#but it's really tiring that he keeps winning

[reignpage]

Quick! Go Hide

in which you prank the sleeping jjk men by telling them, 'You need to hide; my boyfriend's home!'...saw it on tiktok heh

Satoru croaks, “Oh, shit. He is?” 

Groggily, he clambers out of bed and hides in the bathroom, bare feet padding. In the dark, he waits. Seconds pass and he shows no sign of realising what games you’re playing. When you go to collect him, you find him asleep, standing with his forehead pressed to the cold tile, drooling. 

“Is he gone?” He asks, voice raspy, shaken awake once again. You nod, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “Good ‘cause I’m too tired to fight anyone…I’d win though.” 

Soon after, in bed, he continues sleeping. And it’s only in the morning that you find him grinning and prodding your puffy cheek. “That was really funny, babe. Ten out of ten. No notes.”

Suguru's brows furrow. Without opening his eyes, he mutters, “Nice try.”

“No, really. You gotta go; he’ll kill you.” A curse emerges, large and foreboding, just watching in the corner of the room. Shivers wrack your body. It doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, nor utter a single sound. Still, the message is clear. You roll your eyes and cuddle into your boyfriend’s side. “You’re no fun.”

He tucks you in close. “Try again in the morning, pretty girl. I’m sure I’ll be more fun when I’m not half asleep.”

Choso startles awake, bloodshot eyes widening. “Oh no. What should we do?”

He lets you shove him into the closet, shirtless and hair a mess. There he stands patiently, shuffling on his feet and holding his breath. Then, when a minute passes, he has a moment of realisation. Creaking open, the closet door widens to reveal him – he looks unimpressed…and pouty. 

“I’m your only boyfriend; why do I need to hide?”

You giggle. “Sorry, Cho. It was just a joke.’

“I don’t really see what’s funny,” he grouches as he gets back into bed with you, wrapping his arms tight around your body and tucking his head in the crook of your neck, quickly forgetting your prank once his senses are overwhelmed with you. 

Toji peeks one eye at your faux panicked face. He shoves it away, grumbling under his breath about how much of a brat you are and shifts into a different position; he’s got his back turned to you now. Undeterred, you shake him one more time. “I’m being serious. You gotta hide, Toji.”

“Leave me alone, woman. I don’t wanna deal with your shit right now.”

You drape your entire body over his. His beefy arm comes around to keep you steady, in case you fall off the bed with your clumsy ass. “Okay, but if he beats you up and takes me away, your loss.”

He grunts. “I’d like to see anyone try.”

Then, to keep your mouth from disturbing his sleep any longer, he suffocates your face in between his pecs, a hand on your ass, groping it for compensation.

Kento jolts, hands grabbing you to push your body behind his. He scans the room, then the door, waits for the intruder, ready to defend. Only when he hears your stifled laughter does he truly process what you told him. He sighs, hand rubbing down his face. “Can’t sleep again, darling?”

“No. The baby keeps kicking me.” You smile when his warm palm caresses your stomach. 

Leaving a kiss on your forehead, he mutters, “I’ll give them a stern talking to; no child of mine hurts my wife. Now, would you like a midnight snack or should we stay up and watch the stars again?”

Lifted out of bed, he carries you in his arms, intent on keeping your bare feet from touching the cold floor. Even as sleep still courses through his veins, he’s determined to meet your every need – Kento couldn’t fall asleep again knowing you’re wide awake anyway. 

Sukuna doesn’t awaken. He’s as still as a corpse. You try again. And again. Nothing. When you pout and smack his chest, one of his four arms snatches your waist and slides you onto his huge body. Your ass is being patted, as is your head, and with another arm, he rubs your back. 

Calmly, his chest rumbles with his words. “All your previous partners are dead. No one will disturb us. Sleep.”

“Okay, Kuna…wait…no, they aren’t.”

He doesn’t reply, leaving you to wonder when he had the time to hunt them down one by one when he spends so much time never leaving your side in the first place. No answer comes to mind, not when his body can be so persuasive in pulling you to the land of slumber with him. Though, you are certain he whispers, ‘They will be,’ when he thinks you won’t hear. Try and follow up the next day though and he’ll shrug off your concerns with a, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

[abyssyby]

sylus can sense you as soon as he steps into the base. he knows you’re not far, knows you’re just a few steps away. but he doesn’t know why.

today is a wednesday. no breaks or holidays upcoming on your schedule (which he familiarized himself with). so… maybe an off-day? a sick leave? his stomach curls at the thought of you being ill. but simultaneously melts at the thought of you coming to him to recover.

he finds you curled up on his softest couch in the living area. caressed by an eerie warm light. wrapped in a blanket, eyes far away despite the book in your hand. he starts to worry when you barely notice him come closer. he waves a palm before you to draw your attention to him.

you blink, tired eyes finding the concerned gaze of your beloved. each line on his face asking, begging you to tell him what’s wrong.

“hi.” you murmur as he tilts you forward. he slides his leg between you and the backrest, his other plants itself on the ground, his arms drape over your shoulders, he leans against the armrest and he pulls you with him back into his chest. urging you to sink into him, let him carry the weight that makes your shoulders slump and your eyes lose their light.

his lips trail over the crown of your head, the shell of your ear, the plump of your cheek and finally the gasp from your lips. his timbre low and thoughtful, “how was your day?”

there is a clog in your throat that makes you swallow. a burning between and behind your eyes. a set in your jaw at his question that tells him more than words can convey.

“bad.” he concludes in a murmur, pulling back to cradle the softness of your face and turn it towards his. crystalline eyes confirm his suspicions.

“tell me?” he tries, thumb gliding back and forth over your warm skin. heated cheeks beneath his ministrations are doused with droplets of saltwater.

and so you cry, you hiccup and sob, you try your best to speak, to tell him— but how do you put it in words? how fed up you are? how much you feel you’re stuck in a loop? how far behind you feel? how no matter how hard you run, which route you take, you feel like you will end up nowhere?

how do you tell him you want to win when you have no idea how to play? that you want to breathe but your lungs are filled with smoke? that you are tired. so, so incredibly tired that nothing means anything anymore?

it’s a mess out your lips. stuttered syllables and tumbling words. and yet he nods like you are speaking clearly. he squeezes your hands like he understands.

he presses his forehead to your cheek as if he bears the pain with you too— and he does, not entirely, but the ache in your chest resonates into his own like an awful symphony.

and he will take it time and time again if it made even the slightest difference to you. if it made you feel less alone.

and you will never be alone. not while he breathes.

he does not speak when you ramble. his eyes may wander to check on your body for any injury or pain, but his attention is solely on you. he is taking notes in his mind on what made you snap, who made you upset, at which point was it all too much— while nuzzling his face into your neck.

and when you falter, your voice ceases to a whisper and then nothing at the thought that he might not be listening. that he might not want to listen to you drone on and on about your miserable week; be a weeping victim of your own circumstances, he hums something patient into your shoulder. “keep going.”

“i’m saying too much.” you sigh. your nails run over his scalp, your attention abruptly shifting to his needs and not your own. “how was your day?”

“good.” he simply says, reveling at the trickling needles down his spine at your touch. “keep going.”

you do, you trail your nails over his head, down the nape of his neck, and under his chin. and when you don’t say anything, he kisses your palm, whispering. “keep talking, beloved.”

taken aback at his request, you frown. “it’s really just… you don’t want to hear it.”

gentle. so achingly gentle, he breathes. “but i do.”

“it’s not important.”

“no.” he rasps, coming up again to peer down at you. to make sure you know, you understand— that everything you say is important to him. everything you are is important. your everything— your thoughts, your stories, your opinions, your experiences— is everything to him.

“no,” he says again, slow and raw and genuine. he brushes strands of hair away from your scarlet rimmed eyes and brushes his lips over each one. “it’s you.”

and you will always be important.

his arms are a solace to the world that feels endless. his presence is salvation to your rupturing soul. and he feels like an end worth running towards.

your awful day ends. tomorrow, the world will ask you to try again. and you will. but for now you are here, and so is he, and you rest knowing he always will be.

[oscpstri]

radio check

ft. the '23 grid, radio messages

jessie d'angelo is iconic in many ways. one of them being the fact that she always has quick comebacks in her radio messages for every race.

warnings: so much swearing, a lot of mad, bad italian

note: got bored. vented about my own personal anger issues. but jess is funnier than me. italics are the team

( run it back )

"Who's the brainiac in the annoying orange cosplay?" Jessie radios in, shaking her head in agitation.

"That was Norris."

"Great. I mean I get that December's around the corner but it's far too early to be winter already in that head of his."

"Jessie, it just turned November."

"So? December's the next one isn't it?"

"What the hell? Is the line long or something? Tell Magnussen to wake up, we're in the middle of Monaco."

"I'm afraid he's defending Hulkenburg."

"I'm afraid he's holding up the line checking his teammate's rear out like that."

"Hot damn! Did those two Alpine's just miss each other or what?"

"I believe Ocon had a lockup which ultimately caused the crash."

"Well send Esteban my best regards and tell him thanks for the points!"

"Good double overtake on Sainz and Gasly there, Jess. Alonso is right up ahead."

"Damn. This has to be some sort of historical accuracy. I might've just rewrote history right there."

"We'll get you back on your history lessons once you win this race, Jessie."

"Check for damage. Some Aston Martin just rammed into me."

"That was Stroll. No damage found. You're good to go."

"Jesus... if he wanted a kiss so bad then he could've just asked."

"Box, box."

"What if instead of changing my tires, we change drivers. Sound good?"

"What?"

"I don't think Seb would mind winning one more race."

"I think he would."

"Bet."

"No. Jessie."

"The car is fucked guys. I don't– I don't know what to tell you."

"Copy that, Jessie. We're looking into it right now."

" I just got passed up by a Haas guys. This cannot be happening."

"Ok Jessie, you've just been issued a 5-second penalty."

"For what?"

"Leaving the track and gaining an advantage."

"They blind? I already gave the position back."

"We know. They have still decided to continue with the penalty."

"Cool. At least I know what to give the FIA for Secret Santa this year."

"Who the fuck was that? Is he stupid or what?"

"That was Charles."

"Oh. Never mind we're good. Might bring some light back in his eyes."

"Ma che cazzo ha fatto quello là?! Stronzo!"

(What the fuck was that guy doing?! Asshole!")

"Alright Jessie, we're gonna need you to retire the car. Too much damage to your front wing."

"Quel figlio di puttana mi ha buttato fuori apposta! È un fottuto circo!"

(That son of a bitch took me out on purpose! This is a fucking circus!)

"Calm down, Jess. We don't want this to get any worse than it already is."

"Sì, cazzo Gasly, man. Un genio, davvero. Genio!"

(Yeah, fucking Gasly, man. A genius, really. Genius!)

"Wow. Didn't know hammertime entailed pushing me off the track.

"They're looking into it, Jess."

"Might as well deploy a safety car while they're at it. Might have Verstappen's luck in Abu Dhabi."

"...No comment."

"Fucking hell. There's nothing I can do, man."

"We know, we know. The situation isn't ideal right now."

"I have a pitch. What if we ditch the cars completely? Monaco could be a race on foot or something."

"Noted. Will send that to the GPDA."

"Tell Carlos I'll let him overtake if he approves the pitch."

"We will not be telling him that."

"I'll tell him myself then."

"Tell whoever that was that I'm gonna take that piece of my front wing that just came off and shove it right up his–"

"That was Albon."

"..."

"Jess?"

"My king..."

"Interesting."

"That's P2, Jess. Well done!"

"Woo! Thanks guys. Thanks so much. Was a rough weekend but I'm glad we ended it with a bang."

[SEBASTIAN] "P2, sorellina! Brava, ottimo lavoro!"

"Seb! Grazie! Grazie mille!"

[SEBASTIAN] "Lets keep it coming, Jess! Show these people what you're capable of!"

"Hell yeah! I'll toast to that!"

"Alright, Jess. Let's move to Plan C."

"C? I thought we were already on C."

"No... that was Plan A."

"Have we done B?"

"Jessie. Do you know it or not?"

"...I'll know it. Give me one lap."

"Hello? Is no one gonna note the hit that De Vries just put on me?"

"They've dismissed the incident."

"What?"

"Yep."

"Everyone just loves a Dutchman, huh?"

"Overtake available on Piastri."

"Copy."

"Sainz is 1.4 behind you."

"Yep, got it. Tell him to get in line."

"Alright, Jessie. Just reminding you of your water."

"Not thirsty."

"Didn't you talk this out with Sebastian already?"

"There's free champagne if I get to the finish line first, y'know? Champagne is very hydrating."

"Good god."

[soartfullydone]

I finished Expedition 33 last night, and if I don't talk about both endings and my feelings, I will go insane. Do NOT 🫵 read this if you haven't finished the endings, for real

This game has me so...! Gnawing on my hands, gnawing on my hands

By the time the choice comes around, I had a feeling about which one I'd ultimately prefer, but I wouldn't know for sure unless I played both. Imagine my surprise to not only see my preference change but to also find so much more to wrestle with than I expected with both.

I don't currently prescribe that one ending is automatically the "good," "right," or "morally correct" ending over the other. Neither is perfectly happy, or particularly neat, or overwhelmingly cathartic. They're messy and complex and painful like the grief they're addressing, their futures equally uncertain. It really does come down to personal preference, what the player is willing to sacrifice and let go of, what they are most emotional about.

I chose Maelle's first because I thought it would be the one that I'd stick with. She had my loyalty first over Verso, and I was unwilling to lose Sciel, Lune, Monoco, and Esquie. I wanted a future for them where all the pain and terror they've endured could be transformed into happiness. I wanted their loved ones returned to them and for me, as the player, to have Gustave back, allowing him and Sophie to have their "in another world."

Throughout Act 3, Verso seems to be thawing slowly to the idea of living on, too. He's still soul-tired and painfully aware of his own existence within the scope of the Dessendre family's ongoing strife and grief, but if everyone in the Canvas is real, that means he is, too. The others accept him as himself, Verso, and not Verso Dessendre. He talks about going on more adventures with Esquie. Of bringing back all the people he's lied to, so he can get the chance to explain to them why, to maybe reconcile with them. Losing Julie in particular cost him deeply, and that's a wound that could be addressed at last. He romanced Sciel in my playthrough, and he's taken aback and a little hurt when she calls off their situationship if her husband can be revived, implying how much he's starting to value that connection with her. He wants to win back the trust he broke with Sciel and Lune, in particular. He and Maelle plan to perform a concert in Lumiere. He and Monoco are him and Monoco, in complete understanding of each other as the best of friends are. He and Lune discuss future plans and how settling down doesn't seem like him.

And that's really the glaring crack of it all. Verso is trying to get on board and imagine a future where he doesn't want to die, where living seems worth it. A lot of people call him a liar and a betrayer, but I think the person Verso lies to most is himself. Because all these glimmers of hope for the future are also met with constantly losing his family until he's alone. They had to kill painted!Renoir and painted!Aline. Maelle Gommaged painted!Alicia right in front of him without giving him a chance to say goodbye. Painted!Clea had to kill herself to escape from the Canvas. Verso even had to put Simon to rest and carry on his mission.

By the time the party arrives to confront real!Renoir, I truly believe that Verso was on board with their plan, or as on board as he could be: defeat Renoir, protect the Canvas, revive everyone, keep living. If Verso had premeditated betraying the party, I feel like he would've done so during the Renoir fight, choosing to side with him to stop Maelle in that moment. Instead, during and directly after the fight, something happened. Many somethings that shattered Verso's illusions and his lies until he couldn't run from the truth they concealed anymore.

The first was real!Aline returning to the Canvas to influence the fight in Maelle's favor, something she had no business doing in her current condition. The second was Renoir showing the party Aline's suffering in the real world, suffering she was enduring to keep painted!Verso and the sliver of her son's real soul alive. The third was Renoir's many pleas and desperation for Maelle to not end up the same way, for fear of losing her to this obsession, too. And the fourth was Maelle's lie that she wouldn't. There's a particular thing Maelle does when she's becoming manic. Her eyes get super, almost uncomfortably, wide, and Jennifer English puts this high strain on her voice because she's trying to convince you that she's not lying, that she herself believes every word. It's like looking at a glass sculpture that's seconds from shattering at the right pressure. This has happened a couple of times throughout the game, particularly when things are getting desperate and unmoored.

The camera focuses on Verso every time these events are playing out, and every time, his despair grows stronger and stronger. He feels personally responsible for all this suffering and for the suffering his presence has yet to cause. And here is Maelle, who has previously seemed so certain of herself, so steady, so confident, especially with her memories back, and now she's unraveling right in front of Verso, and she hasn't even taken full ownership of the Canvas yet. Of course that's the moment he betrays the group and their wishes. Yes, Verso wants to die, Maelle's ending makes that heartbreakingly clear, but I think he also wants to save Maelle, the single member of the Dessendre family that is both real on the outside and real to him. He doesn't want her grief and guilt over Verso's death to bind her to it any further, and he doesn't want her to hide behind her love for her painted!friends and family to do so. The escapism has to end. She has to face reality.

But like I said, in this instance, I chose Maelle's ending, A Life to Paint, first, and what plays out is both idyllic and horrific, but not at first. Maelle compromises with Verso, giving him the option to grow old at last. For them to have "just this one lifetime" together, implying she'll leave the Canvas and rejoin her family after Verso lives a natural life and dies. Lumiere is restored. The past dead expeditioners are revived. Gustave and Sophie are together and happy; Sciel has her husband back. All have gathered to watch an aged Verso perform, like they'd promised before.

But Verso is reluctant to play. He's visibly tired, visibly unhappy; he looks dead on his feet. And the shot of Paintress!Maelle is viscerally shocking, eerie, and unsettling. Everything is in monochrome, and suddenly, nothing feels right. She has a child with her, a child with Verso's dark hairstyle, and now I'm left wondering if that child is the next Verso, the one who will take over when the aged Verso expires, this one lifetime stretching out endlessly in another version of immortality, with Maelle never intending to leave.

I'm reminded then, too, of the Gestrals and their reincarnation cycle. What we learn about Noco's death from Monoco is that Noco was once his mentor, that Noco has died many times, and that Monoco got in trouble for "skipping the queue" and reviving Noco early because he missed him so much. Every time Noco is reincarnated, he has none of his past memories and he's never the same Noco as before. Monoco has had to mourn not only Noco's death but also the Noco he loses once Noco is reborn. Yet he can't let him go, has to continuously bring him back and reforge their relationship even though it causes Monoco incredible pain and grief each time.

So how do we know that all the people Maelle resurrects are truly "them"? How do we know that Gustave and Sophie are the Gustave and Sophie that we know and not the versions that Maelle simply remembers or wants them to be? Is any of this sandbox truly real anymore, or is Maelle's fantasy of an ideal existence playing out at the cost of Verso's actual soul, his child self trapped in suffering to maintain the Canvas, not to mention her and her family's health and mental states?

On the flip side, there's Verso's ending, A Life to Love. He defeats Maelle and holds her as she Gommages and returns to the real world, comforting her the way real!Verso did before he died. He gives Verso's soul the choice to stop painting, knowing the Canvas will cease to exist soon after, killing Sciel, Lune, Monoco, and Esquie along with all chance of them bringing back everyone else who's been Gommaged. If you believe the people and creatures in the painting are as real as those without, then this feels like murdering entire civilizations and ecosystems. All so painted!Verso can finally die and for Maelle and the other Dessendres to face their grief and heal. Do the needs of the few overshadow the will of the many?

You have Monoco and Esquie embrace Verso as a final goodbye, themselves willing to go, in total understanding of Verso's choice. You have Sciel step forward, reaching her own understanding with Verso as someone who's also had grief blind and bind her, who knows how far into the dark you have to sink to attempt to take your own life.

And then there's Lune, who cold-eyed stares right at Verso before sitting down in full view of him, unforgiving, uncompromising, unflinching. Over and over, Verso has betrayed her trust, burned her hope, and her judgment of this choice is the last thing she will ever give him, on behalf of those they've lost and those they now can never save. This is a moment that stays with you well past Lune's Gommage, a silent, accusing voice saying, "I can't believe you would do this."

And we return to the real world at last, the Dessendres finally reunited, each of them standing over Verso's grave, honoring his memory and commiserating over their shared loss. The siblings stand equidistantly apart from their parents, who take comfort in each other, seeming to have reconciled after being so long at war. Maelle is muted and scarred, having returned to a life she claimed she'd find no joy in—but she and Clea share a smile over their parents' behavior, their earlier animosity stowed away, for now at least. It's not clear if Aline still blames Alicia for Verso's death or if Maelle is still subject to Clea's harsh judgments. It's not clear how much mourning and growing closer the family has yet to do, but there's a hopeful note that wrestling with losing Verso is getting a little more endurable.

But is the chance for the Dessendre family to heal worth all the lives in the Canvas? Should Aline and Renoir have preserved their son's soul no matter what? Should Maelle have been forced into a life where she is disfigured, in constant pain, unable to speak? Would it have been better if she'd stayed in the Canvas, even if it was to live a lie so she'd never need to face reality?

A Life to Paint and A Life to Love both present a very "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omales" angle that people are going to be chewing on and arguing about for a good, long time, and I'd rather people did that than be perfectly content with it, no notes, you know? It's why this game is going to have incredible staying power beyond release and award seasons. The way it turns a macro-story about saving a civilization and defeating monsters into a micro-story about shared grief and the sometimes terrible choices you make because of your pain is extraordinary. The way it confronts your relationship with art, your co-dependency on it and your avoidance of reality, is a discussion that really hits home with me.

That's probably why I prefer Verso's ending, although I truly enjoy both, the results they give and the questions they present. Painted!Verso being able to save not only Verso's soul and Maelle (not to mention the Dessendre family at large) feels like more of a tangible "win" to me than Maelle's, even though it really hurts losing Lune, Sciel, Monoco, and Esquie for good. Those are my little guys that I love so much, you know? I went on this journey with them! Shouldn't that mean something?

I think we've confused meaning with being rewarded, and using that reward to attribute meaning. I've seen the sentiment of it all being for nothing if you don't choose Maelle's ending, that bonding with these characters is pointless if you can't save them, and, hm, really? Can't the journey still matter, even if you don't get the desired outcome? Aren't the bonds still real, even if they're broken? For instance, maybe you think the last several Star Wars movies or tv shows suck. Does that mean it was pointless to develop bonds or strong feelings for any of the characters or story beats? If something connected with you, shouldn't you still value it, even if you have to let that connection go in some way or form?

For me, we wouldn't feel the attachments we do to those in the Canvas without Verso painting it, his death, and his family's expressions of grief. We wouldn't have the Canvas' wonder and whimsy without young Verso's initial vision. We wouldn't have the Fracture, the Axons, the Unfinished Nevrons, the Gommage, etc. without various members of this family making chess moves against each other. The Dessendres give Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 a level of depth and meaning it wouldn't have otherwise, and it feels only natural that it ends with them and their collective willingness to move on, leaving no one else behind. (Or, who knows, maybe they'll all get on board with Clea's vendetta against the Writers, a revenge quest that is its own kind of faux-healing and avoidance.)

We even see Maelle holding Verso's stuffed Esquie at the gravesite. She still carries everything and everyone in the Canvas with her, just in a more healthy, less obsessed way. We know, also, that Maelle is a great and strong Paintress in her own right. What kinds of Canvases will she create? If reality gets to be too much at times, can she escape for a while but know when it's best to return, thanks to her parents' lessons and warnings?

I don't really have the answers to any of my questions, and that's okay. I'm happy to speculate forever. What a game!

[chodzacaparodia]

Please let Isagi lose, he's too used to winning all the time.

[whenthelightisrunninglow]

how's the other guy holding up

[the-kipsabian]

[lialuvspiwon]

mood cause keeho got rid of the caramel mullet

[papsiguesss]

Put on Dracula (1958) yesterday in honour of Christopher Lee’s birthday. And of course, both the NECA and the Yarn bois were there to see it! The visual of them all watching the film together was too cute not to draw so here we are! 🥰

[pergaminaa]

Modern au

While yes Manon has a gazillion issues but she is confrontational and assertive af.

Her grandmother might have fucked her up all the way to next Sunday but she also raised her to be a leader and this is what Manon is essentially is. She doesn’t hesitate, she doesn’t cower, she doesn’t walk on eggshells around others (that is only reserved for her grandmother because her entire body KNOWS to be careful around her).

She was born to be a leader and this is what her entire life consisted of: her grandmother certainly didn’t believe in starting from the bottom up. No. She literally threw her to the sharks and told her to be just like them.

Which is why Manon always had too much on her plate because she is the heir of her grandmother. It’s all she knows: she commands, and she is used to others doing exactly to her bidding, no questions asked. This is why despite everything, she has a hard time hearing ‘no’ because no one dared say that to her her entire life.

This is why Dorian found it amusing. Manon was self destructing, with how she overworks herself and doesn’t get much rest (her best was to sleep for 4 hours at night) so there were a lot of ‘no’ coming from Dorian (and Glennis who wasn’t too amused because why are you about to throw a fit just because things aren’t going your way).

Dorian is great with Manon though, between the two of them, he’s the one in control (because Manon found it so freeing to let go and just… let Dorian take care of things) and this is how he slowly introduced her to the concept of ‘no’ because she really couldn’t cope with that. She literally fought him every step of the way but Dorian is patient and quite assertive, so Manon couldn’t really get her way even though she tried different tactics. It’s because Dorian KNEW what she was doing so he just let her have her moments but ultimately he didn’t change his mind.

Yes, she’s basically so spoiled lol

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[alwayshappyhoursomewhere]

Cup of China 2023 - Adam Siao Him Fa and Shoma Uno during the men’s victory ceremony

[sunwukxng]

I'm about to McFreaking lose it. 🥹

[ambagelbraindump]

I’m going to yeet my boss into the fucking sun

[satoblue]

sometimes i think of satoru who never left the grasps of his clan, who never went to jujutsu tech, who never made friends and was isolated bc he was seen as greater than — a version of satoru who isn’t like the one we know.

he is cold and calculated, prideful and silent. he doesn’t tease or joke — he mocks. never having grown out of these traits since he was a child, he’s never had a reason to hide them. incredibly lonely, yet he is used to it. might even prefer it.

and the blindfold. as he’s grown older, continued to master his technique, he’s learned ways to hone the power of his six eyes. rarely is he ever seen with it off. it is a protective shield as much as it is a weapon.

guarded even at his wedding ceremony, a courtship he cared for very little and had no decision in making — he hadn’t removed it for the seemingly special day. this wasn’t a moment of celebration for him after all. he found no joy in such things.

satoru had assumed, with his distant demeanor, that you would come to avoid him just the same, realize there was no hope for you in this union preordained by your clan and his. after all, this marriage was fulfilled out of duty — not love.

and yet, what is it about him that intrigues you so? that you would rather trail behind him wherever he goes, wherever that may be?

satoru is not easily amused, nor is he easily impressed, but the way you choose to keep up with him as he intentionally walks far distances to tire you out fills him with both — along with a nagging irritation because you simply won’t take the hint and leave him be.

what game are you playing at? you must have an ulterior motive. you are already wedded to him, the strongest. is that not enough for you? for your family?

apparently not.

when satoru enters a room, he won’t even glance your way if you happen to occupy it — as if you’re a stranger and not his wife. will barely notice you there until you walk up to him and greet him, your husband.

he’ll do his part, exchange formalities but nothing more. no where is he required to participate in your game of cat and mouse in public.

yet, even in the face of his snide remarks used to scare you off in private, at every turn — you were there consistently. waiting. for what?

if there were two words to describe you, it would be persistent and troublesome. most would stop at any attempts by now after being faced with his lack of interest.

he is both annoyed and intrigued at what the response may be. mainly due to the fact you don’t seem to be losing that spark of yours. if anything, his behavior has you more riled up. satoru couldn’t shake you off no matter how hard he tried. you always found him, always knew where he liked to go to hide from you.

and you’ll talk when you manage to catch up. a lot. about the servants, the food, idle gossip, your family. he’s never met anyone so chatty. but then again, he was never one for small talk. so, maybe it is a good thing. you ramble on about practically any topic that comes to your head. and he realizes in a way, alike himself — you have no filter.

satoru speculates that you have some type of scheme up your sleeve, when really, you just want to get to know the man you were made to marry.

everyone knows who he is, but at the same time, they don’t. it’s complicated. you want to learn more about him, you want to know how expressive those eyes are under that mask. you want to know what makes him tick. the things that make him angry, cry (if possible), or even laugh.

he has a pleasant voice — you’ve deduced — from what little words he speaks, and you’d like to hear him laugh. at least once. you’d like that a lot.

it is why you chatter on. about anything really. and you take it as a win when you say something so far fetched, so absolutely absurd to his ears that the corner of his lip betrays him, fighting not to twitch upwards. and maybe he does come to enjoy it a little.

he’s always been the center of everyone’s attention ever since he was a child. but yours in particular seems to stick lately. he can always feel when someone’s eyes are on him, yet, it is your gaze that seems to stand out amongst them.

or maybe it’s because… he’s starting to watch you too.

[shadystranger]

they can't keep getting away with this

I love how we just keep winning