#Idk what color his eyes are but I can truly just do whatever I want. I might just go with gold

[cartoonghosts]

me and my friends were talking today and I made a dragonsona because why the fuck not. No one can fucking stop me. I'm not really a furry or therian but it's really fun to make a version of myself who's a cool feathery dragonboy!! Anyways if ur seeing this this is ur sign to go make a fursona. It really isn't that deep its just a fun little OC.

[sluttysturn]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖠 𝖥𝖫𝖨𝖱𝖳˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

pairing: bsf/dealer!chris x bsf/buyer!reader

in which chris is your best friend and dealer, but he has a crush on you and isn’t afraid to show it.

TW: smoking, kissing, swearing, idk what else

requested?: yes! by @sturniolotrophywife (it won’t let me tag you but if you see this, here ya go!)

notes: (color of who’s speaking: chris | y/n)

a/n: i rly rly liked this idea!! i hope you guys did too!! if you do like this be sure to follow/ reblog and leave requests!! love youuuu!

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

i was currently sitting in bed bored as hell. i wouldn’t mind being high right now. actually i really wanna be.

so much is going on and i wanna get my mind off of everything.

i hit up my dealer, which is also my best friend, chris. sometimes, he wants to be a dick and tell me no and that he doesn’t want me doing it. but i know he just wants what’s best for me.

i texted him anyways, hoping he’d say yes, and maybe even smoke with me.

thank god.

i waited for about 20 minutes when i heard a knock at my door.

finally.

i headed down stairs and opened the door to see chris standing on the other side.

the way his hair fell perfectly against his forehead, the way his hoodie fit perfectly around his body, the way his eyes sparkled while looking into mine.

no stop he’s my best friend.

“hi pretty girl” chris said winking at my with a goofy smile.

i rolled my eyes and laughed lightly, “you know you have a key right?”

“i left it home since you insisted i get here fast”

he rolled his eyes and he handed me the blunt.

“thanks. how much do you need?”

“don’t worry about it.”

“no chris. how much?”

“i’m not taking your money y/n.”

“whatever- come smoke with me?” i paused, “unless you gotta go to other people.”

“they can wait. sure.”

“ok cmon.”

i grabbed his hand and took him upstairs. i was happy he wanted to smoke with me. i loved hanging out with him.

i open my bedroom window and we crawled out and onto the roof.

my house had a roof connected to my window, so it was an easy spot to smoke so my room didn’t reek of weed.

we sat down next to each other.

“y/n, you know i hate when you smoke right?”

“yeah but why?”

“because i actually care about you and i don’t want you to end up like me.”

“i’m fine chris. i just need a break from life, you know?”

he put his arm around my shoulder and rested his head on top of mine.

“yeah i get that.. im sorry you feel that way,” he paused, “but you know you can always talk to me, right?”

“you know i don’t like talking about my problems, but, i know.”

i unwrapped the blunt and took it out. i pulled out my lighter and rolled my thumb against the metal thingy (i don’t know what it’s called).

i grazed the bottom of the blunt with the fire and took a drag of it.

i inhaled the smoke, and exhaled passing it to chris.

we talked and smoke for around 30 minutes before the blunt was gone.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

“fuck, i needed this” i said with droopy, red eyes.

i looked over at chris, he was so pretty. being high always made him look even more attractive.

chris looked back over at me. little did i know he was thinking the same thing. he smile at me and grabbed my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine.

“y/n can i tell you something?”

“go for it.”

he took a deep breath before speaking again.

“i love you. like really fucking love you. i know its kinda crazy b’cause we’ve been best friends for so long, but im truly in love with you. that’s why i don’t like when you smoke. i don’t want you to be a crack head, like me.”

i was speechless. my best friend of almost 18 years was in love with me?

that handsome man. in love with someone like me?

“chris your not a crack head. you still care about people and you don’t make being high your entire personality. and, i love you too. i really fucking love you too.”

i looked into his beautiful blue eyes and smiled.

he smile back and leaned his face close to mine, but stopped before his lips connected with mine.

“can i kiss you?”

(CONSENTT IS KEYY)

“please”

he finally connect his lips with mine.

our lips were moving in a rhythm and harmony. he was such a good kisser. holy shit.

being high really increased the way i felt like i was sinking into him. it felt as if our body were actually morphing into one.

he pulled away soon after and began to speak.

“y/n y/l/n, will you please give me the honor of being your boyfriend.”

“yes chris.”

he pecked my lips once more.

“also i will be asking you again when we’re sober, so it’ll be more real, you know?”

“thank you, i love you chris.”

“i love you y/n.”

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

a/n: I KINDA LOVE DEALER!CHRIS. BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS, AND IF YOU DID PLEASE FOLLOW/ REBLOG AND REQUESTTTT!! LOVE YOUUUU!!

[chamomiletealeaf]

Sweet as Pie

Chapter 3

a/n: I'm having such bad writers block for this story guys but I kinda like this idea. It's just more of Simon being in awe of you from afar because I'm not sure how to move on with the story yet so this is kind of a filler chapter I guess? Idk, but hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

-

Simon found himself falling asleep faster, easier, and more soundly each night, and he didn't know why. It definitely wasn't because his mind is filled with thoughts of you rather than the horrors he's witnessed on the battlefield, right? No, that would be crazy. It's not like he had a little big crush on you or anything... Right?

Simon decided to take a walk the morning after you visited him to learn more about the area. It was truly beautiful. The lake was sound and quiet and there was a light breeze swaying the trees above him. In a way the lake was like Simon. Dark, looks dangerous and cold from afar, but once you get your feet in the water it's warmer than it ever could have appeared. The area was nice. Simon can't remember the last time he enjoyed what he was looking at, other than yesterday and the day before that when he first saw you.

With his hands in his jacket pocket, he slowly and carefully roamed the area by his house. He found a hiking trail and decided to follow it, purposely taking the direction he knew your house was by, but he would never admit that to himself.

As he followed the narrow dirt path, he heard a faint sound coming from nearby where your house would be. His curious ears perked up and followed the sound cautiously. As he inched further up the road, he heard that the sounds coming from your house was music. This part of the road passed right behind your house, which gave him the perfect view of your living room, where you were watering your house plants and singing your heart out to whatever song you had on your record player. He didn't care whether or not you were good or bad at singing. What mattered to him was that he was looking at you. Simon had tunnel vision take over him as his eyes softened and lips parted slightly in awe. You seemed to have that effect on him.

His honey-colored eyes fixated on the way you swayed to the music while you reached up with a green mini watering can to water the plants you seemed to treat as your own children. He watched you through the window standing in the middle of the narrow dirt road as if he was in a trance as you smiled and sang along, looking so peaceful, warm, and joyful. You were so unreal. So genuine. So, sweet. And he wanted nothing more than to feel that warmth you exhumed infiltrate his cold soul like an infection, lighting up every shadowed corner of his heart in a way he never thought possible.

Simon only saw you through your tiny, cracked open living room window, and he never wanted to look at anything else ever again. As you continued to dance and sing along to your music, you turned your body to face the plants by the window, preparing to water them next, and you froze when you saw Simon outside standing on the dirt road.

Simon snapped out of his hypnotic state when you made eye contact with him and felt a chill run down his spine from realization.

Fuck, what am I doing? I probably look like a creep he thought, and he turned his head down to look at his feet as he tried to hurry on his way.

You noticed his sudden movement and watched him fade from view from where he stood in the frame of the window. You quickly placed the watering can down and ran to the window. You quickly threw it open and called out to him, trying to catch him before he got too far away.

"Hey honey bunch! Where you off to?" You called out to him, leaning out the window with that smile he loved so much that melted him like a popsicle on black pavement in the middle of July.

Honey bunch, Simon thought to himself.

He turned around and looked at you, then immediately looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up and turn into that shade of pink you always seemed to cause. God why was this happening to him? Why is he blushing like a school girl?

"Oh hey, uh, sorry I didn't mean to stare at you like that." He apologized softly, bringing his hand up to rub his neck as he avoided your eyes.

"Oh don't you worry about that. Anyone would stare at a crazy girl like me frolickin' around like that." You reassured him with a laugh.

The soft wind kissed your skin and caused your hair to blow so angelically. It nearly made Simon sick. You looked straight out of a fairy tale with the way you leaned out the window frame and the way the strap of your dress was centimeters away from falling down your shoulder.

You stared at each other for a second in comfortable silence with the faint sounds of your record player playing as white noise in the moment. It felt so easy with you.

"You know, a little bit further down to the left on the bank of the lake, there's the biggest, most gorgeous willow tree you'll ever see. Can't miss it. It's been there for lord knows how long. Makes a real nice sittin' spot." You inform him, hoping to make his walk a little more interesting. But little do you know, nothing will be more interesting to him than you.

"That sounds nice, thank you." He says.

"You want me to show you?" You ask with a smile.

Simon wants to say no. He's not used to company. He likes being alone. But there's something about you he just can't resist.

After a pause of silence between you two, you retreat a little and start to move out of the window frame.

"It's ok if not-" You start to say, embarrassed of your boldness, but Simon cuts you off.

"I'd love that." He says a bit too enthusiastically, realizing he's scaring you off.

You lean back out the window and smile at him.

"Ok. One sec. Wait right there." You say, and then you were gone from the window.

Simon stands there waiting patiently for you, and then he straightens up when he sees you appear from behind your house, walking towards him on the path.

And of course, you had on your white cardigan he loved on you so much.

You caught up to him and he got a whiff of your hair. You smelled like fresh peaches and apples, which had just in this moment become Simon's favorite fruits, because he associated them with you now.

You walked up to his side and smiled, and he smiled back down at you. God you were so cute.

"C'mon hun, right down here." You motion to the road in front of you, and Simon secretly hoped that this would be the first of many walks you two would take together.

And as the two of you conversed and laughed on the way to the willow tree, and as hands occasionally brushed against each other, Simon found himself feeling something he hadn't felt in years.

Simon Riley felt joy.

taglist: @pussypinkbarbie @thatonepupkai

[nectardaddy]

notebook paper | hinata shoyo

chapter fourteen | your mom [ ✎ ]

masterlist

no smau parts in this one.

cw: idk how to say it but that moment when the stress hits you all at once

He couldn't help the small chuckle passing his lips, leaving as a snort as brown eyes tracked scrawled words on a piece of paper. Repeatedly reading over the worksheet he volunteered himself to grade, but stopped at an answer he had found particularly funny. "Is 'deez nuts' the right answer to what can describe an object's motion?" He asked sarcastically through a chuckle.

The woman next to him let out a laugh at his question, "no way they wrote that." Looking over to the worksheet he had in front of him with a silly smile, "oh my god," speaking through a giggle as her eyes caught the answer. "I'll grade that one," she mused, "we can trade. I love writing notes on their papers when they write stupid answers."

They both sat at the kitchen table of her apartment. Papers and colorful pens strewn about and her laptop open to a draft of a lesson plan, long forgotten as she helped the man grade beside her. She slid the paper that was once in front of him towards herself, and gave him the paper she was grading instead. "Oh god, what are you going to write?" Questioning her with laugh, seeing as she had already started writing.

"You'll see," she mused. And he watched as she furiously wrote on the paper in red ink, a smirk pulling at the edges of her lips.

Leaning over to see what the woman was writing, arm brushing over her own as he did, he let out a loud cackle at only the first two words. Boldly written, with an arrow pointing to the very answer he said aloud, "holy shit!" He said within a laugh, "you did not just write your mom!"

Her smirk pulled further into a brighter smile as she finally stopped writing, placing the pen down and looking over to him. Just under the cheeky note, there were parentheses reading: (won't like the grade you're going to get with this answer. Do it over again.) "They think the notes are funny," she shrugged with a chuckle. "Most of the time they'll do it over again, too."

There was a brief moment of pause, barely lasting more than a few seconds but one the man found himself enthralled with. "You really don't know how amazing you are, do you?" Breaking the silence as he thought aloud, looking to her like a moth to a flame. Tracing over every feature of her face as if to memorize it, as to never forget how bewitching she truly was. "You're a really good teacher."

"You're just saying that," brushed off the compliment with a small laugh. Averting her eyes to look back at the worksheet with baited breath.

"No I'm not," he defended. "Majority of these papers are good grades, or at least looks like they're trying. You're teaching it in a way they understand it," he reasoned. "And you do things they think is funny; they obviously like you."

He saw the woman falter, her smile fall slowly as she thought about his words - an impact she never knew was possible. "Yeah," was all she could say before lifting her hands to her face, letting out a loud sigh as she did. Putting her hands to her eyes and dragging down, an exhausted look now taking center stage of her emotions.

He felt his heart plummet, thinking he, somehow, took a misstep with his words. Taking in a version of her he'd never seen in person, but allowing the space all the same. "Hey," trying to draw her attention, "you alright? I didn't mean to upset you, I just thought you needed to hear it."

His question hung for a moment, voice kind and tone nothing but caring, looking over at her with a concern beyond him. "I did," her voice was soft, a crack within her comment that caused his shoulders to drop. Oh fuck I made her cry. "You have no idea how much I did."

He wanted to comfort her, to remedy whatever flood he had caused within her mind; wanted nothing more than to see her smile again rather than look away with watery eyes. So it was a natural instinct for him to gently draw her forward, to pull her cautiously within his arms - to hug her. "I'll tell you every day then," giving her a small, rather anxious, smile. One she didn't see as she closed her eyes, not wanting the man to see the large effect his words had, but hugging him back regardless.

yes the answer and what yn wrote is my experience lmao

if a man doesn't treat you like this LEAVE HIM

suga is freaking out in his room over this interaction. hell yeah he was eavesdropping

hinata got her coffee too on his way there <3

if you want to know the real answer though it's speed and direction (the middle school answer at least)

this chapter was supposed to be funny but turned into feelings idk but I like it a lot more than the original plan

taglist under cut

@muyyie @wyrcan @eggyrocks @eclecticeggknightpsychic @nbcvs

@marzzn @naweirdo @yukii-1 @girlkissersco @yuminako @kunimix

@empress-pug-pug @cherrypieyourface @lvtilzs @punkhazardlaw @localgaytrainwreck

@crownj1min @sereniteav @madiexuberant @st4rdusttx @chizunata

@le000xxgrd @iheartpinky @muskratlove @mollyrolls @cryptictheseus

@theycallmenanamisgirl @jaeminsbuckethat @deluluforcarlos55 @bunninio @jeonsfizz

@causenessus

[vicsy]

something something something about how max’s hair is completely brown now…when daniel closes his eyes all he sees is blonde

ohhh. ohh anon. you should not have gone there.... but I am glad you did. this is also something very up @mysticalbreadcollective 's alley since blonde Max is on her daily agenda BUT

anon. idk what floats your boat but let me take you somewhere rancid under the cut (let the record show that I am a maxiel truther but my god do I enjoy making them suffer with other people)

it's current season and maxiel aren't together due to Reasons with capital R of course. Daniel's "i can't fuck my teammate i am not into guys or am I but maybe that's just Max oh no you can't be with Max" and Max's general understanding of his own worth and needs. they can't escape the tension, the lingering touches, the double entendre running through their relationship like a river in flood. one step forward, two steps back etc etc

so things aren't going exactly as planned for Daniel and, naturally, he's fighting the pull towards Max and the best next thing his brain chooses to do is find someone to hook up with, get it out of his system. since his dick is very much attuned to Max after years of imagining that's its gonna find itself parked in Max's ass (which never happened), Daniel's looking for someone particular to scratch the itch and, apparently, to spite the fate, his choice falls to YOU GUESSED IT – Liam.

very convenient, since they're both gunning for the same thing. exploring some healthy alternatives to their impromptu rivalry or whatever the media says. Daniel's pretty charming and Liam's easy. done and done.

and it's bad. capital "b" Bad. the sex comes pretty fast and Daniel's checking all of his boxes - rookie, blonde, tiny waist, looks at him with wide eyes etc etc and Liam is surprisingly down to fuck cause maybe that is also convenient for him, too. but he's mean about it. He's heard legends about Big Dick Ric and the dick is very big but the prowess? lacking. he says that to Daniel's face after, like, the third time it happens. which should be incredibly insulting but–

Daniel's pining and trying to trick himself which works exactly for three seconds but Liam isn't what he wants. wrong kind of blonde hair that Daniel's gripping tight while he fucks Liam from the back, never face to face, because that would prompt Daniel to THINK and RUMINATE and he doesn't want that. he wants Max the way he sees him when he closes his eyes but it's gone when he opens them and finishes another underwhelming sexcapade. it's never the right color, it's never the right person' it's always a bad time.

"do you think I'm not getting what you're doing here?" Liam says to him one day, grinning meanly, and Daniel truly doesn't know the answer to that question. he's hella confused himself. Liam seems to get off on the situation more than when he's riding Daniel's dick, so he calls Daniel Danny in the garage and he suddenly glues himself to Daniel's side, which is. weird. manipulative? Daniel's plan to get over himself backfires when he sees Liam talking to Max one day and Max's easy smile slowly dissipates as Liam's yapping but Daniel can't hear a word.

he doesn't really need to. he knows Liam cashed in on Daniel's sorry excuse of a reason to hook up. all Daniel can do is add to the history of horrendous decisions he's made in his life and live with the knowledge that he's probably never going to wake up next to Max's mostly-not-blonde hair getting in his face where they're tangled in bed, that Daniel's dabbled in something he should not have touched with a ten foot pole, that he'd tarnished all of his chanced, basically set them on fire when max had been there and never turning him down all the way.

Daniel got some, Liam got some. after all, it's Max who, unfairly, walks out it hurt the most, because of Daniel's choice, because of him thinking he was chasing something else while in reality he was running. and Daniel never fucking stopped.

[roycevelvet]

Collision of fate

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x reader Warnings: none Notes: idk what this is or where this is going, enjoy the ride. And I'm sorry, as usual, not proof-read, ain't nobody got time for that. Also having editing issues again, don’t know what i’m doing wrong lol

Summary: A fender-bender with a tour bus sparks frustration, but quickly turns it into a sweet connection with smiles and the promise of new beginnings.

The guys were in the middle of their European tour, driving through the countryside of a small European town. As their tour bus rumbled along the roads of a small village, the sun hung low in the sky, painting the countryside with a warm glow. However, amidst the peaceful scenery, danger was just around the corner.

You on the other hand were driving quite aggressively, frustration simmering inside you. It was another day colored by your boyfriend's insensitive actions, leaving you seething with irritation. Desperate to shake off the frustration, you cranked up the volume of the music, the powerful chords of some random 80s rock song on the radio reverberating through your speakers. With each verse, you poured your heart into the lyrics, as an escape from your troubles. But just as you began to find some solace in the music, disaster struck.

As the spinning car finally stopped, the huge tour bus screeched to a halt, the sound of the collision snapped Noah out of his thoughts.

In a blur of shock and anger, you approached the group of men emerging from the bus. Your voice ringing out outrage. "What in the world were you thinking?" you yelled in your native language, your words sharp and pointed. “Did you never learn how to drive?!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down there" Matt interjected, stepping forward with his hands in defeat, trying to keep this a civil conversation. "We're really sorry about what happened. It was an accident.”

"Accident? You call this an accident?" you shot back, switching to English, your voice rising with every word. "You nearly killed me!"

“It was an honest miscalculation, I swear," Matt insisted, "Let's just try to sort this out calmly, okay?"

But your anger was relentless, fueled by adrenaline and the shock of the near miss. "Calm? You want me to be calm?" you snorted. “How can I be calm when you almost turned me into a statistic?"

Matt exchanged a helpless glance with the crew, unsure of how to calm things down. Your anger was clear to everyone. Noah watched quietly as you let out your frustration, speaking, yelling actually, passionately in your European accent. Despite being outnumbered and seemingly outmatched, you stood your ground, and Noah couldn’t help but feel impressed. There was something undeniably captivating about the fire in your eyes, the strength in your voice as you held them to account.

“Guys, what do we do?" Someone whispered, Noah couldn’t quite hear who because of the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. 

"We apologize, again" Noah interjected, stepping forward to address you directly. "I'm truly sorry for what happened. It was never our intention to cause harm. We are not familiair with these roads and our bus driver miscalculated the small road.”

Your gaze softened slightly at his words, though the fire in your eyes still burned bright. "An apology won't fix my car though” you snapped back.

"I understand" Noah replied genuinely, "We'll do whatever we can to make it right. Please, let us help."

As apologies were exchanged and tensions started to calm, Noah felt drawn to you. Despite the chaos, he couldn't help but notice the way your brown hair fell in loose waves around your shoulders, catching the sunlight. Your hazel eyes holding a fierce determination. And your sun-kissed skin that seemed to glow in the fading light, adding more to your captivating aura.

You stood there in your adorable sunflower dress, defiant yet somehow ethereal, and Noah couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was more than mere coincidence. There was something about you that tugged at his heartstrings.

And so, amidst this unfortunate meeting, a conversation blossomed. Noah found himself hanging on your every word, captivated by your beauty and undeniable charisma as you finalized the insurance paperwork. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but feel at ease in Noah's presence, he was the one to calm you down in the first please. His calm demeanor and genuine concern put you at ease, and you couldn't deny finding him kind of … cute?

Noah discreetly glanced at the paperwork in his hand, subtly searching for your name. You caught him in the act and offered him a playful smirk. "What? Can’t find my name?” you teased, your voice tinged with amusement.

He chuckled at being caught. He couldn't help but find your thick accent cute when you spoke in English, adding a charming touch to your already captivating presence.

"Ah, busted" he admitted with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, I suppose I'll have to rely on you to fill in the blank."

You flashed a knowing smile and replied, "Y/N. And you are?"

Noah extended his hand with a warm smile. "I'm Noah, and these are ...” He introduced each member of the band and the crew present in turn, all wearing the same apologetic expression.

You waited together for the towing service to arrive and collect your car, the initial tension was nowhere to be found. Everyone present engaged in small talk, trying to lighten the mood and make amends for the accident.

As a gesture of apology, Noah leaned in and said, "We really feel terrible about what happened. Can we at least make it a bit better if we invite you to our concert tomorrow night?"

You couldn't help but smile at the offer, touched by their sincerity. "I'd like that," you replied, feeling a sense of warmth in your chest at the unexpected invitation.

PART TWO

[maxmagic]

LONG post featuring my opinions on this design and her concept and also Vivs character design decisions in general

This design singlehandedly made my account rise from the fucking dead because of how much opinions I have on it

TO NOTE : I LIKE Helluva Boss as a show. Is it perfect? No. Do I think it has issues from both writing and design aspects? Yes. Do I like it regardless? Also yes. You can like a show and still have criticisms of it. Also Viv has answered some criticisms about Beelzebubs design and I will talk about them too

Final warning cuz this is LONG and rambled at points

By this point we are all aware that once a new character gets revealed in Helluva or Hazbin , there's always opinions on it.

But Beelzebub truly takes the cake on how divided people are on her design. People either adore it or hate it with a blinding passion (and some just don't like it cuz they have a Viv hate boner).

I have to say I actually really like it as a stand alone design. Remove her from the story and context it's genuinely an appealing design with fun and bright colors. I personally don't mind the early 2010's sparkle dog look. It has a nostalgic charm to it and if you followed Viv for long enough you know she really likes that aesthetic. She has good colors and color placement and my main real dislike is the weird hair.

And she's animated BEAUTIFULLY !!! Real props to the animators for being able to make this design look nice in motion because god lord is it complicated. This will be a criticism later, but again, its really amazing on how they made this design look good even though we all know this must have been a real bitch to animate.

The real issue that come to me with her design is when you put her in the show and have to think about who she is, what she is, what her lore is ect.

Firstly: Her not being 'lore accurate' kinda falls flat given that none of the designs thus far have been accurate to what they're based on. Like Asmodeus has elements that tie him to his demon name counterpart (with the rooster tail and 3 faces) but they're more allusions then design inspirations. Lucifer is literally just a top hat twink and Mammon (even tho we haven't seen his full design yet) is clown/jester themed. Viv has made it clear that this version of hell isn't supported to be an accurate depiction of biblical hell. So she can really do whatever she wants with her interpretation. Her not being an insect, although disappointing since we don't really have that in the show, is only just a matter of personal taste.

HOWEVER there's still a lot of discrepancies with her design.

So she's supposed to be a Bee-Fox hybrid... Where's the bee??? Like take away the hexagon background, where is the bee part of her design? She has antenna and wings but... They don't really do much. The antenna are fine and its smart they placed at the tip of her ears, but the wings are straight up not bee wings!!! They look more like pixie wings and they're so small half the time I forgot they were there. Couldn't you have added.. idk some stripes?? she has stripes on her ears but they don't look like bee stripers more so general Viv design details. It's weird given she uses stripes so heavily in other designs yet the BEE character doesnt. Maybe add some fuzz like how bumblebees have?? Maybe trade that stupid lava lamp tail/hair if its too complex. I really don't like how she has normal hair and also a weird liquid part and liquid tail. It adds too much visual noise and just doesn't gel well wit the rest of her design. Her lava lamp stomach too just feels like needless addition of animation work for something that just doesn't add anything. Her colors ( despite being nice) kinda clash against all the other hellhounds who have a muted black/grey/red color pallate. It makes her look like an 13 year olds OC thats been edited in

Literally the only things that changed are her colors, size and eyes. In my opinion this should have been her base design because the colors and bug eyes lean into more of the bee aspect. Plus with these colors she fits more with other hellhounds.

Like right now the normal design feels 97% fox with just the most subtle bee elements slapped on. If it wasn't for the background, look me in the eye and tell me this design is a fox bee hybrid.

She also doesn't feel like a prince? She's dressed very casually and doesn't have nearly have enough of an imposing vibe. I didn't know she was a prince until it was said in show. I thought she was just some high rank demon performer. Its kinda disappointing given how grand, larger then life look and energy Asmodeus had. They were introduced in the same way via big song number, but Asmodeus felt like a Prince of Lust, Beelzebub felt more like a performer of Gluttony rather then a ruler.

Also why if she a hellhound in the first place? i saw somewhere on twitter that its cuz her people are hellhounds but that doesnt make sense. Lucifer isn't a human and Asmodeus isn't a succubus, so why does Bee have to be a hellhound? We know that hellhounds are the lowest ranked amongst hell natives, so how do people outside of gluttony feel about her? She is treated like royalty but is also a hellhound, the lowest demon. It causes a needless paradox that makes you question the worldbuilding of the show.

Also why are hellhounds the lowest rank in hell ? and why are they associated with gluttony of all things? I am going to be honest when I say I completely forgot they were native to gluttony because gluttony has a beehive aesthetic and like wtf do dogs have anything to do with it . Like other demons shown have themes that tie them into their respective prince or sin, but we aren't shown why hellhounds in particular are gluttony. Like it feels like a minor thing but when you present information about worldbuilding and show stuff that contradicts it, people will question it.

And why is she dating a hellhound? Or more so why is she so open about it. Like its been shown in the show that Stolas and Admodeus dating imps is a taboo thing so her being so open about her relationship with someone whose even lower then an imp. Again its going back on lore and worldbuilding being contradicted. If you're going to make rules for a show, stick to them.

I'm putting these two side by side cuz I have the same complaint about them.

How are we suppose to know this?? First the gluttony ring severally lacks any circus motifs (it has more of a bee theme then a circus one), but Bee ESPECIALLY doesn't have ANY hints at being circus themed, let alone animal trainer.

I knew that all the princes had a circus theme but from I (and from what ive seen in other comments) though she was an acrobat or like dancer of the sort. Literary nothing in her design says she is an animal trainer. And also the hippie 60s spirit is also not anywhere in the design. Just because a design choice is clear to you doesn't mean its clear to everyone else. A good design makes its points across loud and clear so everyone can understand it. This really feels like she's making it all up as people ask. She probably isn't but it really comes across that way. You cant just say something about a design that just isn't in the design or its not shown properly. This is an issue a lot of Helluva and Hazbin Hotels characters have (look up any of their trivia and you'll see how bad some designs are communicated), but with Bee its emphasized tenfold because she's suppose to represent all these different things (fox, bee, prince, party girl, animal trainer, DA sparkle dog, 60s hippie free spirit) at it just isn't conveyed or is put in such a way where you cant clearly tell what it is. It honestly feels like Viv had in mind to have a Kesha pop party girl character and just made her a prince. Shes trying to justify all these things and saying them like they're obvious when they're clearly not!

This design suffers from having too many ideas slapped on it that just don't work and actively work against each other.It makes me less excited for the future prince designs

If youve come this far good for you for sticking around to this way too long of a ramble about a probably one off character in a popular indie cartoon :D

[boydepartment]

boyfriend- jay park x reader oneshot

a/n: i honestly just wrote this on a whim 🫠🫠

warnings- jealous jay, he’s kinda an ass but not rlly??? just like an annoyance, other than that there’s no other warnings, IG HES A LITTLE NONCOMMITTAL TOO⁉️

MASTERLIST

wc- maybe like 500 or 700 idk

song- boyfriend by ariana grande and social house

you don’t know when this started with jay…

you didn’t really want that question answered either, for a few months now he’d bump into you at work, compliment you, then just leave you hanging.

it was severely messing with you head, i mean… you knew you were just staff, you weren’t an idol, and you truly didn’t see yourself as anything special. it was practically torture that he was messing with you. it was unfair and it made your career harder.

but lord

when the park jongseong would compliment you and smile at you, it made you week in the knees. the way his hair would fall in front of his face as he would smirk down at you drove you mad.

or when he wore his glasses to work and you’d catch him looking at you.

or… when he’d kiss you and act like it was nothing.

in reality he wasn’t intentionally messing with you(you’d hope), you were just a hopeless romantic and any kind of attention from him made your heart spin.

what really messed with you, was when he’d get irritated when your coworkers would talk with you.

“hey, y/n!” you looked up and saw one of their managers walk up to you, you remember everyone calling him lee.

“hi what’s up?” you asked, organizing the now cleaned makeup brushes.

lee leaned against the wall near you, “do you think you can incorporate green into the next makeup looks?”

your brows furrowed, “green? we’ve never used green?”

lee sighed and chuckled lightly, “riki accidentally smacked his face on the floor this morning and the side of his face is-“

“red. color theory. got it.” you smiled at him, lee nodded before walking off. when you turned around you ran right into jay.

“was he hitting on you?”

once again confusion overtook your features, “what? no? he’s my coworker.”

jay’s brow rose, “okay and? i am too.” you pushed past him and went to the bag of makeup supplies

“he was telling me to incorporate green into the next makeup look because-“

“yeah- because color theory i heard you.” jay sat down on the counter next to the clean brushes.

you turned around from the bag of makeup and looked at him, “did you hit your face on the floor too? is that why you’re irritated?”

“no but maybe i should so you’d give me more attention.” jay leaned back. you rolled your eyes.

“last time i checked, we are not boyfriend and girlfriend.” you dug through the bag so you could find the green equalizer.

you heard jay scoff and it made your ears perk up, “does that matter y/n?”

“okay and now i can’t talk to my coworkers?” you grabbed the makeup and headed back to pick up your brushes. jay noticed this and knocked the brushes over on the floor.

“what the hell!? i’m going to have to clean those-“

your voice was cut off when he got off the counter and pulled you closer to him.

“m’sorry for starting an argument.”

your eyes narrowed at him, this was another thing jay would do. he’d start random arguments to get your attention and then whatever mess he made, he’d clean it up. you patted his chest and the grip he had on your waist tightened.

“i’ll clean them for you.” jay said before you could speak. you sighed and went to walk to your bag to get the backup set. before you could pull away he yanked you back into him.

“i haven’t complimented you yet today.” he frowned, you looked up at him. he wasn’t usually this touchy or clingy in this much of a public area. once again- messing with your head. you wanted to fawn over him but the setting was wrong. you were at work, your livelihood. you can fawn over him later.

“okay and? you’re not my boyfriend you don’t have to compliment me.”

“that doesn’t matter.” he played with the hem of your shirt, not looking at your eyes.

your jaw dropped slightly, “what is up with you today? you know you have a performance in like an hour, i have to do my job and get to riki. his face is all bruised…”

jay looked up at you, putting his hands up and backing away slowly, “fine. just stop fawning over lee.”

“what are you jealous?” you rolled your eyes and looked away, not expecting the answer you were about to get.

“yeah.”

this made you stop talking immediately, “why? again, you aren’t my boy-“

to shut you up he kissed you. this definitely was not like your kisses before, during a couple of the company dinners or after-parties he’d sneak you both away to ignore all outside responsibility.

you were taken aback and your hand fell on his collared shirt. he was driving you insane, especially since his cologne was the only thing you could smell.

when he pulled away from you, keeping his grip tight on your waist he finally spoke, “i don’t want anyone else to have you? got it?”

[hotmessmaxpress]

Pecco x Bezz where they take their trash talking too far.

Bezz says something teetering on the edge of mean, and Pecco comes back with a comment that basically stabs Bezz right between the ribs (idk what— I think realistically based on how mean they are to each other while joking it would take a lot for Bezz to take it personally but let’s pretend).

Something that makes Bezz truly believe Pecco thinks he’s washed; that he’s a bad rider, that he’s Vale’s least favorite. Maybe that Bezz made a mistake staying at VR46 and that now he’ll never win a championship. Idk but something that makes Bezz physically recoil. He just stares blankly at Pecco, before hurt colors his features and he takes a step back.

“Bezz—“ Pecco, says, already winding up to defend himself. “I was just—“

But Bezz is clearly already hurt. He shakes his head, waving his hands, and turns away. He walks away, busying himself with something Pecco knows isn’t a pressing emergency. He lets him go, though, lets him take his space while he’s upset. He’ll apologize later, and they’ll get drunk at Bezz’s house on the back terrace while Rubik chases after a ball. Bezz will make a comment about Pecco not driving that is close to being hurtful but Pecco will give him a free pass. He’ll sleep on the couch. They’ll be fine.

Only, that doesn’t happen. Bezz finds excuses not to speak to him, and he acts like he thinks Pecco won’t notice, but he does. Bezz is such a part of his weekly routine that when Bezz removes himself from that it’s like a missing limb. It’s like he’s woken up in an alternate universe; one where Bezz never joined the academy and attached himself to Pecco’s side.

Still, Pecco gives him space. He ignores when Bezz shares sad songs on his Instagram. Ignores the sad photo and caption: “Chissa com è che ti sogno ancora abbracciata a me la notte.”

It’s not until the following race weekend that Pecco realizes how well and truly he’s fucked up. It’s like Bezz isn’t even present— normally they are attached at the hip, causing trouble together during media and happily bickering back and forth. Today, nothing. Pecco only glimpses Bezz as he disappears around corners or walks away, like Bezz is a ghost determined to haunt him from afar.

Vale notices, but doesn’t comment on it. Pecco just sees the dissatisfied look on his face when he sees the way Bezz avoids him, and Pecco knows that it’s gone too far. He basically breaks into Bezz’s motorhome, and waits for him until he comes in at the end of the day.

It breaks his heart to see the way Bezz enters and nearly leaves again when he sees Pecco.

“No, Bezz, please,” he says. “Stay.”

Bezz stays, but skirts around him to sit down. He clearly leaves as much space as possible between the two of them.

Pecco has given him enough space.

He sits down right next to Bezz, nearly in his space, and looks at him with worried eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, earnestly. “What I said was wrong, and mean. I didn’t mean it and I’ve upset you and I’m sorry.”

Bezz doesn’t speak, but Pecco watches emotion cross his face before he nods.

“Okay,” Bezz says.

“Okay?” Pecco asks, suspiciously. Bezz had been angsty for a week— Pecco finds it hard to believe all is fixed with an apology.

Bezz shrugs and looks away. Ah. Not fixed.

Pecco can’t stand the thought of Bezz being apart from him any longer. He’s given him time and space but now he’s finished. He needs Bezz; needs his annoying comments and his trash talk and the way he hugs him with his face in his neck so his curls tickle Pecco’s nose. He isn’t going to leave until he can make Bezz happy with him again. Even angry would be better than this avoidance.

“Bezz. Marco. Please. Tell me how to make you feel better. I am sorry. Do you want me to carry your things? Make you food? Well, get you food, I guess, I don’t think me making it would make you better. Do you want me to clean your room?” He asks, gesturing around. “I’ll do it. Whatever you want. Just please stop ignoring me.”

As he talks, he sees Marco look down. Is that- is he smiling?

He pauses, suspicious, and then Bezz breaks. He giggles once, and manages to look up and meet Pecco’s eyes before he starts laughing.

Pecco gapes at him.

“You really begged to clean for me? All because I was mad at you? I should be mad at you more often,” Bezz says between giggles.

Pecco jumps him, tackling him to the sofa and messing up his hair as Bezz tries to fight him off. They wrestle on the sofa until Pecco manages to get on top of him.

“I thought you were mad at me! I thought you were never going to forgive me, you dickhead!”

Bezz giggles, grabbing Pecco’s wrists.

“I was mad! You hurt my feelings. But when you apologized it made me feel better. I was going to tell you that I forgive you but when you started begging it was just too funny.”

Pecco wants to punch him on the mouth.

He doesn’t think, just blinks in one moment and in the next he’s leaned down to press his lips to Bezz’s. Bezz makes a contented noise and releases his wrists, and Pecco’s hands find their way to Bezz’s jaw. The other man’s hands find their way to his hips.

They kiss long and deep, like they’ve done this a million times. It feels normal, especially after the last week of being Bezz-free. It’s like the world was thrown off its axis and has now returned, everything right-side-up again.

When they pull apart and Pecco stares down at him with wide eyes, Bezz grins.

“That wasn’t a joke, right?”

Pecco shakes his head. “No, not a joke.”

“Good,” Bezz beams, then pulls him down to his lips once more.

[vampsickle]

a new pet. ☆ ( re4 ) leon s. kennedy

☆ tags - uhh no plot ... ur a bad guy, and youve caught leon !! he's just a filthy mutt here <3 slight overstim.. idk. im bad at tagging !! >< but leon’s submissive .. yeahh. gn reader, no use of pronouns!

☆ wc - 1.2k.

☆ a/n - HIII look i finally wrote smt !! hope yall enjoy ..

leon's eyes never leave your figure while you circle around him, prowling as though he was your prey. and -- well, he was. for now, at least. beads of sweat run down his heaving chest, the chains leaving angry red marks in his skin. how'd he get stuck in this situation anyway? at this rate he was expecting you to kill him, or even torture him to death, it was frightening. thank goodness you had a kind heart .. a decent heart. you tolerated his antics for a while, but it grew annoying watching him fumble with all your plans, and neutralizing your army. to have him bound this way was mouth watering, he's pure eye candy, truly ..! when approaching him from behind, he can't help the girlish gasp that slips past his lips when you poke his abdomen. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, brows tightly knit together, bottom lip quivering. he's a man after all, and even with your feather light touches, leon can feel his underwear straining against his hardening cock.

breath hitches in his throat when you easily unbuckle and slip his belt off, dropping it to the floor. his pants lower and stop at his mid-thigh, unable to move any lower. leon's gnawing on his lip now, humiliated at how aroused he's become. you cease your touches, moving away from him, which allows leon to take a proper breath in. an unopened bottle of lube rolled around in your desk drawer, collecting dust. now it'll finally have some use! leon's trying to look over your shoulder and see what you're holding, impatiently struggling with the chains once more, heels lifting up off the ground, standing on the tips of his feet.

you click your tongue, turning around and stepping close to him, and his eyes are akin to that of a puppy's. baby blue hues watch you so intently, a quiet whine bubbling in his throat due to the constant ache and burn from the chains.

"oh, leon ... for a government agent, you're quite eager, huh?" all he does if huff in response, turning his face away in embarrassment. there's nothing he can say to defend himself, so he stays silent, peeking at you once again as you approach. you simply pull his pants down, and they pool at his ankles, the cool wind hitting his thighs.

"you can tell me to stop, leon. but from the looks of it, you've really been lacking the right kind of attention..." he nearly moans from your sultry tone, he's too desperate to back down, and whatever you're going to do to him is much better than killing him. so he shakes his head, still so anxious to see what you have in store. a gentle hum rumbles in your mouth, stepping close to leon, pressing your cheek against his chest as you carefully grab his crotch. he's suddenly shuddering, teeth grit together, jaw clenched. all his muscles have simultaneously tightened, and your thumb grazes over the small wet spot that formed. his noises are quiet, like he's holding back, trying to prove to ... himself that he can handle it.

"just ---- just let me go," he speaks through gritted teeth, it's nearly a hiss, but you simply tut in response.

"but do you really want me to? i mean, look how hard you are... your body doesn't lie, leon .." each time you say his name he feels pinpricks in his stomach, a knot that has begun to tighten, his ears reddening. it's unbearably hot in the room, or is it just him? he wants to argue, but all the words are forgotten when you're pulling his cock out, any protests of his dying in his throat. you laugh at him, and his face flushes-- only a weak whine is all he can muster.

his cock stands proud, beads of precum run down the length of it, the tip flushed a soft rose color and is quite aggravated. blood rushes through the few veins, and leon swears he can feel his heartbeat in his dick. he knows it'd be better if he got to lay down, or to bend you over that splintering desk and take you right there. he's lost focus of the mission, now he just wants you---- to feel you around him. the odds are not in his favor, though. he's merely a fly trapped in your strategically weaved web. you squirt lube onto your palm, sighing quietly as you wrap your fingers around his cock, beginning to pump his pulsing length. he's been anticipating it for so long now that nearly cries out at the touch. the cool lubricant smearing all over his throbbing cock, it's all too much, and his head hangs. leon mumbles some curses, practically thrusting into your fist, his mouth hung open, breathy moans and pants passing through.

you're surprised at how quickly he came, spurts of white landing on the floor, and he's still halfway erect, and you notice the way high thighs tremble. you softly praise him, to which he responds with a shaky whimper, weakly bucking into your hand again. that makes you grin, and you squeeze him tight which makes him yelp like an injured pup, leaning his head to the side.

"please ... again," leon spoke in a hushed tone, too embarrassed to raise his voice anymore.

"you need to tell me what you want clearly. i need you to look at me when you say it, leon."

he whines, head lolling to the other side, his cock bobbing with his movements. leon turns to you again, looking like he's about to cry, trying to get even closer to you.

"i ... want more, please..?" he's whining again, tugging on his restraints, and you simply coo and nod in response to his cute face. you start to stroke him to full hardness once more, your hand moving faster, ears tinted red at the wet noises it's making. leon's mewling, eyes squeezed shut, shamelessly thrusting into your hand again. so he cums again, and as hours go by you keep him there, using your hand, and using other toys you have on him.

how long has it been now? the sun has started to set, and leon's wrists are rubbed raw, and you gaze at his sweet face. there's tear streaks running along his flushed cheeks, he's been milked like a cow, loads of his cum pooling on the floor. he's panting with his tongue out just as a real dog would do, dirty blond strands have fallen over his eyes, and he no longer makes any attempts to escape or struggle.

with a heavy sigh, you unlock his binds, and he nearly falls on top of you. but, you hold him close, even if he's sweaty. you lower both your bodies to the ground, cradling his upper half in your arms. leon's nuzzling his face into you, curling up into your touch, the beat of his heart returning to a normal pace.

"aww ... sweet puppy, are you tired?" you're smiling like a child who's been offered ice cream, running your fingers through his locks, keeping him settled in your chest. you had it kept in your back pocket in case things went your way, which they did! a dog collar with spikes all along it. while he's resting in your warm embrace, you snake your arms through his to reach his neck, clipping the collar on. when he makes a soft noise of confusion you shush him, petting him once more. a new pet for the collection, and perhaps your favorite.

[leclerced]

Charles just did that photoshoot thingy or wtv it was and I tought abt Angel being there with him to like hype him up and somehow she ends up joining him for a couple of photos because girly is truly gorgeous so when the people in charge see her they ask if she agrees to being in a couple of the photos.

The photos come out and ppl go crazy over the duo because both of them look so hot.

ugh i love this sm!!

she’s watching them dress him and charles can tell something is bothering her so he asks what it is and she feels bad, but she’s like “i mean i feel like you could look better like swap these jackets or change to this top. and take the shoes off because it’ll look more natural. the shoes make it seem oppressive, you should look domestic.” and the stylist is gawking at her and charles because he immediately takes the shoes off and swaps jackets. and then during the shoot she walks out and helps charles pose and the photographer is like, “hang on stay like that. actually she looks great with him. can we- would you change so we can have you part of the shoot? we can’t have you wearing other brands in this but if you’re willing-” angel is cutting him off and saying only if she can style herself and they’re like yeah whatever as long as you look good. she picks out clothes from the rack, they’re oversized because they were pulled for charles, but she uses safety pins to secure the waist on the mens jeans and wears one of the bigger sweaters off the rack, lets it drape over her shoulder to expose her collarbone.

her and charles just mold into each other and there’s sm chemistry in the photos, sometimes models look stiff and unnatural but they laugh and joke and dance around a little, cuddle up with her back to his chest for a few shots. she practically plays dress up with the racks of clothes the brought, and brushes off every suggestion the stylist makes. angel is not used to being told no and they can tell immediately, but they don’t really mind it, she somehow knows exactly what she’s doing. she probably starts talking about cuts and color theory and is telling charles what colors he looks best in and how they compliment his skin tone and eyes. the stylist would have just been picking pieces they wanted to showcase from the collection, but angel picks pieces that will showcase charles. the article spread (idk if they rly did one but lets say they did !) ends with a paragraph or two about her and how she helped style charles and then was asked to model a bit and everyone thinks its hilarious that angel dressed both of them when there was a literal stylist there.

oscar and lando are sad they weren’t there for her first shoot when they find out but then she says it’s not a real shoot and she’s not a real model so it doesn’t matter. it would be funny if then she has an agent knocking on her door offering her a contract bc brands are finding out who she is and offering her deals to wear their clothes after they find out she’s the girlfriend of two f1 drivers bc they see the marketability in her

[inkpot909]

Can I get a Spike x raeder

The reader was kind with Spike and all but he didn't need a kid adult like in his team so he was always treating them like..idk "whatever" "ok." "Just leave me alone" and so on

But one day the reader gets in the way of a criminal taking the bullet for Spike and they say "thanks goodness you're ok" while bleeding out and Spike regrets it,he doesn't want them to go away,so he apologizes,saying that he needed them taht he would stop teasing them or treating them bad

They get together in the end :)

U can add as much angst as u want

A/n: Thank you thank you so much for the fun request! I feel awful for not being able to finish it for a while; getting caught up in personal matters. I appreciate the support and truly hope it was worth the wait. Have a lovely day; as well as all others reading. <3

Warning(s): Swearing; brief mentions of blood/canon-typical violence; light angst.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. 

It’s a dreadful thought lingering in the back of Spike Spiegel’s mind. Instead of pulling him away from them, fully in the present where he should be, a ricocheting gunshot nearly grazing across his shoulder only hammers the point home. 

It seems that’s the route most bounties have gone down as of late. Realistically, he knows he shouldn’t even pretend to be surprised anymore. And usually, high-stakes entice him. But tonight was supposed to- no, it had to be different for safety’s sake. That much so was made very apparent.

What was originally meant to be a sneaky, difficult yet rewarding job, has mutated into a public gunfight taking place within a famously high-class bar. Having tracked the bounty to this location, things quickly went array upon the realization that most of the security in the building is in the palm of their hand. The bounty himself has presumably slipped away in the commotion, letting others take care of the dirty work for him.

The messiness of the situation has forced Spike and you both into a corner, desperately having to duck for cover. If it weren’t so tense- bullets flying in the air seemingly at every turn -Spike would almost laugh. It’s delightful (if not, a tad bit macabre) to see the place be wrecked to hell in a contextless vaccum. A handful of bodies are scattered across marble flooring along with broken tables and seats. By now, most innocent bystanders are either in hiding or found a way to flee the scene. Blood pouring onto the floor from bodies or light droplets from those still standing contrast heavily with a monochrome color scheme. It’s the kind of joint Spiegel usually wouldn’t ever think to step foot in; mingling with rich types isn’t exactly his cup of tea. On the flip side, maybe the owner at least has hope of being able to repair the mess themselves (a vain hope; as both him and you will most likely have to pay for property damage regardless of the owners funds).

Finding an opening to do so, Spike whirls his body around while swiftly reloading his revolver. Sticking his head up from behind the bar, he barely has enough time to understand the positions of those firing.

Just a few yards away from him on his left, you keep yourself hidden behind a table turned onto its side. Spike ducks below the bar once more, cursing underneath his breath. Blood is trickling down your right leg, clear signs of an injury. From what, exactly, eludes him for the time being.

The dark look on your face is unwavering, however. In fact, you’ve maintained a serious exterior for almost the entire night. It’s enough to put a hindrance on Spike’s breathing, albeit briefly. Such an intense presence doesn’t suit you at all. 

You momentarily pull your attention from the action across the room, sensing someone’s eyes on you. Sure enough, you meet Spike’s gaze immediately. Nodding to one another, a beat comes and goes before the two of you move in tandem. Raising your guns, you both rise up quick enough to fire a shot or two. 

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. 

Crouching down, Spike stares at his feet. Despite holding his head low, his eyes give the impression that he’s looking at something far away. His lips press together in a thin line, letting out a long sigh. Jet’s going to have our heads for this, he expects.

Despite your cool front, you’d been as reckless and clumsy as ever (Spike’s words not yours). He had half a mind to blame you for the shootout, but even he has to admit he knows better than that. Although you fired the first shot, he might as well have done so himself via his own thick headedness. Just as Spike predicted would happen earlier the same day, you ended up hurt. However, he’d done just about everything his older companion told him not to, and here you are suffering the consequences along with him.

...

“Isn’t the whole point of this bounty to be discreet?” Spike muses, arms crossed. His expression is soured, and shoulders stiffened in defense. Sprawled out against the Bebop’s couch, he’s sat himself opposite of Jet. Well aware of how uncomfortably upright the yellow furniture is, his vegged out form is working to drive home a point more than anything else. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Jet replies, voice gruff and short. 

The younger man scoffs, raising his arms and gesturing to his right wildly. “Then why the hell-...” Spike pauses, rubbing his temple, “Then why… do you think I need to bring along Y/n? Surely it’d be better if I-”

“Because they work swiftly and are the most likely to keep you from inflicting your usual brand of collateral damage. I’d say they’ll do well to keep you from messing this up well enough.” Jet cuts him off casually. 

“What? So they’re my babysitter? You know how they are- they’ll just get in the way.”

Jet bites back, “Spike, I swear this’ll go smoothly if you just accept their help. Don’t you dare think of going off on your own. The bounty’s got connections and has reportedly been on high alert since the price on his head increased. We don’t have all the details, but there’s enough to know it could get ugly. You’ll be kicking the bucket if you don’t get your head screwed on straight.”

“We both know the chance of that happening,” Spike huffs.

“Yeah, right… less likely than you admitting to yourself the real reason you get so high-strung about Y/n.” 

The fluffy-haired man raises an eyebrow.

“It’s because you like them, but saying so must not be in vogue nowadays, so you tell yourself it’s just because they’re childish- or whatever made up reason it is this week.”

“They are childish.” 

“And you aren’t?” Jet questions, “I’d think refusing to follow a well-informed decision just to avoid who you’re going to be working with is pretty immature.” 

Silence follows, the moment thick with thought. 

Making a face, Spike abruptly kicks his leg forward and smacks his foot against the side of Jet’s cute coffee table. He doesn’t even open his eyes at the booming, metallic sound. “As if a bright green racer with a goddamn flower plastered on the side of it won’t make us stick out everywhere we go!” Spike exclaims, clearly still hung up on Jet’s previous statement or sending him an implicit warning to shut his mouth.

“I’m sorry, but how many repairs have you needed on that obnoxiously red racer of yours in the past month!?” Jet snapped, finally looking his crewmate in the eye. “Y/n and you are the best choice for this sort of job. You’re going with them; end of story. The sooner you get the bounty the sooner you can come home sulking about it.”

Not twenty minutes later, Spike found himself begrudgingly walking next to you heading towards the Bebop’s garage. You maintain a youthful spring to your step, while he practically drags his feet on the floor following you. 

“Hurry up, slow poke!” you jest, stopping in front of the garage door. Turning towards him, you tap your foot repeatedly as if you’re being forced to wait for him. 

“Maybe you should start practicing blending into the shadows for when we land,” he suggests, moving past you, “You know… being unnoticeable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you giggle, “You’d miss out on what you like the most about me!” 

Sneering, he responds non-committedly, “Yeah… sure.”

“Oh, don’t deny it, Spiegel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You huff, a playful edge to your tone, “C’mon… at least admit I’m more fun than Faye; that can’t possibly be difficult to voice out loud.”

“I’m not admitting shit,” he suddenly snaps, “I just want to get this done; I could really use that reward- so let’s go.”

Frowning, your gaze hesitates on his person as he turns on his heel and shuffles away. He moves with hasty steps towards his precious racer for extra measure.

Your shoulders fall, but his back is turned to you. And even if it wasn't, you are certain by now that it wouldn’t make a difference. The wall he’s built between the two of you is sturdy and unmoving, but hell if you haven’t tried your hand time and time again at tearing it down.

But unknown to you, his thoughts haven’t moved his attention away.

Select bounty missions notwithstanding, nothing ever seemed to truly wipe the smile from your face. Even then, most times you can keep a playful edge to your actions and attitude. Spike Spiegel hates that. It’s hypocritical, considering his own behavior at times, but logic is (apparently) irrelevant. Nothing ever seems to get to you either, and that’s the most frustrating. Nothing he ever says or does gets to you. From the tiniest comment to the very reasons behind Jet's latest stream of lectures- he hardly has witnessed you bat an eyelid at it all.

It’s not that he necessarily dislikes you as a whole, but something angry inside him bubbles over around you. Still fresh in the bounty hunter world, your attitude just appears… too naïve. The feeling you fill him with is foreign, and why someone ‘so simple’ can get his mind racing is beyond him. Within the dim lighting the Bebop offers, barely reaching the inside of his racer, Spike has long been so sure you’d never find common footing he doesn’t even consider it an assumption anymore. 

...

Amidst his thoughts, the two of you manage to shave the number of shooters down by a considerable amount. 

Still eager to be done with the case (even if it means coming back empty handed at this rate), Spike takes the opportunity to fully rush away from behind the bar completely. Taking a dive, he shoots another individual just before tumbling to the floor. As he rolls himself over to find complete cover once more, he loudly lets out a curse after a loud gunshot fires in the air. 

“Spike!?” you squeak, whipping around to see the man on the floor cradling his foot. Both his hands are clasped around his shoe, knuckles turning ghost white from applied pressure. Your eyes widen, dropping your adopted expression. “Are you alright!?” you shout. 

“Less worry; more shooting!” he barks, wincing at a shot of pain trailing violently up his leg. 

Not needing to be told twice, you focus your efforts back on the task at hand. He hears three distinct gunshots from your side of the room. Two thuds come from the far end his back is facing, a sound he recognizes as clothed bodies hitting the floor. To Spike’s relief, deafening sounds of guns firing comes to a complete halt. 

You drop to the floor as well, buttocks making harsh contact with marble. Turning just your head this time, you meet Spike’s gaze once more. Not a second passes before the two of you share an exhausted laugh. Your tone is light and thankful, his is booming and pushing through fierceness beginning to fade. 

“As best as we can… we’re keeping this from getting back to Jet or Faye,” Spike mumbles, leaning his head back after calming himself down. 

Smiling warmly, you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and move your attention. Your eyes scan the back of the bar, squinting slightly. The walls are littered with bullet holes, and you’ve no doubt the amount of which are near impossible for one person to count alone. A shady figure lingers in a bathrooms door frame, and at least two tables in the back are snapped in half-

Wait… 

Realistically, the figure in the distance moves fast. To you, the gut reaction is so quick hindsight allows you to fool yourself into believing you had even a moment to think about your actions. To understand what exactly it was you’re doing. To process all that transpires within the next couple of seconds. 

But that isn’t really the case. You merely registered the shadowed individual’s frame, and the reflective light bouncing off the pistol in their hand. It was all you needed to act, diving to the side so quickly that ‘desperate’ wouldn’t be enough to describe the action. 

A shout erupts from behind you, frantic and unfathomably angry. More sounds of gunshots fill the air; curse words and other profanities fill any available space. You can distinctly make out Spike’s voice, and one more that’s unknown to you. It’s very deep and masculine, though, from what you can understand.

You attempt to roll your body over, but a sharp pain just below your collarbone and near your shoulder keeps you from doing so. Vision blurs at random, and you can scarcely make out your companion (roommate?) standing in front of you. When exactly did he get there? 

Your eyes flutter open and shut. 

You feel someone kneeing you in the side, and your eyes snap open to observe Spike bending down beside you. Slowly but surely, your vision stabilizes. When did he…? Is the mysterious shooter still around? You attempt to move again, but this time the pain you feel is so prominent you cry out and screw your eyelids shut. 

“Oi oi oi…” you hear Spike’s voice call. “Don’t strain yourself, dummy,” he tells you, having absolutely no bite behind his words. At least, none you could make out. Still, you're inclined to wonder if it’s still just your own shock over getting shot making you misunderstand. 

“Bounty got away…” he huffed, gently sitting you up against a fallen table. Giving you an apologetic look, he rips the side of your top open. You put up no fight, watching him wrap your bullet wound with whatever makeshift materials he’s found lying around. 

“Was that who was standing in the back?” you ask, voice kept low. 

“Yeah,” he replies, “ I thought the coward hightailed it and ran… but I guess he wanted the last laugh. Erm- tried to at least. He ended up running anyway.” 

“Him and this ‘team’ if his will probably persue us, then,” you sigh, “Now we have to hunt him down before he gets us…” Pausing, you take a minute to mull over your words. “I’m really sorry. This is all my-“

“Don’t,” he cuts you off calmly, gesturing to your injuries. “Not when you’re like this.”

Smiling despite yourself, he stops his movements at the display. Ignoring the shock on his face, you ask, “What? You worried about me?” 

Spike hesitates, physically moving his chest away from you. “Don’t be absurd,” he scoffs, speaking unconvincingly. He continues, wrapping around the wound once more before stopping himself yet again. His frown deepens, adding, “And stop smiling like that.” 

“Why?”

“Because you were just shot!” he snaps, “And nearly slipped out of consciousness!” 

“Ah…” heat rushes to your face, “So you were worried…” 

“I-… yes, fine, okay?” his head falls, giving in.

You snort, “That sounded painful.” 

“Tonight’s been stressful; you haven't been acting like yourself all night. Even on a job… it’s not like you to get so serious. What was with you?”

You shrug sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “Thought you’d like it better that way.”

“It freaked me out, why would-“

Spike halted his words. He knew exactly why, but the night has been a long string of his own mistakes so it’s been tough keeping up. And here’s the biggest one yet, coming straight towards him holding a steel chair: How he treats you. More specifically, how he spoke to you earlier. How indifferent, borderline annoyed, he always acts. It’s true, he’s long been trying to figure out how to press your buttons. But all at once it’s clear that it does get to you. Now that it’s showing, even just a small bit, his wall between you two starts to crumble.

“Couldn’t let anything happen to you either…” you mumble when he doesn’t continue, “Jet was telling me how easily the job could be slipped up. I was a bit intimidated… and when you spoke to me earlier I guess I just accepted that it would be a little out of my league. This was my first real ‘big gig’ after all… and I couldn’t accept the idea of disappointing you.”

Nodding, he finished up the last of tending to the wound for the time being. Regardless, his hand lingers on your shoulder supportively. “I’m… sorry I’ve been hard on you. This lifestyle’s really roughened me out; guess I should be glad it hasn’t gotten to you yet,” he mutters, adding a quick, “You did good.”

The moment it slips from his mouth, he is taken aback. He means that too, but that’s the part that surprises him. Then again, you’d surprised him yourself.

A grin flashes across your face. Sweet and genuine, without a sting of pain. Spike’s heart feels heavy with just a simple glance. It’s like the first time he ever saw you, back when he was keen to notice a glowing aura you possessed. He’d describe it as a pure beauty, if he could have swallowed his pride. However, it’s the added context of knowing who you really are that keeps his attention on you this time around.

“You think I have hope of becoming a ‘real’ bounty hunter like you someday?” you ask, referencing a conversation you’ve shared once before. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sweetheart,” he replies, a tiny smile appearing on his face. 

Sharing a breathily laugh, the two of you soon sit and stare at one another in silence. Outside, people are shouting and police sirens are flaring. Yet his diligent ogling isn’t hindered in the slightest. 

“What about respect…?” you test the waters, voice quiet and careful, “You think I’ve at least earned that?”

Smirking, Spike’s head slowly moves from your shoulder to the back of your head. His own leaning down crookedly in correlation, speaking now in a low whisper, “Don’t be modest… you’ve earned more than that.” 

In one swift motion, his lips press against yours in a surprisingly soft kiss. Even as people began to pile into the building, police enforcements leading the way, the two of you stayed glued to one another. A news crew even caught a glimpse of the display of affection, only adding to outside confusion. 

Breaking away from the kiss, you giggle against his lips, “We’re on TV.”

“Give ‘em a show, then, yeah?” he smirks, leaning closer and planting another kiss on your lips. 

At home, within the Bebop’s common area, Jet plops down in his favorite seat with Ein at his side. The man nearly falls out of his chair upon turning on his television.

[marvus-xoloto]

idk if you've talked about this but what do you think it would take to get marvus real and truly angry? like the kind of anger that turns his eyes the same color as the base of his horns. that pure rage. how would he react to that situation? what would it take to bring him down afterward? sorry this is such a specific prompt but im curious about your thoughts on it.

I may have spoken about this before, idk! I don't mind repeating hcs because it's fun to revisit old opinions and see how they've changed :o) PLUS i am like DESPERATE for hiveswap meta/analysis content and I'm happy to make more with people <3

Anyway. I had to sit on this one for a while; really had to think about it. (Frankly, my mind is feeling unorganized so it took a little longer than I wanted haha.) My opinion isn't super formed yet, so I'm open to discussion about this one (and. everything. i like to discuss).

My gut instinct says: nothing that he'll likely experience, but let's dive deep, shall we ;o)

First off, let's talk about Marvus and emotions in general to get a baseline.

Marvus is ice cool COLD. He's very easy going, only lashing out when things that are important to him are going to shit (and even then its's not a terribly strong reaction, see: his bad end when all the clowns are fighting. "Man wtf is going on" or something like that. Marvus enjoys performing for his crowd; more on that in some other post). That being said, he recovers quickly and will generally just Not Get His Hands Dirty (come on troll nostradamus letz skeet skoot).

He is in control of himself. He has to be.

In my opinion, this indicates that he has a very high emotional IQ. He has to have a high emotional IQ as both an artist and a manipulator (some might say these two things are one and the same for him). Not much shocks him, nothing can really get to him.

This does mean that while he is generally friendly, it's not easy to actually get close to him unless it's his idea. That's not relevant here, though, haha.

Here's another part of Marvus that explains his anger response: he always has a plan. The gears in his head are always turning; he's very intelligent. For him, anger doesn't solve any of his problems or bring him closer to his goals: he needs to be approachable (see: with Joey, how he manipulates her [don't get me started on their clown and kid friendship it fucks me up sooo bad]), and he needs to appear only as threatening as he needs to. He's quick to improvise (see how he protects Joey in the purple car at the end of act 3).

So. What gets to him!

In my opinion, the only two things that have the potential to get him this angry are:

-> Lack of privacy

Marvus needs to keep his secrets in order to, well, do what he does. This leads him to the instinct to keep his personal life and secrets VERY well hidden. Even if it's not a big deal on the surface, something like the name of his matesprit dropping or tracks leaking (that he didn't stategically leak himself) might frustrate him more than the average person. Something like explicit pictures of him, or something that someone could use as a metaphorical thread to follow towards his motivations or his ego; these might make him actually pissed.

That being said, though, I genuinely can't see him getting red-eyed angry about this. Generally, I do see him as someone who enjoys getting out of trouble, even if he's not thrilled about it at first. Like playing a puzzle! I'll leave it open as a possibility, however. What I really think could get to him is...

-> Knowing that he is, for whatever reason, not free or otherwise helpless

This is more esoteric and, frankly, extremely rare in his life.

Marvus really does not like the idea of having no freedom. We can infer from his general dislike of seadwellers combined with his ideas to "shake up" the hemospectrum (emphais on "shake up," notice that he never mentions improving it) that it's less about inequality and more about inconvenience. He dislikes that anyone might have percieved power over him (notice during his diatribe that he does view purple blooded trolls as unquestionably stronger and more influential than the caste above, and how he doesn't do this for say, bluebloods, who are a caste below but still in a position of relative power).

But having a plan is pretty much the core of Marvus's id. Not having that? Losing that sense of himself? Failing? I can see this genuinely making him rage-y angry.

Calming him down is simple: find him a solution. He's timeboud, thus goal based. He needs to have a focus point, something to reach for.

Anyway! Hope that made sense!

[dadsbongos]

draft i will never continue unless i do

eddie draft of you and him in a preschool program in high school because i'm reliving a nightmare

Summary: you and eddie are forced to clean the kitchen after a fight idk it was a good idea but I'll probably never finish it

Word Count: 979

Your arms burn, fingers beginning to ache as you scrub, scrub, scrub against the spotted tables. Trying desperately to smudge and wipe away the marker stains and cracker crumbs and the juice left behind from halved grapes squashed under big plastic water bottles. The action is so repetitive and simple, you could easily get lost in the joy of seeing the mess cleared. You could easily forget Eddie even existed, if not for the sudden thunk and hiss and huff of him banging into an art shelf of colored papers and scraps. 

And your eye twitches, back snapping straight, head swiveling right towards where the man with chunky chains hanging out of his ill-fitting jeans is cupping the side of his thigh. You’re glaring straight through his skull, daggers or lasers or gunshots or whatever could make Eddie Munson drop dead right on the squeaky tiled floor. 

“You lose something over here, honey bunches?” Eddie’s dark eyes are narrowed at you through the side of his lashes.

“I’m annoyed,” you stretch out and slam the now damp and differently dyed paper towel in the tall trash can before grabbing a fresh couple of sheets, “At you.”

“Couldn’t tell,” his eyes roll now, and you almost see red at the lackadaisical way in which he responds. As if your overbearing hatred was blown away like dust on the most untouched non-fiction books in the back of the library.

So you settle to groan inside your soul and move onto the last table in need of a good sponging. 

Eddie, meanwhile, thinks about the big, wet eyes Hannah gave him this morning - with a wobbly little lip and hands squeezing at her puffy pink dress skirt. The entire reason he ignored you during fourth hour in the first place - his own mind was too clouded with that memory. 

The entire reason you two are stuck in this big chore day. 

“Hey,” he stops sweeping, broom ramrod straight between both his hands, but his face is completely downturned, eyes lingering on his shoes, “I need advice.”

“Oh, big Munson needs help?”

“Would you be a human being for five seconds?” his furrowed brows drop as soon as they’d crinkled up, “I’m serious.” 

You gnaw the smooth interior of your lip, paper towel crumpled in your hand, “Sorry. Yeah. What’s wrong?”

“Hannah, today,” you can see his throat bob as he swallows the pride and regret stuffed so full in his red, blotchy face. Eddie sighs, big and heavy just so you know it truly was him and not some new, sensitive guy you might actually like being around, “She was talking about her dog.”

Oh.

“Okay,” you move closer, throwing away the last paper towel and settling a hand against his shoulder, the leather is uncomfortable in your palm, “What was she saying?”

“She misses him,” Hannah’s dog was run over just under two weeks ago. A big, yappy labrador that she’s been talking about since the very first day of school, “And I just, I dunno, I didn’t say anything worthwhile. Just that it was normal to miss dead dogs.”

“I mean, it is,” that’s not how you would’ve done it, but Eddie’s good at what he does, so you won’t nitpick, “So, it’s not like you lied.”

“No, sweetpea,” Eddie turns to face you, the uncomfortable leather sticking and smoothing to your skin under the shift, “Do what you’re best at and be mean to me. I need to do better for her, I can’t just say ‘yeah, that sucks’ and expect her to move on,” the dark eyes you once swore off as the black holes that swallowed souls and human kindness are lit up by the kitchen fluorescents, something sweet and kind and open-armed, “You always know what to say, you always know the best way to comfort the kids. I want to be like that. I want to become the person I needed when I was their age.”

“Hm,” your eyes slide to the hall that leads into the teaching room, specifically to where Mrs. Evans’ purple office door is still ironclad shut and locked, “Okay.”

[you explain how to better react, but not that he’s stupid or you wanting to be mean blah blah blah]

You swallow your pride before puking up your next thought.

“I like it, you know,” he stops before he can return to sweeping up the crumbs and leftover grape guts and cheese veins, turning back to you, “How considerate you are of Hannah. A lot of people, you know,” you suddenly twiddle your thumbs, chest tight and lips pressing, “A lot of people might just consider her a ‘princess’ or something,” you pull down the pleated edge of your pink skirt, fingers shaky, “But you actually take a lot of time to really listen to her.”

Eddie nods, slow and as if he doesn’t really understand why you’d point that out. But then his tender, sweet baby cow eyes flip over you. In your purple sweater vest and white button down and pink pleated skirt and mary jane shoes. And he remembers your cupcake skirts and ribbons and bows from childhood. He nods again, smiling big and broad and empty-headed, and you think that he does understand.

“I like you, too,” he clears his throat and shrugs, “The way you are with Zach. A lot of the others just brush him off as some rowdy kid wanting to be the center of attention.”

And you understand, too. 

“I always try to not assume kids do things on purpose,” and then you’re left gutted the longer Eddie’s dimples shine with his cherry-lipped grin. How he’s always grinned in the face of your aggravation and annoyance.

“Me too,” and Eddie’s left with weak knees at every memory of how terribly condescending he’s been to you.

And both of you feel that same sting.

[da3dm]

i think i know at least one answer to every question on the intro thing but introduce irza! i want more songs that remind you of him that i haven't listened to before :D and also idk more useless worldbuilding facts

Introduce a Character—Irzayn

You might, but you've got a lot to learn! And I've provided a little bit of lore at the end...hope that fulfills your desire for worldbuilding!

—

-Discuss an important part of their identity/what makes them themself.

He has done very dark things, but he's kept his secretly kind heart. It's simply buried underneath a shield of thorns. The biggest thing is that he truly does care for his sick mom and despite how much has happened to him and continues to happen, he hasn't fallen apart. In secret, he might let himself break for a few minutes, but he will get right back up. When he does, his desires are only stronger and his path only more certain. As an enemy, he is your worst nightmare. As your ally, he will always be there to help, even if he's glaring at you and pretending like the entire situation is pissing him off. He just doesn't want them to become a weakness that someone will exploit, since...that means they'd get hurt because of him. Just like his mom.

-Tell you a color that compliments them.

Red. I've tried some others but no matter what his appearance is, red or black really does suit him very well.

-Show you an image that suits them (for example: a picture of them you like or an image that matches their vibe).

Drew them myself!

-Give you a random fact about something they’ve done or a part of their backstory.

He's heard Vara crying in his room, with the door uncharacteristically shut. When he does, he will wait for the cat to pass out from crying before sneaking into the room. From there, his behaviorism will change, but he has climbed into the bed before, quietly got Vara into his pajama's and underneath the covers, or even sat there holding his hand until his sleeping face becomes peaceful. He will never say he does this, but he doesn't need to. Vara can smell that Irza was there, even if he's already gone by the time the cat wakes up.

-Link you a song that reminds me of them.

STILL CAN'T DO JUST ONE! YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO THE VERY FIRST SONG THO BRICK, IT'S VERY HIM!!!

His entire person, mainly as a villain, but also as just himself (I have never heard a song that fits him better)

Him falling for Quickvine

How hard he fights

What Vara is saving him from feeling

How it is after the betrayal arc

I've always felt like this perfectly fits how he was before meeting Vara

Him getting settled into being a villain while still young

When he was younger, before becoming a villain

-Explain how they were created/what inspired them to be made.

I didn't know what a an oc was and a friend told me they were someone that represents me. They'd be able to have everything I love and could be whatever I wanted. So I created the person I kept dreaming about—a dragon boy who's hair and eyes were never the same color. From there, it only expanded until he finally had a face instead of a blurred face with that constant sad smile.

-Free space/feel free to add more!

He is my absolute favorite oc and is more thoroughly structured together than any of them combined. He's childish in some ways, but with how he's lived you can't really blame him...and yet he also cares about those around him in secret. His power is the only link to his parents at this point, and his shadow ability is strongly connected to a prophecy. This prophecy had driven people mad a long time ago since it gave two results, both about dragons. That's why the dragons were squashed out. One result would save the world, but the other warned that if driven down the wrong path...the prophesied savior would destroy the world themself.

[mariyekos]

First off I LOVE this fic! For all I go on about other dragoons and gaining draconic traits (cough cough Estinien), somehow the idea of that happening to Kain never came to me. The way this change intersects with his existing anxieties about his sense of self works beautifully. At first I read it as Kain having a new fear of touch, maybe out of a fear that he'd been corrupted and didn't want to "taint" the others. Then it built and built and the reveal of the real (or major) reason came and it was jaw-dropping. I hadn't considered it! Somehow I've never considered it! But now that I've seen it I'm in love.

I'm putting the rest under a cut, because I got to rambling and it's long! Part of it is a direct response to this fic, part is some thoughts about other fic ideas, and part is the answer to the eye color question.

Second, the line "Turns out Baigan had changed quite a bit" made an invisible exclamation point go off over my head. The fic begins with the line about Kain behaving differently, and when you combine the two lines with Kain's self-doubt, it is a wonderful formula for a fear that maybe he's been replaced too. That would be a different fic, but I can see some great pieces form (which are half me writing ideas, half me starting to get into fic format, idk I just wrote a lot)-

Baigan was originally a man that was transformed into a monster, but the 'King' was replaced with a monster able to imitate his form that seemed just a little off even before his mask was torn away. The people around them might've noticed their oddities, but none truly questioned their identities until it was time to unveil themselves for a grand attack.

Kain has already had his mind twisted. Golbez- Zemus really- made Kain into his pawn. Take the line from your fic here- "Kain had either dismissed these, or, when lucid but still under control, been forced to forget." This means his memories can be, and have been, manipulated. Even without that line, we know Kain has done things he believes he would otherwise not do.

Kain's friends have noticed something is different about him. They don't trust him as they did before, even if they insist they do, and he has felt the tension that exists between them. They might not have said it outright, but he knows they can tell something is wrong. He feels something is wrong.

If Zemus (via Golbez and pawns or no) had both the power to twist existing beings into the forms of others, and the ability to manipulate memories, what's to say Kain is not an 'other' being molded in both memory and form to believe he's Kain? What if Kain's a fake? What if the reason his friends notice something is different is not because he's Kain who has been changed, but because he is someone else who's been changed to believe he's Kain? What if the reason he feels something is wrong is because with Zemus gone, his true memories and true form are trying to break free?

(And as a bonus: If he is not the real Kain...what happened to the real Kain? Should he tell Cecil and co. of his revelation? Will it upset them? Would they be relieved to learn the wretched thing that betrayed them was an imposter, and that the real Kain- whatever happened to him- had never turned on them at all? Better to have lost a loyal friend than to be left with a fake they could never trust again?

(Bonus part two: but what if he is the real Kain? What if these thoughts are his anxiety running wild? Will his friends think him insane? Will it ruin the fragile trust they've formed from the fragments his betrayal left in its wake? Did Zemus sow these seeds within him, as a last way of punishing one who tried to hard to free himself from Zemus' grasp? Or is this his own broken psyche trying to rationalize what he's been through?)

Returning to the context of this fic, if Kain is a fake, maybe that's why the scales are sprouting. Maybe that's why he's changing. He's not changing into something new; maybe he's changing back. Maybe Zemus formed a dragoon from a dragon. Baigan and the fake King were formed from monsters and returned to monsters. 'Kain' would have to return to being a monster too.

...but again, if it's all in his head, if Kain is Kain and always has been, it doesn't change the fact that he is changing into something else. He has been permanently marred by his possession. Never again will he be the man he once was. Never again will he be able to look in the mirror and say he is the same man. Because he is not. Not mentally, not physically. And while he hopes that mayhap one day he'll be able to reclaim his image, for now, the thought only sickens him.

I like the bit about Kain's hair being his 'one remaining vanity.' I've always loved how he has long hair. The 3D remakes gave us crazy long hair Kain and his ending scene highlights it well too, so I enjoy when people read into it being important to him. Sometimes I say characters have long hair because they don't really care about it and go 'sure I'll leave it like this, better than getting a haircut/I kind of like it long but don't really care that much,' but with Kain I really do like to think he specifically likes it long. There's also some art of helmetless Kain from the DS artbook that makes his hair seem sort of done up to me? Even though it's messy? Enough that I feel like there's some intentional styling there. Maybe it's the way his hair sits at his neck that makes me think of either a braid or a hairtie made of his own twisted hair.

That brings me to the question you asked in the replies about Kain's eye color.

Historically I've gone between blue and purple. I tend to think of them as some light color in between that looks different depending on what he's wearing.

But the helmetless/hair down art I posted above has stuck with me for YEARS and makes me think of them as gold. It's more of a headcanon thing than something I think is canon. Still- I feel like I wrote them as gold in some old fics I've never published. I'm sure it's been years since I wrote them and I don't know where they even are anymore, so I can't find them to say for certain. His DS remake opening model has the "eyes" over his actual eyes as gold too (though the ones on the dragon part of the helmet are light blue, which fits with later depictions of his eye color, and Cecil's "eyes" in his armor are gold too when his eyes are most decidedly not). So the imagery here is gold eyes once again.

But gold is just me having fun. I don't think that's what the creators intended. It's just something that comes to mind (although I favor it when it comes to him using Jumps and so on, since I like HCs about magic lighting up people's eyes).

As for the CANONICAL color? Like the color I think the creators actually intended? Definitely not gold. As I mentioned above, I'd say it's definitely either blue or purple. There is some art that has it as brown/black (his SD art), but I think they just went for dark eyes and didn't mean for it to accurately reflect his eye color.

Now the purple eye thing comes from his TAY/3D model (above). That is 100% purple. But it could be purple here because they wanted to contrast the blue of his outfit. In his IOS/2D Holy Dragoon sprite, the color seems more blue, but that could be because they wanted to limit the number of colors on the pixel art.

Dissidia, however, ALSO makes me go for the "straddles the line between purple and blue" eye color. From afar, I would call these both blue. But when I zoom in (and don't confine myself to real human eye colors), I'd call them purple.

If I was assigning it a more specific color, I'd call the Dissidia color periwinkle.

...

So now that I've actually looked into this more...

tl;dr, I think Kain's eyes are purple. I think they are meant to be either blue or pueple, leaning toward purple. Some of the sprites have them as blue, but everything TAY 3D and beyond seems to have them as some sort of shade of purple! It's really just a question of whether they're a deep purple (TAY 3D), a light purple (Opera Omnia to Dissidia Inside Color), or a grey-purple (bottom two Dissidia in the image below).

Not the highest quality graphic because I started it with the TAY (Wii) sprite which is TINY so I just quickly added in the tiny rest, but I think it gets the point across!

(quick edit: his SNES sprite has his eyes as red but I have never thought of him as having red eyes. I think that's just sprite limitations. yes he has purple in his sprite so maybe they could've used that, but I feel like they went with the red for higher contrast with his skin, since the brown/orange of his skin and the purple of his sleeve thing kind of blend into each other when they're small. I blew his sprite up to see it better, but I think that improves the contrast beyond what you'd notice when you're actually playing and he's tiny).

(Source for the sprite graphic directly above)

Anyway with all that said... 1) thank you for the great fic, and 2) thanks for asking about his eye color, it was fun solidifying what color I think they actually are. I'm sure I could neaten this up a bit, but my laptop is about to die so I'll leave it here for now.

"Look Me In The Eyes" , FFIV, ~1600 words. Why is Kain an even bigger weirdo after the Giant of Babil? General admission, e for everybody, but mild cw: transformation and body horror.

Kain knew he behaved differently after the Giant of Babil.

This was not unexpected, although how he changed surely confused them. Many things, like flinching when offered a hand, were understandable. But now he never took his armor off in front of others, not even his helm. Before, it had been on him near-constant anyway - the armor's boots and gloves were critical for absorbing impact. It took a few days for them to notice he bathed and changed privately, no small feat in close quarters, and moments before sleep. He even wore a low-fitting cap and gloves in his bedroll, no matter how warm. Just as often he slept in his armor.

As they hurtled towards the Red Moon in the mechanical whale, they told him it was conjured up from beneath the Mysidian bay. Now that he was free, perhaps, of Golbez - no, Zemus - Kain could tell them of Golbez's odd fits and starts that had increased whenever discussing Cecil, even before Zot. Kain had either dismissed these, or, when lucid but still under control, been forced to forget. This being all the useful information Kain had for Cecil, Kain retreated from the conversations.

He heard them talking about him, of course. They would either trust him, or must needs be ready to kill him, so what was one more oddity. Kain sat and thought about what had happened to him during his brief second time with Golbez.

"I had but slackened your friend's leash, waiting for the proper moment to pull it taught."

He could do this. He would have to do this. He was now one of the strongest people on Earth - the Blue Planet, as these Lunarians called it. And Zemus had done this to him, and to a ten-year-old child that became Golbez. He couldn't stand aside. He had spoken truly when he said his mind was his own again.

There were complications. Had he revealed anything, when they met Lugae? He didn't think so. His revulsion for the mad doctor was for cowardice, at first, until they had stumbled upon the . . . the remainders of Edge's parents. He had forgotten something, something important about the holiness he once felt in the frame of a healthy human body. Of the long, waking dream that kept him just a bit asleep in Golb- Zemus's thrall, the eyes of the King and Queen of Eblan had almost shocked him out of it.

Almost.

And now before thinking he had told Edge to kill him if he betrayed them, and so it was not only Kain's own cowardice that kept him from revealing the full extent of his betrayal. Compassion had returned to Kain's heart and head, and ruined him. He did not want Cecil or Rosa to have to kill him, and now he added Edge to that list. What would Kain's eyes look like, if he had to beg for death?

His mind was his own again.

Golbez loomed over him. "I have no others. No one is here but you, Kain. You returned to me. I would reward such loyalty. No matter what failures from before. I . . . I failed you too, did I not? What have I . . ."

Golbez shook his head and his drifting attention snapped back to Kain.

"Did I not promise you power, even that to rival the dragon-knights of old? And I have one scale of the shadow dragon. My oldest friend. Now I have no others. No one but you . . . "

Before they plunged into the lunar subterrane, Kain's focus drifted towards the eastern lunar horizon. He could not say why. "What is in that direction?" he asked.

Among all the lunar marvels was something that had astonished even this intrepid group. They talked over each other.

"I still don't believe it-"

"We turned a corner and he was just, there, Kain, it was amazing-

"Oh buddy, you have got to go see this after we're done here-" Edge said, and Rydia smashed her hands across his face to keep him from ruining the explanation of something important to her. Edge licked her hand. Rydia ignored him. They had settled along the way into annoying each other like siblings.

"Bahamut," she said. "Bahamut lives in the Cave of the Father, over there. I'll take you after-"

"No! No," said Kain, his vehemence surprising even him. He had only ever spoken softly to Rydia.

The four turned to him, Rydia shocked and a bit hurt, Edge at once suspicious, Cecil and Rosa confused.

Kain stammered. "I don't - I don't want to go is all. I apologize for raising my voice." Edge scowled. He needed to give more explanation. "I . . . I don't want to face him," Kain said. "I can't."

They winced and after a moment, even Edge nodded in sympathy.

In the furious, terrible days that followed, his comrades thought perhaps Kain had horrible scarring, from punishment for betraying Zemus. Or perhaps an aversion to touch because that was how Golbez ensared him to begin with. He was lucky Rosa could heal him still, and heal him through armor.

Kain was thankful no one pried. Not even Edge. He showed it as best he could. Sometimes he whispered or croaked and it was not because of awkward contrition. Would his voice leave him, too?

Rydia a few times frowned at him, not with what would be judicious suspicion but with plain curiosity. She was the shortest, and at times could see under more of Kain's helmet than he was comfortable.

They won against Zeromus.

Kain felt less jubilant than just relieved and tired. His friends and his world were safe. Now his personal battle would begin.

Baigan passed Kain in the hallway of Baron. The dragoon noticed the smirk and thought, with good humor that surprised him, that at least Baigan had not changed. Then Baigan's arm brushed Kain and Kain shivered before he even knew to think something was wrong.

Turns out Baigan had changed quite a bit. His smirk grew. "Lord Golbez is sure to reward those truly loyal," he said.

His mind was his own again. His mind.

Golbez asked Fusoya, "Might you permit me to accompany you?" and Kain, pitiful creature that he was, panicked for a moment that Golbez had forgotten him. Forgotten to help him if he could. Or perhaps hated him, for taking the last piece of Golbez's one true companion, the dragon that stayed beside him without mind control.

But then Golbez said, "I cannot return. Not after all I've done," and he looked at the five Earthlings. His gaze hesitated on Kain for a moment, so quick no one noticed. In Kain's thoughts, in the hole at the back of his mind, he felt an awareness of Golbez, hesitating to contact him like this at all. This time though it was as . . . equals in contrition.

He gave the bizarre feeling of agreement in keeping their privacy, wordless, more like a curtain falling, which was why he was touching Kain's thoughts at all. A gift from sinner to sinner, a chance to sort out thoughts alone without revealing how far they had fallen by asking for help out loud.

And Kain had the sudden knowledge Golbez could do nothing to help him.

He had expected this. It was not as disappointing as it might have been. Kain's attention snapped back in time to help convince Cecil he should say goodbye to Golbez.

Very little important to Kain happened while they returned and celebrated. He stayed alone until he escaped from the love and concern of his friends and a thankful world. He climbed Mount Ordeals and looked out over a sacred, isolated cliff, and took off his helmet.

His hair, his one remaining vanity, was still long and blond and - human. It felt good in the wind. So too did the sensitive nubs of bone and frill, growing from the crown of his brow. He had started worrying he would need to file them down. Scales grew along his forehead and were soon to reach to his eyes, crawl down his nose, and bloom where all could see.

Their victory couldn't have come any later. He almost hadn't made it.

Sometimes his eyes hurt, and felt strange focusing, and he knew they had turned to slit pupils. He had not brought a mirror. Were they still his natural color?

Perhaps because he kept his mind, and somebody answered his prayers, the lower half of his face remained unchanged the longest and his outline human. Perhaps it was somebody on this very mountain - it was holy to Bahamut and others long before KluYa's spirit rested here. But under the armor there were no parts of him without . . . spottings of scales. Ridges and spines growing. Aching bones of limb anatomy preparing soon to stretch or shrink into digitigrade. He wondered if he would start walking on his toes.

His tailbone and shoulders hurt.

Golbez had kept his promise about power to rival the dragon-knights of old.

Yet dragons were not evil, not like the monsters that moved among animals and that others had been turned into. If the pain in his shoulder blades was an indication, he was not becoming the literal shadow dragon. It had no wings. And Baigan had been able to change form at will.

His mind was his own again, and after everything, Kain still had hope.

On the day of the wedding he spoke into the wind, wondering if it mattered. "Cecil . . . Rosa . . . I have no right to bear witness to your joy. Not like this.

"I will temper myself here, on Mount Ordeals. And then, when I've become an even finer dragoon than my father- perhaps then I can return. Until that day comes, I can but wish you well."