#WROTE MORE THAN I EXPECTED LOL

[othellodonryan]

Turtle Doves AU

ok so i just wanted to give the basic idea i have for this au. rise doesnt deal with a lot of romance which i respect and absolutely would not change it, but i wanna write my fav characters in my fav genre lol so turtle doves was born.

basically about five years after the kraang invasion the roof of the hidden city finally caved in, throwing humans and yokai together really suddenly. the boys still live in the lair and go on missions and stuff, but they also have their own lives outside of that.

raph basically takes on a friendly neighborhood spiderman kinda role for the yokai. he also does a lot of on the ground rebuilding work and spends a lot of time below ground. he meets a cute lil human florist during a fight and its a very cutesy kinda romance.

Don is spending a lot of time with draxum as the two are working hard on reversing the mutagen from the oozequitos. donnie ends up meeting a punk hyena mutant who he uses as his main test subject. she is SO annoying and he is SO mad that he has a crush on her

Mikey is spending a lot of time at yokai/human events, cultural exchanges, ect. boy is enjoying his youth and newfound freedom! he meets a quiet polar bear yokai who just moved to the hidden city right before the collapse. hes had a tough time and is immediately enamored with how sweet mikey is to him

and leo is who i have the least on. he's past the whole no responsibility thing from the show but im also not sure exactly what i want him to be doing? maybe a sort of odd jobs thing? he really really wants to help out after the kraang messed up new york and damaged the hidden cities infrastructure. maybe this is when he meets monty, cause theyre looking for help to get their mystic weapon decoupled from their body? also leo travels a lot, but like... takes a day or two to portal to a random country and just hanging out lol

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

ROSE: That dream you had is very interesting, Dave.

ROSE: Freud would say it's indicative of intense sexual repression due to dealing with your brother so often, and having little physical freedom.

ROSE: Although Jung would say that it has nothing to do with sex, and simply indicates that you want to be a person with more of a purpose in life.

ROSE: Then Freud would say, "No, that's stupid. Purpose is so vague and hardly means anything about the patient or the dream. The interpretation of the genital fixation makes far more sense."

ROSE: Then Jung would retaliate with, "Not everything is about sex, you idiot! He's a teenager! How much could unconscious sexual desires affect him? And purpose just means that there is a lack of direction in his life. He wants something to do, something to strive for! Shouldn't we try to help him find that purpose instead of just attributing everything to this reductive view of human psychology?"

ROSE: Then Freud would go, "Perhaps you're right. But you can't deny that something is being repressed here. Maybe not sexual desire, but there is certainly a desire for something other than purpose."

ROSE: Then Jung would say, "Not really. What else could it be? Love? That's just an offshoot of sex in your view. I don't get what it could be at all."

ROSE: Freud would nod sternly and say, "Perhaps the patient desires connection. Not necessarily closely tied to purpose, but connection to others in the world is something he needs. That's what the globes in the dream represent. Connection to the world, something other than the living space he is stuck in. That's certainly a major effect of having no mother figure in childhood."

DAVE: rose

ROSE: Jung would sigh and say, "Connection. I see. Maybe that's something we all desire innately. We need to connect to each other and the world in order to understand what we need to do."

ROSE: Freud would take a step towards Jung and reach out a hand, saying, "Jung. We disagree so often that it feels there is no connection in the world. But I know we know each other. We can understand what we mean. If we all desire connection, that includes you and me. Let's try to connect more with each other, okay?"

DAVE: rose

ROSE: Jung would take Freud's hand and pull him close to his face, just inches apart from each other, and softly whisper, "Freud, you know that when I disagree with you, it's more because I envy you. I want to connect with you more, we can satisfy our... deepest desires, as you say... and become the ideal people we want to be if we are closer."

DAVE: ROSE

ROSE: What?

DAVE: shut up

DAVE: i did not sign up for your psychologist fanfiction

DAVE: tell me if im gay or not

[little-skunk]

Little Shrimpo :3

His biggest fear is being called out for regressing. He does not want a single soul to know.

Does not have a caregiver, and frankly does not want one. He's not really a 'standard' regressor, and he is not a fan of being told what to do by authority figures.

He doesn't have his own little gear. If he wants to play with toys, there are plenty of places in Gardenview with them that he'll just go to after hours. He'll usually borrow his favorite toys and keeps them in his room for a day or two before putting them back.

Oftentimes his reason for regressing is overwhelming anger. For him, regressing helps him process his emotions in a healthier way (like instead of punching a wall and breaking something, he makes his action figures have an epic fight).

He likes to bite and chew on things when little, but he doesn't have something safe to do that with. Even if he did have a teether, he's sure he'd break it within a day. Usually he ends up nipping at his hands, fingers, or arms, and because its his body, he's much more mindful of how hard he is biting.

He doesn't really have a specific age he'd say he regresses to. He's just an older regressor, who doesn't ever really go any younger than five. He's most often around 10-13 years old.

Since he's not a main character, Shrimpo doesn't get his own personal handler, but he does have a handler he trusts and prefers over all the others. He has felt safe enough to regress around said handler a few times, but he would never put a name to it or actually tell the handler what's going on. He likes to play soccer with the handler, and they're both fairly competitive about it (though the handler clearly lets Shrimpo win on purpose so he'll be happy- and Shrimpo's too prideful to notice).

When Shrimpo can't have something he wants, he gets very whiny and annoying about it. But since he doesn't want to tell anyone else about his regression, he's usually just venting out loud to himself in the comfort of his room.

Pretty much the only time Shrimpo lets himself cry is when he's little and alone. If he dared to cry in front of another toon, he'd never hear the end of it. If they ever found out their big bully has a weak spot, his life would be hell! He only cries when he feels really really bad.

Shrimpo is very much prone to having extreme meltdowns. This happens a lot since his main trigger for regressing is overwhelming anger. He still has enough sense to try and be quiet, but he still kicks, punches, and flails around, he just screams into a pillow when needed.

Shrimpo would benefit from being a padded regressor, but would actually die on the spot if anyone were to ever see him that vulnerable. He'd also feel really embarrassed and ashamed for feeling like he needs them. Just generally he does not have good thoughts about wearing diapers.

If he ever were to see another toon visibly regressing, he would most likely heckle and tease them out of jealousy. He doesn't care if it makes them cry or gets other toons angry at him, he wants his displeasure to be known! Overall, he does not do well with other regressors around, especially when he's big.

If he did have someone he was genuinely really close to, he would warm up on the idea of a caregiver. It would just take a lot of patience and trial and error. Sometimes he likes to think about how a big and strong caregiver would hold him against their chest to stop him from hurting himself during a meltdown. That's the only time he wishes he had a caregiver.

[cyanocophrenic]

Sweets (1/?)

The snugness was barely tolerable. She had overestimated herself. She looked surreptitiously over her shoulder and ducked around a corner. The only thing following her were her bad decisions, but she felt chased all the same.

Okay. Calm down. Breathe (but not too deep). Evaluate the situation. What are your options? Can you loosen anything?

She looked down at herself. Past her swollen breasts, past a fluffy roll of upper belly, she examined her waistline. Nope. The button was the only thing keeping the zipper together, and vice versa. For the millionth time, she lamented her morning. What a bright idea, interviewing for a job with a snack company. She was very well aware of how sweets affected her.

Could she find somewhere discrete to wait out her... little metabolic mishap? She looked around for a discrete nook to accommodate her fresh bulk.

The little atrium she had found had a series of plush benches around the walls. She sighed and headed for the one in the corner. She sucked in as best she could and sat down. Some horny little corner of her mind made note of how it felt as her tight belly shifted against her puffy thighs.

Sitting like this, only barely upright lest bending too far compromise her jeans, she couldn't ignore how her waistband was trying to cut her in half. She thought back to how she had done this to herself. The lovely HR manager had very explicitly pointed out the basket of the company's sugary offerings there in the middle of interview table. The woman had been insistent that she try at least one of each, gushing like any good salesperson about their rich flavors and subtle textures, occasionally even peeling one out of its wrapper and handing it to her.

How could she have done anything but eat what was offered to her? And by a beautiful woman, no less. She knew how her body reacted to food like this, but she had been desperate to make a good impression, to look good and eager and employable. A good girl. She ignored that last thought, and the accompanying shiver through her frazzled tummy.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth (but not too deeply). All she had to do was calm down, and give her body a chance to do the same. Then she could find a back door to sneak out of, go home and hope that somehow that she hadn't blown the interview.

She opened her eyes again and caught sight of herself in a mirror across the room. Holy crap, she was huge. She had been her normal, narrow self, and her outfit had fit very very normally, when she had arrived. But now? Now it looked positively painted onto her. Her breasts were trying to spill out of her tastefully exposed bra and over the lapel of her blouse. She was more balloon than woman at this point. She ignored another tingle.

As she watched herself in the mirror, she noticed something change. Slowly but surely, the last wrinkle in her blouse smoothed out. Uh oh. That meant... she was still filling out. Panic. She tingled again.

No. No. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). She closed her eyes again, and could feel her plump body quietly grow. Crap.

Panic. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). Calm.

Maybe if she didn't look, it would go away. That had never worked before, sure, but there's a first time for everything, right?

As she rationalized to herself, she noticed the sound of heels clacking towards her hiding spot. Panic!

Maybe their owner would pass and not notice her?

No such luck.

The woman who had interviewed her rounded the corner.

"There you are!"

She struggled to stand. So tight.

"You left your purse upstairs. I get it, though. Interviews can be pretty stressful, huh?"

Like nothing had changed. Did this woman not notice that she was currently three times the size she was when she had shown up? Could this woman not hear every seam in her clothes creaking in harmony? Could the woman not see how wide and deep and round she was becoming?

"It's such a beautiful handbag, I almost wanted to keep it for myself!" The woman laughed. "Oh well."

She took the bag from the woman. "O-oh! Thank you!" Leapt out of her.

"Listen," said the woman, "technically I have to review a few other candidates, but I think you're a shoo-in for the position." The woman moved closer. "No one else has shown so much... enthusiasm." Closer still. She basked in the smell of the woman's musky perfume.

"Oh... that's great!" she managed to squeak out.

"In fact," the woman continued, "if you'd like to come back upstairs, we can have you fill out the onboarding paperwork now, so you don't have to come back just to fill out some forms if... when we give you the job." So close now.

"Um! Okay!" What.

The woman placed a gentle hand on the side of her massive, tight, growing belly. "Listen, between you and me, that passion you showed today will take you far with us. Do you feel like the offer is fair? We can negotiate further if you need." The woman's eyes were so sincere.

What was going on here? She could barely think.

The woman placed her other hand on top of her belly, well hidden by her burgeoning breasts. "I do hope you'll say yes."

"Um..."

There was a pop. Her button pinged away across the room from her overburdened jeans. It made a little thwack sound as it hit the far wall. Her zipper flew down, zizzing audibly. Her belly erupted through the breach. Her blouse retreated upwards. The tingling became a roar. All the while, the woman, as though no tectonic shifts were happening right there and then, continued to implore with borderline puppydog eyes.

The world held its breath with her. How had this woman not reacted to any of that?! What? Was the woman still waiting for an answer?

"...okay?" She tried. She wasn't sure if her brain was still working. "Sure?" Best to stick to small sentences.

"Yay!" cheered the woman, "I really think you'll love it here!" The woman launched in for a quick hug around her exposed belly. The woman's arms didn't go even halfway around her. And still the woman didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

"Well! If you'll follow me back to the elevators, we can at least get the formalities out of the way."

The woman took her by the hand and pulled, still gentle. She followed, mutely. Even the horniest, shamiest corners of her mind were silent, waiting with bated breath.

As they reached the elevators, the woman pushed the up button and stood to the side. "Please," said the woman, "after you!"

On autopilot now, she stepped into the elevator and... wedged into the door. Stuck. What. Panic? Calm? The elevator dinged again as if to say "I'm waiting!"

The cold of the elevator doors brought her back to reality. She put a hand on either side of herself and tried to pull herself in. As though this were somehow normal, the woman chirped "Oh, here, let me help!"

She felt a gentle pair of hands press into her oceanic bottom. Her horny brain thrilled again. She clamped down on those thoughts. No time to be a pervert.

Between the two of them, they muscled her into the elevator. She turned to face the doors in time to watch the woman press into her in order to let the doors close. Normally equipped for eight full-sized human adults, due to her immensity, it very barely fit two.

"We need floor thirty," said the woman into her barely contained cleavage. She tried to reach for the panel of buttons, but by now there was simply too much of her in the way.

"I've got it," said the woman, reaching behind her without looking.

They rode the thirty floors quietly. She could feel herself still widening, pressing towards the walls of the elevator car. Her embarrassment had burnt out, leaving only a kind of stunned peace in her mind. She tried to will her body away from the woman, but where else could it really go?

By the time they reached their destination, the woman was firmly pressed against the doors, still showing no indication of the extra-ordinariness of the situation.

As the doors opened, the woman stepped back, grabbed her hands, and pulled as she tried to wiggle through the door. Eventually she floomped through, and they set off toward the HR suite.

Full-on waddling now, she felt an inner tension release. She had stopped growing. Relief. If nothing else, at least things had stopped getting worse. Sure, she was almost round enough to roll. Tingle. Sure, her clothing had been reduced to barely covering her... rude areas. Tingle. Sure, a beautiful woman was acting as though this was all perfectly normal. Tingle tingle tingle. But hey, at least it finally wasn't getting worse.

The woman pushed open the double doors to the HR suite and welcomed her in with another glittering smile. They seemed to be the only ones there. The woman led her, patiently, to the front desk area. The woman ducked behind the desk, looking for something.

"Hmm, it looks like I'll need to go print off more some more copies of the forms. Shouldn't take more than a minute or two." Finally she'd have a moment to collect herself.

Then the woman produced a basket, laden with various goodies, from underneath the desk. "Here! Help yourself, sorry to make you wait." Uh.

"Oh, here, allow me," said the woman, picking out a chocolate confection, peeling it, and pressing it into her mouth. "I'll be right back!"

She chewed and swallowed the treat.

Uh oh.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

the way some people straight up have no respect for asou's writing is actually kind of insane to me 😭 like youre a fan of HIS manga, but you outwardly express your disregard for the intentions he had when writing....... disregarding canon can be super duper funsies and cool sometimes, but to straight up say "i dont care what he intended and think my headcanons are more canon than what he wrote because i think he wrote it badly/he sucks at writing this dynamic/i dont like the ship (or whatever) he was trying to imply" is literally just insanely disrespectful IN MY OPINION 😖

i think maybe im just annoyed at how badly people misuse the words "canon", "coded", and "implied" (which im also guilty of occasionally- especially when i first came here) cuz like... "i choose not to acknowledge this thing that is canon or technically canon or implied" is fine (usually). "i know what the author intended but i dont like it or care, so im going to call my headcanon/ship canon and anyone who disagrees is disregarding canon and is stupid because i said so" is NOT fine... ☠️☠️☠️

[tteokdoroki]

men will start foaming and the mouth and convulsing when they realise their wives / daughters are not there to do the housework and responsibilities

[thedrotter]

Re:Kinder Fun Facts of the day☺️!!! Have you ever wondered who talks the most from the main cast in Re:Kinder?? Well, I did😊. Today I'll be answering this question with some graphs and as a bonus telling you what words each character uses the most! I will warn you, this will be a bit long and I don't know how to be less verbose so, yeah!!!

First, I've made some basic rules as to what I counted regarding how much the characters speak. Not all lines really count as speaking, after all.

Any of the incoherent screaming lines don't count. There's a lot of screaming since the characters die a lot (as expected for a horror RPG game), but I don't really count that as speaking unless they're saying proper words. In that same vein, I didn't really count any of the panting or sniffing and such that are conveyed through words. Again, I don't really see that as a character actively speaking their thoughts!

If I cannot tell who a line belongs to, I will not give it to anyone. This happens for certain lines, so I felt this rule was important.

I won't be counting repetitions of the same line if it's on a variation of the same scene. This may sound a bit strange, but when a character dies, the game goes on to the same next scene it would regardless (unless the scene that follows it is an ending), with variations and new lines here and there to account for the dead character, but a lot will be reused and placed in the exact same beats it normally would have been in originally. So, this rule is here for that. Oh, and also the scenes with bits of Yuuichi's backstory that appear in Shunsuke's head won't be counted twice, because some appear twice line by line.

Of course, the "..." lines won't count. I am so sorry Aya!!!!😞

Now that the ground rules have been set, there's just one thing I want to mention. Though I will count all the total lines for Takumi and Yuuichi like any other character, I just want to mention that first I will have two separate counts for them! Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart respectively.

Takumiel is separate because I was curious about how much Takumi spoke as an archangel compared to when he was alive. Yuuichi's Heart is because he speaks so much he feels notable enough to be given his own division, even if he and Yuuichi at the end of the day are one person

(I count the silly mind telepathy where Shunsuke is being directly spoken to [and being told things normal Yuu would avoid saying at that point] and the comical theater as Yuuichi's Heart. I clarify in case one assumes he only starts being counted the moment he's directly labelled as Yuuichi's Heart. Any line that can't be distinguished between Yuuichi's Heart and Yuuichi will be given to Yuuichi by default.)

With nothing else to be clarified let's get to the numbers!!!😊😊

First, the line counts with Takumiel and Yuuichi's Heart counted individually!! Here are the rankings:

Shunsuke (With a lead of 535 lines over second place!!)

Yuuichi

Rei

Yuuichi's Heart

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

You may be thinking— woah, does Shunsuke really speak that much?! You could say that, for a good chunk of those lines are from how he describes interactable points around the map and his inner thoughts, so they aren't all exactly said out loud. The benefit of being the protagonist, I suppose ww

Funny enough, Yuuichi's Heart has almost as many lines as Yuuichi does for not having that much time in the game, being on the higher end between the characters that don't get the benefit of being a protagonist (lol)!

Admittedly I had expected for Rei and Hiroto to have a more similar amount of lines given their nearly equal amount of presence, but for what it is Rei surpassed Hiroto by 51 lines! I also had expected for Takumiel to speak a little bit more than Takumi but turns out the opposite is true.

While the lack of lines of Takumi and Takumiel are to be expected due to their short time on the game, what stands out is Aya not even reaching triple digits between her other peers who are in there for most of the game. This is because a good chunk of Aya's lines in game are silence!^^" And thus weren't counted. If ellipses were a word, she surely would have reached triple digits, but unfortunately they're not.

Now the line count with combined sums of Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart!!!

In here, the ranking isn't affected, with Yuuichi remaining second place and Takumi being last place. But the disparity of everyone's numbers compared to Takumi's feels a bit more clear to see when Takumiel isn't individually counted.

With Yuuichi's line counts combined, Shunsuke remains 318 lines ahead of him, but it also means Yuuichi has a 59% the amount of Shunsuke's lines; and impressive feat for someone who doesn't get the benefit of being the point of view for everything you press... Although he does also have an upper hand over everyone by essentially being the plot of this game ww

But maybe line counts do not suffice to tell how much a character speaks. Yes, Shunsuke has a bunch of lines from everything he interacts with, but is it really reliable to say he speaks all that much in all those lines? A good chunk of those could easily have 3 words each! So with this in mind, let's do a word count.

Even in a word count, Shunsuke has the lead, having a lead of 2,247 words over second place. But we'll see about that when we combine Yuuichi's numbers. Anyway, here's the ranking!

Shunsuke

Yuuichi's Heart

Yuuichi

Rei

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

This time, Yuuichi's Heart is the one at second place!!! It's pretty funny that he speaks more than his physical counterpart ww. I genuinely didnt think he'd out yap himself that way when I chose to count for him individually 😭!!! He has a lead of 63 words over himself, but a lead nonetheless.

In here, Rei and Hiroto are more even than in the line counts, with the difference seeming more minimal when put into words. But it also showcases that despite Rei having more lines than Yuuichi's Heart in the line count, those only get to have a bit over half of the amount of words he talks (To be fair he does get to infodump a lot in his section of the game).

And here's the combined word count!!! Suddenly Shunsuke's lead is only by a mere 55 words! So Yuuichi speaks about as much as he does with 318 less lines.

I must admit that I genuinely did not expect it to be that close. When I chose to count the lines for when you interact with things for Shunsuke, I thought he was granted to speak an absurd amount more than anyone else. But turns out that Yuuichi speaks about the same amount out loud when most of Shunsuke's are his own thoughts ww. But it does make sense! He is still the plot of this game.

So, after all those charts, here's the average/middle point of lines and words for characters to have, because why not, it's fun.

Average Line Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 197 lines

Average Line Count (When combined): 247 lines

Average Word Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 1,333 words

Average Word Count (When combined): 1,666 words

So there it is. That's how much the characters in Re:Kinder speak!

But wait!!! I am not done. I will share with you an additional fun fact... Did you ever want to know what word each of these characters said the most?! This one will be quicker, I do promise.

When it came to counting these words I did not count stop words, that being common words that are used all the time by everyone in English. "I, you, me, the, to, a, my, your, yes, no"... Words like that! Otherwise everyone would have one of those as their most said word and it'd be rather boring to look at. With that said, here are the words these characters say the most!

Shunsuke: Yuuichi - said 40 times! (this genuinely confused me so much im sorry he uses interjections so much I had expected it to be something like "huh" or "um" but no i dont know how this passed by me as i was rounding up all the lines he says or proofreading or writing all of those lines WHAT?!?! its been two days and it still takes me out)

Ryou: Shunsuke - Said 14 times

Sayaka: Murderer - Said 7 times (All in one sentence!)

Takumi | Takumiel (counted in one for how little he speaks.): Takumiel - Said 3 times (That name is so important, he said it thrice.)

Aya: Sorry - Said 5 times

Rei: Hell, gonna, look, Yuuchi - said 8 times (Most of the repeated words she says are stop words for she doesn't tend to speak about the same things repeatedly.)

Hiroto: Shunsuke - Said 17 times

Yuuichi (separate from YH): Problem - Said 17 times

Yuuichi's Heart: Mama - Said 24 times

Yuuichi (Overall): Mama - Said 31 times

So that is finally it. That is the fun fact of today.😊😊 Use this to woe your friends at parties!!!

I am aware Mami speaks about enough to be counted in, but this is pretty time consuming to do and I'm not sure anyone is invested on her enough to count her in. But if there's enough curiosity regarding that, I'll try counting her in. But for now this suffices.☺️ Thanks for reading!

[trickerys-domain]

I was tagged by @contrivedcoincidences6 to make my OCs this picrew!! Thank you for tagging me, I finally got it done lol!!!

Iseya Tabris: A headstrong and compassionate duelist/assassin rogue. Blunt, and sometimes vengeful, to those who show corruption, incompetence, or cross her; but endlessly kind to those in need. Absolutely did not want to get married, but always wore Nelaros's ring to honor his sacrifice and as a reminder (yes, I did full ass sacrifice a whole item spot for this in game the whole game). Iseya thought she would always sacrifice anything for her family and people, including her found family and her lover Alistair. She was prepared to die to stop the blight, and would have if not for Morrigan's offer.

*Hilariously I named my Warden years prior to the release of The Last Flight novel, but it really added a great element to her character.

Marian Hawke: A two-handy Reaver Purple Hawke who loves her family especially her sister. Even Gamlen grows on her after the death of her monther as she finally is worn down enough to see him better. Marian starts off as a confident sassy jokster who tries her best to make a new life, but as the years go on and she loses and lose and loses, her jokes become a coping mechanism. A mean streak also appears. By the end she's so tired and depressed that she doesn't even notice Anders pulling away from her. She spares and stands by him anyway because she needs this one thing to stay in her life.

*I just really like the default Hawke Names, I think they fit Hawke really well.

Shiren'ne Lavellen: A compassionate, kind, yet firm and decisive person, Shiren'ne prepared her whole life to become a worthy Keeper for her clan. Yet after she ends up with a new calling she takes it with stride, understanding her role in the world is now beyond just her people, but she always rebuffs being sent by Andraste and stands by her gods. Shiren'ne's favourite thing about the Inquisition was getting to know everyone and learn so much about other cultures and customs, and was always happy to share and demonstrate her Dalish culture (within reason). And although she had been so ready to be Keeper and she is Dalish to her core, after everything she knew she could never return and instead found a new quiet life with Cullen. Shiren'ne prefers slower ritual and practical magics and leans towards old nature and healing (I wish spirit healer had been a subclass), but is eager to learn about the fade, spirits, and the journey of ones soul after death, showing this by choosing vallaslin for Falon'Din.

*Took some research, but her name essentially means Voice of the Journey. She chose the name herself for her Valleslin ceremony as part of accepting and stepping into her role as First.

No pressure tag to @wolfwhisperertf, @the-nameless-nerd, and anyone else who wants to ❤️

[sisterdivinium]

Little update for anyone counting: VtM doctor superion AU is still in rewriting phase. I'm at page 32 of 106 and it is the equivalent to page 52 (of X) in the new version.

[doodlingwren]

The brainrot is speaking... I need to create a side account for my DnD AU of Saint Seiya or I might turn evil for real this time

[didhewinkback]

jealously, jealousy

a one shot from the Something Old universe (its 4k sooo can't quite call it a blurb can I)

lots of these glimpses from their relationship are lovely and bright and i wanted to explore the ugly.

-------

2013

You were frozen on your stairs, the speech you had just spent an hour rehearsing flying out of your brain as you stared down at him. The two of them, you should say, as they chatted with your parents. There he was, the love of your bloody life, wrapped around the world’s most famous pop star. And here she was, in your living room. In your hometown. With your Harry. 

No - not your Harry. Clearly not your Harry if the way they were leaning into each other was any indication. He brought her home for the holidays. How could you be so stupid?! To think that he’d ever want to be with –

“You gonna keep standing there or you gonna say hi?”

His voice snaps you out of your mental spiral, still sending goosebumps down your arms after all this time. You lock eyes with him to see him and her and your parents, looking up at you. Oh god, mum’s got that look on her face. You were fine, this was fine. Legs shaking as you head down the stairs, hoping the smile you pasted on your face is somewhat convincing, hiding the way your heart is shattering in a million pieces each step you take. 

You step into his open arms to give him half a hug, pulling away rather quickly, knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle feeling his arms tighten around you. Not when it doesn’t mean the same thing to him. Not when it never will. You ignore the look on his face, his slightly furrowed brow at how you’re acting, not looking at him, not clinging on for dear life like you usually do when you haven’t seen him in ages. You introduce yourself to his girlfriend, who looks ten times prettier in person than she does in photos, if that’s even possible. She grins widely, telling you it’s so nice to meet you, that she heard a lot about you. 

You have to bite your lip from blurting out a “Hmm, wish I could say the same.” But instead, you smile and weakly joke, “All good things I hope.”

“Of course,” Harry says, eyes burning a hole in the side of your face, as she nods enthusiastically next to him, perfect hair shining in the living room light. You look at him briefly before looking down at your hands, your ever perceptive Dad picking up the conversation instantly, asking them how their flight was, how the weather’s been in LA, the two of them laughing as they begin to tell you all about the embarrassing flight attendant they had on the flight over. You watch as he tilts his head back in laughter, as she slaps his arm. 

It makes your stomach turn, tears pricking your eyes though you quickly blink your eyes to hide them.  You had to get out of here. 

“I’m gonna, um, use the loo. Excuse me.” you say as you speed down the hallway, turning right into the washroom, not before you hear her say “oh my god the loo. How cute is that?!” 

You close the door behind you and instantly turn the sink on. Grabbing a hand towel and burying your face in it as hot tears pour out of your eyes. You imagined this day going so differently. Walking down those stairs, jumping into his arms, pulling him outside at one point to confess your true feelings, praying his face would light up, that he would grab your face in his hands and kiss you. 

White hot shame burns through your body, making you clench your eyes shut. You’re such an idiot.  Why would you ever have expected that to happen?! He’s eons out of your league at this point, bringing pop stars home for the holidays. You can feel the negative thoughts whirling around in your brain, picking apart your body, personality and mind in comparison. Never anticipating this heaviness in your chest. It’s like someone stomped on your heart. He wasn’t yours, he was never going to be. Why are you so upset over something you never had? 

All you wanted to do was go back to your room, bury yourself under the covers and never leave again. But you had to go back out there despite the tears streaming down your face, the way your heart physically aches. 

Usually when he comes home for the holidays, you spend every second together, catching up on each other’s lives, making the other laugh until they cry, stuffing your faces with every holiday treat imaginable until he falls asleep mid conversation on the couch. But you can’t do that now. You can’t even look at him now. Not without tears filling your eyes, devastation sinking heavy into your bones. 

You allowed yourself a few more minutes, just leaning your head against the wall, trying to regulate your breathing. Trying to ease the pain, trying to not feel stupid for even feeling the pain in the first place. So, this is what it feels like to break your own heart. To get your hopes so high only to absolutely crash and burn. 

You had always wondered when this would happen. A when, not an if. When the difference in your lives would become too big a barrier to cross. You were just the small town friend, he was now a massive pop star traveling around the world. He could have anyone he wanted. Why would he ever choose you? He’s never going to love you like that. It’s not his fault, it’s just facts. He needs someone at his level, who is as stunning as he is, who can travel the world with him at the drop of a hat, who can keep up with his lifestyle. Not some friend from home who’s still doing revisions at uni. 

You buried your head in your hands, before pushing off the wall and staring at the mirror. Yikes. Tear tracks covered your cheeks, your eyes were bloodshot. You’ve been in here a while but couldn’t leave looking like this. That pop star was going to think you were absolutely shitting your brains out in here. What a first impression. You snort, starting to clean your face up. What a night this was turning out to be.

Once you deemed your appearance passable, you stepped out of the bathroom, feeling relieved when you heard your mom call out, “Dinner’s ready!” No small talk in the living room then. 

You head into the dining room, opting for the seat next to Gemma and across from Archie, instead of your usual next to Harry. There’s someone else in that seat now. God, could you be more pathetic?! 

You pour yourself a large glass of wine, willing yourself to get a grip. You muscle your way through, fake smiles and keeping quiet, something Gemma picks up on but never mentions, instead carrying the conversation for the table, her endless wit making the smiles less fake as time goes on. You can feel his eyes on you but don’t dare look over his way, any time you come close your eye catches on the way her chair is pulled close to his, on their hands linked on the table like they were 42 years old. 

He keeps trying to draw you into the conversation, mentioning things that happened in your childhood, making jokes about himself that you typically would jump in on but you stay staring at your plate, clutching your glass of wine a bit tighter, your planned speech rattling around in your head, feeling seconds away from a mental breakdown. Fearing the words would spill out of your mouth the second you looked at him, “You’re my best friend but I think I’ve been in love with you my whole life.” You squeeze your eyes shut and take a long sip of wine. Not today. Not ever.

The rest of dinner passes in a wine soaked haze and later, you’re elbows deep in the sink, having shooed all parents out of the kitchen under the guise of being a helpful daughter. You can do this. You can clean the kitchen, watch a round of games and go to your room. Almost in the home stretch, almost –

“Hey, stranger.” he says softly, placing some empty glasses next to you, you nearly drop the dish in your hands. You hadn’t heard him come in. 

“Hey,” you say, looking up at him before looking back down at the sink, suddenly very focused on a stuck speck of food.

“Missed you,” he says, lightly punching you on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” you say back, straining out a laugh that gets stuck in your throat. “Me too.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way he’s intently watching you, brow furrowed as he pinches at this lower lip before drumming his index fingers against the side of the counter. You stay silent, knowing you should speak up, try to make this less weird, try to make yourself appear okay but you just can’t seem to find the right words. 

He sighs, running his hand through his hair, looking back through the kitchen entrance before taking a small step closer to you. 

“Hey,” he says, waiting until you finally look over at him before speaking, voice low so only you can hear. “‘M sorry I didn’t tell you she was coming. Wasn’t meant to be a surprise.”

“Didn’t even know you were dating.” you say, cringing the second the words leave your mouth. So much for playing it cool, being the unaffected pal. 

“Yeah,” he says, grimacing. “I’m sorry for that, too. It’s been –”

“Hey, no I get it.” You say quickly, shaking the excess water off the casserole dish before placing it on the drying rack, quickly grabbing a new dish to wash. Your hands are going to be dry as hell, but you need to keep doing something. “I’ve had lots of stuff going on with uni, you’ve had loads going on. ‘S what happens, right? We’re growing up, and we’re living in completely different worlds, right? You don’t have to worry about me. I get it, really.”

“But that’s not -,” he says, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I don’t mean -”

“H?” And that’s her voice using the nickname you gave him. You quickly turn back to face the sink as he quickly turns to face her, taking a tiny step away from you in the process. It’s hardly noticeable but you notice it, because it’s him. 

You begin to fiercely scrub again, dry hands be damned, as she walks into view, wrapping her arms around him and leaning her chin against his chest.

“Your family wants to get the games started. How long were you thinking of staying for? They wanna do charades but I, like, hate charades.” she says with a pout. 

“But charades are the best part, babe.” he says, squeezing her close as she rolls her eyes. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” she says, kissing him on the cheek. “But can we leave after like, one round? I’m still, like, super jetlagged and want to be okay for our flight out.”

“Yeah, sure.” he says, before turning his attention towards you. “You coming?”

“I think I’m gonna stay here and clean up. You guys go ahead.” you say, glancing over at them quickly.

“But I can’t play without my rival team captain. Have to redeem myself from last year’s embarrassment.” he says, trying to goad you into your usual banter.

“It’s okay, really.” you say. “I’d just make the team numbers uneven. Seriously. Have fun. I’ll come in in a bit.”

“Ookay.” he says slowly, looking a bit lost and confused, frozen in place until she takes his hand and leads him out of the kitchen. 

You shut your eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath before turning off the sink, hearing the sounds of team selections happening in the living room. Knowing you’ve got no one to blame but yourself for this one. You hear footsteps and turn to face them, bracing yourself to have to face him again, breathing a sigh of relief when you see your dad, walking in and leaning against the kitchen island, eyeing you carefully. 

“Hear you’re not playing.”

“Just wanted to help clean.” 

“That’s a first.”

“Dad…”

He squints at you, mouth open to say something else before seeming to decide better of it, taking a step forward to wrap his arms around you and you sink into it, letting yourself be held. 

“Can clean the bathrooms next if you want.” he mumbles against your head, chuckling at his own joke when you groan. 

“Teenage boys are idiots, love.” he whispers. “It’ll be alright.”

You take a deep breath in, tempted to correct him, to say it’s not that, it’s uni or the holidays or seasonal depression. Instead, you nod once before squeezing him back. He plants a kiss on your head and takes a step back, nudging you under the chin.

“Come in when you’re ready, yeah? We’d love to have you out there.”

You nod, blinking rapidly as he squeezes your shoulder once before grabbing another bottle of wine off the counter and heading back into the living room. 

What a right mess you’ve made. You stop thinking and just start cleaning, staying away long enough to get all the dishes sorted, all the excess food put away. You slowly make your way into the living room, heart dropping when you see Archie holding court in the center of the room, unable to hold in his giggles as Harry screams out the wrong guesses at him. It really is your favorite part of the holidays but you can’t bring yourself to revel in it, feeling utterly sorry for yourself.

You last about half a round before mumbling apologies to everyone, blaming a headache and heading upstairs to your room, ignoring all lingering eyes. You shut off your light and lock the door, collapsing into tears on your bed. 

The rest of the holidays pass by in a blur. You’ve got one goal in mind: Don’t think about Harry.

Which is why later in the week, when you lock eyes with Conor Williams at the pub, something you would typically brush off, you lean in. Harry’s never liked him, you’re not sure why, and you can’t deny that that isn’t a motivating factor as you make your way over to him. You flirt, you forget. You don’t think about Harry. You can’t. 

2017

Harry’s hands were clenching the glass in his hands so tight, his knuckles were turning white, watching that bloke Kyle or Tyler or whatever the hell order you another Pimms. You don’t drink Pimms. Everyone knows this. Everyone, except this bloody idiot who thinks he’s worth your time. Tosser. 

Johnny kicks him under the table. Must not be doing a great job of hiding his emotions, then. 

“Ease up, mate.” he mutters, raising his eyebrows when Harry looks over at him. “Glaring daggers at the poor guy.”

Harry scoffs, adjusting the newsboy cap on his head, if only for an excuse to do something with his hands. 

“Am not. ‘S just. She doesn’t drink that. She used to go on rants every night when we were young about how much she hates that drink.” 

“Yeah but ‘s just a drink. People can change their mind on things.”

“Not her. Not on that.” Harry grumbles, eyes drawn back to you at the bar, at the way that bloke is running a finger down your arm. 

It makes his stomach turn and he’s not sure why. He’s always felt protective of you but in the way he’s protective of Gemma. He never feels like this when he sees Gemma with a bloke he doesn’t like. Maybe he’s just not used to seeing you out with guys, he thinks, jaw clenching when that guy leans in to kiss you, eyes quickly averting to the table in front of him, fingers toying with the drink rings on the surface.

“And you wonder why she never lets you meet the blokes she’s seeing.” Johnny snorts. 

“What do you mean?”

“Do you ever think -” Johnny’s eyes catch on movement at the bar and shakes his head, seemingly changing his mind about what he was going to say. “Right. They’re coming back. Just, go easy on him, yeah? He’s nice enough. She must really like him if she’s letting him meet you.”

Harry opens his mouth, ready to ask him what the hell he means by that, when the two of you slide into the chairs across from them, that bloody drink still in your hands. 

Conversation picks up once again amongst the group and Johnny’s right, this guy is nice enough. He’s an attentive listener, looking at you like the sun shines out of your ass. As he should, you’re way out of his league. Dude should be thanking his lucky stars every day that you even look in his direction. 

Harry shakes his head at himself, unable to pinpoint where exactly this vitriol for this guy is coming from.  He’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with fine except you deserve more than fine.

Harry’s eyes latch onto the drink in your hand, the way you’ve been fiddling with the straw but never taking more than one actual sip and it makes his blood boil all over again. He fucking knew it. He leans back in his chair a bit, unable to hide the cocky smirk that blooms across his face.

“Looks like darts freed up, if anyone’s up for it.” Kyle or Sammy or Tyler says. Harry’s never been this rude in his life but he can’t help it. Something about this guy just brings it out of him. 

“Why don’t we take a crack at it, Tom?” Johnny says, already standing up. Tom. Right, that’s his name. Couldn’t have paid Harry to remember that. Maybe he should slow down on the tequila. “Let these two catch up.”

“Talk shit about me, you mean?” Tom says, cracking a smile Harry’s way, which he weakly returns. You and Johnny laugh, which makes Harry want to punch a wall. It wasn’t even that funny. Besides, making you laugh was his job. Oookay.  Definitely need to slow down on the tequila.

“Oh!” Tom says, quickly turning to you. “When you want another one, my tab’s still open at the bar.”

Harry snorts at that, instantly trying to cover it with a cough when all eyes fall on him. Tom can’t be serious. You’ve barely taken a sip. 

He waits until they walk away before sliding his drink over to where you moved seats, right across from him. Watching you watch him before you set aside the drink Tom got you and pick up Harry's glass with a soft “thanks” and a small smile, and take a long sip, his eyes catching on the length of your neck, the way your throat moves before he quickly looks down again, a blush coloring his cheeks. He feels all out of sorts, on unsteady land.

“You gonna tell him you don’t drink Pimms?”

“It’s not my favorite drink but it’s alright,” you say with a shrug, and he’s suddenly angry all over again.

Memories of sitting at house parties with you, you ranting about how much you detest the drink after a boy from a rival school tried to bring one over to you in hopes of getting closer to you. You shut that down right quick, launching into a diatribe about how not all girls drink Pimms to anyone who would listen, which ended up just being Harry on the couch, watching and giggling as you got more passionate with every sentence, hands gesturing in the air. He sat there, content to just watch and listen to you until the world stopped spinning. 

It became a running joke over the years, every time he would get a round he would ask you what you would like before saying “Pimms?” before you could say anything, to which you would roll your eyes and flip him off. And here you were, pretending to drink the bloody thing. He wants to scream. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, he has to ask, the question burning him alive. He’s never seen you like this. He’s aware he’s overreacting - drinking a drink you hate isn’t necessarily a cause for concern but if you’re letting this prick walk all over your choice of drink, what else are you letting him do? He can’t even think like that - his imagination already prone to running wild, the thought of anything happening to you making the back of his neck burn up. “You hate those.”

“It’s just a drink, H.”

“‘S not like you to settle for something y’ don’t like.” he shoots back, watching as you stiffen at his words, your eyes suddenly intensely focused on the drink in your hands. 

He feels erratic, teetering on the wrong side of tipsy. He’s never felt like this about you before and he’s not sure what to do about it, not even sure to articulate how he’s feeling. All he knows is that seeing you with this guy feels wrong. He’s wrong. 

“It's not about the drink, H. It’s -” you sigh, clutching his glass tighter, a frown on your face as you look up at him. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“I get you.” he says. “Get you enough to know better than to order you that drink –”

“Okay, but you don’t -” you say, clenching your eyes shut as you let out a huff of frustration. You take a breath and open your eyes, looking right back at him, eyes blazing. “I mean this with respect and love but you don’t get what it’s like. Dating when you’re not like a model or a celebrity. It’s not easy.”

“‘M not an idiot,” he huffs, a frown lining his face. Wishing he ordered another tequila. “I’m aware –”

“You’re not though. The apps are utter shit and they’re all we have and finding a good guy on there is so rare.” you say, on a roll with no signs of stopping, anger lacing your tone. “So he gets my drink order wrong but he’s nice to me, shows up when he says he will, we have decent conversations and he doesn’t insult my intelligence like some of the other guys I’ve matched with. I can handle that”

“That’s shit. Think you need higher standards,” he says, knowing the words came out wrong the second he says them. 

He meant it differently, meant to say you deserve more than this, but by the look on your face he knows he fucked up, by the way you gape at him. “I didn’t -”

“No, you did.”

“If you just -” 

“Like sorry, are you suggesting you have higher standards than me? The millionaire that fucks anything that moves?”

It’s a low blow, intended to hurt and it works.  By the look on your face he knows you know it, face dropping almost immediately after the words come out of your mouth, bringing your hands up to cover your face. 

It’s something he’s used to by now, comments like that, something he has learned to ignore, numb himself to. A comment that comes from strangers on the internet and plastered all over headlines. Not something anyone that knows him would say. To hear it from you strikes differently and strikes deep. He feels like he’s 16 again, scrolling through twitter to find mean things people said about him, desperate for people to understand that’s not who he is. 

The two of you sit there in silence, the hurt feelings that hurled insults giving way to regret, remorse, guilt. The noise from the pub roars around you as the two of you sit there, both a bit in shock at how off the rails this conversation has gone. How did you end up here? He was meant to tell you what he thinks, meant to be nice. And now here you were, hurling insults at each other, hitting each other where it hurts the most. 

You’re muttering apologies under your hands and you pull them down from your face, clasping onto his forearm. 

“That was awful. I didn’t mean to -”

“No I was pushing - “

“No.” you say firmly, “I don’t say that shit to you. I know it’s not true. I knew it would hurt you and get you to lay off me, so I said it. It wasn’t okay. And I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t being very fair -”

“You were pissing me off but that’s no excuse.” you say, eyes never wavering from his, utter sincerity in your tone. “I hate that I said it, regretted it the second it left my mouth. I didn’t mean it. At all.”

“I know,” he says. And he does. Knows that's not how you see him, that it’s never been how you see him, the sincere look in your eyes quieting the ever present voice  in his head from wondering if there’s not a small part of you that thinks it. That thinks he’s become everything they say he is. 

He knows you only said it because he was really giving you a hard time, though you didn’t give him any answers to his questions, which are still gnawing at him. He forces himself to drop it, the questions dissolving on his tongue. There’s another place for this conversation. Not in the middle of the pub with the guy you’re seeing just a few paces away. 

He’s desperate to ease you both back into familiar territory, this fun catch up night taking on a much heavier tone than either of you anticipated. 

“Y’ meant it a little bit,” he says, small smile on his face . 

“Given your track record, I’m not sure you can blame me,” you say, smirking as you take another sip. 

“Oiii.” he says, laughing when you do. There you are. This is more like it. 

“‘M sorry for being a dickhead,” he says, once your laughter has subsided. “He seems like a nice enough guy, ‘m just protective of you. Want to make sure he’s treating you right.”

“Okay, Dad.” you say with a roll of your eyes. 

“‘M being serious,” he says with huff. “Just think you’re …you’re a really incredible person. And you deserve to be with someone who knows that. And celebrates that.”

Your face is unreadable, blinking rapidly before looking back down at your, well his, glass. 

“Thanks, H.” you say softly. 

“And you should be with someone who knows your drink order.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, laying your head on your arm that’s resting on the table. “You are insufferable.” 

He giggles as you shake your head, taking another sip of his drink. He knows he promised to drop it but there is something really weighing on him. 

“Can I ask y’ something?” he asks, waiting until you nod before continuing. “Johnny had said that y’ don’t really let me meet the guys you’re seeing. Or like let them meet me.”

“You really haven’t been missing out on much.” you say, ruefully. 

“Okay,” he says, huffing a laugh. “But I - I don’t like missing out on parts of your life. Or meeting people that are important to you. ‘S not - it’s not because of me, like… being me?”

“Oh no. It’s not that at all. ” you say quickly, with a firm shake of your head before averting your eyes from him once again. “It’s… um, it’s complicated.”

“I can understand complicated.”

“H.”  you say, cringing. “I-”

“Please. I -”

He’s cut off by his phone vibrating on the table. The contact “E” lighting up his screen, a photo of a candle from their first date filling the screen. You lean back in your chair, wiping at your eyes quickly.

“Shit. I should -”

“No, go ahead.” you say, pushing his drink back towards him, picking up your own and taking a sip, the move making his brows furrow in confusion. 

“There’s just a whole time difference thing.” he says with a frown. “But I really want -”

“H. Go.”

“Right,” he says, getting up to step outside to take the call, feeling better when he sees Johnny and Tom return to your table. He hears Tom ask if you’re alright, if you’d like another round. He’s almost out of earshot before he hears your reply:

“Yeah, thanks. Seems this is just what I need.”

Huh.

----

a/n: part 5 is coming but i really wanted to explore some lows of their relationship / dig deeper into moments mentioned in the story. she talks about this moment in part one, he talks about his moment in part 3. i was editing and editing this and cant keep looking at it so am kinda posting blindly. if you made it this far pls let me know what you think!

taglist: @tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl,

[jichanxo]

sooooo... *twirls her hair* how many asks should i send until kuwagami art. jk as well. the real question will be: does it happen often that someone else’s art inspires you? in fandom spaces specifically

well you see it’s like a loyalty card program, every 10 asks or so you get a complimentary kuwagami

just kidding you can just breathe in my direction and I’ll be tempted to draw them. kuwagami blast! (you've caught me on a... just okay art day lol)

(people still like kabedons, right?)

anyway for my actual answer: in terms of direct inspiration, it doesn't really happen much? the last two times i did art directly based on someone else's work is probably this one from this fic, and also that time i drew art of someone else's judgment au. oh! and there's that moriohpsycho art based on this comic! (filthyguts' work is so very. hgngngghh. very good.) nothing else really comes to mind, and when i think of the other things i've been into recently there hasn't been as much opportunity for that to happen...

flex and herds = strong fixation but lmao. almost nobody else made stuff about them. nobody is surprised umineko = surprisingly i don't read much umineko fanfiction? and in terms of illustration, i certainly picked up imagery and indirect inspiration but nothing concrete enough for me to give an example... now that i think about it, i did once draw andromalius from redaction/sunny, but that was years ago, and also mostly because i was acquainted with the writer. ...i don't have that artwork on hand right now death note = didn't really get involved with the fandom + i enjoyed my own ideas well enough! ...i can't recall if i drew long-hair-L art before or after seeing other artists do it. and as for everything else the same kind of reasoning applies. didn't really get involved with the fandom or wasn't really compelled to make art in response to stuff i saw, or i just don't remember anymore.

buuuuuuut if we're opening this up to just... pulling ideas from other people? then yeah, all the time, though that kind of goes without saying when you have a creative hobby. ...it's probably going to be hard to come up with examples of this since it's more ambiguous.

there's uhhhhhh... kuwana listens to nickelback which was a @/four-white-trees invention, wasn't it? (EDIT: and @/overdevelopedglasses!) (not tagging in this post so he doesn't feel obligated to read my big ass ask responses 💀) as of writing this, it's not posted but i did end up making kuwagami art based on a nickelback song so. yknow. there's that LMAO

for sawashiro and arakawa, i do sometimes go reference @/todayisafridaynight 's art to help me with my own. ("how did he draw this part of the suit? oh, like that huh? hmm" <- this kind of thing)

and um. i'm not trying to pander to you (at least not this time), but genuinely it's one of the few examples that come to mind at this moment. but when i was writing my first kuwagami fic, i could feel the influence of the ever-changing on my brain... was turning over some of your ideas there...

you remember this? (you even pointed it out in your comment on my fic, and i should've said something then, but whatever i'm saying it now)

that was absolutely because of this

(obligatory poke at anybody else reading this post that you can read passthroughtime's fic here.)

so, um. yeah. not really sure what else to add to that. pretty self evident i think. (i'm always talking about the ever-changing but i don't think i can overstate the impression it left on me at the time)

anyhow there aren't really any other examples off the top of my head! these are all recent examples so they're not so difficult to recall, but there are probably others i've forgotten...

[davonati]

I don’t think I’m gonna end up including it, but there is a version of Mt. Gilboa University where Sha’ul tries to kiss/fuck Daveed and then hits him because he’s rejected. This is def partly inspired by Beloved King (plus other interpretations where Saul sexually desires David) but I also think it would be especially good in MGU because it would create a parallel between that and Sha’ul having sex with Rizpah when she was a student. Like, this guy has a certain taste, and it’s not a good one!

It would also be foreshadowed by Yonatan overhearing Daveed about to say that Sha’ul only pays attention to the students when he’s trying to fuck them (I actually don’t know if anyone understood this is what Daveed was about to say LOL but that was the intention). I mean ofc that’s a reference to Rizpah first and foremost, but it could also be foreshadowing.

By now tho, if I did include this point then it would have to be canon that Daveed hid Sha’ul’s advances from Yonatan even when he was telling him that Sha’ul was the one who hurt him… and I don’t know if that makes sense. Honestly I think Yonatan’s revelation from Rizpah (and his accusation of her conspiring with Daveed) could be even more poignant if Daveed had told him that Sha’ul came on to him, but I’m definitely not going to go back and edit that now LOL

[vocesincaput-arc]

@ordinariums (crowley) liked for Post Season 2 starter [x]

starter under cut to avoid spoilers.

Aziraphale had been doing his best to fit into his new role as Supreme Archangel but whatever he did, he had this nagging feeling in the back of his head that something else was going on. That something wasn't right. Oh, he already knew that the other Archangels didn't particularly like him, but there was something more than that. Aziraphale wanted to do good & make Heaven better, especially if the plan was to go forward. But he just didn't feel completely right. Like there was something else making him stay there.

Then there was the fact that he couldn't stop thinking of Crowley. The demon had kissed him. Him.... Everytime he thought about it, Aziraphale entered an almost daze. Losing track of things around him. There had even been times when he had been discussing things in a 'meeting' with the other Archangels and his mind had drifted to Crowley and how things had been left.

Despite being eager to make a difference in Heaven, Aziraphale was already beginning to miss his life on Earth. The food, the hot cocoa, his bookshop, his demon.... oh. When had he started to think of Crowley as his demon? He swallowed and became focused on that, oblivious to what was being said. Aziraphale was broken out of it only when Metatron handed him a coffee and he gave a smile as he took it. Coffee hadn't really been his 'thing' on Earth but Metatron had been bringing them to him since he had come back to Heaven and, well, he hadn't wanted to be impolite. He was actually starting to rather like them as well.

The meeting continued as he sipped his coffee, suddenly perking up at the mention of someone checking in on Muriel in the bookshop. His bookshop. Oh, his bookshop.

"I could check in on them." Aziraphale said quickly, trying not to have his eagerness at the idea creep onto his features too much. He would love to see his bookshop again, he had been missing it so. And, well, there was the possibility of seeing a certain demon again. "I mean, I did reside there before, it would less conspicuous for me to visit. Act as if I were checking in on it and all that."

The other Archangels rolled their eyes but eventually agreed that it was the best idea. And so Aziraphale headed down to Earth, making his way to his wonderful bookshop with an excited look on his face. He waved to Maggie and Nina when he saw them though frowned when he saw the unamused and possibly annoyed look upon their features. What was that for? Aziraphale shook his head and went to enter.

[hythlodaes]

hmmmmm

[anonyanonymouse]

🙈