#agh. simpler times.

[cicadasides]

my friend sent pictures of the lps they bought and it reminded me how deeply obsessed i was. i still have my whole collection in my basement

[dogboymortis]

today i listened to the 2011 version of twin fantasy today as well as the entirety of my back is killing me baby, i've also been in the middle of a week long mental breakdown

[ak319]

Hello, I love your writing so much, if you can do so, could you please write a Yandere!Arthur Morgan x infant daughter reader where he's a papa bear to her, and he finds out she's being bullied by other kids in school. Ofc familial /platonic please

Thank you and hope you have a great day!

AN: moi heart AGH! Cute!! Tsym btw! (^///^) Warnings/MDNI: None, jus' fluff fluff nd' fluff! A little angst, bullying +++ Arthur is 30, Modern AU🍼 tag list: @nayykura @shackspossum @whalecage

Arthur's ears perked at the sound of your soft burp, a tiny noise that brought a tired but satisfied smile to his face. Finally. One of the trickiest tasks, but one he wouldn’t trade for the world. He adjusted his grip on you, gently patting your small back, his broad hand covering you almost entirely. Rocking in his old chair, the rhythmic creak matching his soft coos and steady breathing, he lulled you into a peaceful slumber, and before long, he drifted off too.

After a long, grueling day this was what grounded him. You were his balm, his anchor, the only thing keeping him steady after everything he’d been through. Holding you brought him a peace he never thought he’d feel again.

Stirring awake, he carefully laid you on the bed, making sure to stack pillows securely on the empty side. Then he stretched out beside you, his rugged face softening as he traced the curve of your cheek with a rough, calloused finger. He couldn’t resist placing featherlight kisses on your tiny forehead and rosy cheeks, his heart swelling with a love so fierce and pure it almost hurt

He couldn’t be more grateful for your presence. Just you, him, and this quiet farmhouse nestled in a peaceful community. The same family farmhouse he had nearly sold, back when everything seemed simpler, before life turned upside down.

Then he almost lost it all. Your mother, his wife (M/N), taken from him in a senseless tragedy during his time as a cop. The memory still felt like a jagged wound, one that would never fully heal. By some miracle, you had been spared, untouched by the violence that claimed her. God knows what he would have done if… if something had happened to you too. The thought alone twisted his stomach into knots. He knew he wouldn’t have survived it, he would’ve lost himself entirely.

So, he made a choice. He left it all behind after ensuring the culprits got caught and sentenced. The city, the job, the chaos. He packed up what was left of his life and came here, to the farm. Away from those dangerous, vengeful people who had shattered his family.

He wasn’t alone in the transition. His childhood best friend, John, stood by his side, helping him find his footing in this new chapter. With John’s support, he rebuilt, trading badges and bullets for the quiet rhythm of rural life. Now, he works from home as a graphic designer, balancing his new career with the role that means the most to him: being your father.

The move to the farmhouse was no easy feat, but Arthur didn’t care about the logistics, his top priority was you. Arthur let only Abigail watch over you while he handled the chaos of packing and unpacking. He didn’t trust babysitters, no way in hell. He’d heard enough horror stories from folks and read about things in the news that made his blood boil. The idea of leaving you with a stranger wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was unthinkable.

The only person he trusted was Abigail. “You’re family, and you’ve got Jack, so you know how it is,” he’d said when asking her to keep an eye on you. His version of breathing was checking in every ten minutes, asking Abigail if you’d eaten, slept, or cried. Even when he knew you were safe, his mind wouldn’t rest until he saw you again.

The farm itself had seen its fair share of upgrades, some subtle, others impossible to miss. The once-simple property now stood fortified with long, reinforced fences and modern electric security gates. The kind designed to deliver a harmless but sharp jolt to anything attempting to breach them, ensuring no unwelcome visitors, human or otherwise, made it in.

Security cameras were mounted everywhere, their lenses scanning every corner of the property without missing a spot. Arthur had spent weeks installing them, triple-checking blind spots until there were none.

And for those thinking of trying their luck? Booby traps, carefully concealed and strategically placed, added an extra layer of insurance. He hadn’t been sure at first, was that going too far?--but the idea of anyone getting past his defenses to threaten you erased any hesitation.

Inside, the house was an entirely different kind of fortress. Childproofing was everywhere, every sharp corner was padded, and cabinets latched tight.

Then there was the basement. What was once a dusty, forgotten space had been transformed into a stockpile, his grandfather’s old cavalry arsenal, now fully restocked and meticulously maintained. The weapons had been relics from a long-forgotten outlaw era, but Arthur saw them as a necessity. A last resort. If anyone dared to cross that line, they’d find out the hard way what kind of man they were dealing with.

Because nothing, nothing, was more important than keeping you safe.

❀˖°

“Hey--no, no-" Arthur picked you up, his glare faltering under the effort to stay stern. “You don’t claw or brawl with Pa’ on this matter, miss.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, though the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement as your legs thrashed in the air. 'Aren't you a tiny feral adorable kid---no be strict , Arthur-'

' “You, ma’am, are going in the tub-”

“WAIT! I’ll go myself!” you blurted, words tumbling out so fast they were practically gibberish. But Arthur, seasoned in the art of decoding your toddler babble, understood every syllable.

“Fine,” he huffed, setting you back down and straightening up with his hands on his hips. He gave you a look that screamed, I’m watching you.

Your eyes darted everywhere but to him. “Um-kay!,” you muttered with exaggerated determination, shuffling your feet as if preparing for the world’s longest journey.

“1,” you started.

“2…”

“um..4? 3-”

“You ain’t counting to ten for the tenth time, young lady. That’s it.” Before you could stage another dramatic delay, he swooped you up mid-mock-Olympian stance and plopped you straight into the tub.

“NOOOOOOO! NOT FAIR! you wailed, your indignation echoing off the bathroom walls.

“Nothing’s fair in baths and bedtimes,” he said with a grin, rolling up his sleeves. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, Bunny.”

❀˖°

Arthur set the plates and a steaming dish of soup and garlic bread on the table, his ears perking up as your voice carried in through the open window, accompanied by Mouse’s sharp barks. His German shepherd was stationed outside, a necessity for security, Arthur didn’t trust Mouse’s temperament indoors, and keeping the dog outside served as both a deterrent and a watchful guardian.

He glanced out and spotted you with a ball, your tiny frame dwarfed by the expanse of the yard. His jaw tightened. What’d I say about being out at this hour?

He stalked to the lawn without hesitation, his boots crunching against the gravel. He scooped you up without warning, setting you on his hip like you weighed nothing.

“When it’s near dusk, you are to be inside, you get inside without me needing to remind and call you every time,” he said, his voice firm, though not unkind. “Why do I always have to repeat myself?”

“I was gonna come, Pa’!” you protested, squirming slightly. Jeez, he needs to loosen up sometimes.

Arthur stopped, fixing you with a look that left no room for argument. “Some things I say are meant to be words on stone, you hear me? No arguing, Bug.”

He set you down gently but guided you firmly toward the house, casting one last glance at the fence and Mouse, whose ears twitched as if sensing Arthur’s unease.

❀˖°

The early morning mist still clung to the fields as Arthur loaded up the old truck, a fishing pole in the back, tackle box rattling as he slid it into place. The air was crisp, the scent of pine and fresh earth mingling with the faint smell of dew on the grass. You sat in the passenger seat, your legs swinging with excitement as you clutched your little fishing hat, a hand-me-down from Arthur that was still a bit too big for your head.

The drive to the lake was peaceful, the old truck rumbling along the dirt road as the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees. The lake, just a short distance from the farm, was quiet this time of morning, still and calm, with only the occasional ripple as the wind stirred the water.

Arthur parked the truck by the shore and hopped out, stretching his arms over his head. He opened the back, grabbing your tiny fishing rod first, a smaller one he had made sure to get just for you. He handed it over, his large hands carefully guiding yours to the handle.

“You know what to do, Bug?” he asked, crouching down to your level, his tone soft but serious.

You nodded, eyes gleaming with determination. “I throw it in, wait, then reel it in, Pa’!”

“Good girl,” he said, pride swelling in his chest. “But remember, patience is key. The fish don’t always bite right away.”

You gave him a mock serious look, puffing out your chest. “I can be patient.”

Arthur smiled and ruffled your hair before picking up his own rod. Together, you both walked to the edge of the water, the soft crunch of grass underfoot. He demonstrated how to cast his line, showing you the way to swing the rod before releasing it into the water. You watched carefully, eyes focused on the movement, and then it was your turn.

Arthur stood behind you, guiding your hands as you swung the rod and released the line, the soft splash of it hitting the water echoing in the quiet morning. You let out a little cheer, stepping back to wait.

“Good job, Bug. Now we wait.”

You sat down on the grassy shore, your legs dangling, and Arthur followed suit, sitting close enough that he could keep an eye on you but still giving you the space to enjoy the moment. The world seemed so still here, only the sounds of the water lapping gently at the shore and the occasional bird call filling the air.

Minutes passed. Arthur cast his line again, his concentration on the ripples in the water, but he always kept an ear out for you. You were so quiet, so focused on the task at hand, that he couldn’t help but smile.

“Pa’?” you asked after a while, your voice soft but curious.

“Yeah, Bug?”

“Can we do this every month!?”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. He turned to look at you, his chest tight with love. “Of course, Bug. We’ll always fish together, whenever you want.”

You beamed, your little fingers still wrapped around the fishing rod, staring out at the lake with a peaceful contentment that mirrored his own.

And then, as if on cue, there was a tug on the line. You gasped, your eyes wide, and Arthur was there in a flash, his strong hands guiding yours as you struggled to reel it in.

“Got it, Bug! Reel it in, slow and steady. You’ve got this.”

You grinned, your little arms straining against the weight of the fish, the excitement in your eyes contagious. Arthur stood close, his hands still hovering just in case, but he could see you were doing it all on your own.

With a final pull, you brought the fish to the shore, Arthur helping you hold it up for a brief moment, both of you staring at the wriggling catch.

“We did it!” you cheered, jumping up and down with excitement.

Arthur laughed, lifting you up into his arms. “You did it, Bug. You caught the first one. I’m proud of you.”

You giggled, your face flushed with happiness. “We’re gonna have fish for lunch! YAY!👹 "

Arthur laughed, holding you close. “Yeah, we will. And we’re gonna have a lot more days just like this.”

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, you both spent the rest of the morning fishing, the peaceful quiet of the lake wrapping around you like a blanket. Every now and then, Arthur would catch a fish of his own, but it was clear which one of you was the real star of the day.

❀˖°

One evening, as usual, Arthur sat at his desk, working on his laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his focused face. You were sitting nearby, playing quietly, but after a moment, you turned to him, your small brow furrowed in thought.

“Pa,” you asked, your voice soft but filled with curiosity, “why don’t I have a mommy like Jack? Like the ones on T. V. ?”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. He had been waiting for this question, dreading it, but he knew it was time to answer. He paused for a moment, setting his laptop aside, and turned to face you, his expression gentle.

“Well, Bug,” he started, his voice warm and tender, “you know how some kids have two parents, right? They’re like a big team, helpin' each other out. But you,” he said with a wink, “you’re extra special. Sometimes, God decides one parent is all a kid needs. Just one, but that one’s enough to love ‘em, protect ‘em, and make sure they’re always happy.”

He leaned down to your level, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. “And that’s you, sweetheart. You got me, and I got you. We’re a team too, just the two of us.”

You blinked, absorbing his words, and a small smile tugged at your lips. Arthur ruffled your hair affectionately, the worry in his chest easing as he saw you begin to understand.

“Some kids might need a bigger team, but not you. You’re my girl, and I’m all you need, ain’t that right?”

You nodded slowly, your eyes lighting up with trust and love. Arthur smiled, his heart full. “You don’t need a mommy to be loved, Bug. You’ve got all the love you could ever need, right here with me.”

He pulled you into a tight hug, feeling your little arms wrap around him. “And I’m gonna love you forever, no matter what.”

❀˖°

Arthur couldn't believe how quickly time had passed. One moment, it seemed like you were still a tiny thing, curled up in his arms, and now, the time had come to enroll you in school. He didn't want to let you go. He'd kept you close, always close, and the thought of someone else seeing you, taking care of you, made a cold knot form in his stomach. But he knew John was right. You needed to make friends. You needed to grow.

"Y/N needs to learn how to be around other kids, Arthur," John had said, his voice filled with that well-meaning confidence. "Jack goes to the same school too, so it'll be fine. It's just school. Let her have a chance."

Arthur had reluctantly agreed. He trusted John, mostly, and if Jack was there, well... that was a bit of relief. Still, the idea of you being away from him, surrounded by others, made his chest tighten. He was used to keeping you safe, keeping you all to himself. The thought of someone else influencing you, teaching you things....but he would do this for you.

And so, with his heart heavy but his determination set, Arthur had filled out the papers and enrolled you in school. He kept telling himself it was for your own good, that it would help you grow, make you more confident. Even if it was hard to admit, you were growing up, and he had to let you experience the world outside the walls of their home.

But Arthur knew something else, too. You were shy. You didn't like being around other people, especially strangers. He'd always been there to protect you, to shield you from the world outside. But now, the world would be coming to you.

As he walked you to school for the first time, his hand lingering a little too long on your shoulder, he whispered softly, "You stick close to brother Jack, alright? If you need any help, you go to him. You don’t need anyone else. Just him, just me, and you. No one else matters."

You gave him a shy nod, looking up at him with those wide eyes that always seemed to need reassurance. Arthur smiled down at you, brushing a lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long.

"Good girl. And don’t let anyone take advantage of you.”

❀˖°

“You eat your lunch today?” Arthur asked, his tone casual but observant, as you stood in front of him with your hands tucked behind your back.

You nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Uh-huh!”

Arthur opened the lunchbox, finding it spotless inside, not a crumb left. For a moment, he felt a spark of pride, was he really lucky enough to have a kid who finished her lunch every single day? But then, something about your overly innocent expression made him pause. He set the lunchbox down and folded his arms, tilting his head.

“So,” he said, setting the lunchbox down and crossing his arms, “how was it?”

“Hmm?” You glanced up at him.

“The sandwich,” he said, watching your reaction closely. “Was it good?”

“Oh, yeah!” you said too brightly. “Really yummy.”

Arthur tilted his head, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “What did I make again? Just slipped my mind.”

“Uh… peanut butter and jam?” you mumbled.

Arthur’s jaw tightened, though his expression stayed calm. He crouched down to your level, his presence steady and unyielding. “You sure about that, darlin’? Because I know I packed you a chicken and cheese sandwich this mornin’.”

You froze, the color draining from your face.

He sighed, shaking his head lightly. “Now, you and I both know you didn’t eat that sandwich. So why don’t you go on and tell me what really happened?”

You looked down at your shoes, your voice trembling. “I… I was going to eat it, but some kids… they took it.”

Arthur’s heart sank, though his expression remained calm for your sake. He reached out and gently lifted your chin so you had to meet his eyes. “They took it?”

You nodded, biting your lip as tears threatened to spill. “I told them to stop, but… but they wouldn’t give it back. They laughed and said it wasn’t m-ine anymore.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched a flicker of something dark flashing in his eyes. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Bug,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, “you listen to me. No one, and I mean no one, gets to treat you like that. You understand?”

You sniffled, nodding against his shoulder.

“They got names, these kids?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with a steel promise that this wasn’t going to be ignored.

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor. Then, in a barely audible whisper, you murmured a few names.

Arthur nodded, his jaw tightening. “Alright. I’ll deal with ‘em. You ain’t gotta worry about that anymore.”

As he reached out to hold your hand, his fingers brushed against a faint redness across your skin. He stilled, his brow furrowing. “What’s this?”

You instinctively tried to pull your hand away, but Arthur held it gently, his thumb brushing over the red mark. “Bug,” he said, his tone dropping to that low, firm register that always made you listen. “Who did this to you?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you sniffled. “It... it was the teacher,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Arthur blinked, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “The teacher?” he repeated, his tone deceptively calm, though you could feel the storm brewing beneath it.

“I told her about the kids taking my lunch,” you explained, your words coming in halting gasps. “She... she said I was tattling and hit me with a ruler for ‘causing trouble.’”

Arthur’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, but only for a moment.

Arthur stood so abruptly that his chair scraped loudly against the floor. “Get your shoes on, Bug. We’re going to the school.”

“But-”

"No buts. No one lays a hand on my girl, now c'mon, Pa’s got somethin’ he needs to take care of."

The sound of Arthur’s boots echoed ominously in the otherwise quiet hallway as he strode toward the principal’s office, his expression carved from stone. His hand hovered protectively over your shoulder as he guided you along.

The principal looked up as Arthur entered, his usual composure faltering at the sight of the respectable ex-cop's stormy glare.

“Mr. Morgan,” the principal began, forcing a tight smile, “is there-”

Arthur didn’t wait for pleasantries. “There a reason my daughter came home with a red welt on her hand?” he demanded, his voice low but seething.

The principal blinked, momentarily caught off guard “I--I’m not sure what you mean-”

“She told me her teacher hit her,” Arthur interrupted, his words sharp enough to cut. “With a ruler. After she reported kids stealin’ her lunch. That’s what I mean.”

“Well, if a teacher disciplined her, I’m sure-”

Arthur stepped forward, leaning over the desk, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You think layin’ a hand on my girl is ‘discipline’? You call ignorin’ the bullies and punishin’ the victim a job well done?

“We have rules about-”

Arthur leaned forward, his presence towering even as he kept his voice level. “You got rules about discipline, huh? How about rules about protectin’ kids?! Or do you only enforce the ones that let you blame the victim!?”

“Mr. Morgan, I understand you’re upset-”

“Upset doesn’t cover it,” Arthur snapped, his voice rising slightly. “My girl’s been comin’ home hungry because you let bullies run wild. And now she’s got a bruise on her arm because she finally got tired of takin’ it? You think that’s how you run a school? By punishin’ the one kid who’s just tryin’ to eat her damn lunch in peace? Because if that’s how you run this place, we got a bigger problem than I thought.”

The principal held up his hands, visibly nervous. “I assure you, Mr. Morgan, we take such incidents seriously. I’ll speak to the teacher and-”

“No, you’ll do more than SPEAK!" Arthur took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, you’ll make sure she’s held accountable. And while you’re at it, you’ll deal with those bullies, too. My daughter’s been hungry three times this week because of them, and now she’s got a mark on her hand for speakin’ up?! That ends today.”

“Of course, of course,” the principal stammered. “I’ll handle it immediately.”

Arthur straightened, his gaze never wavering. “You’d better. You’re gonna deal with those bullies and that damned teacher, properly. And you’re gonna make damn sure no one here ever lays a hand on my daughter again. Otherwise, I’ll be takin’ this to the school board, the police, and anyone else who’ll listen. You got no idea what I can do. You got me? You’ll be answerin’ to me."

He turned, placing a reassuring hand on your back as he guided you out of the office. As soon as you were outside, he crouched down and looked you in the eye.

“You did the right thing, Bug,” he said softly. “And I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. But you leave dealin’ with grown-ups to me, alright? Nobody’s gonna hurt you again.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes as he pulled you into a hug.

“Now, let’s go home,” he said, ruffling your hair. “We’ll make somethin’ good for dinner and figure out how to make sure this never happens again.

❀˖°

“So... no school?” you asked hesitantly, peering up at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, and sighed. “No, Bug. You’re still gonna study--but at home, alright?”

He could already hear John’s voice nagging in his head, telling him he was being too overprotective, that keeping you out of school might isolate you further. But Arthur dismissed it. You were still so young, still figuring out the world, and he decided what was best for you. Nobody else.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he said firmly, his voice softening as he brushed a hand over your hair. “Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you go back there to get hurt again. Not by kids who don’t know how to act, not by some teacher who should’ve never had a classroom in the first place. You’re my responsibility, and I ain’t lettin’ anybody mess with you like that. Ever again.”

You nodded slowly, relaxing into the bed. His words felt like a shield wrapping around you, and you trusted him entirely.

Arthur watched you settle, his jaw tightening slightly as anger simmered beneath his calm exterior. He’d been right on the edge of losing it, of storming over to those kids’ homes and making their parents pay the price and make them understand what it meant to raise decent human beings. And that teacher? Though fired, it still didn’t sit right with him. The thought of her laying a hand on you made his blood boil. It had taken every cell to control to not blow her brains out.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on you instead of the anger that threatened to bubble over. “I’ll teach you myself,” he said, his tone lighter now as he tried to make you smile. “We don’t need teachers like that, anyway. I’ll make sure you learn plenty, and we’ll even have fun doin’ it.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice small but hopeful.

“Really,” he said, tugging the blanket up around you and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now, you get some rest, Bug. We’ll figure out all the details in the mornin’.”

❀˖°

After finishing up the dishes and double checking all the doors, Arthur made his way back to your room. He found you sitting at your small desk, scribbling on a piece of paper with intense concentration.

"What’re you workin’ on, Bug?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

You looked up, a hint of shyness in your eyes. "A thank-you card," you said quietly.

Arthur’s brow furrowed. "For who?"

"For you." You held up the paper, a drawing of you and him making a cake. Above it, in your wobbly handwriting, it read: "Thank you for being my Pa."

Arthur froze, his chest tightening at the sight. He stepped closer, kneeling beside you to get a better look. "Well, I’ll be..." he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "That’s real nice, darlin’. Prettiest thing I’ve seen all day."

You smiled, a little bashful but proud. "You always take care of me. So, I wanted to make something for you too."

Arthur reached out and gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "You don’t ever have to thank me for that, sweetheart. Lookin’ after you? That’s the best thing I’ll ever do."

You nuzzled into his chest, your small arms wrapping around his neck. "Still. Love you, Pa."

"I love you more, Bug. Always and forever."

[yeehawpim]

HI UM i really admire you and your art and i was wondering --

so i really love the way you format your comics, its really straight-forward and lets the reader process every word with ease (which i think adds to the impact of the writing), and that one rue comic with the split colors for the parentheses... how do you do it without making it look so messy?? to bring up another example, the hide-and-seek comic- i love how subtle and genius the call back to hiding behind the door was, it blew my mind... i take a lot of inspiration from the way you format and lay out your comics but for some reason i cant wrap my head around how you do so much with so little (in reality this might just be the result of me wanting to add so many little details for others to find , while being conflicted on keeping it simple, and,,, AGH...) for context : im trying to make a comic about isolation, but i keep filling up the page because i want to add things - when really i know i should be keeping it simple... but other than removing unnecessary details, i want to know what else you do to make your comics so clean and simple yet it rips out the emotions from your heart and has you stare at it as it beats. like... i want that type of impact!! i want to affect others on such an intense level!! i want to induce emotions!!! but how?

(sorry this was long, HAHAHA i just want to drive my point home- again with the 'wanting to add a lot of stuff to prove a point' thing but i digress)

ok first of all that is a huge compliment and it means v much to me, thank you 😭🙏❤️❤️

tbh for me the answer of keeping things uncluttered is paying attention to spacing and eye direction. Spacing depends on timing, if you want an action to happen slowly for instance you can make the space between panels longer, or take more panels for someone to complete an action. There's tricks for directing your eye, if you ever read anyth about focal points (eg biggest contrast, triangular shapes pointing towards what's important), but really with comics I keep in mind you're reading left to right and top to bottom.

The ruehob comic is actually simpler than you think 😅 I already knew which text had to be on the left and right with august's text post. And after that the "lanes" were so narrow there weren't a lot of complicated things I could do, just make sure you still read left to right and saunter vaguely downwards.

when you talk about putting little details, that doesn't necessarily have to distract people. Like I honestly applaud you having the drive to do detailing. You just have to make sure your compositions allow for it. Like if you think about ghibli backgrounds, they're elaborate and beautiful af.

For smth about isolation, my first thought was that you can draw a person in a setting alone among a bunch of objects, for instance. If you keep the person small but surround them with a bunch of detailed objects, it could feel very lonely. Just make sure the person still stands out b/c they're what's important, so for example the background stuff is a less saturated colour, or the person is the least detailed thing on the page. I think that's the main thing, you just have to make sure the things important to what you're saying stand out. Clarity is rlly half the battle when I'm laying things out haha

In school our teacher called this "killing your babies" because it sucks when you work hard on a cool drawing and it just doesn't work out😂This also still happens to me, it's actually partly why I keep things simple so I can work fast and throw out less

Here is a timestamp from supereyepatchwolf's video about Chainsaw Man, which has some of the coolest fuckin layouts

He's got other stuff that talks about manga and how eye direction can work and what cool stuff has been done. Off the top of my head his vid about one piece and his vid about gantz have helped me understand how to cause Emotions. Also I think he has one about Junji Ito that specifically talks about how details can make you scared, if you're into that 😂

hope this helps!

[sammyluvr]

i feel like sam is such a good drawer, like he’ll make full sketches of you in like the most beautiful way and paint them and give them to you, like some might be provocative and some are js rlly cute and sweet. also if u buy him flowers he’d frame like a petal from each flower in the bouquet and write what date u gave them him in the frame.

this one’s more for if u n him were childhood best friends but he’d like make one of those flip books and draw it from like when u guys were kids and then to like now and it basically illustrates how he came to be in love with you and he’d have a letter attached to it as well and it’s rlly poetic that basically says how beautiful you are and everything and how he loves you and wants to be with you (the letter would be on tea stained paper in a tea stained envelope sealed with red wax) also he’d write it in like royalty cursive rlly posh n shit. and he’d like make a string of photos of you and him and hang it in ur room (the letter, flipbook, etc would all be in ur room and he’d put rose petals down and light ur favorite candles). also he’d give u books and books of his poetry he’d wrote with you in mind and also he’d make a CD or cassette of songs that make him think abt u, there’d also be a bouquet of ur fav flowers there too and ur fav snacks with a teddy and a handmade bracelet or necklace he made for u (he has matching). and he’d walk in with those puppy eyes as he stands awkwardly waiting expecting u to reject him bc he’s convinced himself u don’t feel the same way but u meet him with a kiss and then u guys make out and he asks u to be his girlfriend. from that day onwards you’re his forever muse.

also if he was feeling sassy or something he’d make that a scavenger hunt/wild goose chase around the bunker😋🤞

-💽

i love that he is canonically is shit at drawing (except for sigils and wardings and the likes) but that lots of us headcanon him as a good drawer <3 i talked about this with my darling blondie, i think he got good at drawing at stanford because he really liked trying new hobbies now that he can + because jess was an artist!! so they'd sit there and do art together, she'd do her artist stuff and he'd sit there and draw her agh <333

though i also really really like the idea that he started to like drawing and art as a kid because of how much time he spent alone in motels and all that with nothing to do. so he'd just grab a spare piece of paper and random pen and just sit and draw <33

AGH THE FLIP BOOK IDEA T_T sobbing that is the most adorable ever aghhh <33 him going all out to ask you to date him is so very sweet sigh. i feel like in the hunting world he'd have to go with something simpler, and i think he likes that and makes it very special no matter what, but it's so sweet to think about him having the time and energy and ability to show his abundant love for you with a very physical manifestation <33 i love it a lot, you absolutely are his forever muse ahhh <33 crying so much about him.

[shootingstarrfish]

HOW DO YOU DRAW SO QUICKLY AGH

I swear every time I turn around you’ve posted another masterpiece I’m jealous you can draw so fast it takes me like 3 days at least for a piece lol

AHH i keep being asked this and im flattered yall think this?? ill take a bit to explain the choices that help with my speed and circumstantial stuff that helps a lot

obligatory YOU DON'T NEED TO DO THINGS FAST taking your time is good!! i just get bored easily so i like being done with things and moving on, but i'm very aware of the fact that social media rewards this and punishes inconsistency so i get it lol

long ass ramble under the cut lol

okay so things i deliberately do to draw fast-

i specifically have 2 distinct styles because i constantly have too many ideas, and most of them don't need to be several hour long illustrations so i try to pick my battles and go for a simpler more expressive style for shitposts/memes/etc and reserve my more detailed style for ideas that actually benefit from having that extra time and effort. ofc this won't work for everyone but i tend to have 50 styles at any given moment anyway so giving myself the freedom to switch between them has been really nice

not necessarily deliberate??? but theres no perfectionism in this house, which helps a lot so i don't spend ages fussing over minute details (im a perfectionist at heart but a lazy one LOL)

giving myself time deadlines is also really helpful, like "i have to finish the lineart im the next half an hour" has been really good for getting me to focus and get things done, even if i don't make the 'deadline'. i think generally being conscious of how i use my time is good

okay so circumstantial (?) things-

ALSO USE REFERENCES they help a lot!!! stumbling around trying to figure things out on your own is time consuming, don't be scared of using references!

this isn't a speed thing but i think it's important to note that i spend like ALL my free time drawing, probably to a ridiculous degree. i draw during my work break, i draw after work, on the weekend, speed is nothing in the face of time lol. im usually tired after work but im also stubborn so i try to push through and draw anyway (50/50 chance it works and i get something done or i just sit there in a daze wishing i was asleep LOL)

im also a dumbass who takes on way too much, i have a whole buncha zines and commissions constantly at all times cause i can never say no so i kinda just HAVE to be fast to keep up with everything. i don't recommend it but it's a thing ashdjfj

i also used to be on tiktok and for some god forsaken reason i spent like a solid few months consistently posting 3 times per day which burnt me out SO fast and i absolutely don't recommend but it definitely required speed lol

i will also say that as i draw more and feel more comfortable in my art it comes to me a lot more naturally, and i'm able to make decisions on the fly a lot easier

also okay so starr lore my dad used to be really against me drawing so i would have to sneak onto the computer when he was out of the house hahaha, this gave me anywhere from 30 mins to 2 hours per day to do whatever i wanted, so i had to quickly adapt to that and be super fast if i ever wanted to get anything done

again speed isnt the be all end all of anything, tbh most of this is just my brain working in weird ways that prefers the quicker pace so please don't compare yourself!!

okay long ass ramble over thanks for reading <3333

[howlingday]

Superpredator

Ruby: AGH!

Cinder: (Grimm, Roars)

Salem: Tsk, tsk, my dear Cinder. You should know better.

Salem: Think of your transformation like an evolution. Your body has changed to adapt to your new life in the sky. The higher you go, the less air for you to breathe. Your vision grows hazy, and your heart struggles to pump oxygen.

Salem: No ordinary human body could ever survive such altitudes, so your body has transcended to this new lifestyle. Your skin is thick with black hide to absorb heat from the sun and retain heat within your body. The flaming hide along your back superheats water, allowing you to absorb the moisture and oxygen through your skin. Your bones, now hollowed out, allow you soar leagues above all others. In simpler terms, you have become the apex predator of the skies.

Salem: And yet, you forget yourself in your lust for greater heights. For you see...

Salem: ...RUBY ROSE HAS ALREADY MADE HER ASCENSION FAR BEYOND YOUR RANGE.

Salem: True, she does not have your exact flight and physical prowess, but her semblance more than makes her your equal.

Salem: Typically, a huntress will not allow her opponent to make the first move. But in her time of training, she has always been on the defensive, always learning from how her foe will strike. Perhaps this is due to her naive view of the world, but the fact remains the same. Simply put, she is an expert on taking the first punch. Compound this with a semblance that can automatically react to save her life.

Ruby: (Petal bursts behind Cinder, Clicks)

Salem: And a variant superpredator is born.

[whiterosechrista]

I am scrolling through the void, and it is not scrolling back.

In simpler terms: I've been scrolling through the "Explore" tab(?) on Tumblr for so long that not only am I seeing the same posts multiple times, but it's actually not letting me follow anyone anymore.

Yeah.

It's 3AM and I can't stop scrolling, and Tumblr's like "I've had enough of your shit but I can't actually stop you, so here, have a minor inconvenience that will completely fry your sleep-deprived brain."

Agh.

...

Anyone else sleep-deprived and needing a break from scrolling? Feel free to hit me up. I can't guarantee lucidity, but I can guarantee sympathy, which should be a decent consolation prize.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

If you feel like writing two separate prompts or combining them. Thanks!

15 please come home and

28 accidental touches

Let's do 15! It's kind of long. I honestly have no idea what this is - but reserve the right to flesh it out into a full, sprawling story if I want to? Agh, anyway. Here we go! Thank you all for sticking with me as I put these out at a glacial pace.

___

Jane pats her pockets a couple of times before she locks her door. Front, back, breast. Her wallet’s there, her phone’s close to her chest, and she’s got her keys in her hand. Her badge rests deep in the inside of her black leather jacket, invisible but available. 

“Shit,” she curses, because her guide ID rests somewhere inside the apartment, probably on the counter. She’ll need that for work. She jiggles her key in the lock until the door opens, metal and heavy and groaning when she pushes against it. This place is old in the lead-pipes-from-the-sixties way, not the late-eighteen-hundreds way her condo in Boston had been. Sometimes, she thinks about her old place with regret, how she should have kept it instead of selling it in her hurricane hurry to get out of the city. For all the ancient shit she encounters every day on her current assignment, life feels stuck in a flip phone, video rental kind of vibe that she thought she’d left in the academy. In Boston, life had, for all its modern courtrooms and BRIC software and smartphone ubiquitousness, moved at a historical pace. 

Maybe it was the family.

Jane had roots in Boston since the early twentieth century; Rizzolis hadn’t been here in Napoli since 1910. There’s nothing that the modernity here offers her in terms of mirrors - she cannot yet see herself, even though everyone around her looks like they could be a long lost cousin. And perhaps they are, but she knows no one. 

Except her coworkers, perhaps, at both of her jobs. Her narc one and her cover one. 

With a whoosh she’s back in, and she walks past the cluttered kitchen - no ID on the counter - to the small dining room table. Francesca Ricci, guida turistica di Pompeii, it reads. She hangs it around her neck and zips her jacket up over it. The gray sky hangs heavy over Naples’ city center, and so she’ll need to keep it dry. She also foregoes her motorcycle helmet next to her ID - she’ll ride the metro into work today because she doesn’t want to get pelted by rain on her bike if she takes the autostrada. 

So, with her backpack still on her shoulder, she exits a second time, and trots down the stairs to the street. She weaves through her fellow commuters on their own way, and she thinks about popping into the bar just a few storefronts from the station to get a coffee. But then, she’ll have to sit, have to look at the paper just to feel right, and she doesn’t really have the time. Instead, she motors on her long legs to Piazza Garibaldi station and swipes her pass to get on the train. 

She sees some familiar faces, a man who always puts his headphones away before getting off one stop from now, a couple of students who always talk about the same professor in a rich blend of new Neapolitan, Italian, and thirst. 

The closest open seat happens to be right behind those two students, who smile cordially when Jane passes to park herself in the next row’s aisle seat. She slumps, and drops her backpack between her flat-heeled boots, stopping to stare down at them to give her mind some rest. She lets it wander: the stickysweetness of their infatuation settles in her chest, webbing between her lungs, not quite reaching her heart where it’d cause an overdose. Here, four thousand miles away from home, she remembers the fullness of love without the sting of it. 

Luckily, she never has to listen for long, even though she yearns for simpler times when she does - in the best of ways. In that way that makes a heart feel light and easy, like things could go back to that simplicity. In a few minutes, the train signals its stop at Pompeii Scavi, her stop.

She picks up her bag and off she goes, past the exit and into the ticket sales area for the heritage site itself. “Ciao, Roberta,” she says when she waves to the elderly woman manning the closest ticket window. She doesn’t stop, but she smirks and scrunches two fingers in a wave when Roberta calls out a huffy greeting after her, saying something about always in a damn hurry. 

Roberta reminds Jane of her grandmother because they both speak the same kind of stuck-in-time Neapolitan when Jane’s around. Even though Roberta knows Jane only as Francesca, a name chosen for her brother. Jane goes right up to Porta Marina and pulls her sign from her backpack, because her first group is in five minutes and she is, above all things, prompt. 

She is also undercover, so she likes to arrive before them, watch them come in and cluster. She’s been installed because she can be inconspicuous - she ushers rich, whiny merigan’ (her grandmother’s word) through one of the richest historical sites in the world, all while keeping an eye on the Camorra men who’ve been muscled in as guards so that their bosses can keep the drug trade strong and gobble up the restoration contracts that Pompeii requires. And she looks like every other Italian doing it, except the polizia di stato like that she speaks native English and knows the grounds like the back of her hand.

That had only taken copious amounts of adderall and a few sleepless weeks to learn.

Her Italian is pretty good, too. The Neapolitan’s coming back from her childhood, and the adderall also helped the acquisition of standard Italian. She really had jumped in feet first, intent on making a life in a place her family had made life for centuries before they decided America was the best place to be. Sometimes, when she’s wandering across Pompeii’s main drag, or whispering in la Villa dei Misteri, she wonders what they’d think of her: giving it all up, running back to what they left behind so that she can nurse her ailing heart. So that she can hide.

The first of her group of ten point to her sign, however, breaking her out of her reverie, so she waves them in. “Hey hey! You guys with All Star tours?” she asks, though she knows they are. They nod, and she puts her sunglasses on. It's overcast, rainy Italy and all that, but she can’t really do a tour without them. She knows the guys she’s tailing have no idea who she is - that’s the beauty of being a foreigner - but she still refuses to show them the whites of her eyes. A habit from her DCU detective days. “Perfect. Let’s all uh, gather over here, and we’ll wait for the rest of you before going in. So - tell me: where is everyone from?”

___

Maura has paid for the private tour, because she knows the professor arranging it and, well, she has the money. It’s been literal decades since she’s been in Pompeii, the last time for her sixteenth birthday - one last hurrah before her last year of boarding school, before she headed to BCU for undergrad. She hadn’t been very sober during that visit, and of course she regrets it, not only for the lack of memories but for the shame that she’d let girls she barely knew and didn’t like pressure her into it. 

She doesn’t feel much better this morning, just a couple months away from birthday thirty-six and jet-lagged into melancholy.

Well, perhaps that is a non-truth. Not a lie, per se, but the melancholy was firmly in place when she boarded an overnight flight at Logan, one that spit her out in Naples. A car service, courtesy of her mother - quite European in her no-questions-asked approach to the situation - delivered her here, to Porta Marina. To Charles, Professor Cavalieri’s French grad student, whose eyes sparkle when they see her. She looks put together, of course, as she always does, even though she feels a little underdressed. Jeans, riding boots, a light sweater and a scarf over its neckline. April south of Rome can still be a little chilly, so she’s guarded against the weather, but not against the feeling that everyone around her disparages her for not wearing head to toe designer. Charles only notices the slope of her curves in those jeans, the elegance of her features. 

He stammers. “Uh, uh, D-doctor Isles, yes?” he manages when she approaches. She moves right past the rest of the tourists, in a line that will probably take an hour to get through, and smiles at him. 

“Yes, and you must be Charles. The professor has told me so much about you,” she says, and they kiss twice on each cheek, clasping one another’s biceps loosely. “About your expertise regarding the ruins here.”

“He has told me about you, too,” Charles says. When he pulls away, he’s collected himself, returning some sharpness to his eyes. His French accent is actually very slight. “He was shocked that you are here. He had heard that Doctor Faulkner was in the States, with intentions of finding you.”

Cavalieri knows Maura through Ian, who knew him through his undergraduate work in Switzerland. Maura did not know, until this conversation, that they still talk. She goes pale, she can see it in her hands when she brings them up to cross her arms. Funnily enough, they haven’t spoken as of three weeks ago. Or, if they had, Ian hadn’t disclosed… well. “He was. He isn’t any longer. And neither am I,” she recovers. They both chuckle. One drop falls from the Southern Italian sky onto her nose. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Of course,” Charles says. “Let’s make our way to the forum.”

“That sounds perfect. And Charles? There may be a time or two that I wander off on my own. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find you. Or…” she pauses to pull her phone from her bag, “I will text you.”

__

“And if you see those indentations in the stone, that’s where the wooden planks would have gone, and this,” Jane toes the grass and weed-covered stone underneath her and her long arms reach up close to those indentations, “bottom area is where those gladiators we talked about would have… shit. Slept. Would have slept. Above is where the… uh, give me a minute, would you? Come, come here. Come inside. You all can touch.”

Maura Isles, spector behind this entire enterprise, is standing in the ancient street, heels over the rivets made by ancient carts pulled by horses, that had delivered life itself to the city. By the thunder of Jane’s heart, rattling in her chest, the carts still run. The Camorra man Jane’d been watching for the entire tour, spending more time on his phone than guarding the ruins, has slipped away, and she cannot bring herself to care.

Maura is here. 

“Hey!” She shouts, in case the mirage, the ghost, shimmers away into the late-spring fog. “Maura!”

But, Maura doesn’t move. Maura stays put, and Maura smiles. “Hi,” she says softly, an awful lot like a real person. A real, American, Bostonian, medical examiner person. Jane shakes her head. “My god, you look…”

Jane narrows her very sleep-deprived eyes. She runs a hand through barely brushed black hair. “Like shit?” she snarks.

“I was going to say tired,” Maura replies quietly. Her hands clasp in front of her hips, and she laces her fingers together to give them something to do. “You look so tired. And like you’re not eating. Are you eating?”

Jane scoffs. “That isn’t any of your business. I’m working. You know what? I’m working. Which, by the way… how did you find me? How on Earth did you know I was here?”

“I… he’s gone,” Maura says. Jane leans against one of the old stone walls around them and crosses her arms in defense. She is long and she is gaunt. She is haggard and very angry. “He left almost a month ago. I’ve been trying to find you since then.”

“That’s…” Jane summons all the venom, all the ire she can. She grits her teeth for the effect. “None of that is my business. You made that abundantly clear.”

“I never said that,” Maura counters. The way Jane wafts toward her, the scent of despair and righteousness, Maura might topple. So her hand goes to that same wall near Jane’s shoulder. “I said I needed time. And you gave it to me in spades. Hell, you gave me time and an entire continent. I am lucky that my mother has contacts.”

“You sicced your mom on me?” Jane, incredulous, drops her hands so that they ball into fists at her sides. 

“I was willing to do anything to find you. You’ve been gone for six months. I’ve spent almost all of those figuring out where you went.”

“Allora, già sai,” Jane shouts, loud enough for several tourists to turn their way. She yanks her tone down to a poisonous whisper. “Now what do you want.”

She doesn’t ask, she demands. And it pains her because Maura is on the verge of tears, Maura is telling her that Ian is gone, and Maura has come all this way to see her, but a heart broken is a heart reluctant to open. 

“I want you to come home. Please, come home,” pleads Maura. The watery begging pulls Jane forward, but so do Maura’s hands on the lapels of her jacket. Surprisingly strong, and intoxicatingly warm. “I… I need you. I thought I needed him and the whole time he was there, I… was so empty for you,” Maura confesses. “I needed filling up and you were nowhere to be found.”

“Well you found me,” Jane is deflated. Jane closes her eyes as her last defense against the onslaught.

“So, will you come with me? Come back home? My mother would even lend us her plane,” Maura senses an in, a lowering of the defenses, so she takes it.

“No,” Jane says. When she opens her eyes again, they are resolute. But then, there is a smile. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. And, if you really want me to come around? For there to even be a chance of moving forward? You’re not goin’ anywhere, either. For a while.”

Maura cocks her head, confused, but oh is she smart. “Europe?” she asks. Jane frowns. “Italy.”

“Napoli,” Jane corrects. 

“For how long?” Maura asks, and she hasn’t said no.

“For however long it takes,” Jane says. “And you learn to work with me again before you, before we…”

“Love again,” Maura supplies, giddy off of chance.

“Ah! Ah,” Jane holds a finger up in the air. “That’s a forbidden word,” she nods in the direction of Charles, who has stayed respectfully close, but also respectfully behind. “He with you?”

“My tour guide, yes,” Maura tells her.

“Ok then. You know what’s not a forbidden word? Surveillance. Which is what I’m doin’ here. So, tell him to fuck off, join my group, and I’ll fill you in on the train.”

“The train? Like… the metro…?” Maura scrunches her nose.

“The train. You’re doin’ Napoli. With me, remember? That means public transit,” Jane says. She waits for about a dozen more people to pass, hand on Maura’s back, and then guides them over together. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your mother can get you a car once you settle in.”

Maura laughs. “Yes, Detective,” she responds.

“We’re gonna have to work on that accent,” Jane jokes. “But somethin’ tells me you’ll be a quick study. OK, Americani! Let’s keep it moving! Let me show all where the gladiators duked it out, left everything on the field, so to speak. And boy, do I mean everything.”

Something told the both of them, when they returned to Jane’s group, that they would find themselves on such a field not very long from now. Whether opposite each other or with each other, only time would tell.

[cleave-and-plough]

a man worthy of you

after the conclusion of the black rose arc, another palette-cleansing recap episode, this time from tsuwabuki's perspective as interpreted by utena, anthy, and nanami while they read his diary of the events so far. this recap serves as a more humorous complement to akio's in episode 13, as tsuwabuki inserts himself rosencrantz-and-guildenstern-style into the background of the previous nanami-centric episodes. ultimately, it's a lot lighter and simpler than what's come before, but there are still some nice stylistic flourishes that keep it from being dull.

chief among these is the positioning of nanami, utena, and anthy as standing behind tsuwabuki's hospital curtain, forming a diegetic version of the silhouettes. though their antics aren't as outlandish or prop-based as the usual silhouettes, the poses communicate a lot both comedically and narratively - nanami standoffishly to the side, utena and anthy nose-first in the diary. tsuwabuki's account is both damning and exonerating, offering explicit confirmation of nanami's wrongdoings while defending her as suffering from the pains of unrequited love.

tsuwabuki's intrusion on the story extends to the fictional as the diary goes on to detail his own fantasies of other versions of the show's events: he sees himself replacing touga for an amnesiac nanami, soothing her cow form and even becoming a cow himself. at last, he can take no more of his heart being laid bare and leaps from the hospital bed, though his gown falls, rendering him both emotionally and physically naked. nanami faints and falls out a window, waking up in a hospital bed of her own. it's almost a chance for tsuwabuki's savior dreams to come true, until she steals his diary for the final time. as her trio of followers restrain him, nanami flips through the diary to a page titled "strategic plan number 24," which is conspicuously also the episode number. tsuwabuki wails, "if she reads that page, i'm finished!" and his words come true - the episode ends thereafter with the silhouettes once more ascending in a spaceship.

just another day at ohtori academy.

stray thoughts:

the increased presence of the elephants and nanami's three admirers was another fun addition to tsuwabuki's accounts, bordering on the surreal. i especially enjoy their barbershop trio ambitions.

next episode: AGH

[bluinary]

I have such cool friends 🥺

[forbidden-rain]

The Hymn of the Wind, The Sound of Sand (Adonis Feature Scout) - 1

As soon as I laid my eyes on her designs, my heart was overjoyed. I had no doubt that it would become a wonderful outfit. However…

Translation by: forbidden-rain EN Proofreading by: reimeltdown

Season: Autumn

Adonis: —It’s been a while since I had lunch at the garden terrace like this. Usually, I would buy my food from the vendor store.

Moreover, it’s also been a while since I ate lunch together with you, Anzu.

You could use the staff canteen and other facilities back at ES, after all. Ever since you moved to the Producer course, I barely get the chance to see you.

…Yes, I even used to tell you which bread on the display tastes good. That does bring me back.

That was when you just recently transferred to our school. I could still remember like it was yesterday when I called out to you when you looked like you didn’t know your way around.

You’ve become so strong-willed I could hardly recognize you now, to the point you’ve become a capable Producer to everyone, but…

Your thin physique still remains the same as always. I know you have to grow accustomed to a lot of things in ES, so I’m worried. Eat a lot of meat, so you’ll grow stronger.

…Why are you going through your bag?

Are those documents for the exclusive outfit we talked about yesterday? Sure, let me have a look.

………

Oh….

(........)

After school, on that same day

Adonis: …Oogami, are you here?

Koga: Huh? That you, Adonis? Yeah, come in.

Adonis: Excuse me.

Koga: Hey, what’s up? You need somethin’ from the Light Music Club?

Adonis: No, I don’t need anything from the Light Music Club. It’s you, actually. The truth is—

…Last night, I tried out a VR headset.

Koga: What? VR…..?

Adonis: Yes…. My roommate, Yuuki, purchased one, so I got to play it along with Morisawa-senpai.

I remember being uncomfortable by having my field of vision blocked by this mysterious equipment, but it was only for a moment.

I then found myself standing alone in an unfamiliar territory. In my mind, I knew it’s nothing but an illusion but…

I was so immersed by my surroundings that I ended up getting deceived that it was reality. It was a strange but wonderful experience. You should try it yourself sometime, Oogami.

Koga: Uh… y-yeah… It does sound interestin’, with the way you described it.

Adonis: …..I’m sorry. I ended up boring you once again. I’m still no good with words, no matter how much time has passed.

Koga: Agh~.... The hell are you sayin’? You’re not boring me at all, and miss me with that ‘no good with words’ shit.

You ain’t do anythin’ that makes no sense. And I can tell there’s somethin’ on your mind, an’way.

'Sides, aren't you busy or somethin'? You don't usually pop outta nowhere to make a fuss about things.

Pretty sure there’s another reason, yeah?

Adonis: ….You saw right through me. I really can’t get past you, can I?

Koga: Hah, ‘course I can! No matter what you say, you’re my buddy, after all.

That's why... don't ya dare hold back. Say what you wanna say when you're with me. You don't have to ask me twice - if something's botherin' your lil heart, then, I'll hear ya out, alright?

Adonis: Thank you, Oogami. I’ll keep that in mind.

…To tell you the truth, it’s now my turn to have my exclusive outfit made. We had a meeting about it earlier at the Garden Terrace.

Koga: Your exclusive outfit, huh… Well, I’m sure she’s gonna make something that’ll look the best on you.

So what’s it gonna be like? I’m guessing it’s gonna be Arabian themed?

Adonis: …….

Koga: Oi, what is it? You’re keepin’ me in suspense here.

Adonis: ….Yes. It’s just as you thought, Oogami. In the concepts she showed me earlier, Anzu incorporated a lot of motifs from my homeland.

As soon as I laid my eyes on her designs, my heart was overjoyed. I had no doubt that it would become a wonderful outfit. However…

It’s frustrating that I can’t properly elaborate on this certain feeling. Whenever I try to put it in simpler terms, it gets stuck within my chest.

….I love my homeland dearly but I’m still far off from being able to carry it on my shoulders.

With the way I am right now, it got me thinking if it’s alright for me to take reference based on my homeland. ….No.

Perhaps it’s more of a question of whether or not that is the right outfit for me.

No matter how much time I’ve spent in Japan, how many conversations I’ve had in Japanese, in the eyes of Japanese people, I’m still a foreigner. The color of my skin, my physique, the culture that I grew up with; they’re all foreign.

One thing I have realized from the “Specialized Music Ward”[1] was that misunderstandings can arise from matters like these.

But this does not mean I’m blaming Anzu for this. By no means do I ever intend to blame her.

Still… I don’t know. It makes me wonder if using motifs from my homeland would accurately represent my true self.

What if it's only because I look different from a Japanese person?

For example, if I had a skin color like yours or hair as lovely as Kanzaki’s, do you think it would bring the same feeling?

Koga: ……

Adonis: This sentiment, perhaps to you, is incomprehensible. It’s difficult to convey it even through sign language.

It’s pathetic that I’ve been doing nothing but to feel down about it.

Koga: Hey, don’t worry 'bout it~ Y’know what, I’m actually glad. You’re a guy of few words and you tend to keep things to yourself, but look at you now, openly sharin’ your troubles with me.

Adonis: ….Is that so? It’s not like everyday that I get to talk one-sidedly this much. Even I’m surprised at myself.

You’re the only one I can talk about things like these, Oogami.

Koga: Heh, damn right I am. What did I say, we’re buddies, aren’t we?....♪

I already sound like a broken record but, y'know I won't get tired listenin' ‘til you feel better, so just say whatever's on your mind.

Adonis: I will. Thank you.

Reference to the tour event story "Learning From the Past/Succession Match"

Next

[harfanfare]

When your Prince Charming arrives || First Years x Reader

What if someone from RSA seemed to be your dreamed lover?

Ace Trappola

It isn’t easy to make Ace seriously worried, about something that wasn’t caused by his friends, wanting to get revenge on his poor—as they defined them—jokes.

From the first sight he knew, that a boy, who “accidentally” bumped into you, was a danger. Some kind of.

He seemed just… too perfect: tall, muscular, with beautiful hair and natural charm, charisma. His clothes complemented the colour of dark as cosmos eyes, and his manners were impeccable. Ace started doubting that even Vil Schoenheit himself could point out anything to him, but he wouldn’t bet on his arm.

With each trait, something was pushing Ace away from the boy more and more.

If he hasn't paid much attention to him, then you definitely did. By the time the day was over, you managed to tell him ten times how he helped you get up—"You fell because of him," Ace replied while rolling his eyes—and characterized the boy verbally, so that no teacher would complain about not enough words on your opinion essay.

“Agh, enough-!” Ace got upset when, even while playing cards, you didn't talk about anyone else but that handsome hero who helped you get up faster than Ace did. He got up from the floor. “Marvel at him in his face! He will certainly want to hear all these compliments in person.”

He stormed out of the room before you could stop him.

His arms were shaking once he got out of the dorm, to the Rose Maze. He emanated with anger and grief; he swore to himself, that he will kick this guy from RSA the time he sees him. Though he wasn't sure... would you be mad at him...?

“Wait, Ace!” you had to run as fast as you could to catch up with the boy and bump hard into him. You hugged his waist tight, worried that he would run away as soon as you loosened your grip. “Sorry. I really didn't mean to upset you.”

Ace turned around to see your eyes. The corners of his mouth quivered before twitched into a weak smile.

"It's alright," he said, but his voice slowly cracking. “The better one wins, right?”

"Of course," you tightened your embrace so that your cheek was pressed tightly against Ace's body. “I won't be with any guy who can't destroy a chandelier with friends.”

The boy took a deep breath before finally wrapping his arms around you.

The warmth he felt from you and the one inside him caused a strange feeling in his stomach and chest. He didn't know exactly what he felt, but he didn't mind at all.

“Out of my advantages, you chose this particular one?” He said, his face showing a mischievous, a bit mocking, but still friendly smile. "I guess it was at the top of such a long list as ‘Advantages of Ace’"

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

Deuce Spade

Deuce didn’t know what feeling was responsible for twisting his stomach, once he saw you and a boy from RSA, introducing him to some NRC classes.

Does his dark, rebellious side finally want to see the light of day?

Not as much as he wanted to hit that boy, he’d rather preferred to take you somewhere far away from him. From everybody.

“Someone's jealous!” Ace laughed when Deuce told him about his worries.

“Again, why did I come to you with this...?” The dark-haired man sighed, placing his hand on his hair and tightening it tightly. "You really think I'm, uh, jealous?"

“And not?” Ace tucked his hair back, laced the fingers of his hands together, and blinked several times. “Oh! My hero!” He said in a squeaky voice. “I will have to give up my lovely Deuce for you because you helped me up. A~aah!”

Deuce snorted and slapped Ace on the forehead. He fell onto the bed. The redhead burst out laughing as he looked at the nervous, sulking Deuce.

“Go Deuce,” he said, sitting down on the bed, still with an amused sparkles in his eyes. “Fight!”

Without waiting for any further words of encouragement, Deuce ran out of the room, towards the school. He went through all important, busier spots in the school before he found you in the cafeteria.

Of course, with that RSA guy.

He felt his body tighten like a tight string as you spotted him between the heads of the other students and waved at him.

"This is Deuce, my boyfriend," you introduced the boy to your dinner companion, and the dark-haired man looked away. So what if you guys were dating for months? The title "boyfriend" always made his heart run wild. “And this is [Boy's Name], a student from RSA.”

"Nice to meet you." Deuce reached out his hand and squeezed the boy's hand. He did it with such force that you could almost hear the crunch of bones and a soft gasp as the student jerked his hand away. “Now, I'm so sorry, but I have to take [Name] with me.”

He felt a twinge of guilt as you walked away, and the RSA boy was massaging his hand. However, now-not-yours prince charming will definitely go to the nurse, and on the way, he will surely run into one of the most beautiful students in NRC. It’s always like that in fairy tales.

You have to fight for your true love, right? They both have to find and keep the love of their lives.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

Epel Felmier

Just give him a chance, and he'll definitely try to kick that fop in the knee so hard he won't get up again.

"Fight fire with fire," Vil advised him during their usual dinner at Pomefiore. Even though Epel had said nothing about his worries, Vil could still sense a depressive aura from him that was definitely ‘not beautiful’.

The Pomefiore leader was also not very happy with the arrival of some students from the RSA. But until they were more beautiful than he was—not that anyone like that existed—their presence did not irritate them that much.

Of course, you didn't forget about Epel—you felt so drawn to your new acquaintance's aura that you sometimes lost track of time, but you make sure not to skip your meetings.

He felt like a pawn in a game of chess, not a player. He was attractively dressed, and now standing next to that RSA boy who had attracted your attention all too often. He took you with him a lot, that one day he almost offered to take you with him to the RSA. It would only require some paperwork, wouldn't it?

“[Name]” Epel turned to you, his voice trembling with anxiety and anger. He took a deep breath but didn't feel any cooling down. “The final decision will always be yours. But I want to say something about it here.” He pointed at the visitor and glared at him.

He felt a sudden need to straighten his hair and his clothes as silence fell around him. All the witnesses waited for his next move, and even though no one was saying anything, he felt like he was the new hot topic of gossips.

He went over to you and locked you in a hug as if he didn't want to watch all those onlookers.

"I know you may not believe me, but I really am not sure if he can bring you the happiness you expect," he blushed here. “I-I mean… I don't know if I can offer you a life only filled with happiness you want, but… I will try… So, uh, please don't go with him…!”

“Huh? There's no way I'm going with him,” you said, tearing away from him. "I'm addicted to apples and a certain apple boy, and I won't survive without this combination."

Epel breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his cheeks flush with shame, and memories of words that even sounded too serious for him.

Even though he felt terrible in this elegant garment, he couldn't think of it as his feelings exploded in his body.

Ah, yes. He couldn't want to love anyone else that much.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

Jack Howl

Jack never wanted to stop at anything other than "true love".

When you two started dating, he saw no other way than planning his future with you... But this RSA guy was never included in your plans.

"He's joining us," you told your new friend, pointing at Jack. He had his arms crossed and he was at least a head taller than the boy, so the boy had to raise his chin to see Jack's ears. “He offered to help us with cleaning.”

"Ah, yes," [Boy's Name] cleared his throat, trying to remain indifferent. He felt overwhelmed by Jack's presence and Jack made no effort to make it easier for him. Because what was he supposed to do? Squat down so that he doesn't feel trapped like surrounded by tall rocks? "We'll definitely need someone strong."

Everything went very agile and neat.

Even if you and the RSA student previously thought it would take a long, long time, in half an hour you managed to do more than you were allotted to. Maybe it's because your loved one didn't allow too long conversations between you and [Boy's Name]?

It would certainly have been hours if the two of you were left for each other. Ideally, a lot of time to make another appointment, exchange phone numbers, cancel your joint vacation plans with Jack and change your school, right?

“Thank you for your hard work” you put the broom in the storage box. Cleaning with magic was definitely simpler and easier, but as long as you can clean, magic can feel a little sloppy while comparing the cleanliness of rooms.

"Thank you for your hard work," [Boy's Name] replied, dusting his hands of the fluff. "Maybe... you'd like to go together, just the two of us," he stressed the last words, "to the cafe?”

"I'm sorry," you smiled apologetically. You looked at Jack who was just coming back and started walking towards him with a smile on your face. “You may not see it, but this one needs a daily dose of hugs because later he will be very sad.”

Jack silently denied as he turned his head to the side out of intimidation as you hugged him tightly.

… For moments like this, the existence of people like [Boy's Name] is needed.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

Sebek Zigvolt

“We need your assistance, [Name]” just after taking the left corridor, Sebek appeared in front of you and a student from RSA. The green-haired man had a stoic expression and his hands were behind his back, what made him seem much more composed than he thought himself. There was so much going on in his head that it would be easier to talk about what he wasn't thinking about. “It's urgent.”

Without further ado, he grabbed your wrist, knocking the RSA student's hand off your shoulder. He gave him a frightening look before he turned on his heels and you and you walked far, far away from this place.

"Hey, Sebek," you broke the silence that had been with you since you stepped out into the uncrowded corridor. “Something happened?”

“What do you mean?” He replied in a gruff voice and picked up the pace.

"For example," you panted, trying to keep up with him, "you're almost crushing my hand."

As if on cue, Sebek immediately let you go, doing it as quickly as if he had touched hot coal. With a surprised look, he glanced at your wrist, which turned slightly red from his tight grip.

"Ah, uh, forgive me," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "I still feel sick to see that human from the Royal Sword Academy."

“You mean [Boy’s Name]?” you asked, and Sebek made a face at his name. For him, this boy will always be "human" in the worst tone and sense of the word. "Some have described him as ‘so sweet that he is so bland’”

“It suits him.”

“You don't like him too? Too cute by Diasomnia standards?” you guessed jokingly. “Or were you jealous, hehe?”

“T-that's not the point!” He growled, feeling his face flush red. You looked at him in shock, now sure, you guessed it, and Sebek felt even more exposed by it. "It's just that this human looked at you so... so strange! I didn’t not like this.”

"There is a way," you said, smiling frivolously at him. “You can invite me to tea and vice versa, and then we will not see him anymore.”

[arcelerity]

Tormod is keenly aware that the Rats contributed heavily to Happyland's teamwork woes. Part of it, he wants to argue, is that the church decided to hire unsavory personalities and paired them with good common folk who would take issue with them, but then again, it'd take more than just one little stab from Valter for them to issue a monastery-wide teamwork assignment.

(He likes to think he did pretty good aside from that! He worked well with Byleth, he cooperated with Maria and Lyon swimmingly and didn't leave Azama totally to the wolves, and he and Marni had safely and consensually beaten each other into the ground.)

None of that is enough to get him out of this assignment, though. And for what it's worth, this Sophia doesn't seem like a bad gal! It's just, well, he really isn't built for this kind of thing. The baby, that is, not the teamwork, he's awesome at teamwork over seventy percent of the time!

"I mean, I have too! They just...liked to be in a shape that's not like this." Tormod's usually been the youngest in the Emancipation Army, but there's been a few times where they liberated a particularly small kid, or even an infant with their parent. Muarim had tried to teach him some things, but laguz babies tended to shift back and forth unpredictably, and Tormod put the most effort into when they were in the easier form, AKA not humanoid. Kind of biting him in the ass, here. "See, I dunno how much you've heard about Tellius, but my dad's not a beorc and most of the babies I cared for weren't either. I mean, sometimes they looked like this, but...agh."

Tormod hates backing down from a challenge, but this baby doll is freaking him out and he doesn't know how to calm it down and he can't scruff it or anything (and he knows to save scruffing for when he needs it and)--

Ah. Well, transferring the baby to Sophia is a rather painless thing to do, it turns out.

"Beorc--sorry, human--" the word tastes bitter on his tongue, still, but that is the parlance of a laguz-free continent "--babies are so much simpler but harder at the same time! I dunno how my dad dealt with me..."

Sophia's quiet, and he, for lack of a better word, yammers. Really, he means to make her feel more at ease and stuff, y'know? But here he is, talking about a bunch of stuff she probably doesn't even know about. She's from Elibe if he remembers right, and he can't quite recall there being laguz or shifters by another name there...but hey, the baby is being less fussy, maybe his talking is helping!

the kind of world where we belong

anniversary 2024: faith +1

[sinnamonrolle]

Headcanons: Endearments [Obey Me!]

❀  gender neutral  ❀

! slight spoilers for Belphegor and Solomon !

I was thinking about this for a while, and I really want to share it with everyone else too.

These are gender neutral terms of endearment! And no matter how big you might be, you'll always be their lovely little human being ;)

Here are my headcanons for the terms of endearment from all 12 characters, including my reasoning for them! I had fun thinking about them.

Demon Brothers:

Lucifer

"Vesper", with variations such as "little Vesper" or "my little Vesper"

Lucifer means "Morning Star", and so after some digging online, there's actually a name for the "Evening Star'' as well, which is Vesper. Lucifer and Vesper both refer to the planet Venus, and so the reasoning behind why Lucifer would call you "Vesper'' is because he sees you as his other half, the other side of him. Together, you and him make up the brightest star in the sky.

I suppose it is more of a nickname than a term of endearment, but it's all the same. It's filled with love and adoration for you! No matter the time or place, he will always call you "Vesper" because it is also how he shows his pride in you, but he uses "darling" just as much. Leave it to him to call you his "darling Vesper."

Mammon

"Fortune", "little fortune", "my little fortune"

When you hear Mammon, of course you will think about money and physical possessions. The word "fortune" can be understood as related to the amount of owned assets, but also related to luck, chance, and destiny. So, to Mammon, you are his everything—his human, his wealth, his future. You are priceless in every way, and he’s so lucky, so fortunate to have you.

The endearment “little fortune” comes about accidentally. Mammon blurts it out one day, and he hurries to correct himself because “wait, wait, wait, I didn’t mean little fortune as in the amount because ya ain’t small at all. You’re really big—agh, that’s not what I mean! It sounds cute, okay! Little or big, it doesn’t matter. I won’t ever spend you.”

Leviathan

“Pearl”, “Henry”

I think we all know where “Henry” comes from, but what about “pearl”? Firstly, pearls are from the sea, which Leviathan is strongly related with. Leviathan himself has reptilian features—his snake-like tail, his birthmarks that resemble scales, his coral-like horns—in fact, Leviathan is known as a sea serpent. Pearls are treasures of the sea, and they are extremely beautiful as well. But there is also another connection you can make, this time with East Asian mythology. In East Asian mythology, dragons are often related to the sea, even residing in them. They are long, serpentine, wingless, but they still have two arms and two legs. They also are often depicted with a pearl, and this pearl is very, very important to the dragon. Seeing as Obey Me is a Japanese game, I think connecting Levi with an East Asian dragon isn’t too big of a stretch. Actually, there are many similarities, but there’s no need to dig into it today.

You know how Leviathan is. It will take Levi a long time before he begins using terms of endearment with you because of his insecurity. However, once he feels confident enough in using them, he’s super dramatic (and low-key romantic) with them. He’s watched enough anime and played enough games to know many terms, but is he able to use them? It’ll depend on how comfortable and confident he feels.

Satan

“Precious”, “beloved”, (and of course) “kitten”

Satan is extremely well read. This means that his arsenal is particularly wide. “Kitten” is a term that many of us may find familiar, and understandably so. We all know Satan’s love for cats. But I think Satan, as a being who is born from emotions, is more sensitive to them than others, and they make up an important part of him. Which is why, despite his large arsenal of endearments, he uses the “simpler” ones, but the ones that he does use, there’s a lot of emotions behind them. You are simply precious to him, and the most befitting endearment for it would be “precious”. There is nothing sweeter than a pure “beloved” filled only with love for you.

Asmodeus

“Treasure”, “jewel”, “my love”

If Asmo is the jewel of heaven, then you are the “treasure” of his life. You are as beautiful as a “jewel”, and you reflect the light like a “jewel” as well. The love they show you is reflected back twice as strong. For Asmo, his endearments for you don't come from the physical value behind them. In fact, Asmo himself doesn’t care for treasures or jewels, but out of them all, you are his “treasure”, his “jewel”, his “love”. He puts you equivalent (or maybe even higher) than himself, and he wants to show it to you not only through actions, but words as well.

Beelzebub

“Pudding” (and perhaps, other cute food endearments)

We all know how much Beel loves food, and we all know how much Beel loves his family, and so it’s almost obvious why Beel calls you “pudding.” As a human, you are squishy, squishier than demons, and you are also delicious looking. You smell good, you look good, and the comfort that food brings to Beel is equivalent if not greater than how you soothe and comfort him.

Although, while Beel loves calling you cute endearments, it makes him hungry, so he has to hold back on them. I guess that means more endearments when he’s full, but when he has to cope with his hunger and there’s no food around, Beel calls you by a wonderful amount of endearments. You do have to be careful though! He might decide to sample you. (In what ways? Who knows, heh.)

Belphegor

“My little sun”, “little sun”

He doesn’t call you his “little sun” because you are little, but because Beel is his bigger sun. Beel was in his life first, and then you came. But the order doesn’t really matter to Belphie because you are still a very important sun to him. In the twins’ bedroom, Beel has a sun motif on his side, and Belphie has a moon motif. Belphie is more comfortable with the darkness (literally and figuratively), so to him, you are his light that shines through and guides him to a better place. You are everything that he needs to survive.

Belphie’s trauma has affected him greatly, even if it doesn’t seem like it. So it takes a long time until he gets really attached to you, but when he does, he can’t live without you. Calling you his little sun is placing you in his heart, at the same level as Beel (Or perhaps even higher).

Other Demons:

Diavolo

“Little gold nugget”, “gold nugget”, “nugget”, “little nugget”

Contrary to how it may first sound, “little gold nugget” isn’t to diminish your value or your worth. To Diavolo, who probably has a low-key obsession with gold, “little gold nugget” is super adorable. He’s also never really been called an endearment before, nor has he ever called someone by one, so this is all new territory to him. Also, as a future king and a prince, everyone is important to him as his citizens. Diavolo is the king above all nuggets, but you in particular are his “little gold nugget.” He also wants you to call him by an endearment, a term only used for him, but that is something for you to decide on.

Barbatos

The closest thing to an endearment would be “Your Grace” for Barbatos. “Puffling”, if you can get him drunk enough (I’m somewhat joking here).

If you’re expecting something else, I’m afraid Barbatos is too polite, too cautious to simply throw around the usual terms of endearment. In fact, I think from the way Barbatos is, he turns a way of addressing nobility into an endearment for you only. However, if you do manage to worm an endearment out of him, he will jokingly call you a “puffling” after baby puffins. I think he finds them adorable, but it isn’t a serious endearment. Barbatos won’t be caught dead calling you a “puffling”—not because he doesn't want to—but because it’s not at all appropriate. He has an image to keep.

Angels:

Simeon

“Little sparrow”, “little droplet”, “little lamb”

“Little lamb” is a familiar term, and “little sparrow” is also something Simeon calls you. A sparrow represents many wonderful things, like joy, love, good fortune, luck, and so on, and Simeon considers you every one of those things and more. Like sparrows, droplets are also fragile—ephemeral in their lives. Droplets fall and disappear so easily. But droplets also signify uniqueness in that one droplet is separated from other collections of water. To Simeon, you stand out among others. You are wonderful, joyful, full of life, and so, so beautiful.

Luke

“Lamb” (perhaps “lambling”? I’m really unsure.)

He means it in a platonic way!! Like a guardian angel to a baby human, except that baby human is you.

We all see Luke as a child, but Luke, in this case, doesn’t see himself as one. He’s way, way older than you, and so while he is still immature among other angels, he’s lived way longer than you have. It might seem weird to have him call you an endearment, but you are a lamb in his eyes—pure, kind, gentle. You are someone who must be protected! And so while Luke doesn’t use endearments too much with you, he will use it when he’s feeling a little playful or dramatic. He prefers your own name because he loves how it sounds.

Human:

Solomon

“Little star”, “breadcrumbs” (as a joke)

Solomon has lived for who knows how long. As a human who has lived for that long, his mentality towards certain things might be a bit different from a regular human. Attachment is difficult for him due to his lifespan, and this is reflected in his attitude. Many people are fleeting in his life. The mundane becomes hard to appreciate after so long. Even memories erode after a lifetime. There is no particularly heavy sentiment behind “little star”, but he has begun to consider you as a part of his destiny, a star in the constellation of his life. And like a star, you appear so far away from him, so unapproachable due to how you are always surrounded by others. He can only appreciate you from afar, until you let him close.

“Breadcrumbs” is a lighthearted endearment that he once heard somewhere in the human world. When he calls you “breadcrumbs”, he doesn’t mean anything at all by it, only that it sounds absolutely ridiculous but also so adorable at the same time. It’s an amusing endearment he heard in his long, long life. “It’s the joy in the little things, and breadcrumbs are exactly that—little things,” Solomon will say, but no need to take him seriously. You will always be the star twinkling brightly in his life.

-------

Feel free to add what you think the characters would use as terms of endearment! I wanted something special for each character, so that's why this post was made lol

(If there are any errors, I will catch them sooner or later. Please, don't mind them.)

Masterlist!

[sunnetrolls]

Perhaps it would help your mood to talk of the good memories. What was it like having Ardell, or both him and Kyrian by your side after Kallie? Would they cook for you, or do more domestic things with you?

"Oh, certainly...!"

"I was quite... close with them both, ahah... Ardell more so than Kyrian, yes, but both of them are incredibly dear to me. Dellie-- agh, Ardell-- loved to... Drag me out to restaurants or shops, and would... ahah... Get into arguments with the employees if they tried to refuse me entry. It was... both endearing and exasperating."

"Kyrian was more of... Hm. She was someone you could relax with easily. Wonderful to... share a space with. Enjoying time with her was much simpler and quieter than with Ardell."