#demo woman cosplay

[saturnplaza]

People keep calling me bloody marry -- These uncultured swines

BITCH IM DEMO WOMAN

had to re do my makeup twice today but the photos above is the makeup im keeping all day

[noahnecromancy]

demolition lover face paint :D

[pubby-mill]

They all cheat at cards and the checkers are lost My cellmate's a killer, they make me do push-ups in drag But nobody cares if you're losing yourself Am I losing myself?

op is a computer hooker. mdni.

[giantgirlworld]

https://www.instagram.com/arcaloid_hk/

[cringefortress2]

One person on telegram asked me about my fave TF2 canon characters so gonna post this doodle in here too

I had a whole explanation for each character but it would be too hard to make two versions of this picture. So I can just say here in description that: - Demo is the most handsome man with kind heart among mercenaries (in my humble opinion). Loves his ma, loyal to his friends. Always has something to drink on him. And he manages to work as a demo with only one eye and being drunk 99% of the time, that's impressive. And also a great class to play on. - Soldier is very funny due to his chaotic behaviour. And also I love his design, voice and love his chemistry with other mercenaries. Also I've made a lot of answers with soldier for the TF2 ask so I started liking him more due to that. And|. Also I really love cosplaying him|. It's really entertaining (as long as people don't hit the helmet. yes, some people do that). - Zhanna is an amazing woman. I love her design in the comics (especially that she's a ..visually strong woman? I love how they drew her). I love her cold yet brave personality and love how she fights. IDK why would you ever need this info. But here we are.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Trigger Warnings: Workplace harassment, pregnancy complications, verbal abuse, grief, and loss. Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Redemption Arc, Workplace Dynamics, Gamer Culture, Mystery Identity, Mild Violence, Pregnancy Complications, Emotional Hurt, Disassociation, Depression.

A/N: Before you start reading— 1. Man, after finalizing this chapter, I was the Ben Affleck meme outside, chain-smoking my sanity away. 2. Minors, DNI. It’s not spicy, but seriously, don’t ruin your innocence here. 3. Our reader is tough as nails, but damn, even I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. 4. I’ve sprinkled some links, a playlist, and a meme to lighten the vibe, but customize the vibe however you need. 5. Fair warning: the ending’s gonna hurt. If you’re not in the headspace for that, skip the parts marked with { }. Take care of yourself, okay? Let’s get wrecked together.

Previous Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 6 (alt ending 1.2) - Veiled Realities

The gaming convention hall pulsed with energy—screens flashing with gameplay demos from various companies, creative souls showcasing their cosplays, excited chatter bouncing off the high ceilings, and the occasional triumphant shout from someone winning a round. You kept your barely see-through-only for you-hood low, blending seamlessly with the crowd as you moved toward your company’s booth. The email from your employee still sat in your inbox, her words playing on a loop in your mind:

“I wanted to bring to your attention a concerning issue that has been occurring within our team. Certain male employees have been engaging in inappropriate behavior towards their female colleagues, making comments that suggest women do not belong in the gaming industry.

Despite providing multiple rounds of workplace etiquette training, these individuals continue to make such remarks, often doing so after the training sessions have concluded. While we have attempted to address the situation discreetly, the behavior has persisted and is becoming increasingly problematic.

I felt it was important to make you aware of this issue, even if no immediate action is taken, as you are committed to fostering an inclusive and respectful work environment.”

You weren’t about to let it slide.

Your gaze landed on your company’s booth, where a small group had gathered. Two men—mid-forties, loud with unwarranted confidence—were smirking as they leaned toward a younger woman who stood stiffly, her arms crossed.

“Come on,” one of them said, his voice dripping with condescension. “You can’t even finish a round without dying. How are you going to tell us what to do?”

“Yeah,” the other chimed in, his laugh grating. “We're not sexist or anything, but gaming’s just not your thing. Stick to HR or something.”

You gritted your teeth, the instinct to step in bubbling beneath the surface. But you held back, watching as the woman squared her shoulders and prepared to fire back. Before she could, you pulled out your phone. With a few quick taps, an email was swiftly dispatched to the CHRO, with the COO, CSO, CMO, and the event coordinator all included in the loop for informational purposes.

The response from the CHRO came immediately: "We’ll start the off-boarding right away."

Within minutes, the two men’s phones buzzed simultaneously. They frowned, pulling them out, only for their faces to pale.

“What the—”

“Fucking hell!”

They stared at their screens, then at each other, and finally back at the woman they’d been harassing. “It’s you—”

Before they could finish, your voice cut through, calm. “You have five minutes to vacate the premises, or security will escort you if needed.”

The woman blinked at you, her surprise quickly replaced by a smirk as the men stammered and shuffled off grumbling to gather their things. You turned away before she could say anything, your hood still obscuring your face.

Then a loud voice rang out. “No, no, NO! Game broken! Is not me! Me loyal fan!”

Heads turned, including yours, to a really tall man with bright white hair and pale skin standing at the demo station, gesturing wildly at the screen. His coat hung loosely around his shoulders, and he wore dark sunglasses indoors. With his striking appearance, he could easily model for Giorgio Armani.

“Mechanics! Broken! No strong! Me? Strongest!” he declared, his English so fractured and accented that it took you a moment to piece together what he was trying to say.

One of your employees—a nervous-looking junior—stammered, “Uh… sir, maybe you just need more practice?”

The man looked personally offended. “Me beat curse! Me GOAT!” He paused, frowned, and then switched to rapid Japanese, clearly too frustrated to stick with English.

The junior blinked, helplessly lost. “Uh… what?”

The woman who had been dealing with the earlier bullying snorted. “Looks like you’ve got competition, Steve,” she muttered, glaring at her now ex-coworker as they left before turning to the man. “Sir, maybe try again? Second round’s free.”

“Free?” His face lit up like a Christmas town. “Yay! Free! Strongest WIN!”

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” came a calm, deep voice from behind him.

You tilted your neck to see another man—a tall figure, though not quite as towering as his counterpart—impeccably dressed in black. Neatly styled blond hair framed his face. With his striking looks, he would make a perfect brand ambassador for Tom Ford or Bironi; he resembled a male Victoria's Secret model. Beneath his green-tinted glasses, his eyes flicked to the white-haired chaos generator with the resigned air of a pet parent.

The white-haired man turned to glare at him. “No embarrassing! Winning!”

“Winning,” the blond deadpanned, glancing at the screen where the white-haired one’s character had just been obliterated.

He pouted, muttering something in Japanese that sounded suspiciously like an insult, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

The blond man sighed heavily and said something in Japanese. “Sore wa gēmudesu. Kojin-tekina fukushūde wa arimasen.” (“It’s a game. Not a personal vendetta.”)

The white-haired one said something that the blond pointedly ignored. “Sō, fukushūda! Noroi o uchiyabutta. Subete o uchiyabutta, daga kono bakageta... Mekanikku dake wa!” (“Yes, it is vendetta! I beat curses; I beat everything, but this stupid... mechanics!”)

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but find the men’s voices incredibly attractive, even though they were completely different from each other—or was it the fact that they were speaking Japanese? Anyone with half a brain cell knew how undeniably masculine the language sounded.

“Anata to issho ni kurubekide wa nakatta to wakatte imashita.” The blond said, his tone clipped as he hovered by a different station, playing an older game in your company’s lineup—one that hadn’t done well financially but had won multiple awards and had a loyal following. (“I knew I shouldn’t have come with you.”)

You weren’t usually one to ogle men, but damn, the blond one’s biceps looked very chewable. Underneath his overcoat, you could imagine them flexing as he moved his fingers on the keyboard.

You immediately cringed at your own thoughts and made a mental note to stop spending so much time with your unhinged employees.

The white-haired one ignored him. “More round!” he yelled at the junior, who sighed and let him.

The man launched into another round, biting his lower lip in concentration like a child. Was that lip gloss?!

He was really close to perfecting the strike when the in-game AI learned his moves and took him down. He looked like he was about to cry, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable he was.

The blond’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes narrowing slightly in recognition—or perhaps suspicion. “You’re enjoying yourself?” he asked, his English perfect, despite the accent.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The white-haired one suddenly perked up, finally noticing you. His eyes widened, and he jabbed a finger in your direction. “You! Pretty hoodie lady! Play?”

Caught off guard, you blinked, face still obscured by the hood. “Play what?”

“Game!” He gestured wildly at the screen. “Strongest win! You lose!”

The blond groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Gojo, stop harassing strangers.”

“Me no harass! Me... invite!” The Gojo declared, beaming at you.

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer, curiosity outweighing caution.

The woman from earlier smirked, stepping up to the console. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“Think you better?” He grinned, clearly convinced he was about to crush you, then pointed at the blond. “Nanamin, see me!”

“Don’t call me that!” The blond spat at him, making you think—was ‘Nanamin’ a derogatory word in their language?

The blond furrowed his brow, his gaze flicking over you. Something about the way you carried yourself seemed… off. Not in a bad way, but something didn’t fit in his mind.

You slid into the seat across from Gojo, the monitors facing the opposite way. “Alright, fine. Let’s see what the ‘strongest’ has got.”

The first round was a blur of offensive movements and insults—Gojo threw out broken English mixed with Japanese, your focus entirely on the screen.

To your dismay, he was… good. Annoyingly good. You’d come up with the idea and then tested this game for over 5,000 hours. You were basically omniscient in it—knew every trick and exploit, but Gojo’s reflexes and instincts were ridiculous.

So you cheated.

Subtly, of course.

A quick input enabled God Mode, giving you just enough of an edge to win the round.

Within minutes, Gojo’s smug grin crumbled as you utterly demolished him in-game, your hands moving with muscle memory.

The blond, who had been watching silently, let out a low chuckle. “Looks like you’ve met your match, Gojo.”

Gojo froze, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the screen. “You cheat!”

You grinned, leaning back. “No, I’m just better,” you said smoothly, your voice calm. Inside, you panicked a little; he couldn’t have possibly known; your screen wasn’t facing him.

“Yes! CHEAT! Me see!” He tapped his temple. “Muttsu no me! Me see!” Then he made a gesture that encompassed the whole planet with his long, troll-like arms. (“Six eyes.”)

You smirked, but before you could respond, the blond interjected. “Gojo, you’re imagining things.”

“Sōzō janai yo! Kanojo wa hontōni zuru o shita nda! Anata mo mitadesho. Eigo de itte!” Gojo gestured wildly at Nanami, who barely glanced at him. (“I’m NOT imagining! She literally just cheated! You saw it too. Say it in English!”)

“You’re hallucinating,” the blond said flatly.

“I am NOT!”

“Yes, you are. You’re tired. No more video games; go sit down over there.” The blond had seen you cheat, but he wasn’t letting the opportunity to embarrass Gojo pass.

Gojo sputtered, clearly betrayed, while you fought to keep a straight face.

“Impossible!” Gojo huffed at you, but there was no malice in his tone, only a kind of begrudging admiration. “You… strong.”

You shrugged, pulling your hood up just enough to smile. “Told you.”

Gojo’s throat made a strangled sound that suspiciously resembled a mewl; he seemed like a nerd. “Me ahh Gojo Satoru. He Nanami Kento.” He pointed at the blond without looking away from you.

Nanami’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, his expression unreadable.

“So, Gojo and Nanami are your names? I believe Japan has a different naming convention, right?” You asked, steering the conversation away to avoid revealing your own name. Surrounded by a crowd, you felt uneasy about receiving random CVs and taking selfies with men whose hands seemed to wander a bit too freely.

Nanami was caught off guard by your knowledge. “You are correct. No, those are our surnames. He doesn’t know much English.”

He continued eyeing you with a poker face. “I don’t suppose you’d tell us your name?”

You scrambled to respond, giving them your gamer tag, which sounded surprisingly like a real name.

Gojo laughed, while Nanami’s gaze remained fixed on you. “Pardon my English, but I meant your real name.” He looked a bit smug as if saying, I-didn’t-stutter.

Damn! They were too perceptive. “Maybe next time,” you said, already rising to your feet, turning on your heel, and slipping into the crowd before they could press further.

You could feel their eyes on you, with Nanami’s gaze lingering the longest, as if he were piecing together a puzzle.

Later, after you walked out of the convention hall and made your way toward the food stalls, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You’d come to check on your team and ended up with a story you’d never forget.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo was still at the booth, raving about the “mysterious hoodie lady” who was, in his words, “gaming goddess.” Nanami simply shook his head, filing away the memory of your smile for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

Nanami commented, “We never got her name.”

Gojo, beaming, muttered, “Me find her. Strongest reserves rematch.”

Nanami rubbed his temple. “It’s ‘deserves.’”

Gojo waved him off. “Ya ya that!”

//

Hours later, you stepped outside to go home.

The alley was dimly lit, the faint glow of a flickering streetlamp casting long shadows against the brick walls. You tugged your hood tighter, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders as you made your way through. Just as you reached the halfway point, angry voices broke the quiet, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps closing in.

“You think you can fire us just like that?” One of the men sneered, his face twisted with rage as he stepped into view. His friend loomed beside him, cracking his knuckles with an air of smugness.

You stopped, turning slowly to face them. Your pulse quickened, but you kept your tone cold. “I don’t think,” you replied, as you shifted into a defensive stance. “I know.”

The first man lunged, and you dodged, pivoting on your heel to avoid his clumsy attack. Your brain kicked into overdrive, calculating angles and weaknesses as you landed a solid kick to his shin, your heels digging in. He stumbled, cursing, but his friend was already charging at you.

You ducked, your fists up, but you weren’t trained for this. They were bigger, stronger, and clearly fueled by rage. Damn it, you thought bitterly, wishing you’d waited for Megumi—or at least brought your security detail in regular clothes.

“HEY!”

The voice boomed down the alley, startling everyone. You froze mid-dodge, turning toward the source of the voice.

Gojo stood at the entrance, his white hair glowing faintly under the streetlamp. His grin feral, hands shoved casually into his pockets. “What this? Fight? Without me?” His English was awful, the words garbled but unmistakably confident.

Behind him, Nanami appeared with the air of someone ready to ruin someone’s day. His eyes locked on the men, his expression grim. “Let’s divide and conquer.”

What followed was a masterclass in contrasts, a scene you’d replay in your mind for days.

Gojo’s opponent barely had time to process the incoming whirlwind before Gojo sidestepped his first punch with an exaggerated lean, one hand cupping his chin as if bored. “Loser shit,” he said.

The man swung again, and Gojo ducked low, popping up behind him like a magician revealing his latest trick. “Try harder! Or you go home?” His English faltered, and he switched to Japanese mid-sentence, gesturing at the alley’s exit.

Frustrated, the man lunged, but Gojo pivoted effortlessly, his movements mocking. “Ah-ah!” he teased, flicking the man’s forehead with enough force to send him faltering back. He could have actually flicked him through the wall, but he was trying to impress you, not terrify you. Then, with a theatrical spin, he delivered a sharp kick to the back of the man’s knees, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Strongest wins!” Gojo declared triumphantly as the man groaned in pain.

Meanwhile, Nanami was a study in calm brutality. His opponent came at him swinging, fists wild and uncoordinated. Nanami stepped to the side, his movements smooth, allowing the man’s momentum to carry him forward.

The attacker stumbled, and Nanami seized the opportunity. A precise jab to the spine sent the man gasping, doubling over in pain. Without missing a beat, Nanami delivered a swift knee to the stomach, his face utterly impassive as his opponent crumpled to the ground.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, adjusting his collar with indifference.

Within moments, both men were on the ground, groaning and defeated as the security—who’d arrived mid-fight—dragged them away.

Gojo glanced over at Nanami. “Why so serious, Nanamin?!”

Nanami shot him a flat look. That was the only phrase Gojo knew properly.

Gojo turned to you, his grin impossibly wide. “Hoodie lady! You okay?”

You adjusted your hood, making sure your face stayed hidden, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Nanami stepped closer, his gaze lingering on you with quiet intensity. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, his tone edged with concern.

“I can handle myself,” you replied, though your voice softened.

“Clearly,” Nanami said, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to see a notification from your ride. “Well, thanks again for saving me.”

You turned to leave, but Gojo moved faster than you could anticipate, stepping into your space with a speed that made your heart skip. He leaned in, his face far too close as he tilted his head, his eyes still obscured by the ridiculous sunglasses. “Name,” he demanded, his tone expectant.

“Gojo,” Nanami barked, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking him back. “Control yourself.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, still obscured by your barely see-through hood.

Well, they did save you, and no one was around right now, but they could be stalkers. So you only told them your nickname, essentially half your first name.

Gojo repeated it, his accent thick as he rolled the syllables around in his mouth like a taste he wanted to savor. Nanami echoed it under his breath, committing it to memory with far more subtlety. You had never loved your name more.

Gojo clapped his hands together, his grin as bright as the streetlamp above. “Okaaay, now us food! You come us!”

You blinked at him, bewildered.

Nanami immediately choked, “My apologies, my colleague means, would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe next time. My grumpy ride is here.”

Before they could argue, you slipped past them as the soft hum of a sleek black Maserati cut through the alley’s quiet. The car glided to a stop, the sharp lines of its body catching the faint light from the streetlamp. The door opened smoothly, revealing a young Japanese man with sea urchin spiky black hair and a scowl sharp enough to rival Nanami’s deadliest glare.

He stepped out, his tailored suit pristine despite the late hour. His deep blue eyes swept over the scene, narrowing slightly as they landed on Gojo and Nanami. There was no mistaking the barely contained irritation in his expression as he glared daggers at the two men.

You smiled faintly as you approached and side-hugged him; his gaze softened, though the crease in his brow remained.

“You’re late,” he muttered, holding the door open for you. His English and accent perfectly matched yours, so Gojo deduced he definitely hadn’t lived in Japan much.

“You’re crabby,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat.

“I wouldn’t be if you didn’t insist on wandering into alleys like this,” he said, his tone exasperated but tinged with familiarity. He cast one last glance at Gojo and Nanami, his lips curling slightly in what could only be described as a warning.

“Wait... you sent the security?” You asked, tone surprised.

“Yes.” He clipped, tone not revealing much. You’d later learn that the men who’d tried to hit you disappeared under mysterious circumstances after tonight. When you asked Megumi, he’d just glare at you and mutter about not having time to look into freeloaders.

Gojo tilted his head, his six eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction with growing curiosity. Nanami too had his gaze locked on the Maserati as the young man slipped back into the driver’s seat. The way his hand lingered on the steering wheel, his face scanning you for injuries. His head tilted slightly toward you as you spoke, suggesting something closer than casual acquaintance.

Nanami thought of looking you or the young man up on LinkedIn only to realize he never actually saw your face or knew the man’s name.

As the car pulled away, the faint glow of the interior lights illuminated your face behind the dark-tinted windows for just a moment. Gojo’s grin widened as he caught a glimpse of your smile, and Nanami’s eyes narrowed as he committed the fleeting image to memory for some reason he still didn’t understand.

Gojo’s eyes remained fixed on you as the guy driving whisked you away, scolding you for not waiting for him.

Nanami was also watching your retreating car in the distance. His thoughts lingered on the brief glimpse of your smile—the only part of you they’d truly seen. “Boyfriend?” He asked.

Gojo smirked, “You are awfully curious today, Nanamin.” Switching back to Japanese.

“Just answer the question.”

“I’m actually not sure. But the boy is a Zen'in; interestingly enough, the one’s father I killed before Suguru ran away.”

Gojo’s smile widened as you removed the hood from your face a few meters away. He had never been more grateful for his six eyes.

Good. He had a face now.

He clapped Nanami on the back. “Hoodie lady is full of surprises.”

Nanami’s expression remained unreadable. “You don’t even know her full name.”

Gojo’s grin only widened. “I’ll find her.”

Little did you know you had just met your future husbands.

//

After ensuring a safe distance between you and the men he’d encountered, your best friend turned to you, his expression serious. “Stay away from those two; they are sorcerers.”

"But aren't you?"

He immediately cut you off, "I only share the bloodline nothing else. You know what sorcerers did to my father. Besides, I think it was one of them."

You understood the weight of Megumi’s words, but you also knew why his father had been killed. It wasn’t because sorcerers were inherently dangerous, but because he had been too much of a thrill-seeker. “You do realize I’m not your child, right? I’m older than you.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad, Grandma.”

“Heyy!”

He chuckled to himself, but the laughter quickly faded as he asked, “What did they want with you anyway?” He was trying hard not to let you know he was probing.

“Nothing. They just wanted to know my name, and I kept dodging it with pseudonyms. Then they asked me to dinner, and I told them next time. But you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t think I’d ever see them again.” You said this absentmindedly, focused on ordering takeout on your phone before you arrived home.

“Good. Keep it that way. Don’t entertain them again.”

“Italian?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“Get that Spinach and Broccoli Alfredo from that small place. Put it on my card.” He liked the dish, but it wasn’t his go-to for special occasions; it was yours.

“Aww, what’s the occasion?”

“You almost getting beaten up.”

You scowled at him.

“Relax. I’m just making sure you’re okay, or my father will resurrect himself and beat my ass.” He laughed, but there was an edge to his humor.

You thought of the men for a few days, their faces lingering in your mind, but you quickly moved on with your hectic life. You were determined not to let Megumi down. He didn’t have many friends besides you that he’d hang out with, let alone have around with his mom, and with his dad gone, he’d never recover from the betrayal if something happened to you.

But when had you ever listened to Megumi?

Today, you wished you had.

--

After they’d left you alone, the days bled together in a haze of exhaustion and dread. You busied yourself with the mundane tasks of preparing for the twins, folding impossibly tiny clothes, and arranging bottles on the counter like talismans against the pain threatening to consume you. Sukuna had been true to his word, filling the gaps with his presence and resources, but even his towering strength couldn’t shield you from the memories.

Each kick, each flutter, was a visceral reminder of the life growing inside you—a life you were determined to protect. Yet, every movement felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the faces you couldn’t erase. Gojo’s sharp grin, dulled now by sorrow. Nanami’s stoicism, cracking under the weight of his regret. They haunted you, their voices whispering in the silence of your nights, their hands ghosting over your skin in dreams that turned to nightmares.

One evening, Sukuna returned, his silhouette framed by the doorway. He carried bags of groceries, the muscles in his arms flexing as he set them down with more care than you thought him capable of. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something foreign: concern.

“You’re wearing yourself thin,” he said, his voice rough but quiet. His crimson eyes swept over you, lingering on the trembling in your hands as you folded a onesie.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though the lie sat heavy in your chest.

“Princess,” he said again, softer now, and the nickname cracked something inside you. “You’re not fine.”

Your hands froze mid-fold, the fabric slipping from your fingers. The room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in. “I don’t know how to do this,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Sukuna crossed the room in three strides, his arms encircling you. His touch was firm, grounding, and you let yourself lean into him. “You’re doing it,” he murmured against your hair. “And you’re not alone.”

But the words couldn’t reach the hollow ache inside you.

//

The next day, the soft knock at the door was more polite than usual, almost hesitant. Sukuna didn’t wait for you to answer—he never did; he never even knocked—but this time, he lingered in the doorway, his hulking frame lit by the warm glow of the sunlight filtering in through the window. His expression was unreadable, though the faintest flicker of something nervous passed through his crimson eyes.

In his hands, he held a large box, haphazardly wrapped in crinkled newspaper and secured with what looked like electrical tape.

“What is that?” You asked, narrowing your eyes.

He grunted, stepping inside and setting the box down on the coffee table with a thud. “It’s for them,” he said, jerking his chin toward your stomach.

You blinked, thrown off by the unexpected gesture. “You got them… a gift?”

He shot you a glare, defensive already. “Don’t make it weird. It’s not a big deal.”

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you shuffled over to the box, careful to lower yourself onto the couch. Sukuna watched, his arms crossed over his chest, as you peeled back the layers of tape and newspaper.

Inside was chaos.

A mishmash of items tumbled out—two tiny leather jackets, complete with spikes on the shoulders; a set of Blobfish plushies; and what could only be described as baby-sized combat boots, polished to a mirror shine.

Your jaw dropped. “Sukuna… what the hell is this?”

He shrugged, his smirk returning, though it was softer than usual. “Gear. For when they’re old enough to not embarrass me.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, loud and uncontrollable. It startled even you, breaking through the thick fog of grief and exhaustion that had clung to you for days. “Spiked leather jackets? Combat boots? What are they, tiny bikers?”

“They’re going to be strong,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he dropped onto the armchair across from you. “Might as well dress the part.”

You shook your head, still laughing as you held up one of the jackets. It was absurdly small, the spikes dulled for safety. “This is so extra.”

“You’re welcome,” he shot back, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his satisfaction at your reaction.

You set the jacket down, your laughter fading into a softer smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Sukuna leaned back, his gaze locking onto yours with a rare intensity. “I know,” he said simply.

For a moment, the room was quiet, the air between you charged with something unspoken. He broke the silence first, waving a hand toward the mess of items on the table. “I’m not saying they’ll ever use this crap. Just… figured it might make you laugh.”

Your chest tightened, the ache of loss mingling with something warmer, something unfamiliar. “It did,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

“Good.” He stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “I’ll pick up something more normal next time. Maybe. Only if you drink enough water.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Please don’t. This is perfect.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened as he swaggered toward the door. Just before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder, and said, “I’m not going anywhere, Princess.”

In a moment that could only be described as peak Sukuna, he turned to make his grand exit, only for his nose to collide with the door frame with a resounding thud.

“Stupid... who put this here?” He grumbled, rubbing his nose furiously as if it were the door’s fault for existing. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room like a cackling hyena.

“Maybe it’s a sign you should start ducking!” You teased, and he shot you a look that was half annoyed, half amused, like a cat that had just been splashed with water, but it was warm.

“I’ll just buy a bigger door!” He retorted, throwing his hands up in exaggerated exasperation.

With that, he turned to leave again, but not before bumping his head against the door frame once more, muttering, “This door is clearly out to get me.” You couldn’t help but laugh even harder.

And then he was gone, leaving you surrounded by the absurdity he’d brought with him. You looked down at the tiny jackets and boots, your hand resting on your stomach as the twins stirred softly. Maybe your laughing did calm them.

//

Same night, your bedroom was cold, the soft glow of a nightlight casting shadows that seemed to shift with your every movement. You slept in the center of the room, one hand resting on your swollen belly. The twins kicked softly, their presence grounding and tormenting you in equal measure.

The guilt was a living thing, coiled tight around your chest. Sukuna had done everything—more than you could have asked for—but the lie you’d spun had fangs. Each day, it bit deeper, carving wounds you couldn’t heal.

You woke screaming, clutching your stomach as panic clawed at your throat. Sukuna was there in an instant, his hands steady on your shoulders, his voice sharp and commanding. “What is it?”

“They’re going to take them,” your voice raw and broken. “They’ll find a way.”

“No one’s taking anything,” his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that should have comforted you. But the storm inside you raged on.

“You don’t know them,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “They’ll stop at nothing.”

Sukuna cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle in his large hands. “They won’t get near you. Not while I’m here.”

But his words were like whispers against a hurricane. You turned away, your gaze falling to the crib, its bars a reminder of the prison you’d built around your heart.

“I’ll protect you,” you murmured to the twins, your hands trembling as you traced the curve of your stomach. “Even if it kills me.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence heavy and oppressive.

“I won’t let you die.” Sukuna whispered. You turned to look at him only to be kissed by him on your temple. It wasn’t anything passionate; it was as if he was sealing a promise.

//

The next morning, you shuffled into the living room, your back aching from another restless night. The twins had been unusually active, their cursed energy—or at least what you deduced was cursed energy—pressing against your insides like waves crashing against fragile glass. You’d woken up drenched in sweat, the faint outline of one of their hands or feet briefly visible under your skin before retreating into the shadows of your body. It was horrifying and beautiful, and you hated that you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Sukuna was already in the living room, sitting on the floor, a cup of coffee in his hand. He glanced up as you entered, his crimson eyes scanning you like he could read every thought you were trying to suppress.

“You look worse than usual,” he said, his voice cutting but not cruel.

“Thanks,” you muttered, dropping onto the couch with a wince.

He didn’t respond right away, just set his cup down, straightened and stretched, his maroon hoodie riding up, revealing markings on his stomach. He watched you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Despite being on the floor, he was somehow on eye level with you.

After a moment, he stood and disappeared into the kitchen. You didn’t have the energy to ask what he was doing.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water and a small bowl filled with neatly peeled and cut fruit. He handed them to you without a word, his hand lingering for a moment as you took the bowl.

“Eat,” he said simply, sitting back down on the floor in front of you.

You stared at the fruit. “You didn’t have to—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “Just eat.”

You did, the sweet and sourness of the fruits grounding you. Sukuna watched, his gaze flicking between your face and your stomach.

After a while, he spoke again, his voice softer. “You hate looking at yourself, don’t you?”

Your breath caught; you definitely had a type. Type that kept seeing through your lies!

You didn’t answer, but the way you looked away was answer enough.

Sukuna shifted closer, resting his forearms on his knees. “Can I?”

You frowned, unsure. “Why?”

“Just trust me, Princess,” he said, his smirk faint but not unkind.

Reluctantly, you let him. His hands moved to your baby balloon, his touch firm but careful, soothing you as he pressed his palms against the curve.

“Feel that?” he murmured as one of the twins shifted beneath his hand, the movement almost shy.

You nodded, your throat tight.

“They’re strong,” he said, his voice steady. “They know you’re protecting them.”

Another flutter beneath your skin, this one softer, more deliberate. Sukuna’s hands didn’t move, his warmth radiating through you like a shield against the chill that had settled in your bones.

“You’re not broken,” he said after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “And you’re not alone in this.”

“You sure are comfortable touching them now.” You teased.

He snorted. “And here I thought I was helping you feel better.”

You laughed and closed your eyes as the twins settled, their energy calming under the weight of his words. The war inside you felt a little less unbearable.

//

A few days later, the apartment was warm, sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds and landing in soft streaks across the living room floor. You sat on the couch, one hand absently resting on your stomach while the other scrolled through your phone. You weren’t looking at anything in particular, just trying to distract yourself from the relentless ache in your lower back and the twins’ ongoing UFC match in your uterus.

Sukuna walked in, carrying a bag of groceries like it was filled with feathers as usual. His broad shoulders filled the doorway as he kicked it shut behind him. He looked at you, then at the untouched snack bowl on the coffee table, then back at you.

“You didn’t eat the strawberries I cut,” he said flatly, setting the bag down.

“I wasn’t hungry,” you replied without looking up.

“You’re always hungry,” he shot back, folding his arms.

You finally glanced up at him, raising a brow. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

He snorted, dropping onto the armchair across from you. “Yeah, into a cranky gargoyle. What’s up with you today?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, your tone too breezy.

His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. “Bullshit.”

You sighed, setting your phone down. “I’m fine, Sukuna. Can’t a woman just sit in peace without being interrogated?”

“Not when that woman’s got two cursed powerhouses doing cartwheels inside her,” he replied, his smirk faint but pointed.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the couch. “I’m just tired, okay?”

He stared at you for a long moment, his crimson eyes flicking to your stomach, then back to your face.

“You’re not tired,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “You feel weird. About your body.”

Your head snapped up, your mouth opening to protest, but he cut you off with a raised hand.

“Don’t even try to deny it,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re confident, sure. You’re also human. You’re carrying their demon spawns, and it’s messing with your head. I’d feel weird too.”

You blinked, thrown off by the bluntness of his words. “That’s… not exactly how I’d put it.”

“Whatever,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Point is, you’re not as slick as you think you are, Princess.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or be offended. “And what, you’re here to be my body image coach now?”

“Very perceptive of you,” he said, standing abruptly. He grabbed the bag of groceries and pulled out a tub of chocolate ice cream and a loaf of bread. Even your cravings weren’t original from your husbands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching in bemusement as he started slathering jam on a slice of bread.

“Making you a snack,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Pickle and peanut butter sandwich. Ice cream chaser. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“That’s disgusting,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

“Yeah, well, so’s the idea of that white-haired one being someone’s dad, but here we are,” he quipped, tossing the sandwich onto a plate and handing it to you.

You stared at the monstrosity, then at him. “This is your solution to my body issues? Weird snacks?”

“No,” he said, sitting back down and gesturing at you with a flourish. “My solution is this: you’re hot, you’re badass, and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll break their spine. But you’re also you, which means you’re allowed to feel weird about turning into a walking incubator for two special-grade cursed-energy gremlins. Doesn’t mean you’re less of anything.”

You blinked. “That’s… oddly sweet.”

“I aim to please,” he grumbled, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. “Now eat the sandwich before I change my mind.”

You laughed, taking a tentative bite of the pickle-peanut butter monstrosity. It was terrible, but for some reason, it made you feel a little better.

//

The next day, the air was crisp, the kind of weather that made the leaves crunch underfoot and the sunlight feel softer. Sukuna strolled beside you, a reusable shopping bag slung over his shoulder like a fashion statement, his other hand steadying you as you waddled along the cobblestone path of the farmer’s market, your face obscured by a large mask. The twins had been kicking non-stop since breakfast, and your back felt like it was holding the weight of the world.

“I don’t know why you dragged me here,” you muttered, squinting at a stall of overpriced honey jars.

“Because you’ve been sulking for days,” Sukuna replied, smirking. “And I’m tired of watching you fold tiny clothes and cry about it.”

Before you could retort, he veered off toward a stall selling baby onesies, grabbing one with a print of a cartoon goat that read Mommy’s Little Terror. He held it up, raising a brow. “This fits their vibe.”

You snorted despite yourself. “They’re not even born yet, and you’re assigning them a vibe?”

“Yeah,” he said, tossing it into the bag. “And this.” He grabbed another onesie, this one pink and emblazoned with Future World Domination Leader.

You laughed, leaning on his arm for support as the twins shifted again. Sukuna noticed immediately, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “Tired?”

“A little,” you admitted, though your body screamed a lot.

Without a word, he scooped you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. “What are you—put me down!”

“Shut up, Princess,” he said, grinning as heads turned to stare at the giant man carrying a visibly and heavily—maybe too heavily—pregnant woman like she weighed nothing. “You’ll thank me later.”

An older woman at a nearby stall clasped her hands together, her face lighting up. “Oh, isn’t he just wonderful? So attentive!”

Sukuna didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he said, flashing her a cocky grin. “My wife’s a champ, though. Carrying our twins and still managing to look this bewitching.”

You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder. “Stoppp.”

He ignored you, turning his attention to the woman. “I’m so proud of her. She’s going to be an amazing birthgiver.”

The woman beamed, clearly swooning. “You’re both so lucky!”

“Yeah,” Sukuna said, his voice softening just enough for only you to hear. “I am.”

//

Later that week, Sukuna insisted on taking you grocery shopping. You protested, but he ignored you as usual, guiding you through the aisles with a hand on your lower back.

“Pickles?” he asked, holding up a jar with a raised brow.

You nodded, reaching for it, but he pulled it back. “What’s the magic word?”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Please.”

He handed it over with a smug grin. “See? Was that so hard?”

At the checkout, the cashier—a young woman with doe eyes—couldn’t stop glancing at Sukuna, her cheeks pink as she scanned the items.

“These pickles,” she started, clearly searching for a conversation starter. “A craving?”

Sukuna nodded solemnly. “Yeah. She’s eating for three, and I’m eating for stress.”

You choked on a laugh, swatting his arm. “Don’t listen to him.”

The cashier giggled nervously, her eyes lingering on Sukuna a moment too long. He didn’t even notice, too busy helping you into your coat and carrying all the bags in one hand like they weighed air.

Outside, you leaned against him, your feet aching. “You didn’t have to do all of that.”

He smirked, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Sure I did. It’s my job to keep you entertained.”

//

A couple of days later, at the park, Sukuna insisted on renting a swan paddle boat “for the twins.” The boat was comically small for his frame, his knees practically up to his chest as he paddled with exaggerated effort and heavy breaths.

“Why are we doing this?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

“Because I like suffering,” he said, glaring at the water like it had personally offended him.

He was doing it for you, to make you laugh as much as possible.

Then when you finally broke into giggles, he grinned, satisfied.

//

That night, when you struggled to sleep, Sukuna sat by your bed, massaging pain-relieving oils into your swollen ankles with surprising care. His hands were rough but gentle, his expression focused.

“You don’t have to do this,” you murmured, your voice thick with exhaustion.

He glanced up, his crimson eyes softer than you’d ever seen. “I know,” he said simply, his hands never faltering.

You fell asleep to the sound of his low, rumbling voice, humming an off-key lullaby he’d probably made up on the spot. His humming seemed to soothe the twins into no-cartwheeling sleep, which helped you relax for the night.

Sukuna never thought he could be perfect, but in those moments, he was everything you needed.

//

The next day, the yoga studio smelled faintly of lavender and freshly cleaned mats. Sukuna walked in beside you, his presence as imposing as ever. His crimson eyes swept over the room, narrowing slightly at the women who turned to gawk. He helped you settle onto your mat with the kind of careful attention that seemed absurd coming from someone like him, crouching to adjust the pillow beneath your knees before straightening to his full, towering height.

The murmurs started immediately. Low at first, barely audible, but growing louder with every second. You could feel the weight of their stares pressing against your skin, even through the mask you wore to keep a low profile.

Sukuna noticed too. His gaze darkened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darted across the room. “What’s their problem?” he muttered under his breath.

You tried to ignore it, focusing on your breathing as the instructor began leading the class through stretches. But the whispers didn’t stop.

“She’s the one,” someone hissed, loud enough to reach your ears.

“Carrying twins,” another added, voice dripping with disdain.

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms. Sukuna’s head snapped toward the source of the voices, his expression hardening.

And then, of course, Karen appeared.

She strode across the room, her leggings pulled so high they might as well have been a second ribcage. Her smirk was cruel as she stopped in front of you.

The room went quiet. She loomed over you—as you were sitting on the floor—her arms crossed, her expression smug. “What’s it like being the talk of the internet? The woman who couldn’t keep her men in line?”

You felt Sukuna tense beside you, his hand twitching at his side. You placed a hand on his arm, silently telling him to hold back. “I’m here to practice yoga, not entertain you.”

Karen’s smirk widened, her gaze flicking over you like you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “Practice yoga? That’s rich. You mean parading around with your ‘fake husband’ after your other two clowns beat people up? Gave people permanent injuries?”

Then she turned to Sukuna and continued, “Oh, I knew for a fact you were a chum who got stuck with her. I was right, and you lied.”

You kept your grip on Sukuna’s arm firm. You spoke calmly but firm. “Watch your mouth! First of all, don’t bring Sukuna into this. Second, I was the one holding them back. I didn’t incite it. I kept my employees alive that day.”

Karen’s gaze swept over you, landing on your stomach, clearly not ready to back off. “Honestly, it’s impressive,” she continued, her tone dripping with mockery. “First, you marry two men, and then you end up with him?”

Sukuna’s growl was low and guttural, his towering frame eclipsing hers. “Watch it.”

“Karen,” you yelled, “you don’t know anything about my life. You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I’ve survived.”

“Survived?” Karen scoffed. “You mean you survived your ‘unnatural ways’ coming out in front of the entire world? Or is it surviving the fact that no one takes you seriously anymore?”

“Sukuna,” you said, your voice lowering. “Let’s just go.”

Your stomach was churning, the weight of her words sinking in like lead. Sukuna’s hand rested lightly on you, grounding you, but even his presence couldn’t shield you from the growing stares around the room.

Karen stepped closer, looming over you, invading your personal space. It felt as though she might resort to physical violence with you at any moment. Her voice dropped, but the venom in her tone remained unmistakable. “People are calling you a sex addict, you know. Can’t say I blame them. Married to two men, pregnant with God knows who’s kids, and now cozying up to him?” She sneered. “You’re not just a scandal—you’re a disgrace. You can’t live without dick can you! What now? You’ll add him to your harem too, you whore! If I were in your place, I would have killed myself!”

The words hit like daggers, each one twisting deeper. Your breath caught, but before you could respond, Sukuna moved.

It happened in an instant.

You gasped, “Ryo!”

The slap cracked through the studio like a thunderclap, silencing the room. Karen stumbled, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

Sukuna loomed over her, his towering frame casting a shadow that swallowed her whole. His voice was low, a growl that rumbled through the silence. “Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you never speak again.”

Karen’s confidence crumbled instantly, her wide-eyed shock betraying the venom she’d spewed moments ago. She glanced around the room, searching for someone—anyone—to come to her defense, but the silence was deafening. The other mothers avoided her gaze, their expressions a mix of discomfort and quiet satisfaction.

Her husband wasn’t there, of course. He’d finally had enough of her tirades, her endless need to dominate every room she walked into. The divorce papers had already been filed, and his absence spoke louder than any words ever could. Karen, with her toxic cocktail of insecurity and unchecked cruelty, had been left with nothing but her bitterness.

She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t pregnant and had no intention of ever being so. For years, she’d come to these classes not to bond or prepare for motherhood but to belittle and bully anyone she deemed weaker. She was a relic of high school, clinging to the power she once wielded over others, desperate to make someone else feel smaller to distract from her own failures.

Today, you had been her target. Her divorce had clearly left her hellbent on tearing someone else down, and she might’ve succeeded—she might’ve even turned to violence—if Sukuna hadn’t intervened. You were glad Sukuna didn’t see gender while serving people their karma.

Your heart pounded, but you forced yourself to stand—or try to. A sharp cramp shot through your side, stealing your breath. You stumbled, clutching your stomach as the twins shifted violently.

Sukuna caught you before you could fall, his hands steadying you as he glared at Karen.

His growl cut through the silence. “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice cold and final.

He didn’t move at first, his glare fixed on Karen like a wolf deciding whether the hunt was worth it, like debating whether she deserved another hit.

Finally, he relented, his muscles relaxing as he focused on you. “I’ll get you a private instructor,” he added, his tone softening as he looked at you.

The twins stirred. Pain shot through your abdomen, and you gasped, clutching at Sukuna’s shirt.

“Hang on,” he muttered, his voice softening as he carried you out of the studio.

Behind you, Karen stood frozen, her face pale and her cheek still burning red. No one moved to comfort her. No one even looked at her. The only sound in the room was the quiet creak of the door as it closed behind you.

//

Once in the car, you buried your face in his chest, your breathing erratic. He held you close, his large hand stroking your hair awkwardly but gently.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said, his voice firm but uncharacteristically tender. “Only you know the truth. Only you know what you went through and how you survived.”

//

The ride home was quiet. Sukuna carried you inside, settling you on the couch with the kind of gentleness that made your chest ache.

But the silence stretched on, and the weight of Karen’s words pressed down on you like a vice. The twins shifted again, their energy erratic, feeding off your turmoil.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Sukuna crouched in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees. “Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t apologize for insecure humans.”

You nodded, but the hollow ache in your chest didn’t ease.

As the hours passed, you found yourself staring out the window, the city lights blurring as tears filled your eyes.

Sukuna stayed close, his presence steady but silent. When the tears finally came, hot and unrelenting, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as you cried.

And though he didn’t say it, his arms were a fortress around you as the world outside kept spinning, cruel and unforgiving. He silently vowed that no one would ever hurt you again.

//

Days after that, the silence that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on the couch, an old photo clutched tightly in your hands. It was worn at the edges, the glossy finish dulled from countless times you’d held it. In it, Gojo was grinning, his arm slung lazily over Nanami’s shoulders. You were in the middle, laughing at something you couldn’t remember now, your face lit with a happiness that felt like it belonged to someone else. The pain it brought was sharp, raw, an open wound that refused to heal no matter how much time passed.

Maybe you didn’t love them anymore—not in the way you once had. That love had been replaced by something darker, heavier. But the ache of what they’d done to you, the way they’d left you to drown in your own loneliness while they found comfort in each other… it consumed you.

You didn’t hear Sukuna until he was standing in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he asked, his voice softer than usual but still carrying that edge of exasperation.

You startled, quickly tucking the photo under your thigh. “I’m not doing anything.”

His crimson eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room in two strides, crouching down in front of you. “Don’t lie to me, Princess. You’re terrible at it.”

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I just… I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have left.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but they were out before you could stop them. Sukuna’s expression shifted to something unreadable.

“You’re joking,” he said, his voice flat.

“I’m not,” you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “I mean, they didn’t care about me, not really, but… I still left, and so much happened. People got hurt.”

“You kept the people alive!” Sukuna said, his tone sharper now. He leaned closer, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “You walked away because they didn’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, the tears falling faster now. “What if I made a mistake? What if I should’ve tried harder? Maybe none of this would have happened.”

“Stop,” Sukuna snapped, his voice cutting through your spiral. He grabbed your chin gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him. “Do you really think that despite one of them having the gift of six eyes, if he still couldn’t see the life growing inside you, they wouldn’t have taken you for granted through the pregnancy as well?! They’re the ones who fucked up. Not you. They had you—you—and they chose to ignore you. That’s on them, not you.”

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, but the doubt still lingered. “But—”

“No,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your jaw in a soft gesture. “No ‘but.’ You didn’t leave because you stopped loving them. You left because they stopped showing you they loved you.”

His words cracked something in you, like an old vase you never saw but always sensed the presence of in your heart’s home.

You let out a shaky breath, the photo slipping from your lap and landing face-up on the couch. Sukuna glanced at it, his jaw tightening for a moment before he reached for it. He studied it silently, his thumb brushing over your smiling face.

“They didn’t deserve this version of you,” he said, his voice low. “And they sure as hell don’t deserve the you now.”

The warmth in his words, the unguarded softness, made your heart ache in a different way. He handed the photo back to you, his hand lingering over yours for a moment.

“I’m not saying it’ll stop hurting,” he admitted, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “But don’t waste your time wondering if you should’ve stayed. You didn’t leave for no reason. Remember the past version of yourself in that exact moment when everything was crumbling around you. What you felt. Don’t put yourself through that.”

You nodded, the weight in your chest easing just slightly. Sukuna stood, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he said, his smirk returning faintly. “You’ve been crying for hours. Let me make you something to eat before you wither away. Besides, you deserve better. Better than them. Better than what they gave you.”

Then smugly added, “Someone as amazing as me.”

Despite yourself, you laughed softly, taking his hand.

//

The first signs came like whispers in the dark—a sharp, fleeting twinge low in your abdomen, a dull ache spreading like ripples in water. You brushed it off as stress, convincing yourself it was nothing.

But Sukuna noticed. He always noticed.

His crimson eyes tracked your every move, narrowing at the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your hand lingering on your belly a beat too long.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a smile.

His gaze hardened, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “You’re a terrible liar, Princess.”

That evening, as you struggled to stand after dinner, a sharp gasp escaped your lips. Sukuna was at your side in an instant, his large hand steadying you.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “We’re going to the hospital.”

You tried to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced you.

// Music

{The hospital was cold, sterile as usual. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting harsh shadows on the linoleum floors. The smell of antiseptic clung to everything, making your stomach churn.

You sat on the examination table, the thin paper gown sticking uncomfortably to your skin. The room felt too bright, too exposed. Sukuna sat beside you, his broad frame dwarfing the small plastic chair. His expression was unreadable, but his hand rested on his knee, the tension in his fingers betraying his calm façade. The fake husband playing the role perfectly.

The doctor entered, her face carefully neutral, but you caught the hesitation in her movements.

“Let’s take a look,” she said, her tone professional but soft.

The ultrasound gel was cold against your skin, and the room silent except for the faint hum of the machine. You stared at the monitor, waiting for the familiar sound of their heartbeats.

But the silence stretched on.

The doctor’s brow furrowed, her hand pausing over the probe.

“What is it?” Sukuna’s voice was tense.

The doctor hesitated, her hand hovering over the ultrasound machine as though the pause could soften the blow. Her eyes flicked to you, then back to the screen, her expression unreadable.

“I’m… not detecting a heartbeat.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

“No,” the denial spilling out before you could think. Your voice trembled, barely audible. “No, that’s not right. They were moving. Just yesterday. I felt them. I was craving pickles, and I had really bad back pain too; they were moving so much.”

The doctor’s face was heavy with sympathy as she set the probe down. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, the room tilting around you. Your hand flew to your stomach, pressing against the curve as if your touch could summon them back, as if you could will them to respond. “They can’t be gone,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

The doctor took a breath, her voice steady but clinical, as if detachment could lessen the cruelty of what she had to say. “It’s an extraordinarily rare case—heteropaternal superfecundation combined with double fertilization. Their development was… incompatible with life.”

The medical jargon felt cruel, meaningless. Just noise.

Sukuna’s hand found yours, his grip firm, grounding, but it only highlighted how far away you felt. It made it real. His jaw was clenched, his crimson eyes darker than you’d ever seen, but he said nothing. He couldn’t.

Your head spun, the walls closing in, the fluorescent lights glaring like they were trying to expose every raw nerve. The doctor’s voice faded, a dull hum drowned out by the pounding of your own heartbeat.

“They were mine,” you whispered.

Sukuna leaned closer, his hand steady against your back.

The doctor excused herself quietly, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence that followed pressed against your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift.

You sat frozen, your hand still pressed to your stomach, waiting for something—anything. A kick, a flutter, some proof that they were still there.

But there was nothing.

You curled into yourself, clutching your stomach as though you could shield what was already gone.

“They were mine,” you repeated, the words a broken mantra. “They were mine.”

Sukuna’s grip was almost bruising. His other arm wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest.

He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances. He just held you, his breath steady against your hair as your world fell apart.

After months of crying, your tears had finally run out. You couldn’t will them now, not that you wanted to.

You were done.

The dissociation came slowly, creeping in like a shadow. You faded into hollow silence, your body still in his arms. You stared at the floor, your eyes unfocused, your mind retreating into a void where the suffering couldn’t reach you.

Sukuna’s voice broke through the fog, low and firm. “Stay with me, Princess.”

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

The hollowness swallowed you whole, leaving nothing but the ghost of what could have been.

But Sukuna stayed, his presence a steady anchor in the storm, an anchor you couldn’t see.

//

The procedure to remove them was a nightmare. The machines beeped; the cold metal of the instruments glinted, their sharp edges catching your eye and filling your chest with dread.

Sukuna stood by your side. His hand wrapped around yours like a hazy lifeline, anchoring you to a reality you didn’t care about.

His crimson eyes never left your face, his expression unreadable but tense, his jaw set as though he could will the universe to reverse itself by sheer force.

The procedure began, the doctor’s voice a muted hum in the background. Pressure built in your abdomen, the sensation alien and invasive, like something being torn away from the core of your existence. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you.

But you didn’t scream no matter how much it hurt. You couldn’t bring yourself to care whether you made it or if the universe would be kind enough to end it all through a freak incident of medical malpractice.

Sukuna didn’t flinch, didn’t move, his grip tightening as if to remind you he was there. The machines continued their cold, unfeeling symphony, and the minutes stretched into an eternity.

//

When it was over, there was only silence. The absence of their presence, a void that swallowed everything else.

The doctor murmured something to Sukuna, her words slipping past you like water over stone. You sat up shakily, the hospital gown sticking to your damp skin, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. But mind wasn’t there.

“I want to see them,” you whispered. “Please.”

Sukuna was in front of you in an instant, his broad chest blocking your view as he pulled you into his arms. His grip was firm but careful, cradling you as though you might shatter as the doctors moved discreetly behind him.

“No,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “You don’t want to see them, Princess. Trust me.”

You clutched at his shirt with trembling hands. “They were mine,” you choked out, your words muffled against him.

“They still are,” he murmured, his tone softer than you’d ever heard. His hand stroked your back in slow, grounding motions, his presence steady even as his own turmoil blared beneath.

The sight of them would haunt him forever.

He’d seen them as the doctors worked quickly, their small, fragile forms laid out in a shallow steel tray. The boy’s limbs were long, spindly, his jawline so sharp it was almost serrated. His translucent skin revealed a web of delicate veins, branching like cracks in glass. The girl’s features were softer, her tiny hands fused into curling nubs, her face serene despite the unnatural bulge beneath her closed eyelids. Their hair split down the middle—one half blond, the other stark white—a cruel mirror of their fathers.

They were chimeric, a grotesque fusion of too much DNA, as the doctors explained to him later, alone. “Incompatible with life,” they had said clinically, as though that phrase could encompass the enormity of the loss.

They told him there was no recorded case of such a thing ever happening.

Sukuna stayed silent through it all, his hand flexing at his side as if he wanted to destroy the room, the machines, the universe itself. But when he returned to you, he was calm again, his rage buried beneath layers of quiet resolve.

The hospital was a blur after that, like you were seeing through water. Sukuna dealt with the hospital staff in his usual manner—efficient, cold, terrifying. He had the remains cremated, sparing you the finality of their lifeless forms. You barely noticed when he disappeared to speak with the staff, his voice low and clipped, or when he returned, his presence looming beside you like a shield you didn’t ask for.

When you asked about the remains, your voice hollow and detached, he didn’t sugarcoat it. “It’s already done,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for questions.

You nodded, not because you agreed, but because you didn’t care enough to argue.

“Let’s go home,” he said, his voice steady as he helped you to your feet.

You clung to him as he carried you out of the hospital, but your expressions remained unreadable. The hollow ache in your chest felt endless, but Sukuna didn’t let go, his presence a fragile shield against the unbearable weight of what you’d lost.

//

The days after were an endless cycle of nothingness. Sukuna filled the void with his relentless presence, taking over everything he already used to manage. He cooked meals you barely touched, cleaned the apartment with medical precision, scheduled your appointments, and arranged therapy without asking.

“You need this,” he said when you stared blankly at the brochure he placed in front of you. His tone firm, final.

You went because it was easier than refusing. The therapist spoke gently, her words carefully chosen, but they washed over you like white noise. You answered her questions in monotone, offering just enough to keep the sessions moving. He drove you to and back from your appointments and waited for you in between.

“It’ll take time,” she said once after your session, her voice warm with reassurance. Sukuna nodded. You didn’t respond.}

//

At home, you spent hours by the window, staring at the sea. The waves rolled in and out, unchanging, as if mocking the chaos that had become your life. Sukuna hovered in the background, his movements quiet. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Sometimes he’d sit nearby, reading or scrolling through his phone, his presence grounding in its consistency. Other times, he’d leave you entirely alone, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway as he gave you space you didn’t know how to fill.

When nightmares came, they weren’t violent anymore. They strangled you silently. You’d wake in a cold sweat, your chest heavy with an ache that felt like it would never leave. Sukuna was always there, sitting at the edge of your bed, his hand resting on your shoulder or his voice a low murmur in the dark. Had he stopped sleeping? You were too dissociated to argue.

“It’s okay,” he’d say, though you didn’t believe him.

One night, you woke to find him standing in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the faint light from the hall. He didn’t notice you watching as he muttered under his breath, his voice low and dangerous.

“If they ever come near you again, I’ll kill them.”

You didn’t ask who he meant. You didn’t want to know.

No matter what Sukuna did—his soft gestures, his quiet presence, his unwavering care—you remained numb.

He brought you flowers once, bright and vibrant, placing them on the table with a small, awkward shrug. You glanced at them briefly before returning to your spot by the window.

He cooked your favorite meal, setting the plate in front of you with a forced smirk. “Eat, Princess,” he said, but when you pushed the food around with your fork and left the table without a word, he didn’t stop you.

Even when he tried to make you laugh—muttering sarcastic comments about the people outside, rolling his eyes dramatically when the news played something ridiculous—it barely registered.

The world felt distant, like you were watching it through frosted glass.

Sukuna’s presence was the only constant, but even that felt like something happening to someone else.

And though you didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge the weight of his efforts, he stayed. Silent, steady, unyielding.

//

One night when the pain got too much, you walked to his room and cried in his chest. After months.

He held you the way he always did, but it was stronger this time, as if trying to anchor you in a storm that wouldn’t pass. He didn’t fill the void with empty reassurances, nor did he push you to speak.

The next day, things went back to you staring at nothing.

--

Japan

Gojo sat slouched, manspreading on the couch, his T-shirt messy like his hair, eyes uncovered, hands dangling between his knees, a photo clutched so tightly the edges were crumpled. The room was dim, lit only by the gray haze of a city that never quite slept. His six eyes scanned the image for the hundredth time, even though he knew every detail by heart—the grainy black-and-white outline of two unmistakable shapes, curled together like yin and yang. He’d gotten it from the hospital you visited before leaving.

He let out a hollow laugh, the sound breaking the oppressive silence. “Twins. Our twins.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.

Nanami stood by the window, staring out at the endless city lights. His sweater covered with alcohol stains, his sleeves rolled up to reveal veins that looked ready to burst.

Gojo tilted his head back, his eyes burning as he stared at the ceiling. “Do you think she—” He stopped, his voice failing him. He tried again. “Do you think she hates us?”

Nanami’s face was as if it had been carved from stone, but his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. “She doesn’t hate us,” he spoke lowly. “She… doesn’t trust us. There’s a difference.” It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Gojo’s laugh was sharper this time, almost cruel. “Trust? Trust died the night we left her alone in this goddamn drawing room. Remember that? Her silently crying, begging us to tell her we cared, and we…” His voice faltered, and he shook his head. “We crawled into bed together like cowards.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching, shattering the glass he’d forgotten he was holding. But before Gojo could look up, his own RCT healed him. He stared at the disappeared wound like he wanted it back. “I remember, but I don’t think that was the final straw. I think it was the same weekend.”

Gojo stayed silent for a long time at that and then asked, “do you think they’ll look like her?” His voice softened, and he stared down at the photo, his thumb brushing over the image. “Her smile…”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I hope they don’t look like us.”

Gojo’s head snapped up, his six eyes narrowing. “Why the hell would you say that?”

Nanami’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Because we ruin everything we touch.”

Gojo leaned back, letting the photo fall to the coffee table. His hands ran through his hair, tugging hard enough to sting. “They’re better off without us.”

Nanami walked over and sat across from him, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them. “Everything hurts.”

Gojo’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile before falling flat. “Hurt? Nanami, this… this is beyond hurt. This is…” He gestured vaguely, words failing him. “I’m empty. She’s gone, and I…”

Nanami reached for the photo, his fingers brushing against the image. “At least we have this,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “Something to know it was real.”

He paused for what felt like an eternity and then added, “She’ll protect them.”

Gojo’s six eyes dimmed, their usual brilliance dulled by exhaustion. “Yeah. She’ll protect them. From us.”

Nanami’s grip on the photo tightened. “From the world we brought her into.”

The two men sat in silence, the photo lying between them like a ghost of what could have been. The air was thick with grief, regret, and a despair so deep it felt like drowning. Neither spoke again that night.

A/N: Okay, y’all, save the rage essays for after the next chapter—then hit me with your 14-page death threats. This pain was necessary for the redemption arc, but I promise groveling starts in the new year. Pain first, comfort later—like a good skincare routine. Drop your theories, death threats (creative ones pls), or tell me if Gojo should be banned from gaming conventions forever. Your comments = my serotonin boost, so don’t hold back. Did this chapter ruin your day, your week, or your will to exist? Let me know. 😘"

Chapter 7 (alt ending 1.3) - Sapphire Echoes (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy

If I missed to tag anyone, please remind me.

[alexissara]

Alexis Sara's Top 10 Most Anticipated Games Of 2024

We're about to enter 2024 and with that we have all the lists, lists I am not immune to making because I slowly build them up all year. Last year I played a fuck load of games and so this year I wanted to talk about 10 games I think look really fucking cool that are coming out in the next year or two. Some of these games are likely to release in 2025 instead but it'll be fun to see if they remain on the list next year then. I mostly just wanted to spotlight some art that looks cool to me outside of the context of a Sapphic Games Guide or a Review and maybe get others on the hype train with me. This list is not in order and just 10 games I think look like they could have an impact on me, I may not even buy every game on this list but there the 10 that look like I am most likely to check out.

Gales Of Nayeli

So this is one of two games on the list I've already purchased. I backed the kickstarter of the game a while back and I thought "it looks alright and when I asked if there was gonna be any sapphic content the creator told me in depth what content he had already made so sure I'll back it. What was more if a thank you for being so kind and responsive so fast has turned into my most hype game of the year. Blindcoco and me have become friends over time so I am biased but I was actually sold on the game before me and him became buddy buddy when I played the demo and saw the amazing work that went into it. Then the extremally positive response from him and the community towards my desire to focus in on women and sapphic women only added to my excitement for the game.

The game genuinely seems to be raising the bar for SRPGs and really feels like it is a step above Fire Emblem and not an emulation of Fire Emblem. I loved the demo and the concepts in the game so much it inspired me to start working on my own SRPG studios game knowing what is possible at the high end of investment in the system can really be something special and really cool. I love that there is a focus on trying to cast voice actors who match ethnicity to the diverse cast, I love that there is a wide range of diversity in the revealed cast, I love the amount of queer women I am aware of in the game, I love the animations and sprite work, I love the gameplay, I am really really excited about this game and I think this game has a high shot at being one of my favorite games.

Fields Of Mistria 

I make fun of farming sims a little on my lists and stuff but only because I actually love farming sims especially in concept. This game probably has my favorite art style of the whole lot of games today. It's lovely 90s anime style sprite work is just AHHHHHHHHHH so good. I do in fact want to kiss the women in this game very badly and I would enjoy playing the game for the sake of dating them alone.

Rune Factory: Dragon

Let's bang out the second farming sim while we're at it. We don't know a bunch about this game but it really just has to do two things for me to be into it. One, let you be gay like the newest RF and Story of Season games already let you do and Two, keep up the art direction and bam, I'm in. My biggest problem with the last Rune Factory game was that the art style made every woman look like a 12 year old and not in the like chibi story of seasons way like they just looked like they were kids. This however, has a much better set of art direction and it makes me think there might actually be women I'd want to gay marry.

Mahou Senshi Cosplay Club

I really love Behold's previous game Chroma Squad but when I got this demo I had no idea they were the Chroma Squad people. The mix of dress up and RPG gameplay is a dream come true kind of game and the outfit customization is leagues beyond a game like Fashion Dreamer despite likely being made on a much smaller budget. The PSX style graphics actually work here with them evoking nostalgic graphics while also not actually being restrained by a Playstation One's issues. I just really loved the process of making the outfit and character in this game and honestly that alone is a potential game seller. The gameplay element was solid and I really want to play more of this.

Beastieball 

BeastieBall seems to be a really fun take on the Monster Taming genre. Having the monster friends play a sport and naturally be inclined to play the sport makes for a very cute and wholesome premise to which you become more a coach than an owner to these little cuties. It's a pretty simple concept in the demo but it's promising and cute and I do like that the monsters you collect build relationships with each other, I think that is something really special and neat and something I'd like to see more monster tamers do.

Love In A Bottle

 There is a lot of nice looking visual novels coming out but Love In A Bottle is dating sim that is really capturing my eye. You play as a demon girl, bam okay I am sold. You date other monster girls okay I'm sold. And it's got more then the basic one outfit you expect from a standard visual novel dating sim type deal for characters that is yet another sold factor. It seems really cute, seems fun and I hope I can smooch all the women at once.

Fantasy Life I

While I said we were done with farming sims, I didn't say we were done with sims as we have Level-5's Life Sim, Fantasy Life. I won't be buying the game if I can't be gay in it but I really loved the first Fantasy Life on the 3DS and I think if it can keep up the charm and fun of the original game and add a homosexual seasoning on top it'll be a perfect cute and fun time. I love the wide array of jobs and how these all build into each other, it's a very one of a kind experience and really fun.

Princess Peach Showtime 

This is the true triple A game of the list and the only one that has captivated me in all the shows of all the consoles and developers I've seen of late. Peach is barbie now and I am here for it, let her have a million jobs and have a game based around her doing these different roles and being an icon in each of them, sounds good, I'm in, it's a really cute and fun concept. It looks really fun and the art style looks great.

Our Life Now and Forever 

There is no other games like the Our Life games and getting to be sapphic in this one means I finally get to go ahead and experience the series I have been curious about for a while now. This game will let you be polyamarous which is the only game on this list I can say for sure will allow you to do that and that alone is something that would keep me engaged. However, getting to grow up with characters, change your pronouns, your name, anything about yourself as you do and having the characters change with you is amazing. I love the concept of this game and the wild reactivity the games demo has always provided just to a simple thing like me choosing to be trans in the childhood phase is amazing, it is truly such a considered and thoughtful game with such masterful crafting that the act one demo alone is probably worth money. So I did back this one on kickstarter as well so this is my other pick up.

Unlike other games on this list I am fairly confident this is a 2025 game and not a 2024 game but I want to talk about it now because people on the Patreon will be getting to play updated versions of the game over the course of the year akin to early access. I think the game is for sure worth a look.

Izrand Allure

After playing the previous game in the series I am totally sold on wanting to experience Izrand Allure. Luxaren Allure was a really special experience I had this year finally checking out the game after I think years of putting it off and beating it I really want to play this follow up. This game seems far more in depth and far more artistically masterful then Luxaren as well so I really want to see everything this game has to offer. I love a good job system and this game boasts one. I really want to see this lesbian RPG and I hope I get a chance to play it very soon but obviously Unity the dev should take her time to make it. Regardless, I am just gushing every time I see the game and I think this has potential to be a massive game of the year type hit for me.

If you enjoyed this post, I got a lot more end of the year lists coming up when it's actually next year so I can tell people what I enjoyed in December. You can also support me in making cool queer art by checking out my Patreon and Ko-fi.

[brits4gerardway]

GONNA COSPLAY DEMO WOMAN FOR HALLOWEEN :33

[mcrfanaticc]

Three cheers for sweet revenge duo cosplay coming next fall?!?

I was yapping to a friend about how I wanted to cosplay demolition lovers and he was like “I have the demo woman cosplay, we could match.” HELLO YES PLEASE!! The fall comic con where we live does a masquerade thingy and him and his friend did a p!atd themed dance because they both cosplayed as the A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out album and it was literally perfect. ANYWAYS, I’d want to do some kind of dance/performance with Helena because HELLO IT WOULD BE PERFECT?!?

[xxfangirl365xx]

omg slayyyyyy!!!! it's like when I did a demo woman closet cosplay a few months ago

sort of face reveal? idc. here's the demo guy

+ bonus hands

[saturnplaza]

🖤❤️Demolition Woman❤️🖤

BY MEEEE

[pubby-mill]

so long and goodnight, so long and goodnight

MINORS DNI IK THIS IS SFW BUT MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS GO AWAY

<3

[thesuntugs]

Watching, Reading, Learning: August

I wanted to start collecting articles, videos, and links here as an archive for myself/anyone interested. Of course, Tumblr is broken so I suggest using the links via mobile app. Feel free to ask for details, trigger warnings, or just to chat. I could talk about every link for hours...

Animation

Escondida, Michi, 02:55

Genius Loci, 16:21

Gucci Animation, Ignasi Monreal, 03:26

My Moon, Eusong Lee, 08:36

Pokemon: Twilight Wings Episode 2, 06:34

Switch, Biig Piig, 02:23

Sundown, Gobelins, 05:10

YUKI 7 Episode 1, Chromosphere, 07:16

Articles

Do Elephants Have Souls?, Caitrin Keiper, 01:43:00

Everyone Is Beautiful and No One Is Horny, RS Benedict, 13:00

How To Structure Your Days If You're Depressed, Ragini Nag Rao, 20:00

It Seems I'm Full of Spite, John Paul Brammer, 05:00

Marian Blue, the Color of Angels, Virgins, and Other Untouchable Things, Katy Kelleher, 08:00

On Hyperpersonalized Sexual Identity, Kravitz M. 05:00

Queer as in.. What, Exactly?, Alex V Green, 09:00

WandaVision and the Class Implications of Sitcoms, Princess Weekes, 03:00

Video Essays

Action and the Impossible White Man Trope, F.D Signifier, 37:35

An Introduction to Science Fiction, Jeremy Sorese, 20:46

Bo Burnam’s Inside and “White Liberal Performative Art”, F.D Signifier, 36:24

Gossip Girl and Cosplaying Poor, Amanda Maryanna, 21:01

How Luxury Streetwear Shaped Calabasas, Refinery29, 12:12

How WandaVision Avoided The “Crazy Woman” Trope, Melina Pendulum, 01:03:48

Night In The Woods: Do You Always Have A Choice, What's So Great About That?, 06:58

Satoshi Kon - Editing Space & Time, Every Frame a Painting, 07:37

Studio Ghibli: How Clothing Shapes Identity, Mina Le, 28:48

Whiplash vs. Black Swan - The Anatomy of the Obsessed Artist, Lessons from the Screenplay, 16:37

Wolf Children - The Lateral Tracking Shot, Every Frame a Painting, 06:29

Art Process

Art, Fashion, & The French Revolution, Lemoncholy, 15:09

Draw with Me Procreate Edition, Anoosha Syed

Gouache Demo, Jeremy Sorese 48:51

My Character Design Process ft. The Song of Achilles, Lemoncholy, 07:29

Performances + Background Music

Boo Boo, Toro y Moi, 49:22

Bon Acteur, Lous and the Yakuza, A COLORS SHOW, 02:26

If Only, Raveena, A COLORS SHOW, 02:37

Superclean Vol. 1, The Marías, 18:25

Superclean Vol. 2, The Marías, 21:45

12 Hour Aquarium, 11:59:59

Miscellaneous

From Empty Nest to First Egg In Less Than 8 Minutes, Live Nest Box Camera 2021, 07:53

Kiss of the Rabbit God, Andrew Huang, 14:40

My Place: Florence Welch, NOWNESS, 03:20

My Place: Zoe Bedeaux, NOWNESS, 02:44

The Warrior Kingdoms of the Weaver Ant, Kurzgesagt, 09:04

Toni Morrison on Trauma, Survival, and Finding Meaning, CTFORUM, 02:24

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

mystery punk girl

alright fellas i gotta make sure i don’t embarrass myself this time, we got like, stakes and shit now. SO *breaks fingers* let’s make a masterpost of theories

aka i heard someone was interested in some mystery punk girl theories and decided to collect all the one’s i’ve gotten so far

tl;dr: mystery punk girl could literally be anything/anyone. we go over a few theories, notably ones that paint her as a younger sibling to the Calypso twins (Tyreen = First Sister). we also have one where she is a fraternal twin to Ava and mirrors Troy as the non-Siren-twin of a relationship. we also talk about why she hasn’t been getting a lot of cultist worship, like maybe she’s gone missing, or died. also that she may betray the twins (if! she was ever on their side to begin with! 👀) because her color scheme is one of a friend and tbh the twins seem suuuper close and she doesn’t seem to be getting any recognition from the cult.

from the numskull pin page, also where we learned she’s listed as ‘Punk Girl’

so to get to the point, the most obvious theory is that mystery masked girl is the younger (est?) sibling to the twins.

when mouthpiece talks in the beginning of the HBC demo, he calls Tyreen the ‘first sister’. I mention that in a post here (during my live post spamming of the event lol)

it’s mostly interesting because when you refer to someone as ‘the first’, usually the second part of that is what you’re referring to. 

@sugar-high-viking​ brought this to my attention as well when the pins dropped, and also made a great point that she might be either a half-sibling (different colored hair), OR, to tie into my atlas theory about the twins, a similar experiment, but not blood-related (that part is in the notes of said post, i copied it here for easier reading)

which i adore because atlas twins is my favorite theory that’s probably never going to happen. (also hi if you’re reading this, sorry for the tag! i wanted to give credit because that was brilliant)

we do have a biiiit more stuff to go over.

take the mask of mayhem (yes im still working on that analysis, i promise!! i do like a facet a day if im not working on other stuff)

the whole backdrop thing feels to me like an order of importance.

we have the God Queen at the very top and in the middle. 

on her left is the vault hunters, who of course are going to have a prominent role in the story.

on her right is Troy, her right-hand man (ala the cosplay guide) 

and below Troy we have Mystery Punk Girl. can i call her MPG? i feel like i’m allowed to call her MPG

So her and Troy are about the same level as the Vault Hunters.

We can’t really infer that Tyreen is the oldest sibling (First Sister, with Troy possibly being the Second Brother? Or, Troy is the First Brother, Tyreen is the First Sister, and MPG is the Second Sister. i’d imagine the latter is correct because the former would have to use First Sibling to be correct) but we can guess that things on top are ordered in terms of importance.

And considering we haven’t seen NPG in ANY promo material or trailers yet? yeah i imagine she’s not shown off like the twins are, which would explain her lower level. now if that’s because she’s too important for them to be flashy with her, or if because they don’t think she’s worthy, or they want to protect her, or whatever, I wouldn’t be able to say.

Furthermore, we can also guess she’s not in an Angel-type situation. It’s heavily implied Ava is the Siren successor to Maya (but not officially stated). We know she has feathers on her outfit, but as I found out a bit ago, those (likely) aren’t meant to represent the wings that Tyreen and Lilith have on the MoM. They’re part of the clothing some cultists wear (possibly to emulate her looks like they do with Troy and Tyreen).

pictures for proof:

again, none of this is proven, as Ava nor Maya have wings on the MoM, but it is interesting to note. Also, if Ava does end up being a Siren (say her tattoos take a while to grow big enough for us to see, or they appear after her powers come in, fixing the Angel w/ no tattoos on jack’s desk “plot hole” we see in tps) then there’s no way for Punk Girl to have been a Siren.

unless.

ohohohoh...

okay, we know for a fact Troy’s red tattoos aren’t there because of Lilith. 

As of right now, we have officially sourced stuff showing him with his red tattoos during the HBC (on the hologram), which we’ve proven takes place before the Sanc-III scene where Lilith gets her powers stolen.

there are plenty of theories as to why he’s got those tattoos then: because the twins were conjoined, they got the powers from a vault (the one shown on the walls of the HBC), they were experiments, they were experiments because they were conjoined twins, they’re fake Sirens, fake Sirens due to the experiments, etc, etc. i could go on for ages, but im not gonna, cause we’re not here for this.

im going to take the ‘the twins were conjoined’ theory and run with it for a secco. we had that interview where paul sage said at one point either in the development cycle OR in the timeline (the wording is not clear), the twins were conjoined twins. We’ve also seen that the spanish (i believe!) translation of the Calypso Twins yields the version that says they’re conjoined, not just normal twins. so we’re going to hope it’s the right theory.

we know there can only be 6 sirens in the universe. if tyreen was chosen but was still conjoined with her brother, it’s possible he could’ve been messed up by the magic or advanced tech or whatever it is that picks Sirens, and that’s where the red tattoos come from.

So what if MPG is the same way? twin to Ava, ended up not being the one who got the Siren power, rebelled and joined the CoV in hopes of getting her own powers, maybe even to get Tyreen to heal her since it’s possible having a twin with Siren powers can cause an affliction to the other twin. 

It’d be really interesting if the two were abandoned at a young age and it ended up being that Ava was picked up by the Order of the Impending Storm and MPG wasn’t, as Ava was a Siren (like Maya) and MPG wasn’t, so she turns to the cult for help/support/whatever and the twins take a shine to her and basically adopt her as their little sibling. 

(awww maaan i still gotta do my Maya masterpost. hmmm so much to do, so little time...)

tho, that’s 100% unfounded and me spitballing into the void. mostly cause i think she’s gonna end up looking a lot older in game than she does in the MoM. though, in defense, she is titled ‘Punk Girl’, not ‘ Punk Lady’ or ‘Punk Woman’ or whatever. so there’s that, and it seems wild they’d be introducing 2 young girls around the same age and NOT have them be related in some way. even if they’re just storyline parallels to each other (Ava having everything because she’s a Siren and MPG not)

A better theory, is that she’s the 3rd leader/sibling/figurehead of the cult. The game revolves around the number 3, it’s even acknowledged in universe.

cover art of a high-ranking cultist (the one with the rakk wings on the MoM, im assuming)

which is referenced in actual in-game art

we see it in the background of the behind closed doors intro

and i imagine there must be an in-universe reason for this very important cultist (TM) to be signalling the number three, right?

there’s certainly more than 3 Vaults. More than 3 opened at the time too. 

3 pieces to the Vault Map? but the twins got that in its entirety. no reason to look for all three parts.

once lily gets her powers removed, there are 3 Sirens in play (that we know are 100% confirmed atm) Tyreen, Maya, Amara.

yeah, i think the most reasonable answer is that the number 3 is tied to the cult in some way.

while i find it hard to believe she’s something as prominent in the cult as a third figurehead (lack of statues, posters, acknowledge at all whatsoever), i could 100% see her being a third sibling, however.

So why isn’t she being worshipped like the twins? Maybe they’re keeping her out of the light for a reason. 

Maybe she’s sick, like Troy, but Ty can’t heal her right away for some reason, or she picked Troy over her or smth (we’re told troy is the smart one, afterall, maybe Ty decided to pick the sibling she’d get the most use out of. or the one she’s closer to, being twins and all). 

I had that dumb theory that Tyreen is Demeter (Troy is Demophon) and MPG is Persephone, taken away by the Vaults/Eridians/whatever in the twins’ attempt to heal her and either it locked her away somewhere, or it killed her. (Her being sick could also explain the ventilator she’s wearing, but i have another theory about that in just a secco.) And her being missing/dead is part of the reason Tyreen and Troy are trying to get the ultimate power, they’re trying to bring her back to life/heal her. And it could explain why she isn’t being referenced at all in most worship art, maybe the twins banned it or whatever. but if she is sick, i wonder why she wasn’t just miraculously healed by the Guardians (the Watcher specifically?) like whatsherface in TPS.

She could also be something like their secret weapon, maybe she has knowledge about something we don’t yet- be it warp travel, eridium testing, Sirens, Vaults, Eridians, etc, that’s giving the twins the better edge. Eridium testing could explain the ventilator, plus we see a giant waterfall of somethin’ glowing purple and i would bet it’s slag/eridium. 

plus you know im a strong believer of my ‘the twins are using the chemical sludge of elpis to give their followers superpowers’ theory. i mean, if they actually are teleporting the moon (and NOT blowing it up), then it could almost make sense if they want their source of superjuice near their new base of operations/vault/whatever. mostly because we haven’t yet seen Ty give anyone Lily’s powers. As far as we know right now, she’s the sole holder of Lilith’s powers. at the very least, they’re mutating them with eridium/slag. but i wanna believe! so maybe MPG is their way of doing that. giving them insider knowledge of the chemical sludge on the moon, doing tests on it, subjecting the cultists to it, etc. We do see the big boy cultist smack dab in the middle of the mask with rakk wings, which are kind of a corruption of the angel wings we see the Sirens have. and since the Lost Legion Eternal basically have knockoff Siren/Guardian powers due to the chemical sludge on elpis, it would make sense.

she COULD also be our way into the cult. we know nothing about the gal, maybe she’s going to provide us a way to get insider knowledge. im sure whatever the twins post they’re fine with their cultists seeing, so we’d need someone higher up in the proverbial ladder to give us the good info. i do think it’s interesting she does not match the Twins’ colorscheme at ALL. she’s gray and black, yeah, but she’s also pink and orange (yellow?). 

compare these two

to this:

it seems off that, if we are to consider them a unit, their colors clash so hard. (seriously, red and pink? oh my god!) I could almost see it as their way of hinting that she’s not 100% conforming to the twins.

I could also kinda see her being jealous of the relationship her older siblings have, how they’re so close because they’re twins and they share this bond over the Siren tattoos/starting a cult together. I could see her betraying them at some point because she’s sick of being pushed into the background. the pink and orange is a nice color combo compared to the reds and blacks. she certainly looks designed to be a friend.

anyway, that’s all i wrote today. im kinda tied, might add onto this later as i keep wrackin’ my brain trying to think of more theories.

[poisonappletales]

What are your favorite traits in each of your characters?~

Hello, fearofprayer! Ooh, let’s see…this should be fun. Of course, I’m going to keep my answers spoiler-free. But whenever Beauty and the War (X Playing Pieces) is released, please feel free to ask again if you’d like to know about those.

Now then, this will include my thoughts on all my characters - the cast of Don’t Take This Risk being among them. I’m going to give you the short summarized answer first, followed by a wordier explanation telling you what I think in detail.Shall we begin?

Arsenik of the Hulder

Favorite Traits: Intelligence, style of speech, his hobby of writing

One of my favorite traits is that he speaks in that intellectual, old-fashioned style. It lets me use that older style of writing that you see in classical literature, whether it’s Jane Austen or Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Plus, he has a hobby of writing, so it gives me a chance to write things like poems.

You might say I like the opportunities he gives me for writing myself! On a related note, he enjoys reading just as I do, but I wouldn’t call that a trait I prefer/like in a character. It honestly doesn’t matter to me if a character has similar hobbies to me or not.

Why am I mentioning this? I just thought it’d be something you’d like to know, particularly since it’s common for “writers” and “reading” to go together. If he were to discuss books with someone, that would be easy to write since I enjoy doing so as well! However, his opinions are not necessarily the same as mine.

Anyway, what I like most about him is his style of talking, his intelligence and his writing inclinations.

For those who aren’t a fan of him, a common reason would be that they find his sort of character to be “boring.” I just want to note that I’m not offended by any of those kinds of opinions. Like and dislike whichever character you want! It’s your prerogative. I’m glad if my cast feels like actual people you can form opinions about when you meet them.

But yeah, I do know a lot of people who find things like the classic books boring, so if you personally aren’t fond of his speech, that’s totally understandable. Or just, you know, the do-gooder character you see in shows.  Though, something you may not realize is that he sounds a little more stilted/formal when he’s around his beloved…

(Again, that’s not a trait of his that I would call a “favorite” of mine. It’s just there and a part of his character that feels fitting for him. His shyness/awkwardness is just something I thought I’d bring to your attention in case you missed it in the demo!)

Oh, and a bonus trait I like about him (or the Hulder in general) relates to what’s been said about his clan: “They’re only gentlemen during the day.”

Chase of the Trold

Favorite Traits: How he rounds out the cast and what he represents

Ah, Chase. Two things I like about him: 1) He rounds out the cast well. 2) His relationship with Ambrosia (should you choose to put these two together) has a nice meaning behind it.

What do I mean by “nice meaning”? Well, does anyone remember this Chase/Ambrosia piece I wrote a while back? Chase is not considered conventionally attractive, but Ambrosia doesn’t subscribe to the masses, to say the least. She’s not superficial and considers beauty to be in the eye of the beholder.

He’s a character that represents those principles.

Going back to my first point, it’s not too difficult to see how he rounds out the cast. He’s the most “average guy” of the group.  I have heard a lot of players like him for that reason (heart of gold and a nice guy who’s easy to get along with). He also has a few people who dislike him for…a certain “temper” scene in the demo. Those of you who came across it probably know what I’m talking about here!

He has his strengths and weaknesses. I know I definitely wanted to make him as much a “real boy” as possible, so to speak. Hate him or love him, it’s your call!

Wind of the Imugi

Favorite Traits: Cool, tough barbarian fighter

Your resident tsundere (the hot-cold jerky type), even if he isn’t your textbook classic example. I don’t like to do stereotypes straight-out, so you can’t expect my characters to follow any of those archetypes to a T.

I’m not generally a fan of tsunderes. I don’t mind them in shows, and I think that the cast needs their spice at times. They can create fun situations. It’s just not going to be a favorite of mine (not typically at least - there are always exceptions).

So, what do I like about Wind? He’s cool and tough and isn’t scared of slicing through flesh with those claws of his. I feel like I just picked him to play in a video game selection screen. You could say that’s what I like about him. I would enjoy playing him in a video game for a time.

“What kind of description is that?”

Oh, and if a fan dislikes him, it’s usually because he can be a jerk. That’s it.

Night of the Vi

Favorite Traits: Attitude and armor

Not that much is known about this guy yet, huh?

I’ll just tell you that my favorite traits about him is his cool attitude and that wicked black armor. I called Wind cool as well, but Night’s in a different way. He’s more relaxed and adventurous. As for that armor - well, it’s pretty self-explanatory. (Imagine the cosplaying opportunities there.)

If players don’t like him, it’s often because they’re not into his free lifestyle. He’s not looking for something serious straight off the bat and wants to come into a relationship naturally - whenever he feels it. In the meantime, he doesn’t see anything wrong with living it up, inside and outside the bedroom.

Describing it that way, I feel like you can almost see him as something of a James Bond character now…

Onyx of the Vi

Favorite Traits: Talented killing machine

All right, sure. Let’s put these Vi’s in a row, and give Onyx a nice animated gif that I have to polish up some more one day.

There’s actually a whole lot I like about Onyx. While you wouldn’t want to run into him in real life, there’s something awesome about him being a killing machine on the battlefield, wouldn’t you say? A stone-cold killer, daunted by nothing. His skill with a blade is a sight to behold.

A perfect dark warrior.

I’m actually looking forward to drawing and animating more of him fighting, with his blade drawn. Though, in that case…expect blood.

Prince Alexandrite of the Vi

We don’t talk about the prince.

King Barium of the Vi

Favorite Traits: A natural-born leader + cool and collected + some king realism

His easygoing nature, combined with his natural authority, makes him a likable and charismatic king. Those are my favorite traits about him. If he only had one or the other, I may not have necessarily called that my favorite (more so for the trait of being “cool and collected,” which I may or may not find likable on its own).

Plus…his armor’s pretty neat, isn’t it?

He owns a harem, and while that alone does not automatically make me favor a character, I do like how it’s a realistic aspect for a king of certain eras.

Viktor of the Hulder

Favorite Traits: Exciting party-maker with…comedic tendencies

And we’re back to the Hulder! The reign of the Vi is over - I joke, of course.

You know, it’s really funny, but I hear a lot of players say they like this guy for - shall we say - the wrong reasons. That is, for Arsenik reasons. What do I mean? Case in point:

1) They like his shyness. This young man isn’t shy.  I remember talking about it way back here, but yes, Viktor is a far cry from that description. He’s confident, talkative and gregarious. Sure, he blushes and stammers when Ambrosia touches him in the demo, but he’s still rather loud, wouldn’t you say? He makes his emotions very clear! He shows what he’s feeling and thinking a lot.

2) They like that he’s quieter/withdrawn/someone they can take the lead with. This is similar to the other point. This man is loud, sociable and can even be a little charming in how he flirts with Ambrosia in the demo, wouldn’t you say?

If you’re looking for someone sweeter, shyer and reserved, that’s all Arsenik. You want someone with confidence, liveliness and fun? Here’s Viktor!

That said, what do I like about Viktor? Well, he has a true knack for making a situation humorous. Look at any of his conversations, and I bet you’ll see what I mean. Plus, he has that old-fashioned way of speaking that’s always fun to write out. Just keep in mind that Viktor might be raised to speak like a Hulder, but he isn’t someone who would be considered intellectual.

I almost feel like Viktor has more fans than Arsenik does, given what people tell me! Just a reminder - Viktor isn’t an official love interest in Beauty and the War (X Playing Pieces). There is a secret bachelor, but that may or may not be Viktor. However, if you so wish, I do encourage you to pursue him in-game to find out.

Bo-Peep of the Cucuy

Favorite Traits: Bubbly cuteness

Not long after talking about the king, it only makes sense to discuss one of his mistresses!

She’s peppy, bubbly and cute! She may not be the brightest around the block, but that adds to her charm. Some players assume she’s innocent possibly because her voice is, well, childish (and her mannerisms can be as well). But oh no, make no mistake.

This is the king’s woman - a sexy gal with legs for days. That kind of person. She knows more than a few tricks in the bedroom to keep a man satisfied. She’s well-versed in fashion, flirting and make-up (hopefully - she does have the tendency to wear too much herself).

Despite her capacity for sexiness, she altogether feels, as I said, cute, which is what I like about her.

She is due for a bit of a re-design in the future. Just some tweaks to bring out what I had in mind.

Jasmine of the Phoenix

Favorite Traits: Prim girl trying hard to seem older than she really is

I do like Jasmine. She might be the eldest of the Phoenix cousin trio, but she acts more like the middle child.

She seems prim and proper, but she has immature tendencies. (She’s the one who goes “Moooom, she’s picking on me again” or “Stop messing with my things or I’m going to kill you, you little brat!” Just replace “Mom” with “Ambrosia.”)

She can be almost something of a “normal teenage girl,” but I like the contrast between her “prim” side and her “teenage girl” side. She’s also due a re-design again, but she’ll still be pretty.

Ah, and another thing I like about her: that competitive streak of hers. It makes for more amusing scenarios, as you might have seen during the last exciting Valentine skit.

When it comes to “teenage girl” types of characters, they’re usually hit-or-miss with me.  But I happened to make her a kind I could like.

(You might think I made an entire cast of people I enjoy…but I actually do have characters I wouldn’t like if I wasn’t the one who made it.  And it may not be the people you think it is - aside from maybe one of them, which you’ll see later down the list. As a writer, I want a fleshed out cast and story!)

Rosemary of the Phoenix

Favorite Traits: Fun, lively, endearing

If Jasmine is like the middle child, then Rosemary is equivalent to the youngest. She’s loud, fussy and often bursting with opinions, which makes her fun. I like how she livens things up!

I also enjoy her role in the story, as she plays her part well. What that role is in full detail remains to be seen…

Since she’s sensitive about her weight and enjoys eating, I’ve had a few players assume that I’m trying to make her a walking “fat joke,” but that really couldn’t be further from the truth! What I’ve made here is a character.

I’ve got to tell you, I’ve known people with these insecurities. I’ve even had players tell me that they relate to what she’s doing (i.e. airing out complaints, cheating on their diet, etc.). And I think those are all beautiful people.

You are not meant to ridicule Rosemary. That would be Wildfire’s job. She has strengths and flaws like all the rest.

She’s another one of those “average teenage girl” kind of personalities, but as with Jasmine, I like her. She has endearing qualities, and it’s not hard for her to grow on you! At least, in my personal opinion.

Wildfire of the Valkyrie

Favorite Traits: She does her role well

Speaking of Wildfire…

Say “hello” to my least favorite character. Frankly, I wouldn’t even put her on my list of favorites, and usually, I’m naturally fond on my own creation.

I don’t know if this comes as a surprise since I made a whole game featuring her as one of the protagonists (War: 13th Day), but I did say I can write about characters I don’t even like myself. It just depends on the story I want to tell.

I think almost all of us know people who have made your life way harder than it has to be. If not yours, then someone else’s - someone you cared about. You could call them enemies, rivals, bullies, or even monsters depending on the severity.

Wildfire isn’t based off anyone in real life, but she has elements from all those types of terrible people. In the end, she reminds me of them too much to like her. If you do like her yourself, that’s perfectly fine, of course. You can feel whatever you want about my character. She does have a backstory and a personality because I want her to be three-dimensional. In fact, I was a little surprised by how many people do like her from what I’ve heard.

Now, to be fair, I do enjoy a good villain in a series. But she didn’t hit any of the right buttons for me and that’s entirely on purpose. She has a role to play, and it fits her. She’s the mean girl with the tough girl attitude.

If I had to pick something I like about her that’s more defined than “she does her role well”…can I get back to you on that?

Brooks of the Valkyrie

Favorite Traits: Entertaining, dreadlocks

Okay, this is easier. Brooks is just plain fun. Her banter with others is a pleasure to write out. Her dreadlocks are pretty cool, too. 

Did you think I was going to mention “armor” again?Hmm…I wonder if I can cite “banter with her best friend” as a favorite trait of Wildfire’s…

Ambrosia of the Phoenix

Favorite Traits: Gentle, pure, strong of heart

The innocent sweetheart and exotic Snow White beauty of the island. Here’s the heroine of the series, Ambrosia of the Phoenix!

You might have heard me mention this before but one of my favorite archetypes? The yamato nadeshiko (the proper lady). She’s delicate and feminine. A big-sister type and wife material.

She may not be strong physically, but don’t underestimate her steel will! She’s my number one favorite female character.

While she’s not a fighter, you could say she’s strong in the way that a mother or, as I mentioned before, an older sister is. Who takes care of the chores? She does. Who tries to remind the immature ones (i.e. her cousins) about what to do and looks out for them? She does. If you’ve done something wrong, she will straighten you out but with kindness. If someone’s bothering you, she will step in and be there for you.

Now, when it comes to herself? That might be a different story, but that’s her weakness.

She’s also pretty sexy during the Present Day. Not that she can’t be in the First Act.

If a player doesn’t like Ambrosia (the First Act version, I imagine), they usually tell me it’s because they think she’s too “naïve” or “weak.”

Yes, she is naïve - at least, in the first act of Beauty and the War (X Playing Pieces). She’s young, so it isn’t too surprising. Again, that’s your call to make, but personally, I like that sort of character.

As for weak? I said before that she’s not strong physically. Perhaps, being naïve can be a form of weakness or just how much her young heart can love. And she does have her shyness. But I like shy girls too, so I apologize if that isn’t your cup of tea since you’ll be seeing her a lot!

And since we’re talking about her…

Ambrosia F. (Don’t Take This Risk ver.)

Favorite Traits: Same as above? With some differences.

Let’s talk about her Don’t Take This Risk version. She’s pretty much the same person, but there are differences. For one thing, her speech has less old-fashioned wording (something I enjoy doing for her Virgo Island self).

If you haven’t read the webtoon yet, there are spoilers ahead. (So, I do recommend you stop here and check it out if you haven’t yet!)

This Ambrosia is a bully victim, suffering from low self-esteem and cutting issues. Much like her other self, she’s strong of heart and will. She gets part-time jobs after school. She takes care of Grandmother when her cousins are too scared to do so (or too busy with homework/something fun). This is someone strong and independent, even if it doesn’t come with the usual tough, no-nonsense attitude you see with these kinds of women. (But let it not be said that I don’t like those types as well. I can indeed like those, too.)

When Dev offers to help her out financially, Ambrosia refuses because she wants to take care of things herself. She speaks gently but surely - like a mother/big sister again.

As young as she is, she’s sadly optimistic and naïve…but will her encounter with Unknown change her? 

Evie O.

Favorite Traits: Naughtiness, lively

You might recognize white-haired Evie O. from Death Room and the Don’t Take This Risk webtoon!

According to what fans tell me, she’s my most hated character.

For me, I actually don’t dislike her. If I knew her in real life and she did the same shenanigans, I wouldn’t be fond of her, no. But as a fictional character? You remember what I said about liking a good villain, right? She’s one of them.

She’s not a villain of the “Let’s destroy the world!” variety, but she has just enough naughtiness to make the story juicy. In Episode 20, you see a little bit from her perspective at the end. Did anyone catch her hint of insecurity?

She does have more depth than you might think. Of course, once they’ve been explored, you may not like her any more than you already do!

Unknown of Don’t Take This Risk

Favorite Traits: Crazy fun, predatory

This guy is crazy fun. Aren’t a lot of you on the edge of your seat whenever he’s around? Whether you’re looking forward to him or dreading him, he’s a character who knows how to steal the spotlight. He’s certainly a pleasure to write and a proper foil for some!

He’s also someone who a lot of people don’t quite get. Hence, the webtoon. Is it helping any? Do you feel like you understand him better?

Probably not. After all, his name is still…Unknown.

It’s interesting to note that some fans typically don’t like Night for his liberal lifestyle, but then, we get to this guy…then again, some people still fancy Unknown’s a bit reserved in some sense. Just remember: ignore the voice(s) in the game if it’s confusing you; the webcomic captures him perfectly.

Oh, and make sure you don’t do what he does at home. Unknown’s an interesting character to write, to be sure, but I don’t endorse what he does!

X from Prison

“Oi, Crown Ruler, why are you always putting me last? I ought to come first, you know! I’m the star of Beauty and the War, I’m tellin’ you!”

Favorite Traits: Powers, masculinity, snarkiness

I like X. He has good chemistry with (Present Day) Ambrosia. He radiates strength and masculine energy like he’s some kind of Arnold Schwarzenegger. But what I like most would probably be his powers, like his switch between Aries form and Regular.

His snarky remarks are pretty fun, too. You would think I’d mention this about Wind, but I just happen to prefer X’s debatably “friendlier” style. I don’t have anything against Wind’s sarcasm, and in fact, it can charge scenes with a certain kind of momentum that makes it engaging to watch. It’s just not enough to enter “favorite” territory for me.

Hopefully, I haven’t missed anyone there! I didn’t include the Huntsman’s characters (Dev and Dominic) since you asked about favorite traits for mine.

I’m a writer before I’m an artist, so you might notice that when I make a story, I make characters that fit a role. Each actor has their part in the unfolding play, and they must arrive on stage during their scene. Perhaps, individually, they may fall flat to one viewer, but together, the resulting interaction can be phenomenal - pure entertainment.

To say the least, these characters, even the ones I’m not strictly fond of, can become more intriguing when they mix and match with the others. So, that’s something I would like to add that I enjoy for each and every one - their chemistry and interaction with the rest of the cast. (Some more so than others.)

I typically enjoy talking about my characters, so if you have any other questions or if I wasn’t clear about something, please feel free to ask. Were you surprised by anything I had to say? If you have the time, share your thoughts! I love to hear them.

[xxmikeymurderxx]

Cosplaying demo woman for my final week of school next term :P 🤩🤪