#and lukas is polish

[batunatu]

so.. MCSM DRAWINGS FROM 2022!!ARGENTINA EDITION,, MONTHS BEFORE THE WORLD CUP bc yeah, when we won, too many things happened to me to celebrate with a drawing huff

PETRA GAUCHA PETRA PAISANA PETRA ARGENTO

guys do u want me to translate this or

ALSO BONUS, THERE'S MORE BUT I'M GOING TO POST MY FAVORITE ONES

WOO DOMINAMOS EL MUNDO, BRITISH HUMANS DNI /j

[wilkoakdraws]

have at ya an unholy pile of wildly chaotic and VERY serious magnus stuff from last 6 months. happy 2024

[yunyin]

When I realized the akumatized Couiffaine family had a theme, I had to draw it!

[lokomoqo]

II - The High Priests 🌓

UPRIGHT: Intuition, sacred knowledge, divine feminine, the subconscious mind

REVERSED: Secrets, disconnected from intuition, withdrawal and silence

The bastards hehe. This one took the longest (probably cause of Elias…), but now it’s done and I’m very happy with the result :o)

[shakingparadigm]

In a modern au I think the wagyein would be like one of those gaint ass crocodiles that Ivan gets away with keeping because its technically a service animal. As long as its on a leash its all good and not a threat to the public!!

Ivan being rewarded with a more expensive and unique kind pet like a whole fucking crocodile honestly seems pretty in line for him 😭 especially since it adds a new "chic" flair to his photoshoots and his general aesthetic. Imagine Ivan's new photoshoot drops and he's in a suit posing with a fucking crocodile. Insane.

I really like the imagery of this large, scaly and dangerous looking reptile being tamed as Ivan's pet, something that could help boost his image and push that luxurious, enigmatic vibe. You know, like how stereotypical evil lairs have sharks or other rare and dangerous animals guarding the entrance or simply acting as accessory. That kind of vibe. I also like the imagery of this sharp creature being forced into submission and captivity. Forced to become a good, obedient pet, holding in its urges and keeping its teeth hidden. A being taken from the ruthless, grimy darkness, cleaned and maintained to perfection, forced to perform for the cameras. Ivan can empathize, he knows what it's like.

"Technically a service animal" is fucking hysterical. Ivan going Hello, sir! Please excuse my emotional support 12ft crocodile. Don't worry, he's very well-behaved.

I actually think Ivan would get along very well with his hypothetical crocodile. Just like the wagyein, he'd feel connected to it in a very personal way. Also just like the wagyein I think Ivan would be the only person it would never harm. In my head I have the mental image of Ivan petting and cuddling it as if it were a puppy.

[verfound]

FIC: "Mellie's New Friend" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

Prompt 64: Nail Polish

There wasn’t a lot to like about Gertie, the old woman who lived next door.  Gertie was, politely speaking, kind of a bitch.  She took offense to just about everything about the Couffaine household: the dyed hair of its owners, the loud music that cranked at all hours, the even louder children the owners let run around like little hooligans, the constant stream of strangers (family and friends all, not that she cared) always coming and going, the general Chaos that followed them around like an unlucky shadow.  She was loud and cantankerous herself, always quick to shoot a barb at Marinette or one of the kids when she spotted them outside of the house.

(She never bothered casting barbs towards Luka.  For Luka, she reserved her trademark silent scowl.  He had thought she’d actually growled at him one day, but looking back he was pretty sure that had been Poochie, not her.)

Marinette tried, bless her, to be kind and patient and all those good, wholesome things people like Marinette were with her.  She always did her best to greet the barbs with a smile.  She always reminded the kids that Gertie was alone, and lonely people tended to be…harder than people surrounded by friends and family.  And when that didn’t work, she slapped a tight smile on her face, wished her a good day, and scurried back inside.

None of the kids were old enough to remember her Grandpa Roland – he had passed well before Harmony was born – but she did.  His memory afforded her the grace the others sometimes lacked, when it came to their old neighbor.

It was a good two years of living next to Gertie’s hateful barbs before they realized Gertie had, at some point, apparently…had a heart?

Because there was a child in her backyard.

Melody was the first to notice, and Luka had to admit he had noticed her before he noticed the other kid.  Because she’d been sitting by the fence, acting like she was talking and playing with someone he couldn’t see – and she had long outgrown her last ‘imaginary’ friend.  And while it was possible one of the kwamis was out there with her, he was pretty sure he would have seen them zipping around.

“Mels?” he asked, poking his head out the back door.  “You ok?”

“I’m good, Papa!” she called.  “It’s just Milly!”

Her face scrunched up, and then she rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of her aunt.

“Sorry.  Mildred,” she said, dragging out the name like it was distasteful.  “I don’t know why you don’t like Milly – it’s so much more fun than Mildred.”

Luka had walked across the garden to her by this point, and amused expression on his face.

“Mildred?” he asked, chuckling.  “And who’s Mildred, songbird?”

“My new friend,” Melody said, grinning at him.  She pointed at the fence.  “She lives over there.”

And that was when Luka actually looked at the old stockade fence, and while he couldn’t actually see through it…there was just enough of a gap beneath it that he could see the bottoms of folded legs and light-up trainers on the other side.

…huh.

There actually was a kid in Gertie’s yard.

He briefly entertained the thought of Gertie being a possible child snatcher and whether or not he needed to call Captain Roger, but that was ridiculous.

There was no way Gertie had the strength or dexterity in her old, arthritic body to kidnap a fully-grown child.  She barely had enough strength to wrangle her dog most days, and Poochie was smaller than even Dewey yet.

“Well, hello, Mil…dred,” he said, remembering the way she had obviously corrected Melody.

“Hi,” a quiet voice answered.  A tiny hand appeared beneath the fence, little fingers wiggling at them in a wave.  His lips quirked up in a smile, and he crouched down as the hand slipped back under a fence.  He glanced at Melody when she giggled, and they shared a grin as he reached his own fingers under the fence and waved.  Before he could say anything, there was a tiny gasp, and then little fingers were wrapping around his own.  “Oh my gosh!  Your nails are so pretty!”

“Not as pretty as Maman’s,” Melody huffed, and Luka stuck his tongue out at her when she pulled a face.  “But they’re nice.  I guess.”

“You’d like them more if I painted them pink, huh?” he teased.  Melody started to grin again, and he stuck his tongue back out.  He turned back to the fence and wiggled his fingers.  “Thank you, Mildred.”

“You paint them?” Mildred asked.  He felt her run a finger along one of his nails, and his smile softened.  “Like…on your own?”

“I do,” he said.  “I’ve been painting them since I was a little over Mellie’s age.”

“That’s so cool,” Mildred breathed.  There was another moment of hesitation, where she just held onto his fingers and tapped against the nails.  And then, after a bit, she asked: “Can…can you paint mine?”

Melody started to squeal, but Luka frowned.

“I…don’t know if your…if Mlle. Gertie would like that, Mildred,” he said.  “I can if you’d like, but maybe we should ask her first?”

“Granny Gertrude will say no,” Mildred sighed.  “I just wanted to be pretty, too…”

And that was, ultimately, what did it.

Because Luka Couffaine was nothing if not a softie, especially for sad little girls.  A bleeding heart, his wife would say.  And even if he couldn’t actually see Mildred through the fence, Melody was giving him the biggest puppy eyes she could manage, and that was enough to break his heart.  So, knowing full well that Granny Gertie was going to give him untold levels of hell for it later, he squeezed Mildred’s fingers before pulling his hand back.  He patted Melody’s knee, smiling sadly at her.

“What color would you like, Mildred?” he asked.  “We have the whole rainbow upstairs.”

“The sparkly pink one!” Melody cried.  “Oooh!  Oh, no!  The sparkly blue!  Or Auntie Jules’s witch one!  Or the stardust one!”

“I…I don’t know,” Mildred’s quiet voice said.  “They all sound nice.”

He chuckled and reached out, ruffling Melody’s hair.  She stuck her tongue out at him, and he tipped his head back towards the house.

“All right, then, Mels,” he said.  “Why don’t you go pick out a few favorites, and we’ll let Mildred see which one she likes best?”

“She’s gonna love the unicorn one Auntie Rose got me!” Melody screamed as she raced inside.  Luka shook his head and chuckled.  He looked back at the fence with a smile.

“So…Mlle. Gertie’s your grandmother?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mildred answered.

“I didn’t know she had any family,” Luka said.

“We live a really long way away,” Mildred said.  “We had to drive for hours before we took a plane.  Mama and Papa are doctors.”

“Really?” Luka asked, surprised.  Gertie had never said anything.

“In Africa,” she said.  “We travel a lot.”

“I travel a lot, too,” Luka said, “but not for half as good a reason.  I’m sure your parents help a lot of people, Mildred.”

“Mellie said you’re Luke Stone,” Mildred said, and his eyebrows rose in surprise.  “You help people, too.  We play your music in the clinic all the time.  It makes everyone happy.”

…well, shit.

“That…thank you, Mildred,” he said, smiling against the burn in his throat.  “I appreciate that.  I still think your parents have the harder job, though.”

“Are you really gonna paint my nails?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.  “Anything for such a sweet fan.”

“Nuh-uh!” Melody’s voice said sharply beside him.  He looked up to see she had returned with an arm full of tiny bottles.  Just like he’d promised, there was every color of the rainbow there – and then some.  “I’m gonna do it!  Papa, Millie’s my new best friend.  You go get your own!”

…he had one, but the asshole wasn’t half as sweet as the little girl on the other side of the fence.  He shook his head, laughing as he shrugged.  What was he gonna do, though?  Melody’s word was almost law.

“Well, if you insist.  Are you ok with that, Mildred?  If Mellie paints your nails?” he asked.

“Sure,” Mildred said.  “I like Mellie.  Her nails are pretty, too.”

Melody grinned as she held up her thumb.  The sparkly pink paint was already chipped and half-off – she’d need a touchup soon.

“Well, ok, then,” he said, clapping his knees before he pushed himself up.  “I’ll leave you two to it.  It was nice meeting you, Mildred.”

“You too, M. Stone,” Mildred said.

“Couffaine,” Melody huffed, rolling her eyes.  “He’s only M. Stone for the cameras.”

“Be nice, Mellie,” he chided, but he was still smiling when she stuck her tongue out at him.  He leaned over to kiss the top of her head, and then he pushed himself up and turned back towards the house.  “Have fun, you two.”

Marinette found him by the backdoor a short while later, nursing a mug of tea as he watched the girls paint each other’s nails through the fence.  She wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her head on his shoulder, humming when he bent to kiss the top of it.

“What is she doing?” she asked, following his gaze to the fence.

“Making a friend,” he said.  He turned to her with a grin.  “Did you know Gertie has a kid?  A grandkid, for that matter?”

Marinette blinked up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

“…holy shit,” she said after a moment.  “Someone actually procreated with that miserable old –”

“Manners,” he chuckled, tilting her chin up to cut her off with a kiss.  “There’s probably a child present.  Somewhere.  We certainly have enough of them.”

“Don’t you start,” she huffed, squeezing him as she laid her head back down.  “I can’t believe she was ever able to connect with someone like that.”

“She might not have always been miserable,” he said with a shrug.  “Anyway, your nonna connected with Roland like that, and we all remember how miserable he was.”

“Shut up,” she giggled, bumping her head against his arm.  “You’re glad they did.  We never would have met if she hadn’t seen something in him.”

“And now Mellie has a new friend because someone saw something in Gertie,” he said.  She stuck her tongue out at him, then rolled her eyes when he kissed it.  He winked at her.  “…even if she is a miserable old bitch.”

She rolled her eyes and bumped her forehead against him.

(She was less amused a few days later, when she was walking the twins home from maternelle and Louis saw Gertie walking up her front steps, stopped to wave, and cried: “Hi, missable old bitch!”)

[fiddles-ifs]

ERINYS: FURY IN THE MACHINE: CAST

Romance options have a ❤︎ by their names

❤︎ LANE BLACK KETTLE | The Off-Gridder [they/them]

Age: 25 Ethnicity: Aamsskáápipikani [Montana Blackfoot] Height: 6'2/187 cm

Born outside of the so-called "last bastions of humanity," Lane has a unique and nuanced perspective on post-apocalyptia. They're in City 17 possibly illegally, definitely as a fugitive, and they're looking for something -- or someone. They'll stop at nothing, but will you help them? Adaptable, impulsive, hot-headed.

Flavor of romance: The Outsider, enemies to lovers, snark as a love language.

❤︎ MATTHEW "MATTIE" SORENSON | The Genius [he/him]

Age: 27 Ethnicity: White [USAmerican] Height: 5'10/177 cm

Having spent his entire life inside City 17, Mattie knows very little about the world outside the Walls. A computer genius and mathematician, Mattie is the world's foremost expert on Giants. Still, he isn't content to rest on his laurels. He wants to fix humanity's mistakes -- and you're going to help him. A case of tethered spinal cord syndrome requires him to use an electric wheelchair. Egotistical, charismatic, jovial.

Flavor of romance: The Insider, competing egos, saving the world (and each other).

LUKA MARIK | The Creator [he/him]

Age: 49 Ethnicity: White [Polish] Height: 5'11/180 cm

The greatest scientist in the world, co-founder of the Rider Initiative, your creator, the Alpha and Omega -- or so he'd have you believe. His complicated feelings for Rider have left him grief-riddled for ten years. Originally, he created the mechs that helped humanity -- now he develops the Rider clones that continue his life's work. Obsessive, melancholic, introverted.

Not a romanceable character.

[swampvoid]

New Donut Hole PV dropped, and it's cool! In terms of artistic direction, there is a story being told in visual clues, and honestly..it looks like an anime opening. I like how "Eastern European" the girls look, and it's certainly interesting how Miku, the poster character for Vocaloid, looks like a comic relief rather than a main character she is often.

[whspermy-name]

last night that VC was lit

[fazcinatingblog]

Remember when Brodie Grundy and Tim Broomhead were broommates

[m-neuvillette]

Star Rail Men and their phone background

Characters: Argenti, Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Caelus, Dan Heng, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jiaoqiu, Jing Yuan, Luka, Moze, Mr Reca, Sunday, Welt Yang, Yanqing

Thank you March for taking the photos!

Authors note: fem reader, implied that you are also shorter than him. Also this is our first time ever writing so please be nice :)

Argenti

A photo of you braiding his hair. He is sitting in front of you with a little mirror in hand, laughing while you are super concentrated with doing his hair. After this he always requests for you to braid his hair!! now after this!!

Aventurine

A photo of you guys sitting at a table playing cards. You are giggling behind your cards thinking you’re going to win. He puts his hat on you, leans back and laughs and smiles at you. He then proceeds to win the round of cards, like always.

Blade

A photo of you sitting side by side smiling at each other. You are fixing and polishing up his sword. You look up to lightly chide him on his damaged sword to see that he is softly smiling at you. You tilt your head and smile back at him, while forgetting about his sword. Then when you come back to reality, you do have to lightly lecture him on taking proper care of his sword.

Boothill

A photo of him cornering you between him and the counter. Hands on each side of you, looking down at you giving a little smirk. You are blushing looking up at him while wearing his iconic hat (he thinks you look better in it anyways).

Caelus

A photo of you guys laughing and running away from a Lordly Trashcan. You guys were minding your one business chatting, when the one and only Lordly Trashcan came out of nowhere and spooked you guys. He quickly grabbed your hand and ran while dragging you along. You guys were laughing the entire time the Lordly Trashcan was chasing you. After the Lordly Trashcan stopped chasing you, you turned to him and said you guys were never allowed to walk by a trashcan again.

Dan Heng

A photo of you guys in front of the data bank. You are standing in front of him, while he is behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and your arms on top of his. His chin is resting on your shoulder while he is pointing and explaining something on the screen of the data bank. This is his favorite way to talk about stuff on the data bank.

Dr. Ratio

A photo of you two at a chalkboard. You are excitedly explaining the stuff written on the board while he has most of his focus on you with a soft smile on his face. He swears he’s listening to you and can recite what you said but he thinks you’re so cute when you’re explaining something that makes you happy!

Gallagher

A photo of you two at the bar together. He is behind the bar making you a drink while laughing, while you are propping your head up on your hand staring at him with nothing but loving eyes. He now only makes drinks if you’re there at the bar sitting in front of him.

Gepard

A photo of him with his face in your hand. He is in his office, overworking as usual, and when you walk in you march right over to his desk. You take his chin in your hand and tilt his head up and over to look at you while you scold him for overworking. Let’s just say when he visited Serval later that day she had to ask if he was sick because he was still bright red.

Jiaoqiu

(this was before he lost his sense of taste) It’s a photo of you two cooking. He has his tail and arm wrapped around your waist while you are having him taste test some of your food. You are smiling because he is showing that the food tastes really good. Then he makes a vow, when he cooks he is always going to have you by his side.

Jing Yuan

It’s a photo of you guys napping. He is laying on a couch with you on top of him, with a tight grip around your waist. Both of you guys have the softest of smiles on your faces. Whenever he wakes up before you he always makes sure to snap a quick photo of you sleeping on top of him.

Luka

A photo of you guys laughing together in the Boulder Town Fight Club. You jokingly hop in the ring after his match and declare that you are going to beat him. He looks at you with the biggest grin and you guys just start laughing together. Let’s just say there was no winner, you guys were too busy laughing that you got kicked out of the ring.

Moze

A photo of him whispering into your ear while he teaches you to throw a dagger. He is standing behind you with one hand on your waist and the other adjusting your hand placement on the dagger. He is whispering softly in your ear about the correct form while you smile softly up at him. Let’s just say you were not that good at it and Jiaoqiu and Feixiao were curious why most of Moze’s blades were damaged or lost.

Mr. Reca

A photo of him laughing at you while you are looking through his film camera. You wanted to help him shoot a scene in his current film and the camera is too high for you. You don’t know how to adjust it and you are on your tip toes squinting through the camera lens, trying to see out of it. He looks at what you are doing amused, and starts laughing fondly at you. When his film eventually came out, you were given some special credits to make up for him laughing at you.

Sunday

It’s a photo of you guys dancing. You guys were outside under the stars. He has a hand on your waist while the other one is holding with yours, while your other hand is resting on his shoulder. While you both just gaze into each other’s eyes. Now whenever Robin wants to sing a new song to him he brings you so you can dance to it together.

Welt Yang

A photo of you reading to him. You two are sitting down and you are in between his legs, back pressed up again his chest while his arms are wrapped around you and resting his head on your shoulder. Whenever you two want to read something now you always seek each other out to do this cuddle and reading session again.

Yanqing

A photo of you dressed up like him as a joke and taking his sword. You jumped up on the nearest bench to be taller than him, acting like you are going to fight him. Then he just looks up at you and bursts out laughing while you just giggle and smile down at him. Jing Yuan was there too and said you would beat him and Yanqing turned around and gaped at his mentor.

Everyone say thank you March!

Hope you enjoyed :)

[dingdawny]

Sorry for the paragraphs of tags but... I like pokemon.... smiles insanely

Drop your headcanons for MCSM partner Pokémon here!

Reblog or comment, do whatever you like! I want to see the variation of what people think characters’ partners should be. (This definitely isn’t because I’m considering doing a Pokémon Story Mode AU…)

Jesse - Pikachu (I know it’s basic) Olivia - Tinkaton Ivor - Malamar Gabriel - Charizard or Aegislash

[hypnogold]

Crescent High 3

Lukas had only been in the U.S. for a few months. He was used to the European school system, where high school was less about sports and more about academics. But here, in America, things were different. That’s what he liked about it. Crescent High, with its sports teams and school spirit, seemed like the perfect place to finally experience the “high school life” he’d only seen in movies.

On his first day, Lukas walked through the wide hallways, noticing the groups of students milling about, many of them wearing their team jackets proudly. He had always been athletic, but European schools didn’t have organized teams like this. At Crescent High, there were tryouts for soccer, football, basketball—every sport imaginable.

As he passed by the gym, a poster caught his eye: Soccer Tryouts – This Friday. A smile crossed his face. Finally, a way to connect, to belong.

Lukas arrived early, his nerves a mix of excitement and apprehension. He had trained in local clubs back home in Europe, but this was different. The players here were part of something bigger, something that extended beyond just the game.

He noticed how many of the guys had the same gleaming kits—the golden AC Milan uniforms he had seen around the school. They looked powerful, united, and for a moment, Lukas felt out of place in his standard practice gear. He asked if he could borrow a golden kit. Coach approved and gave him a normal golden kit, not yet transformative. He was powerfull on the field.

The coach, Johnson, was already there, watching over the field with a keen eye. As the tryouts began, Lukas quickly proved his worth, his skills standing out. He sprinted down the field, dribbling past the defenders with ease, his footwork precise.

By the end of the session, Coach Johnson approached him. “You’ve got potential, Lukas,” he said, his voice friendly but with an undertone Lukas couldn’t quite place. “You could really fit in here. How about you stop by next week for a meeting with the team? We’ve got some things we think you’ll like.”

Lukas grinned, nodding. It felt good to be noticed.

The Following Week...

Lukas was getting used to life at Crescent High. The cafeteria, the lockers, even the massive gym felt more familiar now. He had even made a few friends. Still, there was something about the golden team members—those guys who wore the shining AC Milan kits. They always seemed so tight-knit, always together, always smiling. It was like they knew something the others didn’t.

The meeting Coach Johnson had mentioned came at the end of the week. Lukas showed up, a little unsure of what to expect. Inside the locker room, some of the team members were already there. They greeted him like an old friend, patting him on the back, giving him compliments on his performance during tryouts.

“Here,” one of them said, handing Lukas a folded piece of clothing. “Coach wanted you to have this.”

Lukas unfolded it. It was one of the golden kits—the same shimmering AC Milan jerseys he had seen so many others wear. His heart skipped a beat. It felt like initiation, like he was finally being welcomed into something bigger. He wanted to be a part of it. But something about the kit… it seemed almost too perfect, too polished.

“Try it on, bro,” one of the guys said with a grin. “It’s part of being on the team.”

Lukas hesitated. “I mean… it looks great, but…”

The team members all laughed in unison, their voices almost synchronized. “Don’t worry, man. Once you’re wearing it, you’ll feel right at home.”

Over the next few days, Lukas kept the kit in his locker, untouched. Every time he passed it, he felt a strange pull toward it. It wasn’t just about fitting in—it was more than that. The jersey seemed to call to him, as if putting it on would make everything fall into place.

At practice, Lukas started to notice the little things. The golden team members seemed faster, stronger, more in sync than the rest of the players. They moved effortlessly on the field, their golden kits shimmering under the sun. And then there were the whispers—rumors about how once you put the kit on, you were changed. Lukas brushed them off, thinking it was just superstition.

But every day, the urge to wear the jersey grew stronger. It started as curiosity, then turned into something he couldn’t shake. And yet, he still resisted. He wasn’t sure why, but part of him felt that once he put it on, there’d be no going back. Coach needed Lukas faster, so he used his secret weapon on him... Now he is one of them.

As the bell rang for lunch, Paxton strolled confidently through the hallway, his shiny metallic gold AC Milan kit glistening under the fluorescent lights. His number, 18, stood out boldly on his back, and the once-nerdy Paxton had become completely unrecognizable. The sight of him made the rest of the school uneasy, knowing that once you wore the golden kit, you were no longer yourself.

Inside the locker room, a group of four students huddled together. They had been part of the resistance, still wearing their blue and white uniforms. Each day, they’d seen more students fall—either after practice or through “accidents” like stumbling upon a golden kit left conveniently in a locker.

“We can’t keep hiding,” Matt, one of the students, whispered. “They’ll find us eventually.”

“Coach threw a kit over the bathroom stall yesterday,” Jake muttered. “It enveloped Dan. He didn’t even have a chance. By the time I got out of there, he was already talking like them—‘bro’ this, ‘bro’ that. And that dumb grin…”

Across the room, Luke, one of their smarter classmates, had an idea. “What if we break into the supply room where they keep the golden kits? We could destroy them, or at least hide them.”

Matt nodded. “That’s risky, but it could work.”

Meanwhile, Paxton had overheard part of their conversation. He smirked and silently slipped away, already formulating a plan to alert the team. He knew they wouldn’t have much time to act.

Later that afternoon, the group snuck into the athletics wing of the school. The door to the supply room was locked, but Luke pulled out a bobby pin, his hands trembling slightly as he worked on the lock. Finally, it clicked open.

Inside, rows of golden kits hung neatly. Their shimmering glow was almost mesmerizing. Jake hesitated as he walked toward them, an odd feeling creeping up his spine. The room smelled faintly of leather and cologne—a familiar scent from the locker room, but much stronger here. His resistance started to waver. “Maybe we shouldn’t destroy them,” he mumbled, almost in a trance.

“What? Are you crazy?” Matt snapped. “That’s exactly what they want.”

Before Jake could respond, the door slammed shut. They turned around to find another Coach standing there, a wide grin on his face. “Going somewhere, boys?”

Luke, trying to keep his cool, stepped forward. “We’re just looking around, Coach.”

Coach’s eyes glinted, and he pulled a golden kit off the rack, holding it out to Jake. “You’ve always been one of my best players, Jake. Why resist the inevitable? This kit was made for you.”

The temptation was too strong. Jake’s hand slowly reached out, brushing against the kit’s smooth fabric. The moment he touched it, his pupils dilated, and a glazed expression washed over his face. He couldn’t stop himself from putting it on. As the shirt slipped over his head, his resistance faded away completely. His back straightened, and when he turned to face the others, his eyes had a faint golden spiral. “Bro, you gotta try this,” Jake said with a wide, stupid grin.

Now let's make you complete Golden Boy. The assistent of coach sprayed Jake, sealing his transformation.

1 week later...

Mr. Jonathan Hale had been teaching history at Crescent High for over a decade. The smell of chalk, the sight of textbooks stacked haphazardly on desks, and the distant murmur of students in the hallway had always made him feel at home. But lately, things had changed. The usual atmosphere of Crescent High was shifting, and Mr. Hale couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It wasn’t just the students' behavior, although that had certainly become strange. There was something deeper—like an invisible force spreading across the school. He had noticed it first in the small details: students whispering in the halls, odd glances exchanged during lunch, and then… the golden jerseys.

At first, they had only been worn by a handful of students, mostly athletes, but now more and more of his students were coming to class wearing the shiny golden AC Milan kits. The jerseys seemed to exude an aura of confidence, even power. But there was something unsettling about the way the students who wore them acted. Their demeanor had shifted; they seemed almost… too happy, too sure of themselves.

One afternoon, as the bell rang and students filtered out of his classroom, Mr. Hale sat at his desk, lost in thought. That’s when Matt, Luke, and Jake walked in.

Mr. Hale had always liked Matt and Luke. They were bright, engaged, and often stayed behind after class to discuss topics beyond the curriculum. Jake, on the other hand, had recently started acting differently. Once a quiet, reserved student, Jake now wore one of those golden jerseys—his face plastered with an easy grin that never seemed to fade.

“Mr. Hale,” Luke started, nervously glancing at Matt. “We need to talk to you about something.”

The older teacher looked up, curious but slightly apprehensive. “What’s going on, boys?”

“It’s Jake,” Matt said, his voice low. “And the others. There’s something wrong with the students wearing those golden kits. They’re different. We think they’re… being changed.”

Mr. Hale raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jake, who was standing a bit too still, his arms crossed, that familiar unsettling smile plastered on his face.

“Changed how?” Hale asked.

“Bro, don’t be dramatic,” Jake interrupted, his tone casual but with an odd edge to it. “It’s just a uniform, man. We’re all part of the team now. You’ll get it soon.”

The way Jake said it made Mr. Hale’s stomach churn. Something wasn’t right.

Luke stepped closer to the desk, lowering his voice. “Coach Johnson… he’s behind all of this. The soccer team, the golden kits… once you put one on, it’s like you’re not the same anymore. Jake… he was never like this before.”

Matt nodded. “We’ve been trying to resist it, but it’s getting harder. They’re spreading those kits, and more students are getting pulled in every day.”

Mr. Hale leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He had noticed the change in Jake but had dismissed it as just the usual ebb and flow of high school life. Now, hearing Matt and Luke’s concerns, it all started to click. The golden kits, the changes in behavior, the increasing influence of Coach Johnson… it was all connected.

Hale glanced at Jake again. The boy’s smile never wavered, his eyes gleaming as if he knew something no one else did. For the first time in his career, Mr. Hale felt a chill run down his spine while looking at one of his students.

“You’re saying these jerseys are doing something to the students?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Matt nodded. “It’s more than just a uniform, sir. It’s like… once you wear it, you become part of the team. But not in a good way. You’re not yourself anymore.”

Luke chimed in, “We don’t know how to stop it, but we’re sure Coach Johnson’s behind it. He’s recruiting students one by one.”

Mr. Hale leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper. “And how are you two avoiding it?”

“We’ve been hiding,” Luke said. “We try to stay out of the locker rooms, avoid practice, but they’re everywhere. We don’t know how long we can hold out.”

Matt added, “We thought maybe you could help us. You’re the only teacher we trust. You’ve been here for years, and we know you’ve seen things change.”

Mr. Hale nodded slowly, his mind racing. “I’ve noticed something’s been off, but I didn’t realize how deep it went. This is… this is serious.”

Jake, still standing there, let out a soft chuckle. “Come on, Mr. Hale. It’s not that deep. We’re just evolving, bro. The team’s growing, and soon everyone’s going to be a part of it. You’ll see.”

Hale’s eyes narrowed. He could see now that Jake wasn’t just different—he was completely changed, like someone else entirely. And it was the golden jersey that had done it.

“We need to figure out a way to stop this,” Mr. Hale said, turning back to Matt and Luke. “But we’ll have to be careful. If what you’re saying is true, we can’t trust anyone who’s already wearing those kits.”

Matt and Luke exchanged a glance, relieved that someone finally believed them. But the weight of what they were up against hung heavy in the air.

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Matt said, determination in his voice.

Mr. Hale nodded. “First, we’ll need to gather more information. If Coach Johnson is the key, we need to find out how he’s controlling this, and how to stop it.”

Jake stepped forward, his grin widening. “You can try, bro, but once you put on the kit, you won’t want to stop it. You’ll love it. Trust me.”

Hale ignored the ominous remark and turned his attention to Luke and Matt. “Stay low. Avoid any situation where they might get you alone. And if you see any more students changing, let me know immediately. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

As Matt and Luke left the classroom, Mr. Hale glanced at Jake one last time. “Jake,” he said quietly, “what happened to you?”

Jake smiled, that same eerie grin spreading across his face. “I became part of something bigger, Mr. Hale. Soon, you will too.”

Matt and Luke hurried to the locker room after their meeting with Mr. Hale. They knew they couldn’t hide forever. The golden team was everywhere, growing larger each day. Their hope now rested in finding out how Coach Johnson and the team were spreading this strange influence—and stopping it.

As they entered the locker room, the tension was palpable. Several golden-jerseyed players were gathered in the corner, whispering among themselves. Matt and Luke stuck to the shadows, watching from behind a row of lockers. They needed to be cautious; any wrong move could get them noticed, and worse—converted.

Then they saw it.

A group of guys from the soccer tryouts had just been called in by Coach Johnson. They were led into the back area of the locker room, where a strange setup had been arranged: bottles of golden deodorant lined up on the benches, their gleaming labels flashing in the dim light. Luke squinted, confused.

“What’s that about?” he whispered.

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know… but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

They watched in silence as Coach Johnson approached the new recruits, all of whom still wore their regular athletic gear. “Alright, boys,” Johnson said with a grin. “Time to welcome you to the team.”

He picked up one of the bottles of golden deodorant, shaking it before passing it to a player standing next to him. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Give it a spray.”

The player, unsure but eager to fit in, pressed down on the nozzle. A thick mist of golden smoke filled the air around him. For a moment, the entire locker room was enveloped in the glowing fog. When it began to clear, Matt and Luke’s eyes widened in shock.

The player’s clothes had completely changed.

His casual practice gear had been replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan kit, his number clearly marked on the back. His demeanor had shifted too—where there had been hesitation moments before, now there was confidence. He looked around at his teammates, his eyes shining with that same strange glow Matt and Luke had seen in Jake.

“Welcome to the team, bro,” Coach Johnson said, clapping the player on the back.

The player, now fully transformed, gave a slow nod. “Feels right, Coach,” he replied, his voice lower, more relaxed.

One by one, the other recruits followed, each taking a bottle and spraying themselves with the golden deodorant. Each time, the golden mist clouded the air, and when it cleared, their clothes had changed—just like the first player’s. Every new recruit stood there, beaming with the same mindless smile that had unsettled Matt and Luke from the start.

“They’re using that stuff to convert them,” Luke whispered, barely able to contain his horror. “That’s how they’re doing it.”

Matt clenched his fists. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening right under his nose. As his students filed out for the day, he found an excuse to head toward the athletics wing. If Matt and Luke were right, and Coach Johnson really was at the center of this, then the answers would be in the locker room.

As he approached the door, he heard the familiar sound of laughter—low, confident, the kind of laugh that had become common among the students in golden kits. He pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make a sound.

What he saw inside confirmed his worst fears.

Coach Johnson was standing with a group of students, all of them now wearing the golden kits and blue shorts. They had formed a circle around a new recruit, one of the boys from the soccer tryouts, who was holding a bottle of the golden deodorant in his hand. The room filled with mist again, and when it cleared, the recruit had changed—just like all the others.

Mr. Hale stepped back, heart pounding. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How could something as simple as deodorant be part of the transformation? It didn’t make sense… and yet, there it was.

Hale retreated from the locker room, his mind racing. He needed to regroup with Matt and Luke. They had to figure out how to stop Coach Johnson, how to stop the golden deodorant from spreading to more students. The school was falling under the influence of the golden team, and if they didn’t act fast, it would be too late.

As he left the athletics wing, he spotted Matt and Luke by the entrance. Their faces were pale, but their eyes were determined.

“We saw it,” Luke said quietly. “We saw everything.”

“So did I,” Hale replied, his voice firm. “And now we know what we���re dealing with.”

Matt nodded. “What do we do next?”

Hale looked back at the locker room, then turned to his students. “We need to find out where that deodorant is coming from. If we can cut off the supply, maybe we can slow them down.”

Luke stepped forward. “And then what?”

Mr. Hale’s eyes hardened. “Then, we figure out how to break this… before it’s too late.”

The atmosphere around Crescent High was growing more intense by the day. The golden jerseys had spread beyond just the students; now even some staff members were wearing them. Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the eerie feeling as he passed the once-familiar faces of colleagues who had recently donned the shiny kits, their expressions vacant and their enthusiasm almost robotic.

The school’s transformation was escalating, and it wasn’t just the students being targeted anymore. Each class gets another colour shorts to know who is who.

Gym teachers GOLD:

Math teachers BLUE:

History teachers BLACK:

Biology teachers WHITE:

Matt, Luke, and Mr. Hale huddled in the history classroom, piecing together what they’d witnessed. “It’s spreading faster than we thought,” Matt said, his voice low. “It’s not just the blue students anymore.”

“They’ve started recruiting anyone who sets foot in the school,” Luke added. “Teachers, janitors, even delivery people.”

Mr. Hale nodded grimly. “The deodorant. That mist—it’s how they’re doing it. We have to move fast. If we don’t, there won’t be anyone left who’s not part of this golden team.”

Mr. Carter

Mr. Hale had always respected Mr. Carter, the math teacher across the hall. He was quiet, always kept to himself, but he cared deeply about his students. So when Mr. Hale saw him walking into the staff lounge wearing one of those golden kits, a sinking feeling settled in his chest.

He had to talk to him.

Later that day, Mr. Hale caught Mr. Carter in the hallway. “Carter,” he called out, his voice hesitant. “You got a minute?”

Mr. Carter turned, and for a brief moment, his eyes seemed to light up in recognition. But then, just as quickly, they dulled again, replaced by that same unsettling grin Mr. Hale had seen so many times before. “Hey, bro!” Mr. Carter said, his voice unusually cheery. “What’s up?”

Mr. Hale’s stomach churned. Carter had never spoken like that. “I wanted to ask you about… your new look.”

Carter chuckled. “Oh, this?” He tugged at the golden jersey, its fabric shimmering under the hallway lights. “Coach Johnson hooked me up. Said it was about time I joined the team. It feels good, man. You should try it.” Blue teacher means Math bro! All the students are now becoming blue students.

Hale’s heart raced. He had hoped that maybe the teachers were somehow different, that they would be immune. But no, Carter was fully under their control now.

“What happened, Carter?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm. “How did you… change?”

Carter’s grin widened. “Coach gave me a little nudge, that’s all. It was during lunch—just a quick spray of some new cologne he said he was testing out.” Carter leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Honestly, I didn’t think much of it at first. But after I inhaled it, everything just clicked, you know? I felt like part of something bigger.”

Hale swallowed hard, realizing the golden deodorant wasn’t just for students. Anyone could be converted. “You don’t… feel any different?”

“Only better, bro,” Carter replied, clapping Hale on the shoulder. “You’ll see.”

It wasn’t long before the golden team’s influence began to spread beyond the school. Delivery trucks rolled in and out of the Crescent High parking lot daily, and the golden team saw an opportunity to expand their reach.

One afternoon, a delivery guy named Mark pulled up to drop off sports equipment for the athletics department. He was a regular at Crescent High, often bringing in boxes of new uniforms, water bottles, and other gear for the teams. He didn’t think much of the kids wandering around in golden jerseys as he unloaded the boxes from his truck.

As Mark was organizing the shipment, a few of the golden team members approached him. “Hey man, need a hand with that?” one of them asked, flashing the familiar grin.

Mark shrugged. “Sure, if you guys don’t mind.”

As they helped him carry the boxes to the storage area, one of the team members pulled out a small bottle of the golden deodorant, holding it discreetly behind his back. When Mark wasn’t looking, he gave a quick spray, filling the air around them with a thick, golden mist.

The transformation happened almost instantly. As the mist cleared, Mark coughed lightly, rubbing his eyes. When he blinked again, his clothes had changed. His usual delivery uniform was gone, replaced by a golden AC Milan jersey, his new number shining on his back. He didn’t even notice at first. But as he stood up straight, the change settled in. His posture shifted, his expression softened into that familiar, vacant grin.

“Bro, you good?” one of the team members asked, knowing full well what had just happened.

Mark blinked, his eyes glowing faintly for a moment. “Yeah, man,” he replied, his voice relaxed and calm. “I feel great.”

The team members laughed, slapping him on the back. “Welcome to the team, bro.”

Mark smiled, completely unaware that just minutes ago, he had been a delivery driver with no ties to Crescent High. Now, he was one of them.

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale was trying to focus on his lesson plan, but his mind kept drifting back to the growing problem at Crescent High. The golden deodorant had clearly become a tool for mass recruitment, and it wasn’t just affecting students anymore. With teachers like Mr. Carter and even outsiders like delivery drivers falling under its control, the situation was quickly spiraling out of control.

He had to act.

“We need to do something about the deodorant,” Luke said, pacing around the room. “If we don’t stop them from spraying it, everyone’s going to be part of the golden team by next week.”

Matt nodded. “I’ve seen them spray it on guys when they’re not looking. It happens so fast. One minute they’re normal, and the next, they’re wearing the jersey.”

Mr. Hale stood up, his decision made. “We’re going to need help. We can’t do this alone anymore. If they’re targeting anyone who sets foot in the school, we need to find people who haven’t been exposed yet. But more importantly, we need to figure out how to reverse this.”

“But how?” Luke asked. “We don’t even know what the deodorant is made of.”

Hale glanced at the door, making sure no one was listening. “I know a few people outside of school—some old friends from the district. Maybe they can help us get to the bottom of this. But we need to be careful. If we get caught, we’ll end up like Carter or worse—like Jake.”

The three of them nodded, knowing that time was running out. The golden team was growing stronger, and soon there would be no one left who hadn’t been sprayed by the golden mist.

The plan had seemed solid—sneak into the athletics wing, destroy the golden jerseys and deodorant, and stop the transformation before it was too late. But Mr. Hale, Matt, and Luke had underestimated the power of the golden team.

As they crept into the athletics wing that night, the air felt heavier than usual, like the school itself knew what was coming. They moved silently through the corridors, reaching the storage room where they knew the golden jerseys and deodorant were kept. But as they stepped inside, their hearts sank.

The room was empty.

"Where is everything?" Matt whispered, panic creeping into his voice.

"They moved it," Hale said, his face grim. "They knew we were coming."

Before they could react, the door slammed shut behind them. Standing in the doorway was Coach Johnson, flanked by Jake, Mr. Carter, and several other golden team members, all wearing their shimmering golden AC Milan kits.

"You didn’t think we’d let you ruin everything, did you, bro?" Jake said, his voice dripping with confidence.

The Final Confrontation

Hale, Matt, and Luke were trapped, surrounded by the golden team. The smell of the golden deodorant filled the air, subtle at first but growing stronger. Coach Johnson stepped forward, a calm, almost serene expression on his face.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Johnson said softly. "This isn’t about control or domination. It’s about unity. About becoming part of something greater than yourself. You’ve seen it happen to your friends, your colleagues. And now, it’s your turn."

He held up a bottle of the golden deodorant, shaking it lightly. "It’s time to stop fighting and join the team, bro."

Matt and Luke backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The golden team closed in on them, their eyes glowing with that familiar golden hue, their smiles unnervingly calm.

Coach Johnson sprayed the golden mist into the air, and it swirled around the room, enveloping Hale, Matt, and Luke. They tried to hold their breath, to resist, but the mist was everywhere. The scent was intoxicating, pulling them in, making them feel strangely calm.

Matt was the first to fall. He coughed, then inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When he opened them again, his expression had changed. His face softened, his eyes glazed over with that same golden glow.

"Bro…" Matt muttered, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "This feels… right."

Hale watched in horror as Matt’s clothes began to shift. His regular school uniform melted away, replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan jersey. His number—24—flashed across his back. Matt stood up straighter, more confident, more powerful.

"Matt, no!" Luke shouted, but it was too late.

Coach Johnson turned the spray on Luke next, and the mist enveloped him. Luke tried to fight it, but the scent was overpowering. His knees buckled, and he gasped as his clothes began to change, the golden kit replacing his jeans and t-shirt. His number—17—appeared on his back.

Luke stood up, his face slack, his eyes empty. "Bro… it’s good," he murmured.

Mr. Hale was the last one left. He backed into the corner, but there was nowhere to run. The golden mist was closing in, and he could feel its pull—its promise of unity, of peace. He wanted to resist, but deep down, he knew it was over.

"You’ve fought well, Mr. Hale," Coach Johnson said, stepping closer. "But you’ve seen the truth. You’ve seen what we’re building here. It’s time to join us."

Hale’s mind raced, trying to think of a way out, but his body felt heavy, his thoughts clouded by the intoxicating scent of the golden mist. He coughed, inhaling the mist, and for a moment, his vision blurred.

Then, slowly, he felt his body relax. The tension melted away, replaced by a strange sense of calm. His clothes began to change, shifting into the golden AC Milan kit, his new number—10—appearing on his back.

Hale looked down at his new uniform, his heart racing. But even as panic surged through him, a part of him felt… at peace. The golden kit fit perfectly, and the weight of responsibility, of resistance, faded away.

"You’re part of the team now, bro," Jake said with a grin.

Hale looked up, his eyes glowing faintly with the golden hue. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, all that came out was a soft, resigned, "Bro… I am Blue"

Crescent High Transformed

By morning, Crescent High was no longer the school it once was. The golden team had taken over completely. Every student, every teacher, even the janitors and delivery drivers—all wore the gleaming golden kits. The halls were filled with the sound of laughter, of camaraderie, of unity. There were no more outsiders, no more resistance.

Mr. Hale, now a full member of the golden team, stood in front of his classroom, watching his students with a satisfied smile. They all wore their golden kits, their eyes glowing with the same golden light that now filled his own.

"Alright, bros," Hale said, his voice smooth and confident. "Let’s get started."

He no longer felt the need to fight. The golden team had won, and in the end, it felt right. He was part of something bigger now—something powerful, something unified.

As the day went on, the golden mist continued to spread. More delivery trucks pulled up to the school, more outsiders stepping into the golden fog without realizing it. Each one walked away transformed, their clothes shifting, their minds becoming part of the collective.

Crescent High was no longer just a school. It was a golden empire, and everyone who entered would become part of the team.

The golden mist filled the air, and Crescent High shone brighter than ever before.

[cremedensada]

I’m gonna need general hcs on interactions with the boy next door… like what if we just moved to town and we first meet him as we’re moving in… Also can they be in like highschool? I don’t know if that’s already the gist but yeah. She’s moving in with her mom and he’s there…

Yandere Boy Next Door

sorry anon i think i went way to far away from what you wanted shdhdh also theyre senior high school students (grade 11 - 12) which is like, two preparatory years for college. so theyre adults bc im much more comfortable with that :33

btw his name is lukas !! he's named now

male yandere + gender neutral darling/reader

lukas is easily approachable - he's got that warmth about him that just draws people in. it's all practiced to maintain his popularity though.

he's also a huge people-pleaser, despite the fact he easily gets burnt out and has his social battery drained.

so when his mom asked him to be a dear and help the new neighbor's kid on their way around the school + neighborhood, he just couldn't say no

sure he's tired, possibly close to having another breakdown just thinking about being pestered by fellow students for answers to homeworks and other menial stuff, but he still manages to say yes and give her another perfectly practiced smile

when he goes over to the house next to theirs - the ones you moved in to, you had no lasting impression on him

now, don't be mistaken, he does think you're good looking but at the end of the day he'd much rather curl up in bed and sleep

so he puts up that perfectly crafted persona and invites you to head to school with him. a new environment is much easier to deal with when you're not dealing with it by yourself! (or something like that)

he tries not to be overbearing, trying to get you to open up while also making sure he's respecting your boundaries and comfort as you made your way inside the school gates

you don't share the same classes, so he asks you for your time table so he knows your schedule

he hopes he's not being creepy or anything, he's just making sure your first day transferring here goes well

sure he's known for being a caring person in general but he does feel like it's his responsibility to make sure you're doing well you know? you're neighbors now, you guys should get along!

it's smooth sailing until it's time you guys finally went home

like that morning, he waits for you and invites you to walk home with him to familiarize with the shortcuts and local lounging spots for students

all the while he tries to get you to talk about your experience today

it must be due to the amount of stress piled up on his plate that lead him to feel... nervous.

his perfect persona cracking as his calm demeanour and collected way of talking slowly devolved into nervous tangents talking about anything at all

were you displeased? his perfection was practiced and polished since he was a kid, was it still not enough for you?

he could handle disappointing people a lot better now but paired with his currently leaning towards unstable, your displeasure is something that's slowly tearing him from the inside

he's jolted out of his thoughts when you suddenly speak up.

"thanks for showing me around. i thought i was going to struggle getting used to things all by myself."

you smiled up at him. "so... yeah. you're... okay."

his heart thumped.

everywhere all around him feels a ton of degrees warmer.

"...okay." lukas was tongue tied.

on the remainder of the journey back home, he walked you to your house, ensuring you got inside safely before making a beeline towards their house and into his room.

normally at this hour he'd be passed out in bed, tired after a whole day of pretending and smiling. today was perhaps the first time he didn't go to bed with his cheeks hurting and aching from smiling so much.

laying in bed, making an excuse as to why he's not going to be joining for dinner, just thinking about you and your words.

lukas grew up living to the standards of being perfect. a perfect son. a perfect student. a perfect friend.

anything less is... unacceptable to say the least. when you do or think of something so often in your day to day life, it becomes a habit. and lukas' habit is perfection.

but you thought he was okay.

okay.

suddenly 'okay' sounds much better than being perfect.

suddenly your opinion towards him becomes much more important than anyone else's.

lukas is a people pleaser, and onwards from that moment, the only 'people' he will ever want to please is you.

i hope this is sufficient? i'm actually v sleepy rn lol but thank you for the idea!

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: a handful of insecurities the ikemen guys would adore.

WARNINGS: none!! :D

COMMENTS: happy holidays everyone!! i hope this makes at least one person feel loved by their fav <3 just know that this isnt a decisive list and that no matter your insecurity your favorite suitor would adore you to bits.

you might think that they're silly for adoring your stomach so much, worshiping any extra fat or polished muscle you possess. they revel in your softness, burying their face into your midsection whenever they get the chance, kissing the skin there when they wake up and resting a hand over your belly button when you two go to sleep. if you’re ticklish there, watch out, because they take great joy in poking and prodding you just to hear you giggle.

arthur, dazai, will, charles, luke, silvio, edgar, kyle, seth, loki, masamune, mitsunari, motonari.

they don't understand what’s so embarrassing about your body hair. to them, it adds a sort of human softness to your legs as they run their hands down your calves, feeling the slight prickle of where each strand begins and ends. they think it’s beautiful, smiling so softly as they cup your knee, rubbing their thumbs across your skin. they do the same to your arms, cherishing every inch of your body,  just to remind you that even if you don’t like your body hair, they do because it's you.

leonardo, vincent, faust, clavis, zero, sirius, fenrir, mitsuhide, shingen.

your nose is often where their kisses land, sprinkling the bridge of it with their love and affection. they caress your face so tenderly as they bump their nose against yours, and you can feel the smile on their lips when they lean in to kiss you again. no matter what shape or what size, they will never stop thinking that your nose suits you just perfectly.

isaac, jean, leon, yves, sariel, keith, jonah, luka, dean, oliver, hideyoshi, keiji.

they think your acne and your scars are beautiful, even if you hate the way they look on your body. they insist it could never take away from your beauty, that you will always and forever be radiant, even with the red marks and the dull, faded scars. they’ll help you take care of them so you aren’t hurt, but they will never let you believe that you’re ugly. that word should not be associated with you, not when you have constellations speckled across your face and scars that are on their precious love and their precious love alone.

napoleon, sebastian, licht, nokto, alter keith, ray, dalim, mousse, yukimura, kanetsugu, kicho.

...and along with acne, they know you could never look prettier, especially not without your cellulite or stretch marks or anything in between. they trace the folds and warps in your skin with reverence because you are their love, their light, and their darling, and for as long as they live they want nothing more than to be able to hold you. because you are a human being who is worthy of love, if not for your humanity then because of your humanity.

mozart, theo, comte, vlad, jin, chevalier, rio, gilbert, lancelot, harr, blanc, nobunaga, ieyasu, ranmaru, kenshin, sasuke, yoshimoto, kennyo.

[authormorganlawson]

Listen, I never had much interest in Yanqing as a character. There was never anything wrong with him, his story just didn't appeal to me specifically. (And as a boss? I despise him. He is one of my least favorite bosses to fight!)

But I can't stop thinking about the way he dropped his swords against Luka and fought him hand-to-hand. It was so touching and so brilliant. He ended up being one of the most well-polished characters I've ever seen. That scene is so extraordinary to me.