inquisitor. Can you?”

Her jaw tenses. She lets her hands fall by her sides, burrowing them into the loose pockets of her robes to disguise the tremor in her fingers. Her heart rate increases, more than she would have liked until she can feel her pulse in her entire chest.

“I do not fail,” she tells him. 

“No.” He looks to where her hands would be in her pocket as a smirk creeps onto his features. Another slow, denigrating laugh that he drags out for longer than needed. “None of you ever do.”

She does not answer him. She can feel his eyes burning into her as she walks away, her steps vicious and strides long. She clenches her hands into fists in her pockets, her heart still racing. A nod to the servitors has them scurry back into him. 

She leaves his file on the desk, she closes the door without looking back at him. She moves on. She leaves him behind for the evening, working on everything else left to her. She doesn’t think of him again. Not until she closes her eyes to try and sleep, and she sees him staring right back at her. 

He would not be so easy to forget.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

She stands at the edge of the room. She does not look at him, she does not speak. 

She waits. 

For what? Time will tell. She had been here every day. She had asked questions of the future that he was fated to tell, bearing the gifts of his father given to him by the benevolent God-Emperor. She had queried what he knew, what he understood to be true, what he had seen of the future. He never told her. Every question was answered with a riddle, another question, a test of her faith. 

She did not fail. 

“You believe yourself to be the smartest person in this room.” His voice echoes over the silent music. It was not the first time he spoke, but it was the first time she decided to listen. Silently, not giving him the justification of a stare, but she was intrigued. “I don’t need you to answer me. You have to listen to me. Because I may give you what you need, hidden between words to hatred to your corpse-god. You have to hear everything I say.”

He rattles his chains. She pulls a book from her pocket, a small black journal with a golden trim. She reads her own words, forcing herself to not truly listen. 

“Your empire believes it must be cruel to survive, doesn’t it? You must sacrifice those who do not listen, who do not blindly trust the leaders, who lie to you each day about your god emperor that protects you all. You would have all burned in his eyes.”

She doesn’t look up. She rereads the last sentence she wrote over, and over, and over again. 

“Do you even know what your emperor wanted?” he asks. She stops reading. Her eyes just flicker above the page. “He never wanted to be a god. He despised it. Yet you all listen to it. The words you use each day, the teachings of his holiness? It was given to you by a traitor you would wish to burn. He never was a god. He used us all, and you use everyone in the exact same way.”

“It is as easy for you to lie to me as it is for me to have you killed,” she reminds him, keeping her focus on the book. 

“You believe that so?”

She hums. 

“I suppose I would also feel the same if I had killed millions claiming to protect them. I would be able to sleep soundly in my bed thinking my god emperor loved me for my dedication because I was the perfect specimen in his eyes, protecting the world from the powers each and every one of my seniors use behind closed doors.”

“Millions have not died.”

“No?” He laughs, amusement clear. “You have not heard how many planets have had their final order given by your very own Inquisition? To protect the life of others, who would never have even known that the planet existed?”

She looks up to him, nostrils flared. 

“Are you dense?” he questions, voice falling flat, “or are you just ignorant?”

“I have faith.”

“In a broken system that destroys itself?”

“In…” Her words are not finished. She looks up at him, placing her journal back in her pocket. She takes a silent, deep breath. “In the God-Emperor. In what my family and I have fought for our entire lives. You tell me this to make me doubt my faith, to turn me to a blackened faith like all traitors, in the name of your false gods. You spin tales and mock me as though I would have ever believed a word that left the mouth of a monster.”

He does not answer. Not immediately. Their gaze is locked, neither wanting to back away. She feels intimidated, so small before him, but knows she is protected. She would have him wish he had never spoken to her, she’d make him wish that he was never even born. 

“In the name of false gods?” he asks, as though curious. 

Her thoughts pause. The temptation to have the servitor’s return is high but stopped momentarily. Her hand grips the journal in her pocket. 

“I do not care for the gods,” he tells her, “I do not fight for any god or any being. Nothing I know is worth fighting for.”

“You lie.”

“I have no reason to lie to you.” His words send a chill down her spine. “I only have reason to make you see the truth you so easily ignore.”

She couldn’t even bring herself to deny it one last time.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

She had locked the servitors behind the third door. She had ordered them to leave him, days ago now. She had seen him slowly regain strength, rebuild his own body as she stayed chained to the imperial prison around him. 

“You know more of the Emperor than I ever will.”

Her thoughts are open. She does not look at him as she speaks, instead, her eyes are focused on the hem of her robes, curled against the floor where she sits. Her back is against the wall. Her jewellery was left behind. She no longer hid behind the Aquila of her faith. 

“I only knew that he hated us,” Talos tells her. He breathes deeply, not looking at her either. “Our father hated us. Our Emperor hated us. Who else could have been so lucky?”

She looks at him, lingering over his body for longer than she meant to. His eyes flickered in the candlelight, more brightly now she allowed more to be brought in, yet still darker than any others. “Why?”

“Did he hate us?” he finishes, finally meeting her gaze. He laughs, though it is not like before. It only mocks the life he had and what he knew. “We were not what he wanted.”

“Why did you continue to follow him?” 

Talos pauses. His gaze falters, and he looks to the floor for a moment. By the time he returned to look at her, she had sat up taller, finding herself interested in the answer. Not out of spite. Not because she wished to punish him. It was because she felt pity. 

“I did not want to be like the others,” he answers. He pulls on the chains once more, sighing when he cannot sit how he wished. “They would slaughter for fun. For thrill. For their own pleasure. But that was not the aim. Our Primarch did not want us to kill without meaning. I did not want to kill without meaning.”

“What meaning does your killing have now?”

He pauses one more time. “Vengeance. Vindication. So my brothers did not die in vain.”

 “They did not.” She pushes herself to her feet swiftly. He watches her, though his interest piques when she nears him. She stops before him, merely inches away from him, and sinks to her knees. She is still smaller than him, she still looks up to him. “You and I are different.”

He doesn’t answer her. 

She gently runs the tip of her finger across the scar that runs the length of his right thigh. She brushes over the new scars formed by the people around her. Her lashes flutter as she looks back at him. 

“You are stronger than I could ever be,” she admits to him. Her hands tremble ever so slightly. She feels him pull at his chains again. Instinctively, she reaches into her pocket. He follows her movements like a hawk. “You were not deceived by those around you, not led to believe every lie spoon-fed by those who wish for power.”

She stops moving her hand. His breathing catches, she only just hears it. “You will kill me?”

From her pocket, she pulls a chain of keys. Each is comically embezzled and extravagant in its purpose. She knows which one controls his chains, she had memorised it before he was placed with her. She pulls the key out, fingers running over the cold metal. After a moment, she reaches behind him, placing the key in its lock, turning it ever so slightly. 

Then, a click. 

She stops breathing. 

He doesn’t move. 

She reaches behind him to where his hands were chained to the wall. Her hands seem so small compared to his, yet she doesn’t hesitate. She knew that one movement and he could kill her with those hands. She unlocked their chains with one, swift movement. 

“Why should I decide who is to live and die?” she says, voice softer than a whisper. She sits back on her knees, looking down to the floor. He still doesn’t move, even with his hands freed. “The only person in my life that has not lied to me is you. How can I say who is right and who is wrong?”

She stands without looking at him. Her thoughts ran from her, any logic or sanity fleeing what remained. Had she intended to let him go? No. Did he deserve it? Perhaps not. But to live in a world that lied, to uphold the values she did without question… Not anymore. 

As she turns to leave, she feels his hand. It wraps around hers, and though he does not hurt her, he holds her tight enough she cannot walk away. “We haven’t finished.”

“What is there to say?” she asks. She turns back to him, eyes stopping on every scar she had caused on the way. When she reaches his eyes, she struggles to keep her lips still. “I will die at the hands of this empire, be it today or in the years to come. Take your freedom whilst you can.” 

“Your death is no more deserving than mine.”

He releases her hand. She feels it shaking and hides it in her pocket once more. She takes a deep breath and turns from him. Her steps are smaller, she feels the watchful eyes of sin around her, degrading her, but she cannot turn around again. 

There’s no sound of pulling on chains, there’s no vengeance for his torture. She grasps the handle of the door and expects to feel him behind her, but there’s nothing. She reaches for the keys once more and throws them to the ground below. As the door is pulled open, he tries again. 

“I will not be the one that signs your execution order.”

She nods once. Her head turns ever so slightly to the side, and she can see him still in the same position, still kneeling, still holding his arms at his side despite his freedom. She doesn’t reach for the keys. She doesn’t even bother to shut the door properly – no one would come here without her order. 

She leaves him with only a few words. “Then we shall see each other tomorrow, Talos.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Neither speaks. 

It is not an uncomfortable silence, nor one brought on by the lack of conversation. It was a natural pause. A moment of reflection. 

It felt like he always had a question for her, always prepared with another truth to teach her. She did not idolise him, she wasn’t even sure how she felt, but she had found herself seeking answers as though the world was entirely new. She would sit beside him. She would have her fingers tracing the marks on his skin. She would not leave at night so she could sit beside him and hear the voice that haunted her dreams and lingering thoughts. 

And this was a night like the others before had been. 

“I will take you,” Talos says, dividing the peace between them momentarily. She raises her eyebrows, though lets him continue. “Wherever you want to go. I will show you the stars. I will show you everything.”

“You truly believe we would make it that far?”

“Would you trust me enough to try?”

She should hate herself for answering without question. “I’d trust you with everything.”

It had been 47 days. She’d spent every single one of those in his company, for hours on end at the very least, and now… she’d been with him for almost 84 hours straight. She only left the room to refill the jug of water afforded to him and share her rations. It wasn’t a lot, it wasn’t enough, but it would do. Just for now. 

“Then you would trust me to leave this place with you?” he asks. She looks at him with slightly widened eyes. His tone is flat, he did not laugh or smile. He doesn’t allow her to answer him yet. “I have seen my death, and it’s not in this room or by the hands of anyone here. I will leave this place and live for years to come.”

Her heart sinks just a touch. She stops tracing his scars just above a connection point. “Why haven’t you left?”

“I wouldn’t live with my decision to leave you behind.”

“You would not be responsible for my death if you did. I let you escape. That is my choice.”

“It is not for that reason, Inquisitor.” 

“Do not call me that.” She turns her body from his, just enough for him to notice, but his hand on her knee, lingering just up her thigh ever so slightly, prevents her from moving. She sighs. “Your power armour is kept in—”

“I will not leave without you.”

His words create another silence. This one is not natural, though not uncomfortable either. She doesn’t know how to answer him. She turns back to him, their bodies just touch, and she notices how his skin burns. He leans to her ever so slightly. His fingertips dig into her skin so she won’t move again. 

“I will not leave without you,” he repeats, momentarily glancing away. The keys that she dropped before were never touched. He hadn’t moved more than a few feet since she unchained him. “You trust me. Then let me take you from here. You will not have to work under the name of the false emperor again. I do not care what you believe in. But you will be free.”

Her heart thumps in her chest harder than ever before. She trusted him. She believed that he would give her the freedom she desired after learning the truth those around her hid from. 

Her breath is shaky, her voice quiet. “You could kill me.”

“I could have from the moment you met me,” he tells her. His admission does not surprise her. Not now she fully understood. Her life was meaningless to the system that held her. He places his hand over hers and holds it tight. To him though? She was significant. She mattered. “Though I don’t think I could ever harm you. Not now.”

The silence continues once more. She watches him, her eyes grazing each of his features, though her hand still sits beneath his. He must feel the way it trembles; she could barely control it – lest she control the way her heart hammers against her ribs. 

He wouldn’t leave without her. 

It was not doubt in him. It was not doubt in herself. It was doubt in the world around them. She felt her chest growing tighter, his stare, his presence, all of it becoming so suffocating. Her entire life had been her belief. Her parents told her stories of the evil that men like him committed. Her seniors told her stories of the evil that his legion brought with them. She followed every order, so blindly, so stupidly, and now given the choice…

“You are afraid.”

Her jaw tightens. She feels embarrassed for him to say it so easily. She can’t look him in the eyes, not without a denial. 

He takes his hand away from hers, though replaces it on her cheek. He’s so gentle. Not the monster everyone made him out to be. His fingers follow the curves of her cheek, softly lifting her face to his once more. “I trust you, too.”

“Why?” she asks, “I ordered your torture. I ordered all of this.”

“And you listened when I spoke. You stopped when you realised that it was wrong. You have slept on my shoulder, knowing at any time I could squeeze that pretty neck of yours and kill you in a matter of seconds. You branded me a monster and now you let me hold you.”

He exhales slowly. His hand feels so rough against her, the calloused and scarred skin leaving its trace on her, no matter how careful she is. Words fail her, just for a moment, but he does not care. He lowers his forehead until it rests against her own. He’s tense, he’s a natural-born killer, never meant to have an ounce of emotion leave him. Yet, for the smallest moment, she feels it all. 

“I’ve never known a life outside of this,” she admits to him. She tries to pull back from him, one final defence, but it’s futile. He moves with her. “This… it’s all I know.”

“You will learn.” His promise is met with lips that ghost over her own. “Just let me show you.”

His breath tickles her skin. Her hand moves to his cheek, mirroring his own actions. She believes him. She feels her eyes burn, relief washing over her, but she refuses to let herself cry. Not yet. Everything feels still. Everything outside of the room seems to disappear, just for a moment. 

But there’s a subtle click. 

They both hear it. A soft that would have been missed if either had spoken, but as fate would have it, the barest scrape of the metal door had threatened them. Her heart stops, neither of them breathes. Her fear is matched by his calculation. 

He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls back from her, standing to his feet as his gaze snaps towards the door. Without armour, without any weapons, he was limited, yet he was ready to kill. She stands behind him, her hands balled into fists. She knows. She has to choose. 

“Talos?”

He doesn’t look at her again. “Stay behind me.”

She silently accepts. His choice. His command. His promise to her. 

He would never leave without her. 

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

He taught her survival.

She had listened intently as he showed her how life worked outside of the protection her status once brought her. Her parents, devout and respected, never showed her the life that dwelled beneath them. They did not show her the hive city underbelly that crawled with crime, desperation, and hatred. But he did. 

He was obvious, stuck out like a raven among doves. No human looked like him, acted like him, or was built like him. A tool of war, an angel of the emperor – now nothing more than a fugitive hidden between spaces in a world of others wishing to remain invisible. 

“Trust no one,” he had told her one evening, using his own body to keep her warm. She’d had to ditch the gold-laden robes of expensive fabrics, hidden away with the power armour that made him all the more obvious. “Assume everyone lies. Assume everyone only cares for themselves. Assume you and I are alone for the rest of our lives.”

And would it have been so bad?

Would she have found it so troubling to be within the arms of a man she didn’t even know a year prior?

No. It wasn’t because she needed him – which she did, in many ways – but because she would have been lost without him, and he would have been worse without her. She remembers his bitter laugh the day they met. The mocking tone he used as he called out her beliefs. The sneer of disgust at what she was.

Now he looked at her as though his entire world would burn if she had disappeared. He stood in front of her at the slightest threat. He told her stories of a past she could have only dreamed to understand. He let the littlest snippets of his heart shine through, between the pain, the suffering, and the monster that resided below.

She had taught him hope. 

“Perhaps one day there will be peace,” she told him. Her head rested on his arm, and though his eyes were closed, he was not resting. Merely enjoying the small moment of reprise that the midnight hours brought. She leaves him to define where the peace would lay. “It wouldn’t matter to me, though.”

One of his eyes opened. “It wouldn’t?”

“I am already at peace,” she replies, “there are times when things could be easier of course, but I have made peace with the future I chose.”

He had not answered. His arm, slung loosely over her waist, tightens ever so slightly. He pulls her body into his, the concrete they sleep on forgotten for a moment. He mumbles something, incoherent on purpose. 

“I know they will find us one day.” She had guessed his words, but the way he stiffened beneath her meant she was somewhat on par with him. “I know they will kill me for what I have done.”

“I would not allow it.”

She hums, turning to him. She’s so close to him that their noses brush. “You cannot protect me from everything. I will die one day, as will you.”

“You will not die at the hands of the Imperium you once served,” he tells her, a quiet promise. He looks behind her, as though he can see her future as well. “And if they try, they will all burn.”

They hadn’t spoken of it again. 

The days passed, weeks, then months, and life moved on around them as though they had nothing to fear. She was never sure how he spent his days, manual labour she supposed, quiet work to ensure silence and somewhere to stay. She had done the same, working for rations and clothes or anything else essential. Nothing special. Nothing she would remember days later. 

She had felt her hope growing stronger. The longer her presence was kept a secret, the more likely it was that he would do everything he promised. He’d show her the stars. He’d take her to places he spoke of. He’d return to his warband, he’d keep her with them – with him.

He must have felt it, too. He spoke often of his brothers. The ones he respected, more so. The quiet tales of comradery and triumph they had once felt. He had shown her a memory for every one of the scars on his body. He’d explained every chink in his armour, every stained bit of paint. 

Talos had sworn to her when he kissed her softly, that there would never be a life without them together. 

Everything she thought she knew was challenged. He trusted her. He helped her. He may have even loved her, in his way. Astartes were not meant to do this, let alone from a traitor legion. He should never have wanted to kiss her, hold her, feel her in every way, but he initiated it each and every time. 

Everything she knew was a lie. 

And everything she was beginning to believe was short-lived. 

She should have paid attention to the eyes that followed her. She should have thought to say more to him when a figure followed her through the streets. She should have taken them somewhere else instead of revealing everything. But she was worried. She thought it was someone waiting to harm her. She thought, if anything happened, she would rather be with him. 

She led the end straight to them, and neither had realised. 

The rain poured outside. The midnight sky left only the candlelight available to them. She recorded her thoughts, those which related to the day and some of her more private thoughts, in her journal beside a candle. He sat behind her, meditating, away from the world for just a few moments. 

She’d looked back at him more than once. Admired him, silently with a smile, wondered how she had even managed all of this. She thought about what may have happened if they had stayed, if she’d been more careful when he was in his cell so could have just an ounce of extra freedom than they did now. She was lost in her thoughts of possibilities, daydreaming as she watched over him.

He had reacted before she did. His eyes opened; she frowned. 

“What?” she asked, noticing him looking around. His eyes tried to locate the source of whatever he had heard. He stopped on a crack in the wall that resembled a door, though it was not because someone was outside. “Talos, what is wrong?”

He doesn’t look at her. “They have come.”

“They?”

“For you,” he tells her. He finally looks at her, rising to his feet in one swift movement. He takes a step towards her, reaching his hand to cradle her cheek. “You must go.”

“Not without you.”

“You do not have a choice.”

“I do,” she insists, standing as well. He shakes his head, but she protests still. “We go together. I won’t leave here without you.”

He swallows, a momentary pause as he looks back to where he had heard whatever noise. “You won’t leave here at all unless you go.”

She reaches for his hand, dragging her attention back to him. Her lips are parted, though no indication of sound leaves them. She silently protests, wanting to tell him no, but knowing he is far better at this than her. 

“I will find you,” he tells her. He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She nods, though hesitant. “Do not look back. Do not trust anyone. Go.”

And she does. 

She runs, she never stops. 

She hears the screams from where she was before. She clutches the journal in her pocket as her tattered shoes wear against the stones and concrete of the streets. She feels her eyes burn, and she lets herself cry this time. 

But just when she finally stops to catch her breath, never to look behind, never to speak to another soul, she feels them all right behind her.   

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Her eyes burned. 

Not like the first time she trusted him. Not like when she ran. This was something else entirely. 

She had cried a thousand times, each tear shed for another lie told to her. They called her a sinner, a heretic, a traitor to their beliefs. They kept her in a room, maybe the one she had once sat in with him, but they did not ever send someone to beat her, to burn her, to flay her. They left her in darkness, in silence, on her own. 

She knew what it meant. She knew exactly what her fate was to be. 

They’d dragged her from her cell. They’d stripped her of all her clothes and dignity, paraded around her as they dowsed her body in sacred oils that she once held as well. They’d prayed, never for her, but for their beloved emperor, then draped her with symbols of what it meant to betray them in such a way. 

She was a display. She was a message. 

They’d strung her body to the pyre. She never had the will to fight it, allowing them to hold her in place as the ropes wrapped tighter and tighter around her skin and sunk into her flesh, causing an array of cuts and bruises. She’d let her head hang, the sky too bright for her to look up to, and wondered if maybe she’d see him again when her soul was freed. 

And the last thing on her lips as the priests started singing their chants, as the public was invited in to see in real-time what would happen to a traitor, as they held her lips to a drink meant to guarantee her death, was his name. 

Talos. 

She had missed it all. 

Her eyes barely opened as the screams started, as the shots were fired. They had misjudged him, they had expected him to run. In some way, she had thought he did too. She had forgotten that maybe, just maybe, he had been following along this whole time. One step behind them, until they stopped moving. 

No one had started the fire beneath her. Maybe their mistake. He’d have stopped if he saw her burning, knew that he had no chance to save her. He’d have hesitated for just long enough for them to kill him as well. She’d have known, if she saw him, standing in a room filled with bodies of those who would have watched her burn in the name of their corpse-god. 

It was his hands she felt first. She didn’t care for the blood that soaked her skin, it was no different to the oils she had been covered in already. She didn’t care how desperate he was as he pulled the ropes from around her, how he accidentally caught her in his swift and untamed movements. 

He held her in his arms, carried her like she still had a chance, not knowing her fate had been sealed. Like they knew. Like someone had seen him come here for her, and they knew it would be his ruin. Like they would allow everyone in this room to be killed just to prove a point. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers, so gently she almost misses it. 

Her eyes flutter open, slowly, still heavy and burning. She feels the smile that lines her lips when she’s able to make out his features, his body knelt beside her. She silently says his name, but her throat is full, her mouth tasting metallic. 

“I can help,” he tells her. He rests her body on the floor, away from the slaughter, careful to support her. As he lays her down, her body feels limp already. She wasn’t sure how long it had been. He must have realised that she was not spared. “I will find something and I… I’ll—"

She reaches for his hand. Though it takes some time to find it, she’s able to just curl her fingers around his own. It stops him, just long enough for her to croak out words in a low voice. “…you can’t.”

“I can.”

She grips his hand tighter, not allowing him to leave. “Don’t… leave me… to die for them.”

“You will not die.” There is hesitation in his voice. He’s unsure. He knows she is correct. “Not for them. Not now.”

“Don’t let it be them.”

Her eyes fall to his bolter. He follows her gaze but immediately shakes his head. “No.”

“Please,” she tells him. She chokes, turning to her side to cough some of the blood lining her teeth and mouth to the ground. She winces as her lungs are hard to fill, blood drenching their every fibre. “Please, Talos.”

He neglects her an answer. She struggles to keep her eyes open, instead leaning into the cold press of his armour as he carefully picks her up once more. She can feel the gravity around her as he sits on something, not the ground, resting her in his arms. Her head falls to his shoulder, just tilted enough so she can see his face. 

“My last breath,” she whispers, hand drifting over his armour, trying to find something she remembered, “it’s yours.”

She doesn’t cry. No more tears are lost, there wouldn’t have been many left anyway. 

She was certain of her fate and held no other wish. Her thoughts stilled, her body becoming numb as the seconds moved on. She saw the way his jaw clenched, how his eyes lost any hope that remained in them. She felt his breath on her face as she struggled to keep her eyes open. 

He whispers, knowing she may understand. “You were the only thing worth fighting for.”

She remembered the way he once held her like this as they watched the stars. She’d feigned an injury in the hopes he would carry her – in truth she wanted to watch the way the stars twinkled in his dark eyes, feel his warmth on her skin, and know that maybe he did care about her the way she did for him. He’d hesitated then, but picked her up without complaint. He’d never wanted her to leave his arms after that. 

She never heard the shot. She never felt the pain. It was over too quick. 

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

a/n: I wrote most of this between the hours of 2am - 5am so I am so sorry about all the mistakes. I will eventually go back to correct them. I hope this captures talos well enough as I dont know much about him bar common knowledge. anyway, thank you for reading!!

[shakingparadigm]

may i ask your opinions on what ivan is truly like ?

( without pretending to be someone or something else entirely ? )

Okay !! Finally back to answering asks !! Once again, please be mindful of the fact that these are mostly my own personal thoughts. Always take them with a grain of salt.

The thing is, Ivan is an incredibly difficult character. He was written to be complex and multi-faceted, literally having more than just one "face". His actions almost always have another layer of depth to them and he tends to contradict himself, further complicating people's perception of him. It's not easy to pin him down, and that was exactly the intent. They made sure that the viewers wouldn't be able to fully grasp his emotions.

( I find this fact rather funny, because in one of the behind posts QMENG herself says that sometimes Ivan does things she cannot understand. The creators just allow Ivan to be complicated. He is what he is, and while there are undoubtedly reasons for it, the full truth remains unknown to us. )

Regardless, this is what I personally think.

Ivan seems to define himself by his imperfection, so much so that his actions and perspectives are influenced by his deep self-hatred. It's established that Ivan is "lacking" something, he is fundamentally different from others. Ivan builds himself around this since he literally has nothing else. He defines himself by his lack of definition. The fact that he is different and needs to be "cured". Ivan grows attached to the qualities that he "lacks", drawn to the biggest personality in the garden like a moth to a flame. He is fascinated, not envious, and I think that says a lot about him. He places those qualities on a pedestal, believing them to be so much better than himself. He feels that it's something he will never achieve or deserve, something he can't have.

It's interesting that the only time we can pin Ivan as "envious" is not when he's faced with his opposite, but with his parallel. Someone he believed to be just like him.

One thing about Ivan is that he is (unsurprisingly) lonely. Since his entire life is defined by this feeling of separation from others (either literally through the segyein's selection or more intangibly through his mental and emotional difference from others), Ivan feels constantly isolated. Nobody has been able to properly understand him, which further worsens the feeling that something is wrong with him.

When he finally finds someone that he can relate with, it brings him a sense of relief. Note that when Ivan refers to (what he perceives as) their similarity, he uses derogatory language. Twisted. This is how he views himself.

( translation is by @sorrowcure ! )

Compared to his interactions with others, his confrontation with Sua is uncomfortably honest. Ivan is most critical with the person he relates to, further emphasizing how deeply critical he is of himself. Ivan is not envious of Till or Mizi, who are so fundamentally different from him, he's envious of Sua because she is just like him yet has something that he doesn't.

It may feel unfair for the one person you saw yourself in to accomplish something so out of your reach. Her love was reciprocated in full, adored and revered by the person she loved most. They weren't the same, after all. It reinforces what he always believed to be true: he was alone.

( translation by @/oreganocactus on Twitter! )

There are many other instances of Ivan's self-deprecation and low sense of self-worth that leak into his behavior, such as down-playing himself in his interview, referring to his own feelings as "shallow", convincing himself that he was never truly cared about, etc. His deep dissatisfaction of himself rises to the surface quite often, shown in the way that he takes pride in his achievements (his work), yet cannot view himself as a person in a positive light.

INTERVIEWER: What do you think is your charm?

IVAN: I can't really think of any, because I think I have more flaws (haha),

To me, a lot of the "actual" Ivan can be seen in his younger self. It's not a complete display of what Ivan is truly like, obviously. He was a child and hadn't yet developed in certain areas. Still, it's a period in Ivan's life where he didn't mask or play up a different image. The quiet, stoic, and blunt Ivan seems to be a more genuine side of him, at least compared to his more charming persona. QMENG considered Ivan with his hair down to be "most like himself", and I think it's no coincidence that the most memorable version of Ivan with his hair down is his child self. The infamous Bowl Cut Ivan.

With this fact in mind, I also find it no coincidence that in ROUND 6, where Ivan is presented as a "perfect actor" in costume, he starts off with his hair slicked back.

And when he finally drops the mask, when he acts out of his own volition, his hair falls onto his face. Hair down, most like himself.

Another notable instance of Ivan's hair being down is the casino/karaoke room scene, which was quoted as an example for Ivan's emotional immaturity, his supposed "childishness".

There's so much to be said about Ivan, including the neurodivergent/autistic traits that have been discussed by other people in more depth (notably his difficulty in understanding/expressing certain emotions, his masking, his often misconstrued actions, etc). There's also many of Ivan's more conflicting aspects (which seem mostly confined to the patreon? so I'm not sure if they're still planning to incorporate it into the publicly official content or if it was overhauled), but I'm going to stop here because I feel like this post is already pretty random and disconnected.

The gist of it is that I don't think I can give a solid answer on what Ivan is truly like. I'm not even sure if he can answer that, as he seems to be at war with himself quite frequently. Ivan, under his charming and cheery facade, is unable to feel or express emotion in the same way other people do, which causes difficulty and struggle in many other aspects of his life. Not like the one he has is completely his anyway, but, you know.

[istoleyoursk1n]

How do you think the companions would react to a Tav that's shorter then them but physically capable of carrying them around be it over the shoulder or princess style carry?

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a short Tav who could carry them easily?

(I’ve made brief mentions of this type of scenario in a previous post so you may check that out as well.)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“My, my, if you would've done this for me sooner, I’d be swooning much more quickly than you realize, you know that darling? Now be a dear and carry me over there!”

He would have been the one teasing you/urging you to try and lift him up in the assumption that you simply cannot. He was merely messing with you at the time.

Though, he didn't think you’d actually do it.

He would be startled by your offer/assurance that you would be able to lift him up without so much as a struggle which he then laughed at, not believing a word you say but allowing you to try anyways.

He was just about to say another snarky remark the moment your hands were on him but the words quickly fell flat on his lips the moment you managed to carry him in your arms.

You've never seen him so wide-eyed and confused than this very moment.

His mind would be too muddled on whether he should continue to be snarky or at least show how surprised he actually is about the whole situation.

Probably ends up being both snarky and impressed because his mind was too much of a mess at that very moment.

Besides, there's a strange sense of security he feels when he has your arms wrapped around him like some sort of shield.

Regardless, he now demands you to carry him like a princess for however long you can as he’d prefer not to walk throughout the entirety of your tiring journey.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“Are you- am I- are you carrying me?! By the hells, am I not as heavy as I thought I was? Or are you that ridiculously strong? Ha! Though, I can’t say I’m against this at all!”

Was a bit apprehensive when you offered to carry him, he was afraid that he might crush your poor arms with his own weight.

Definitely needed you to reassure him three times before he finally agreed. It's not that he wasn't confident in your abilities (sort of), he just wanted to make sure you didn't hurt yourself.

Was quite shocked when you did manage to lift him so easily, so much so that an awkward little laugh escaped from his lips.

This was certainly a situation he never thought he’d find himself in.

Even so, that awkward little laugh soon turns into a genuine one, his grin is one of the many things that drive you to carry him for as long as he wants.

He can't stop laughing at the absurdity of the moment but he has no qualms, in fact, he's having a blast!

Now you’re both off being absolute goofballs with Wyll playfully referring to you as his own ‘knight in shining armor’. The scene alone would be sweetly sickening to anyone who caught a glimpse of it.

While he’d never ask for you to carry him again (he’s far too worried about exhausting you), he’d always be willing to find himself lifted in your arms once again if not but a temporary relief from the hard journey ahead.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“Well. I never quite envisioned myself being in this particular predicament… there seems to be a handful of lovely little experiences that I have yet to indulge in, this included. Now, how do you suppose I’d get down?”

Similar to Wyll, he was a tad bit apprehensive when you first proposed such a thing to him. He wasn't quite confident that you had the ability to carry him nor did he really think he wanted to be.

It would take a tad bit more convincing to get him to be on board with it.

He keeps reminding you of the worst-case scenario where you’d find yourself with broken arms and him with a broken back. Truly something he isn't looking forward to.

He probably closed his eyes the moment you lifted him off the ground, half expecting to fall to the ground right then and there.

His limps were all over the place, grasping at what he could to the point where it landed him in an awkward position. It was fairly obvious that he hadn't been carried like this before.

He was pleasantly surprised when he found himself up in the air in your arms. At first, he thought that this may have been the work of some sort of strength elixir but he had faith in you.

It doesn't take long for him to become a flustered disaster who doesn't quite realize what to do or say. He’s in your arms and he’s far too close, he’s being far too awkward about this and it’s rather amusing to watch.

He’s simply holding on as tightly as possible, asking again and again if you are certain that this isn't something you struggling with. I mean, is he truly this light?

If he wasn't smitten with you before then he sure as hell is now. It would take him a while to come around to ask to be carried again but when he does so, he does it with the biggest puppy eyes you've ever seen.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“No fucking way! I’m up in the air?! Me?! You can lift me?! Bloody hell you're a strong one, soldier. Never thought big ol’ Karlach could be so easily swept off her feet. Gotta repay you for that one!”

She believed that there was no way in hell you’d be able to carry her. She would have crushed you the moment you tried.

Even so, she agreed, it doesn't hurt to try after all. Besides, she's a tad bit curious about herself. However, she does constantly remind you of how heavy she is and to let go if it's something you truly can't do.

She would have backed out last minute to save you if it weren't for the fact that she suddenly felt her feet lift from the ground below.

She would be surprised that your little form somehow has the power to lift her, she’d think it's the coolest thing ever! She's practically laughing her ass off from having you carry her around.

This is the most fun she’s had in a while and she hopes for it to last for as long as your body could handle. Both of your combined laughter would be enough to startle the entirety of the camp.

Right after she’d be more than happy to carry you as well! Consider it a favor after doing the same thing to her. You’ll be having free piggyback rides for days to come! In exchange of free carries from you of course.

She’ll never not laugh every time you pick her up. She's felt so strong and impenetrable most of her life until you came over swooping her off the ground like it was nothing. It makes her fiery heart soar.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“My hero, and just when I thought I’d have to use a quick healing spell or two. I suppose I don't mind playing myself as the ‘damsel in distress’ if that means I get to end up in your arms.”

She wasn't quite on board with the whole idea of you picking her up just yet. She was confident that you’d drop her and you’d end up falling alongside her.

Though eventually, she did come around to it, not that it took too much convincing. She was a Cleric so if both of you ended up hurt somehow, she’d be there to heal both of you.

She was very careful with choosing how she’d like to hold you just before you lifted her up. She tried to get into the most comfortable position possible that would cater to both you and her.

She was delightfully surprised when you did manage to lift her up in your arms, a warm smile plastering itself across her face from witnessing such a shocking act of strength from you.

If this isn't the perfect moment for her to tease you then you are greatly mistaken because she would be teasing you relentlessly for as long as you keep her in your grasp.

Even so, it's all in good fun. She finds herself loving how feather-light she seems in your hold, reassured that you wouldn't drop her despite her previous apprehensions.

She’d never doubt your abilities again in this case, and she’d be more than willing to be held within your strong embrace once more.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk. The fact that your arms remain intact is a surprise. Still. I am capable of walking on my own if carrying me like this was your plan. Your strength is noted but I’d rather set onwards with my head held high and my feet on the ground.”

Her immediate answer was no.

She’d think of it to be a rather stupid idea, she didn't even believe that there would be a slight chance of you carrying her properly.

It would take a lot of convincing for her to ever allow you to carry her with her consent. Doing so without it would result in her punching you right in the face. Ingrained reflexes I suppose.

She’d be annoyed but she’d reluctantly agree when the moment comes around. However, she would make a blatant reminder that if you were to be crushed, it was over your own stupidity.

She instantly tensed the moment you lifted her off the ground, her eyes went wide, and she couldn't believe that she was somehow being lifted by you.

She also generally hasn't been lifted before and she doesn't completely realize how she should be feeling about it. It's strange, and it definitely takes her a while to relax.

Eventually, she’d finally sprinkle some form of praise onto you, seeming rather impressed by your bold display of strength. She might even find it somewhat attractive that you could so easily lift her up.

It would take a while to get used to but I doubt she’d be against it anymore. Your strength is truly a perk of yours that should never go overlooked and she thankfully realizes this now.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“Oh! Well isn't this quite the shocker? Not only do you have a strong heart but it appears that you have strong arms too, haha! And just when I thought I’d undergone everything life had to offer.”

He thought you were joking with him at first. There was no way you’d be able to carry him, he's never seen anyone successfully do so either.

Perhaps he’d let you try if not for his own amusement/pity, but he pretty much was certain that you’d hardly have the strength to lift him an inch off the ground.

Of course, this wasn't to undermine you, but he knew all too well that a man of his stature couldn't possibly be carried like some sort of fairytale Princess.

Safe to say that he was utterly baffled the moment you began to lift him. In all his years alive he has never once encountered someone who was able to carry him with the use of their raw brute strength.

The first thing that came to his mind was worry, he wasn't sure how long you’d be able to hold him or if this was too much. He understands how heavy he is and he’d be absolutely devastated if he were to accidentally crush you.

As fun and ridiculous as this all was, Halsin would be too concerned about somehow crushing you down with his weight so you wouldn't be carrying him for long.

After a few shared laughs, he’d be the one to politely request to be let down. Softly asking if you are okay and hoping that carrying him wasn't too tiring.

Nevertheless, he’s enamored by your display of strength and the new experience truly did make his heart skip a beat. Now there's yet another peculiar thing about you he’d add to his reasons for adoring you.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[steddieas-shegoes]

just make the tik tok

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'behind the scenes'

rated t | 880 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, modern au, frankie is anti-tik tok

📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱

Joining Tik Tok was a mistake.

"I cannot believe you thought having a band Tik Tok would be a good idea," Frankie said to Jeff as they watched Eddie and Gareth doing some stupid dance. "Look at them. They're stupid. You made them more stupid."

"I just thought it was a good way for people to see behind the scenes of the tour. Everyone agreed!" Jeff shook his head as he saw Gareth lose his balance and grab onto Eddie's shoulder to stabilize himself.

"The last one got 300,000 likes. We gained followers who never listened to our stuff before. They may be stupid, but my plan isn't."

Frankie sighed, but didn't argue further. Jeff was right. He just hoped he never had to do any ridiculous dances or trends to keep people interested in their music.

****

"You guys have gained thousands of followers on all platforms since you started being active on Tik Tok. It may be wise for all of you to be on camera," one of the producers of their album suggested.

"Not happening." Frankie shook his head. "They get what they want from those two idiots."

"Hey!" Gareth and Eddie yelled in unison.

Jeff waved them off. "If Frankie doesn't wanna do them, he doesn't have to. We agreed that this was a voluntary thing."

"Yes, we did. But we're seeing growth and there's been a trend of comments asking where he is in some of the videos."

"I'm in some videos," Frankie crossed his arms. "That stage tour one. I was setting up my bass."

"But people wanna see you. They wanna get to know you, feel connected. That's the beauty of this era. We can make fans feel like they're truly a part of the band, which leads them to sharing and buying." One of the managers of the PR team said. "It's good for your brand if you're just as involved as they are."

"I didn't know we needed to have a brand beyond metal band." Frankie rolled his eyes and stood up from the couch he was sitting on. "I'm gonna head to the studio and work on music. Which is our job."

No one tried to stop him.

****

"There's a woman who keeps asking where you are." Eddie shakes his phone in front of Frankie's face. "She thinks you're leaving the band and is begging you to stay."

"Tell her I'm not leaving the band." Frankie sat down at the table on the tour bus with his bottle of beer and the shrimp leftover from catering at their show. "Though the urge is strong when Gareth keeps drinking my beers."

"She's hot," Eddie continued, seemingly ignoring Frankie's words. "You should make a video so she knows you're not going anywhere."

Frankie rolled his eyes. "I'm not doing a fuckin' Tik Tok."

Eddie held the phone out to him, showing him the woman's profile.

She was hot.

And apparently only ever really concerned with where Frankie was. She'd even sent a DM asking if he was okay.

"Fine. How do I make one?" Frankie asked with a sigh.

"Seriously? We beg you for two months to make one and it's a hard no, but one hot girl wants you to be in one and you're ready to become a social media influencer?" Eddie teased.

"As if you didn't make an entire series of videos rating new pop songs because Steve asked you to."

Frankie grabbed Eddie's phone, ignoring his flailing to try to grab it back.

The app was already open, and he found it surprisingly easy to start recording a video.

"Hey everyone. I'm not leaving the band. I just hate social media shit. I'm fine. I'm not mad at anyone. Except Gareth who owes me 83 beers from stealing mine over the last six years. Yes, I've counted." Frankie sees a timer counting down and decides to give an awkward wave with his other hand before stopping the video. "That should be fine, right?"

He didn't wait for Eddie's response before saving and posting it.

"Uh. Usually they look at them before we post." Eddie explained as he took his phone back.

"They can take it down later if they want."

'That's...not really how this shit works, dude."

Frankie shrugged and continued eating his shrimp for a few minutes until Jeff came to sit next to him, calm as ever.

"You made a video." He yawned, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah."

"It's got 54,000 likes already."

"Can't help that I'm charming."

"It hasn't been that many beers!" Gareth yells from his bunk, half-asleep.

"Your girl messaged," Eddie handed Frankie the phone with a smirk.

Glad you're not going anywhere 💗

"You better get her number, dude." Jeff nudged his arm. "She wants you so bad."

****

Nearly a year later, and more Tik Toks than he ever hoped to be a part of, Frankie smiled down at the VIP section for their sold out show at Madison Square Garden.

Sasha stood there smiling back at him, singing along to all their songs.

After the show, he'd probably be pulled into a stupid video with Eddie or Gareth, but he didn't really complain anymore. Not when those stupid videos were responsible for bringing him his future wife.

[damagedcoda6669]

Hey Lucifer, i'm sorry I am telling you this since ik you and Al are close, but that's exactly why i'm telling you this...

As you know, Al used to be in birdie drama spaces, and he still is, but just under an alt.

Remember the borderline 12 drama? Al made that happen to see how the public would react since he is planning bigger things. He wants to see how fast your "fans" will turn on you, and he wanted to see how many would defend you. He knew doing the borderline 12 thing would get you in trouble, he even was surprised with how well it went considering YOU posted it when he actually wanted to post it on his account and mention you drew it.

I know this since i'm also in birder drama servers, but I just think Al is taking it too far...

He is truly playing the long game and trying to solidify your trust within him so that those leaks that are happening cannot be traced back to him. Al has truly formed an attachment to you, but not in a good way.

That borderline 12 drama was also to test your loyalty to him and it worked since you believed that he meant no harm when all he truly did mean was to harm you. You may think Al is genuine and would never, but just try to analyze a few of his messages pertaining to birder drama.... that's all i'm going to allude to because I don't want him to know who i am. I don't want him to doxx me.

I will say, Al does share a lot of interests with you and he does find you fun to be around, but that's because he sees you as a toy instead of a person.

Just- please be careful with Al, he is betraying you behind closed doors and PLEASE don't listen to him when he says all the anon's are lying, they are just scared of him finding out because right now he is really favored in birdie drama spaces since he infiltrated you so well.

Ik you might not believe me since i said I was in birdie drama spaces and i will admit, i do talk bad about you.... However, I never leaked anything nor have I been involved in what Al has been doing. I am mainly a lurker and to gain trust in the birder servers I just regurgitate the hate everyone else has for you. I feel really guilty, which is why i'm writing you this.

Other's have spoken out in anon asks on your moraltonz account, and Al was really upset with them and tried doxxing them to get them out of the birdie servers he's in so his plans don't get foiled by them, since he knows you get paranoid easily. Al is really worried about you finding out about him, so I'm hoping you get to this ask.

You may believe it's people trying to ruin you Lucifer, but other asks that pretty much imply it's birdie haters was just a tactic used to try to get the people truly coming forward to be discreditable.

Also, read my username and think back to all the birdie drama and all the people involved. I won't say too much, but I hope you can get what I am alluding to. If not, it's ok.

TLDR;

PLEASE BE CAREFUL WITH AL, LUCIFER. Please.

It's disheartening what Al is doing to you, with all the leaks, with the ploys, with how he talks about you, and just with everything he is doing.

Al has not stopped interacting in birdie drama spaces, he lied to you.

I truly think Synni is your only friend, because even though she used to be in birdie spaces, I don't think she has an alt.

I'm sorry i'm telling you all of this considering how close you and Al are, I really am sorry he is doing this to you. /gen

the lengths u guys go 2 2 try 2 induce my paranoia/delusions n turn me against ppl u dont know is crazy. if this is true, if u actually cared abt me, use ur main. say it 2 my face. give me evidence. ALSO ADMITTING U SHITTALK ME AND ACTIVELY PARTICIPATE IN BIRDIE DRAMA SERVERS IS CRAAAZY. I AM NOT GOING 2 LISTEN 2 A WORD U SAY, U R JUST ADMITTING 2 BEING A BAD PERSON. if u feel sooooo guilty, why r u still there? if al was rlly leaking shit in these spaces, scs and evidence wouldve gotten back 2 me by now. itd have spread online and id be able 2 see artwork n images that i havent sent 2 anyone besides them. also??? stop misgendering them??? weird ass

anyway yeah, good lie, u fabricated an interesting story, but gimme some proof. gimme gimme i want those discord scs that dont exist *rubs my hands 2gether nefariously*

heh u dont know this but.. jotaro is leaking everything