#got an ask once where someone said they liked the way i draw them though..... thank you so much whoever you are btw

[dailyhmsw]

loop 134

bonus notes !?

[papaya-twinks]

hii!! I love your writing ! 🥹 unfortunately I suffer from endometriosis so having sex isn‘t always easy for me and it can be quite uncomfortable to give your sexual partners a heads up beforehand so I wanted to request a fic where maybe reader has endometriosis and they have sex for the first time and she asks lando to be gentle and he‘s just so soft and takes care of her during and afterwards and stuff 🫶🏼

Warnings: Smut, 18+ soft!sex, endometriosis (only putting this as a warning coz some ppl think sexual conditions should be a warnings even though I disagree), oral (f receiving), lube.

Pairing: Lando Norris x endometriosis!fem!reader

A/N - idk what someone who has endometriosis is called :(, also, I’m sorry if I got anything wrong, I tried to research it, and it says lube and foreplay are good for endometriosis, correct me if I’m wrong xx

“Have you ever tried before?” Lando asked, his fingers slowly raking through your hair, your head resting on his chest, the subtle thump thump of his heartbeat in your ear. “I-I have,” you admitted, your hand intertwined with his, his thumb rubbing small circles into your palm.

“He was such a dick, he didn’t even ask if it felt good, so I just faked it and left,” you mumbled as Lando sighed. “He sounds like a prick,” he said softly, “you’ve never had a proper orgasm before?”. You shook your head, your cheeks tinged slightly pink, almost embarrassed at the fact.

“And…you want me to give you your first?” he asked as you nodded, once again, nestling into his chest, almost hiding your face. He smiled, a soft, raspy chuckle from his lips as he slowly turned so you were on your back. You were scared, yes, of course you were. But you trusted Lando.

“Safe word’s papaya, okay?” he said, as you nodded, watching as he slowly tugged your shorts down, dragging your panties along with them with his teeth. Immediately initiating the safe word was the best thing he could’ve done in that moment. You could feel his breath on your thighs, his lashes tickling your skin as you waited.

“Lando,” you gasped, his finger coming to draw small circles round your clit, collecting the juices you’d already had from the small heat in your belly, the pad of his thumb resting between your folds. You’d expected him to just slide his finger in, or get you to suck his dick or something, but he hadn’t.

“So pretty,” he said softly, licking his fingers as he moved closer, pulling your legs gently over his shoulders so he could move his face closer to your core, his tongue licking a line up your folds, making you moan, your back arching slightly. “Oh, f-fuck,” you gasped.

“Makin’ pretty sounds f’me already,” he hummed, the words sending a vibration through your core, yours finger intertwining with his curls. You were wet now, almost soaking wet, your heat dripping onto his tongue, the precision of this man would be enough to send you into a fit of orgasms, fuck.

You whined as he moved away, watching as he reached into the drawer, pulling out some lube, and a towel, lifting your hips so he could slide it under you, and moving the pillows so your hes wad comfy. That was kinda surprising.

You knew Lando was a good boyfriend, but this…greenest flag ever, right? “Did my research, baby,” he smiled, almost bashfully, as he took a generous amount of the stuff into his palm, pushing his joggers down, spreading the lube onto his member.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hummed, moving his tip to rest at your entrance. “I’m gonna push in, okay? But first, you gotta tell me the safe word again,” he said, his hand moving to push your hair from your face. “Lando,” you whined, almost in a daze, your mind blank.

“Baby, we’re not doing this unless I have the safe word, and you know it,” he said firmly. And, in some ways, the tone of his voice was an even bigger turn-on. “Papaya, papaya,” you whined, your eyes wide as you stared up at him. “Good,” he said, kissing your jaw.

You hissed as he pushed in, a sharp pain settling into your uterus, his movements stopping immediately. “More lube?” he asked, as you nodded, watching him pull out so only his head hung inside of you, spreading more of the stuff over his cock.

“Better?” he asked, pushing in, watching your face go blank, lips parting silently with need. “Y-Yeah,” you nodded, his cock sitting inside of you, your tummy bulging a bit with his length. “Perfect,” he hummed, slowly moving, ever-so slowly, not enough to make you feel pleasure, but enough to make sure you knew he was there.

“I want you to tell me to speed up or slow down, okay?” he asked you nodded, hands on his shoulders. “More,” you said, your voice a little choked as he sped up, another moan on your lips. His movements sped upon your command, your stomach tightening.

“G-Gonna cum,” you gasped, your eyes rolling. “Better not be f-fake, yeah?” he groaned, his thrusts becoming sloppier, but still gentle. You nodded, closing your eyes as your first ever orgasm hit, your body shaking, Lando’s cock twitching inside of you as his cum pooled out, his seed spilling through.

“You’re so good,” he gasped, gently pulling out, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You said nothing, just panting, your chest rising and falling as he moved you softly so you were in his arms, lying on his chest as he took a towel from the side, wiping his cock and your thighs clean.

You hummed, resting in his chest, eyes drooping, tired already as he smiled. “Enjoyed that?” he asked, as you nodded, “didn’t even use the safe word, that’s how good you are,” he kissed your jaw again, moving your hair from your face, his hands rubbing small circles into your tummy.

[withleeknow]

whiskers.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; reader has whisker dimples bc this is self-indulgent as hell, written in one sitting and v unedited lol it is once again 2am and i am half asleep. the fake cut mimo has on his cheek in the pics is kind of exactly where my whiskers are lmfao word count: 0.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

"whiskers," minho says, pulling your gaze away from the laptop in front of you.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, though you do put the device to the side to give minho your undivided attention. he's looking at you expectantly but patiently, like he's just asking you to give him a little love.

this isn't something that you've always liked about yourself, your whisker dimples as the internet has so lovingly deemed them these days. they would come out when you smile, or when your face twists into an unpleasant scowl. as a kid, people often found it odd how you had dimples so high up in your cheeks when others had them around their smile lines. you always felt a little different, a little weird whenever someone pointed this out even if it was only in harmless fun.

when minho first became aware of it, he was absolutely fascinated. he'd made you laugh so hard that you couldn't contain the bright grin that spread across your face as complete and utter joy took over you. you were clutching his arm, giggling at the story he was telling you when the dimples showed themselves, the cute indentations settling on top of your cheeks as if they were the physical manifestation of the happiness you felt inside.

you remember what minho did. he had cupped your face gently in his hands, then traced the soft lines with his fingers as he marveled at you. "you look like a cat," he had said, and you didn't really know what to make of it. it was so early in your relationship that you weren't sure if he was complimenting you or making fun of you like the others had.

but then the stars in his eyes twinkled a little brighter, the delighted quirk of his lips expressing his wonder better than words could. he had kissed you right there, softer and sweeter than he ever did in the short time that you had known each other back then, and you quickly learned that oh, maybe this little detail about yourself that you were embarrassed of your whole life was a good thing after all.

you still don't know the reason minho likes them so much. to you, they've always been something to ignore as best as you can, something to not draw attention to because you don't want people to highlight that maybe you're a little different from everybody else.

even as you sit here, years later with the love of your life who's got a very particular request for you, you're still not entirely sure why he's obsessed with your odd dimples enough to want to see them almost every day. it's a mystery to you and yet, it makes you feel all warm and bubbly inside whenever he sends this simple demand your way.

you adhere to his request nonetheless. when the dimples appear, you watch as a smile blooms on his face, growing bigger and bigger until it makes his eyes crinkle. like an instant boost of serotonin, you think.

minho traces them with gentle fingers, gazing at you in awe as if it's the first time he's seeing you like this. when he leans closer, you can't help but meet him halfway until his lips are tentatively brushing your cheeks. you can't help your own smile either, when it deepens and only accentuates the small moon-shaped dents which he kisses. five times on each side, and then he's peppering kisses all over your face while you laugh and accept the sudden burst of love.

sometimes he calls them whiskers, sometimes he calls them moons.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 31.05.2024]

[jo-speaks]

🍬fluff, #8 with Quinn Hughes

prompt #8: "they're not you" quinn x atheltictrainer! reader

overview: quinn gets jealous when you're helping out his teammates.

wc: 715

Being in a relationship with the team’s athletic trainer was no easy feat for Quinn Hughes. 

He knew that it was literally your job to work with his teammates when they needed it, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous when any one of them stepped into the training room where you held the fort. 

Granted, he was glad he rarely had to step in there with his team, not wanting to let down the rest of his team on the ice. But a small part of him kept wishing for a minor injury so he’d have an excuse to see you. 

“Does that hurt?” You asked Petey, him having walked in with a complaint about his knee. 

He shook his head whilst wearing a grimace on his face. You gave him a look, not believing his not-so-convincing statement. “Petey, I don’t get paid for you to lie to me.”

“Givin’ her a tough time, Petey?” Conor Garland teased, stepping into the room with his hand on his ear. 

Elias scoffed, laughing at the situation at hand, “I think I just need some ice. We’ve got a game later.” 

You rolled your eyes, “And I think I got my degree by knowing more about this than you.”

The two men erupted in laughter. Having built a friendship with you outside of work due to Quinn, they knew you were only teasing them. Slightly. 

As you turned around to scoop some ice into a bag for Elias’ knee, Quinn just so happened to be walking past the training room, ears perking up at the laughter that flowed out of the walls. He didn’t want to feel the twang in his stomach as much as he did, but unfortunately, the sound of your bubbly laugh around anyone else but him would do that. 

He halted his steps, redirecting himself to join the three of you as you instructed Conor to sit down on one of the beds so you could patch him up. When you turned back around to wrap the ice onto Elias’ knee, you caught Quinn’s eye. 

“Hey! Everything okay?” You questioned, concern laced in your voice as well as your face even though he walked in showing no signs of any injury. 

Quinn nodded, leaning against your desk, “Yeah, just got curious about what all the laughing was about.”

Elias leaned forward so only you could hear him, “What he means is, he’s jealous of me and the married man in the room.”

You snorted, finishing up on his knee and turning to face Conor to handle the bleeding of his reopened wound, “Petey was giving me a hard time was all.” You said over your shoulder. 

As you quickly bandaged Conor’s ear, you let him know he could just relax in the room if he wanted to. He agreed, making himself comfortable on the bed he was lying on. 

Quinn’s face contorted once you were making your way to document his teammates’ visits on your laptop. Immediately noticing, you quirked your eyebrow at his facial expression, not understanding why he was looking at you in that manner.

“You sure you alright? You look like someone shoved a stick up your ass.” 

He cringed at your vulgarity, “Are you sure he was just giving you a hard time? Nothing else was going on?”

“What, are you jealous or something?” You joked, not believing he actually was until your question was met with silence. “Quinn-”

“It just sounded like how you laugh when you’re with me.” He mumbled, face flushing red. 

You tried to laugh as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw the attention of his friends. Placing your hand on the one he was leaning on, you gave him a reassuring squeeze, simultaneously asking for his eyes to meet yours. 

“Firstly, that’s how I laugh around everyone. Second, one has a girlfriend and the other is married with a child whom you’re the godfather of.” He opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by you as you continued speaking, “Plus, even if they were single, they’re not you.”

Quinn’s body seemed to relax at your words of affirmation, all the previous jealousy suddenly fizzling out of his body. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. You’re the only one for me, Quinn Hughes.”

[hxzbinwrites]

Hiiii! Could I request a oneshot where Husk reunites with a gn! S/o he had back when he was alive? The reader decides to stay at the Hazbin Hotel as a way of staying protected from the rest of the sinners and overlords in hell. After Charlie introduces them to everyone, they stop at the bar for a shot and they recognize eachothers voices.

(It can be fluff or angst)

Tysm!^^✨️

Husk x Gn! Reader | Quitting |

Warnings ⚠️: Drinking, Alcohol Abuse, Cussing

(Y/n) is a mess. Just a plain mess. That’s what everyone though at least. Just a drunk weaving in and out of the next bar, blurring the lines between today and tomorrow, reality and fiction.

Groggily they drag their feet along the pavement, tired eyes desperately searching for a cheap enough bar that will still take them in. So far, no luck has been found. Most of the bars are either too expensive for someone who already blew everything they had on alcohol, or already know who they are and refuse to let them into their establishment.

And don’t even think about a place to stay. (Y/n) hasn’t been able to afford rent in years, not even a cheap motel to stay at. It’d be a blessing if somewhere that was a free stay just popped out right infront of them and just offered a place-

“HELLO!!”

“AH! WHAT THE HELL?” (Y/n) said, scowling at the cheerful face infront of them. It was Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie Morningstar. “Listen kid, don’t you know not to sneak up on folks!”

“Ah! I am so sorry!!” Charlie said, tucking her papers with drawings of rainbows made with crayon under her arm as she grabbed (Y/n)‘s hands.

“I’m here to make you an offer!” She said, smiling once more. Her cheerful demeanor was very different from (Y/n)’s deadpan expression.

“Listen kid, I don’t got much money. I find some here and there and then I blow it on booze, if you need investments, why don’t ya go to an Overlord or something, I ain’t got time for all of this.”

“Oh I don’t need any money!” Charlie said,���I need you! I’m working on a project to help rehabilitate sinners!! Help them go to Heaven!! And I’d like you to participate!”

“Why would I do that?” (Y/n) said, raising an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you start off on an easier case or something, I just don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“You can stay there for free!-”

“Alright lets go.” (Y/n) said, taking their hands out of Charlie’s grasp before she started to crush them in a hug.

“YAY!!! ANOTHER GUEST AT THE HOTEL!!!” She squealed, making the drunk’s head throb at the loud noise.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough Princess. Lets go to this ‘hotel’ of yours.”

——————

Charlie kicked open the doors to the Hazbin Hotel, skipping in alongside (practically dragging along) the newest guest, (Y/n).

“EVERYONE!!!!” Charlie shouted,”EMERGENCY MEETING!! WE HAVE A NEW GUEST!!”

(Y/n) covered their ears, their eyes squinting in annoyance at the Princess’s very loud entrance.

Mostly everyone slowly made their way to the lobby, Vaggie being the first to enter.

“Hey. I’m Vaggie. I’m Charlie’s girlfriend. If anyone here gives you trouble, let me know, I’ll handle them.”. For someone so laid back and monotone, you really wouldn’t expect her partner to be the hyper princess who was literally jumping up and down.

(Y/n) and Vaggie conversed for a bit before Sir Pentious, Angel Dust, Alastor, and Nifty entered as well.

They all talked and got to know each other before in the corner of their eye, (Y/n) caught sight of a bar. A BAR!! They quickly excused themselves and hopped behind the counter, quickly mixing a drink.

“Excuse me, who are you and what are you doing behind my counter?” A deep voice said, instantly making (Y/n) freeze in their tracks.

“Husk?” They asked, turning around expecting a familiar face only to be met with a casio themed cat.

“(Y/n)? Is that really you?”

“Husk!!” They said, reaching over the counter to give him a hug, much like the one they were internally complaining about with Charlie earlier.

“It’s good to see you old friend. How’s Hell been treatin’ ya?”

“Shitty” They replied,”since I died, I’ve been a drunk and living off the streets for a few years. Well decades now. Oh well, I’m here now!”

Husk narrowed his eyes at her,”so you’re telling me that my old drinking buddy has been living off of these dangerous streets! Hell (Y/n), I’m glad that Charlie found you. Now, move away from the counter, let me make you a drink to commemorate you quitting drinking.”

“No fair!” (Y/n) said, plopping down on the bar stool,”quitting? We all know that’s impossible. I was a drunk when I was alive, I’m a drunk now that I’m dead-“

“And you’ll become sober when you go to Heaven. I….I really care for you (Y/n), you shouldn’t stay in this shithole. Go up to those pearly gates. For me please?” He said, sliding them their favorite drink.

“Sure Husk, I’ll do it for you. But if I do it, you gotta promise to come with me right after okay? No more gambling.”

Husk sighed, closing his tired eyes,”Fine. I’ll do it for you. You better be glad though (Y/n), I wouldn’t do this for nobody except you.”

They smiled, looking into Husk’s eyes as he smiled back. They both knew that they were gonna keep their promises.

—————

Word Count: 823

(sorry it’s so short 😭)

[januaryembrs]

Bugsy and Spencer tea!!

the one with the card counting | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

description: Bugsy and Spence quarrel while playing Old Maid

length: 700 wds

set in the trouble almost all my life universe

“Spence, I love you, but if you try card counting in Old Maid one more time, I’m not speaking to you for the rest of the flight,” Bugsy snipped, staring down at the man over their deck of cards, his hazel eyes narrowed and concentrated as he flicked through his hand. The joker card glared down at him from the dead centre, where he’d strategically placed it so she’d be more likely to take it when her turn came, though he’d been unsuccessful so far. 

She didn’t need to see his lips to know he was chewing them in frustration, eyes darting between the pile on the table of already used hands, the rest of the deck they were picking up from, and how many cards she had in her hand. 

“I’m not, and even if I was, it’s just math,” He replied in a defensive tone, knowing she’d already caught him out as he looked up at her, the red back designs fanning over her mouth and nose, though her annoyed expression was still clear as day to him. For a guy who rarely understood what people meant until they spelled it out verbally for him, Bugsy had always just seemed to make sense in his head, “I’m not cheating,”

He said it like someone who was trying to convince himself it was true, his eyes as innocent and none threatening as they would go, though he got that little notch between his brows that said he knew exactly what he was doing and felt bad for lying to her. 

Huffing, she drew her cards to her chest and setting her elbows on the table, Hotch to her left with an amused smile drawing at his lips as he tried to catch some sleep on the way home from a case, though the sound of the two agents bickering gave him some inflight entertainment at least. 

“Oh, really?” She asked, daring him to repeat himself even though saying it the first time had been hard enough, and Spencer simply nodded with a small ‘Mhm’, “Alright, smart guy, if we’re playing it like that then I’m taking this card,” Bugsy said, pulling the ace of spades he had sitting beside the joker with a pointed look on her face, “And the reason I want this one and not the one next to it is because I know that's where you put the old maid,” 

Spencer swallowed, the tip of his nose turning a blush, as he grit his teeth together in annoyance, “I guess the joke is on you, Miss Prentiss. I don’t even have the old maid,” He said, forcing his voice not to quake, and he sounded somewhat believable, at least that’s what he thought until he saw her brow raise, and he knew he was fucked.  

“Yeah? Government names is it?” She asked again, giving him chance to fix his error, only he doubled down with a second nod, his lips pursed. Her finger shot out to point to the joker card, where she could only see the intricate pattern that matched every other in his hand, “So this isn’t the Old Maid?” 

Spencer blinked once, the two of them exchanging a heated look like they were waiting for the smallest of breaks in character, and his breathing even despite the fact it was under duress, his expression abnormally calm as the jet went entirely silent, “Yes,” 

“Bullshit,” He quickly collected his cards to his lap and scrambled to shuffle them well enough that she wouldn’t guess which one was the dead card, his scowl spreading over his face.

“You cheater, you must have seen my cards, there’s no way to count where I put the joker, that is entirely by chance-” Spencer snapped back, flipping them between his long, lithe fingers as Bugsy giggled into her hand. 

“Play nicely, boys and girls,” Rossi chided where he had his nose buried in the newspaper, only glancing up to see Spencer glaring at the girl who sat opposite him with a victorious smirk. 

“Face it, Spencer Reid. You might be good, but I’m better.” Derek bit his lip to stop himself from laughing where he was eavesdropping on their game on the seats behind them, and he thought he might have to take it to his deathbed that he and the younger girl had swapped Spencer's cards out the second he went to the bathroom. Or maybe save it for a rainy day, when he really needed leverage against the stubborn girl and let them squabble in peace. 

Bugsy didn't tell him until a year later, the week before she left for London.

[darqx]

Snakes on a post

Another particularly long answer dump since i, once again, have a backlog of things to potentially answer |D

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Got jumpscared with my own old art for a hot minute there LAUGHS.

(For those wondering, the naga doodle from here was attached to the ask)

That is every other Royal that exists in the Nether and also at least some of the demons that challenged him for his Royal title lol.

Believe me, no one was or is more surprised then me XD;

So, the thing about where Rire's ichor manifests is that it kinda exists and doesn't exist at the same time. Meaning that his upper back is where the manifestation point is anchored, BUT it can still manifest with a bit of space in between it and his back hence why it will manifest over his clothes and not through them.

So if you touch where the manifestation point is sans the ichor, than you are just straight up touching his back. With the ichor, he still gets sensory input from the tentacles to his back but it's a lot more soft and muted esp the further away it gets from him. As you've seen implied though, he would feel a very sharp pain if a great deal of damage was done to the ichor where it clusters at the manifestation point, since he'd DEF be feeling that straight in his back lol.

He is definitely a top and the only way he would bottom for anybody is if they somehow forced him to.

Ah i knew i'd answered this a long time ago [finally found it]! Holy crosses (those that have been blessed) can also burn him but they would need to be in contact with him the entire time. Being a Royal he also has more of a tolerance to these than normal demons.

Well, unless said person actually has the undeniable ability to make good on their words, Rire would just stand there rather genially with that little smile he sometimes has and let them finish.

And then he might use them as reverse suggestions for dealing with said person (why would you give him any ideas!!?)

both

In BTD canon it is quite possible that they actually haven't in person. But we are using creative license here haha.

Rire heals a lot faster than a human. Cain is not my character so I don't know how his stacks up.

I've grouped these asks cos they kind of have similar answers - 360° (jk sorry sorry to the second q that is just a very common spelling mistake and I couldn't resist XD; )

Now, even though we mashed all the characs together in BTD, they all actually come from different storylines and so their canons outside the "BTD canon" may differ. This tends to bleed in. With this in mind:

The rules of Rire's canon (eg the concept of Battle Royales and how to become a Royal) don't apply to Cain. Anyway, they don't live in the same place either.

Cain is canonically the oldest and most OP character in BTD lol so yes he is stronger than Rire - you might've noticed, but Rire is never in the same drawing as Cain voluntarily. I play with this along with the "natural weakness" aspect - which I've also referred to as scissors-paper-rock rules XD Basically; demons beat humans, angels beat demons (purely because demons have weakness against holiness).

It would (be insane) but I hope you are not looking at me to fulfil this :d

Not really

His coronation day is a public holiday in his sector so yes XD

Aww thank you very much for your interest! ≧(´▽｀)≦ It's really cool that some of you guys want to actually fund such a thing - I'd have thought you'd have enough of him killing you in BTD1 XD Unfortunately, I have no plans for a Rire game at the moment as I'm working on a webcomic which looks like it will take up all my free time (that being said, he will be in the webcomic at some point).

Nope! Although i can kinda see why you might think that lol.

Whatever that one is where he doesn't particularly care what someone else identifies as. It really makes no difference to him or how he will act.

There are viruses in the Nether that if contracted could potentially kill you, yes. Part of being a Royal is becoming a lot more robust than normal Demons though. As for if/when Rire dies, I dunno maybe either in a Battle Royale somewhere thousands of years down the line or by old age (which is rare for a Royal but not impossible if you play your cards right).

If you are asking if he has a heat/rut of some sort, he does not |D

[radioisntdead]

Hey! I really liked your headcanon about Alastor. It’s got my imagination running wild >_< What do you think about a romantic! Oneshot with Alastor where everyone can see the results of the biting game on both us and Alastor (assuming we both break skin and leave marks). I’m not sure how Alastor would be caught without his coat on, much less with with short sleeves… maybe a spilled drink on a hot day. But I keep imagining this scenario:

Angel: Asks Alastor if he had a rough night after seeing his arms covered in bites (assuming rough sexy time)

Alastor: Responds yes (remembering how he got cornered and couldn’t get away because using his shadows to escape is against the rules of the game)

Angel: :O

Good evening my dear! Thank you so much for requesting this I had so much fun writing it and I'm so glad you liked my Alastor biting headcanons!

And because I positively adore and I am mildly obsessed with deers I think that's why I like Alastor so much? The reader has deer attributes like Alastor Specifically whitetail deers because apparently they can jump eight feet in the air! And the reader jumps a bunch, reader is refered to as Prancer by Angel, I'm not gonna lie I had no idea how to end it so the ending is rushed! and everything is a tad bit messy, my apologies, Full italics is a mini flashback

Warnings!!

Biting, the drawing out of blood, the reader's blood is a vibrant pink for fun! Angel dust alluding to sexual acts, Still getting used to writing Alastor so once again leaning into fanon and possibly some OOC behaviors.

not proofread because I don't have a beta reader, Enjoy!

The two of you hadn't meant to get so carried away, it started out peacefully enough, you and Alastor were just laying on couch he had in his radio tower, it was later in the night, you suppose it was just past midnight,

He was looking over papers with whatever radio nonsense on them for tomorrow's broadcast, and you were peacefully reading a book with your head on his shoulder, with soft jazz playing in the background, your jackets were hung neatly on the coat rack, a warm cup of coffee and a nice soothing [Drink of your choice] sat on the desk.

It was treasured peaceful moment, until your beloved strawberry-flavored Bambi decided to ruin it by picking up your arm and biting into it like it was beef jerky and looking like someone had shot him with a tranquilizer dart,

You sat up quickly, your arm still in his grasp, eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away from your arm, licking away the escaping blood like the little cannibalistic freak he is

"Alastor, My darling dear, why are you like this?"

You ask with an exasperated tone as your dearly beloved just kept a smug grin on his face and patted the sides of his mouth with a handkerchief he had gotten from hell knows where,

Sitting up, you blink slowly before immediately pouncing at the Radio demon, your own sharp teeth bared and ready to bite only for your beloved deer to move out of the way and quickly moving behind you as you fall face first into where Alastor once sat,

"Ah, you have to be quicker then that my dear!"

He said with a laugh before turning around to grab his coat, clearly not expecting you to stand up on his couch like a uncivilized heathen and jump on him managing to knock him off his feet? Hooves? Whatever he has and sink your teeth into his exposed neck.

And so the game begun with the both of you biting each other.

Unfortunately this little game of yours comes with consequences and what are those consequences?

Well for starters Alastor's coat was now stained with noticable pink blood [From you of course who else!]

Bite marks littered his arms from your chompin' down, not to mention you had bitten his neck! scandalous behavior!

You weren't much better with bite marks though not only on both of your arms but shoulders, and hands, hell he almost bit your face and he would've if you didn't headbutt him!

You had grabbed his coat along with a few other articles of blood covered clothing you gently folded and placed them in a bag to take over to the drycleaners, honestly you could probably get the blood stains out with cold water but neither you nor Alastor had time for that and while you adored Niffty you did NOT trust her with washing some of the articles of clothing that you had, so the drycleaners it was!

Alastor was up in his radio tower doing a broadcast while Everyone else was scattered through the hotel, notably Angel dust and Husk were chatting about something at the bar as you walked by it you gave them a quick wave.

"Good afternoon you two! I'm heading to the drycleaners if anyone asks."

You said as you quickly made your way past the duo, making a swift plot convenient exit.

Angel dust raised an eyebrow as he briefly caught the sight of teeth marks on your wrist from the exposed hem of your sweater.

"Eh, didn't think they had it in em' to do anything beyond handholding"

"They don't, Probably they probably bit by that fucked up creature of theirs."

Husk said sliding a glass over to Angel who shrugged before downing whatever liquid was in the glass.

Alastor had entered the bar area, after a couple of minutes later, wearing a red button up and vest, the same colors as his normal attire, he had rolled up his sleeves during the broadcast and unfortunately forgot to unroll them to cover the bite marks on his arms,

He missed his usual attire but unfortunately it was gone with you for the foreseeable future.

"Oo, Rough night freaky face?''

Angel dust joked wiggling his eyebrows as he swirled whatever alcoholic drink Husk had provided him while Husk shook his head while wiping a glass.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that."

Alastor said his smile tightening as he recalled you cornering him in the Bayou in your shared room, Alastor wasn't the type to run away typically, even less the type to give up easily even to his beloved spouse,

unfortunately for him though,

The little game of yours had some rules, such as no leaving any marks on facial areas, No tearing off any chunks of flesh {Gonna love having a spouse with cannibalistic tendencies}, and No using any type of power the two of you had, which means good ol' Alastor couldn't use his funky lil' shadows

And that made him more vulnerable to his deranged spouse's tackling strategy.

"Alastor get out of the tree,"

"No."

You had no idea how you ended up chasing your spouse into a tree, you don't know how he even got INTO the tree, but he sat upon it kicking his legs back and forth like a gleeful child, staring down at you, for someone who's a deer he's oddly cat like,

You sighed turning around and walking away as your beloved laughed in taunting tone

"Running off so soon dearest? And here I thought you- aCK"

Alastor was cut off by you running back, hurling yourself off the ground and tackling him like a feral flying squirrel onto the ground.

Blinking away at the memory Alastor returned his focus to Angel dust's gobsmacked expression that turned into a grin as he laughed while Husk moved further into the bar shaking his head.

"I was jokin' around, but sounds like you and prancer actually got freaky!''

"Pardon me, we w̸̧̢͉̦̟̭̪͕̉͘ḩ̷̛̛̤̬͖̿͆̈́͘â̸͔͔̣̊̿ẗ̴̖̦̆̔͛̿̎̾̆̚͠?"

Thank you for tuning in folks! My apologies for the messy one shot, but I have a Vox x reader that's almost done that's more put together, and a more put together Alastor fic, Anyways I hope you all have a wonderful day!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Hold My Hand

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When you receive unwanted attention on a weekend staycation with your friends, a knight in a shining navy suit saves you by offering his hand.

Warnings: creepy guy doesn't understand 'no' and continues making unwanted advances, but Tim saves the day. angst to fluff (I guess?)

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When your friends invited you out for a girls’ weekend, you were expecting a spa retreat or a cottage at the beach, not a penthouse in Los Angeles. More than that, you didn’t expect them to pick one of the sleaziest restaurants you’ve ever seen to spend their Friday night. Luckily – if there is a ‘luckily’ in this situation – you found a quiet corner on the rooftop. Your friends are downstairs, huddled around the bar as they look for rich, single men. It doesn’t exactly seem like the breeding ground for that type of man, though.

“Good evening, gorgeous,” a deep voice says behind you.

Assuming they’re talking to someone else, you ignore them, keeping your attention on the railing around the roof’s edge.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you,” he adds.

When his hand lands on your upper arm, forcefully turning you toward him, you truly begin regretting coming on this trip.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim feels like an animal in a zoo enclosure. Wearing a suit that isn’t his, in a place he’d rather never see again, with a few too many pairs of eyes blatantly watching him. 

Two hours ago, he was sitting in the station, minutes away from getting to go home. Now he, Lucy, and Angela are undercover in a known mafia club. While the women in the restaurant stare at Tim, the men try to catch Lucy and Angela’s attention.

Sighing, Tim checks his watch. He’s been in one place too long with no sign of their target.

“I’m gonna go check the roof, see if our target’s up there,” Tim tells Lucy.

“The roof?” she asks.

“Yeah, the bar.”

“There’s a bar on the roof?!” 

“We’re in Los Angeles, boot, of course there’s a bar on the roof. Angela, keep her close.”

Angela nods, and if Lucy wasn’t already a little creeped out by the men standing across the room, she would be offended.

Tim gets in the elevator, leaning against the wall once the doors are closed. The rooftop bar, however, is full of people who are somehow more intimidating than the ones inside. Looking around, Tim doesn’t see the target or any of his known associates. What he does see, though, is a situation that he shouldn’t get involved in, yet he can’t look away.

✯✯✯✯✯

The man beside you cannot take a hint. You slowly back away until his hand falls from your arm, and one of your legs slides off the barstool. When your foot hits the floor, you stand and keep the seat between you.

“C’mon, gorgeous, ‘s jus’ a question,” he slurs. “Yes or no?”

“I said no,” you repeat firmly.

He doesn’t like your answer, though, and you try to hide your flinch when he slams his glass down on the bar.

“You here alone?”

You glance around, hoping you see someone who looks trustworthy enough to hide with. But you don’t see anyone who fits the bill.

“No,” you answer. “My friends are downstairs.”

“Just friends?”

He leans closer, his arm moving to cage you on one side. Inhaling sharply, you try to think of a way to escape this situation without making it worse or drawing more unwanted attention.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’ve got nothing,” Angela says in Tim’s earpiece. “Anything up there?”

“No,” Tim answers.

“We’re leaving then. Can’t do anything without him here.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll catch up.”

“What?” Lucy asks.

“I’ve got to do something first. I’ll see you at the station tomorrow. Call if you need anything.”

Tim removes the earpiece, switching it off as he drops it into his blazer pocket. Moving quickly across the rooftop, he doesn’t realize that he doesn’t have a real plan.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey,” another voice says beside you. “I was wondering where you got off to. What’s going on here?”

You glance over, and your shoulders drop when you see how clean-cut and trustworthy he looks. Given your current situation, you’re glad to see a man who isn’t clearly a predator, but you try not to think about how low the bar is.

“Hi,” you reply. “I was trying to come back, but, uh, got caught up.”

Widening your eyes slightly, you try to communicate that you are not here by choice.

“Give her some room, man.”

The creep leans back enough that you can move, and you rush to your savior’s side.

“And next time a woman tells you ‘no,’ you’d do well to listen,” he adds darkly, letting you hide behind his shoulder.

“Whatever. She jus’ doesn’t know what she wants.”

A kind hand turns you around, and the man whispers, “I’m Tim.”

You tell him your name, flinching when glass shatters behind you.

“Hold my hand,” Tim says, spreading his fingers between you as he looks over his shoulder.

Without hesitation, you interlace your fingers with his. He pulls you close as the elevator opens. Once you’re alone, neither of you releases your grip on the other’s hand.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I hate that I had to jump in, but you’re welcome. Are you okay? Did he touch you?”

You shake your head, looking down at your joined hands.

“Do you really have friends downstairs?”

“I have… acquaintances that I will never be going on vacation with again.”

“Vacation? You’re not from here?”

“That’s the funny part. We all live here, so imagine my surprise when the weekend getaway was twenty minutes from my house.”

“Sounds like you need new friends.”

You hum before asking, “Who are you here with?”

“For work.”

At your confused glance, Tim raises his blazer to reveal a badge.

That must be why he helped you.

The door opens, and you pull your hand from his.

“Thanks for helping me, officer. Have a great night.”

Tim watches as you disappear into the crowd, stepping out of the elevator confused and surprisingly upset. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he calls the only person he can think of. 

“No questions, Angela. I helped a girl get away from a guy who didn’t understand ‘no.’ As soon as she saw the badge she disappeared. Something was happening before that-“

“Timothy,” Angela sighs. “She thinks you did it out of duty then let her flirt with you. Find her and ask her out, anything to show that you did it for her and not because of some twisted savior complex.”

“Thanks, Lopez.”

Ending the call, Tim heads toward the bar. He thinks that’s where groups of girls on vacation probably hang out. When the bar comes into view, he has no problem finding you, like the brightest light in a dark room.

“Nothing happened, I just went to the roof for a while,” you insist.

“No, you had that glow thing. You met a guy.”

“Maybe I did but he wasn’t interested.”

“Don’t drag me into this if you’re not going to tell the story right,” Tim says, approaching your side.

“Tim?” you ask, turning toward him.

Your body language with him compared to the man upstairs, even how you interact with the women you're here with, differs vastly. Squared to him and completely open, you’re practically inviting him to do something.

“I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. I was off the clock, not that it matters. My motivation may have been pure, just to help, at first, but then you held my hand and I never wanted to let go.”

“Can we…” you pause as you look around. “Can we please not do this here?”

“As long as we do it now.”

Tim offers his hand, and you nod as you take it. Leading you through the crowd, Tim keeps you close. Exiting onto the noisy Los Angeles street, Tim turns toward you.

“I could tell you needed help, or wanted it at least,” Tim explains. “But I don’t want this to end here. I- your hand fits in mine.”

“Please don’t tell me that means we’re soulmates or something.”

Tim smiles, and you forget why you were upset in the elevator.

“I’m Tim Bradford,” he introduces, shaking your already joined hands. “I am a cop, but not with you. With you, I think I could be the man I’d like to be.”

“Romantic,” you murmur.

“I know. It’s scaring me a little. You can’t tell my friends, okay?”

“As long as we don’t tell mine either.”

“So, you’re willing to try?”

“I mean, where else am I going to find a knight in a shining navy suit?” you ask, leaning closer. “As long as your hand stays in mine, I’m willing to try.”

[papiliotao]

・❥・IN CLASSROOM 143

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Aether, Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: what is it like sitting next to them in class?

♡ — Content: fluff, high school AU, modern AU

♡ — A/N: classes were just better when I sat next to silly people. That's probably where I got the inspiration for this from. Have fun reading!

AETHER is the living definition of overcommitment. He's quite popular among your peers, so it's only natural that people are queuing up to ask him to join their clubs. Unfortunately, he's a bit people pleaser, so he can never find the heart to turn them down. From music to volleyball, Aether is involved in almost every extracurricular that the school has to offer, and as his desk partner in history class, you begin to notice the toll it’s taking on him.

It shows in the way he's always late and gasping for air as he sits down beside you. It shows in the way he turns to you and tiredly waves at you each class, offering you a weak smile that makes your heart skip a beat. And it shows in the way his honeyed eyes droop as he fights the temptation of slumber, all while your elderly teacher's droning voice lulls him into a state of tranquility.

He's fighting a losing battle, and he knows it. Each time the boy gives in to his weariness and lays his head on his desk to inevitably drift into the realm of dreams, his expression softens. He looks so content. You can never muster the willpower to wake him up, so instead, you leave him be and diligently take notes to share with him once class ends. After all, even someone as busy as Aether needs to set aside some time to rest in their strenuous schedule. The dark circles under his eyes tell you all you need to know about the amount of sleep he gets.

But there's no way the frigid surface of the table he uses as a makeshift pillow is comfortable, so one day, on an impulsive whim, you offer up your shoulder as a headrest instead. Aether agrees gratefully, and from then on, the sweet boy leans against you as he rests. His warm breath sends tingles down your spine, and his soft hair tickles your skin, and although his proximity makes it harder for you to take notes, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

ALBEDO, the boy who sits next to you in chemistry, is studious yet eccentric. He’s known for achieving nearly perfect grades by utilizing his unrivalled intellect, and he’s always the first person his peers go to for help with their schoolwork despite the fact that he’s rather introverted. As a result of his reserved demeanour, he almost never offers his aid to others first, but you’re the exception. 

Whenever you look as though you’re struggling, Albedo won’t hesitate to assist you. He almost appears a little too excited to talk to you, giving advice anytime he sees an opportunity to. It's gotten to the point where even your classmates have picked up on his eagerness to speak to you, and they have started speculating that the bright boy is infatuated with you. You can't deny the fact that the thought causes your heart to flutter, but you try your best not to get your hopes up, just in case your peers are mistaken. Besides, Albedo is rather difficult to understand anyway, so it wouldn't come as a shock if it turned out that his intentions were simply being misinterpreted.

One example of said contradictory behaviour on Albedo's part has to do with his participation during lessons. Despite his stellar academic performance, he has a habit of zoning out whenever a topic doesn’t interest him. In those instances, you notice that he pulls out a sketchbook and flips to a page half-filled with doodles and begins to meticulously scrawl on the paper. Soon, snowy white is dyed shades of grey and black, undergoing a metamorphosis that transforms it into the finest of portraits. You’re always curious as to what Albedo is drawing, but you’re never able to catch a clear glimpse. Whenever you look his way, he hastily shuts the book, concealing its contents as if he is guilty of a crime.

Unbeknownst to you, the ocean-eyed boy beside you is doodling the one he is infatuated with: you. His feelings ebb into his sketchbook, and his art captures every dip and curve of your face, encapsulating all your radiance with immaculate precision. And yet, he never overlooks your imperfections either — with his pencil acting as a catalyst, he records them in great detail. Albedo is in love with every single aspect of you, even your flaws, which arguably garner more adoration from the boy than any of your other features because they make you distinct — the brightest star in a galaxy full of wonders. Perhaps one day, he will be able to show you his works, but for now, he is more than content with silently admiring you.

Peculiarity is a trait best embodied by KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, the boy who sits next to you in English class. On the surface, he seems normal enough — although one could argue that he is abnormally pretty with his snowy white hair and eyes the colour of autumnal maple leaves. However, he is also strange in other ways. Six months of conversing with Kazuha have led you to the conclusion that he is most definitely odd, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Unlike most of your peers, Kazuha often appears to have his head in the clouds, daydreaming in a world that he has made entirely his own. There are times where he stares out the window, sighing wistfully as he gazes at the vivid azure sky overhead. On other occasions, he writes poems in the worn notebook he always carries around, hardly minding the way you look over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what he's writing. Most puzzling of all, however, is his tendency to absentmindedly stare at you in the middle of class. He doesn’t even have the shame to look away when you glance back at him. He just maintains eye contact and smiles at you, causing you to avert your gaze first.

Despite the fact that Kazuha is rather odd, he is still a polite and compassionate person. Whenever you allow him to proofread your assignments, he compliments your work in embellished words that bloom with praise, and he offers advice in a way that feels warm and genuine. You feel at ease with him — unafraid of being judged. However, sometimes guilt gnaws at you when you ask for Kazuha's help because he's always the one assisting you. He has nothing to gain, but he continues assisting you out of the kindness of his own heart.

That's why when Kazuha asks you to read over some of his poetry for the first time, you agree without hesitation. A quick scan of the page Kazuha directs you to causes you to raise your eyebrows. It's a love poem that is cryptically addressed to ‘the one I adore’. You can feel the affection Kazuha harbors toward the person mentioned in the poem just by reading it. When you ask Kazuha who it's for, he simply chuckles and asks if you like his poetry, effectively dodging your question. You decide to let him off easy and give him a half-hearted answer, pretending that you aren’t jealous of the person he likes.

Over the remainder of the year, Kazuha continues showing you his poetry and requesting input from you. Each time you read his impeccably-crafted works, you feel your heart race. His poems are spun from the stuff of dreams — sweeter than the cotton candy clouds that hang in the sky outside the classroom window.

Sometimes you like to entertain the idea that they could be for you, but you always shut the notion down before it can grow into a fully-developed thought, too insecure to believe someone as handsome and thoughtful as Kazuha could ever hold such feelings for you. 

When it comes time for the final English class of the year, you swear that you’ve read almost every form of poem in existence from sonnets to haikus to odes. On that particular day, you notice something different about Kazuha. He seems more fidgety than usual, and he has entirely lost his ability to zone out, instead becoming hyperaware of his surroundings. The smallest movements you make cause him to whip his head around to steal a glance at you.

You discover the reason behind his atypical behaviour at the end of class when he hands you a simple white envelope. When you open it, you find pages upon pages of poetry, causing you to experience a sudden epiphany.

The one he loved was you all along.

Raiden Kunikuzushi — more commonly known as SCARAMOUCHE — is living proof that pretty privilege exists. At least, that’s what you believe.

He’s infuriating. No matter how abhorrent you find the way he treats his friends (who are honestly more akin to acquaintances), they never stand up to him. They simply allow Scaramouche to walk all over them. It's like he's put them in a trance with his breathtaking eyes, which are filled with starlight and tinted an indigo reminiscent of the awe-inspiring night sky.

But despite the fact that he is admired by many, his relationships are purely superficial. To his peers, he is nothing more than a sight for sore eyes, and that is what keeps the bitterness of envious sentiments from swallowing you whole. You’ll never be jealous of Scaramouche because his popularity stems solely from his looks. 

His situation evokes a feeling of pity within the depths of your soul. The notion of your contempt for the boy still remains ingrained in your mind, but you also can’t help but pity him.

Perhaps that is what pushes you to sit beside him in your physics class on the first day of school when you notice that he is all alone. You have your reservations, but the way Scaramouche is scowling makes you think he’ll explode out of sheer rage if you don't take action.

Things start off slowly. He doesn't speak to you at first. You simply see him glancing suspiciously at you in your peripheral vision, as if he believes you have ulterior motives. However, the awkward tension becomes too much for you far too quickly, so on a typical day of classes, you decide to take your chances and pass him a note in the middle of a lesson, asking him how his day was.

When Scaramouche first sees your note, he frowns. It almost appears as though he's in disbelief because someone has taken an interest in him rather than his looks. Nonetheless, he decides to entertain you and promptly responds to you, writing a reply underneath your message in impressively neat handwriting. This sparks a conversation. One instance of the two of you passing notes in class turns to two — and two to three until you and Scaramouche are discreetly conversing each class.

Your inconspicuous discussions with Scaramouche lead you to learn more about him as a person. Whereas before you thought he was just a shallow pretty boy, now you know that he’s both cunning and witty. He never fails to make you laugh with his sarcastic comments, and despite the fact that he seems rather mean-spirited at times, you discover that once he opens up, he is more than capable of caring for others. Case in point: on days where you're feeling down, he (attempts) to tell you jokes to make you feel better, and he gives you the candy that his mother packs for him, claiming that he "doesn't like sweets anyway."

If only other people could take the time to get to know the real him. Underneath the veil of entrancing vanity and mystery that surrounds him, Scaramouche is a surprisingly entertaining and contemplative person.

However, for now, it seems that Scaramouche is more than content with the relationship he has with you. He doesn't care for any of his two-faced "friends." The only one he needs is you.

Fate has rather unconventional methods of bringing people together. There are times where you believe it is sentient, cutting, weaving, and pulling on the delicate threads that bind humans together with its steady hands.

Fate must be alive and working its magical because there is no other plausible explanation for how things ended up this way. All that is to say, some otherworldly force must have noticed your desperation to get closer to your longtime crush, XIAO, and finally decided to take pity on you.

It's crazy to think that one minuscule decision can shape the course of your entire relationship with someone, but your own experiences are indicating to you that there is some merit to the claim. After all, your computer science teacher's spontaneous choice to seat you next to Xiao is what kindles the first sparks of your relationship with him.

It all starts with music. At first, Xiao doesn’t attempt to converse with you. He seems adamant on retaining his introverted ways. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to you; he's just inexperienced when it comes to socialization. So instead of making an effort to talk to you, he simply grabs a pair of earbuds and listens to his favourite songs whenever the teacher gives the class time to work.

This all changes when you muster the courage to ask him what he’s listening to. The way his eyes widen that fateful day, gazing at you with surprise evident in his pools of amber, is something you’ll never forget.

After all the silence on his end, you still want to talk to him? He is touched by your resolve, but he is also afraid of being too blunt, so instead of giving you an overly-verbose response, he asks you if you want to listen with him, offering you one of his earbuds. Xiao's heart jumps when you accept with an endearing smile. From then on, the two of you bond over music, and Xiao begins feeling comfortable enough to speak to you.

Gradually, years of distance and rigid formality vanish. Hushed conversations at the back of a sunlit classroom, shy waves from across cramped hallways, and accidental touches of his hands to yours replace the barriers that once separated the two of you. A once hopeless situation gives way to a radiant future as you finally begin getting closer to the boy you've pined over for as long as you can remember.

Sorry if there are mistakes. I feel like I'm making this worse each time I edit it :( Either way, thank you for reading and have a fantastic day/night!

[zivazivc]

Because of a recent ask about the dad's name I am dropping this old drawing that should go along with a oneshot I doubt I'll ever finish because I don't like it anymore, so better I just put this out there.

The dad's name is Keanu and his husband's name is Wave. I don't actually know anything about them but here they are 😅

And you can find a portion of the unfinished fic with this scene under the cut. Warning: Floyd is a mess. A much much bigger one than I actually/currently think his present self is, hence why I don't like this so much anymore (and it was never meant to be canon to my ex bandmates au anyway). It's still pretty funny though.

. . .

Before Bruce could notice the change in Floyd’s mood his eyes caught movement behind him by the entrance to the restaurant. His grin eased down into a more relaxed smile for him to return to business.

“We have another troll family coming in,” he said and turned around to pick up a set of small, freshly-printed and laminated menus from the counter. “Been getting quite a number of those since we hosted the concert.”

Floyd snatched them from his hand, eager to push the replay of his anxiety to the back of his mind, and get back to work. “I’m on it," he said determinedly. "You take care of the big guys.”

He didn’t even know if he could handle carrying another Vaycaytioner-sized family-sized order of food. He hogged the regularly-sized troll customers as much as he could. 

The new guests had settled behind one of the small inflatable plastic tables in the pool area close to the entrance where the sun was shining through. Even with their lower halves submerged in water, Floyd could immediately tell that they were Techno Trolls from the way their hair flowed in the air, like gravity was just an afterthought to them.

Once he got closer, Floyd saw that it was presumably two dads around his age with their two kids. His eyes immediately glued themselves to the older, more physically attractive of the two men, because that’s what he always seemed to find himself doing in these situations. Not that it was his fault the guy was hot and Floyd had been grounded to perfume bottles, armadillo RVs, and underground bunkers for months on end.

When he made it to the pool edge and stood right above their floating table, he finally caught himself gazing. He blinked and reeled his stupid horny thoughts back in before he would do something dumb like bite his lip and give him the bedroom eyes in front of his husband and kids. Not that something like that had been completely beneath him in the past. But he was currently on a shift in his brother’s restaurant, so…

He put on a more acceptable, family-friendly smile.

“Hi, welcome,” he said easily, sounding nothing like how his spasmodic thoughts felt in his head. “How’s everyone doing? You guys hungry?”

He crouched down and leaned over the edge of the pool to hand them the menus.

“Starving, actually,” the attractive techno troll said with a friendly laugh in his voice, and leaned over the inflatable table to grab them. And Floyd’s eyes traveled down that toned arm and exposed stomach. Not only did he ooze the confident, warm charisma of someone who had his life together, he was also fit. Floyd almost fell into the pool in his attempt to accidentally brush fingers with him. The guy was back in his spot in the water before either of those things happened, much to Floyd’s relief and disappointment.

He straightened up and pulled up his notepad and pencil almost like a shield. Fuck, Floyd, get your head straight! “Can I get you anything to drink while you decide what you'll have?”

“Nah, I think we’ll look first,” the guy replied without lifting his eyes as he handed the menus to the rest.

Floyd was about to give up on his first round of trying to get this man’s attention, and sigh in relief that his stupid wants weren’t being entertained, when he registered a different set of eyes staring hard at him. He glanced to the left, to the other guy behind the table.

The intensity of the glare nearly made Floyd recoil.

His first thought was: Shit, I wasn’t even trying to be obvious. Because when he was, the angry stares he would receive from jealous boyfriends or girlfriends were usually heated and flustered, not intensely sharp and cold. The steadiness with which he was being pinned didn’t even feel like a newly developed loathing.

Shit was also Floyd’s second thought. He’s looking at me like we know each other… I haven’t already fucked his man before, have I? Floyd wasn’t so good with faces or names …or memory in general when it came to certain episodes in his life. But surely the hot husband would have remembered him at least…

Then his mind wandered to the other possibility. Did we fuck??

Whenever he tried to iron out his life, his stupid past actions always seemed to come back to bite him in the ass. He really hoped this wasn’t one of those cases.

He stared at the troll’s face, trying to place him somewhere. Techno Troll (that didn’t narrow it down that much), hair in two different gradients of blue, dark purple skin, a younger-looking face even for a Techno Troll, bright green eyes, and green freckles…

Sweat broke down Floyd’s back, and it had nothing to do with his recovering physical condition.

He swallowed uncomfortably and instinctively pulled his pencil and paper slightly closer to his chest. His eyes finally looked over to the other side of the inflatable table. He had only briefly glanced at the kids before, enough to know they were kids and uninteresting. But looking at them now… Floyd immediately deviated a couple of shades from his natural hue.

Neither had any of the hunky dad’s warm colors; in fact, the kids weren’t even fully Techno. They were mixed like his friend Liv. The scarce strands of thin, luminescent Techno cords were nearly swallowed up by dense, fluffy, regular hair. The girl—they were a boy and a girl—was lounging on a pool float with her feet in the air, and Floyd could see that instead of flippers, she had legs with the unusually webbed feet, kind of something like an amphibian. The other kid—the boy—had skin that didn't have the dim effect or rubbery texture to it that Techno Trolls normally had, and it was an uncomfortably familiar shade of turquoise. Both of them sported hot pink bangs over their eyes.

“Ah,” Floyd uttered out loud like some kind of dumbass.

The three heads who had been engrossed in the restaurant menu all looked up, surprised to see him still standing there. Floyd evaded their gazes only to lock eyes with the purple troll again.

He… He was the kid from the week-long, non-stop techno rave, back when Floyd had been deep in his sour worm addiction and going through a long manic episode to top it off… At one point during the party someone brought out pure citric acid and Floyd blanked out for three days straight after that, only to wake up in an unfamiliar bed with a double surprise…

It was like a switch, but now Floyd could clearly remember the young adult version of this troll floating around his dorm room with the egg from Floyd’s head in his hands, panicking about how his parents were going to kill him, all while Floyd silently lay in bed contemplating if he should mention the other egg stuck in the kid's hair or if he should just say he’s going to the bathroom and then never return.

“Uhm.” He swallowed uncomfortably, wanting to be anywhere but here. Maybe not the crystal bottle, but anywhere else. “…I think I should get you a different waiter…”

The purple troll’s glare did not waver in the slightest. “I think so too.”

Floyd took that as permission to bail on him a second time. He turned around on his heel and practically ran from the pool edge.

“Keanu, you good?” he heard the husband ask, sounding obviously confused about what just transpired.

Well, at least Floyd knew what to call that troll in his head now instead of just "kid"…

. . .

[tinytinyblogs]

Welcome To The Team!

Skz has a new member and they trying to get close to you, too.

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬Thank you for taking the time to read this and provide feedback. It truly makes me happy!

Stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

When you first met Han, he didn’t reveal much of himself—just a casual, polite greeting that didn’t give away much about his personality. He seemed quiet, reserved, and someone who doesn’t speak unless he really feels comfortable. It became clear that he’s the kind of person who only really opens up to people he’s close with, which made your initial conversations a bit limited. He didn’t talk much, but even so, there was something about his presence that told you he was trying. You could sense that despite the awkwardness, he genuinely wanted to connect with you, even if words didn’t come easily at first. It was subtle—small efforts, little glances, or brief comments that let you know he was pushing himself to bridge that gap. With time, that initial awkwardness began to fade, and your interactions started to flow more naturally. Slowly but surely, Han’s quiet exterior gave way to a different side of him. He casually asked, "That's pretty cool, where did you get it?" Though his comment seemed unnecessary at first, it somehow sparked a longer conversation.

Before you knew it, the two of you had fallen into a comfortable back-and-forth, and the initial awkwardness disappeared as you got more relaxed. As he grew more comfortable, his personality started to shine through. He became more open, and what once felt like small talk evolved into real conversations. You noticed him becoming more bubbly, playful, and even a little cute around you. It was as though his walls were coming down, and in place of the quiet, reserved Han you first met, was someone who felt at ease with you, allowing his true self to emerge. The transformation was subtle yet undeniable, and it made the connection between you feel even more special. Once the two of you became close, he wasn’t shy about giving you that adorable, warm smile of his. It was something you began to look forward to, as if it was his way of letting you know he felt comfortable around you. He had this ease about him, the way he could talk for hours about anything and everything, just because he genuinely enjoyed being in your company.

He often said that your presence made him feel at peace, like he didn’t have to put up any walls, and in return, he did his best to make you feel just as at ease when he was around. One thing you noticed about him was that he was always considerate in his own playful way. It wasn’t just the words he said but how he said them, with that lighthearted tone that put you at ease. Like that one time when the weather turned chilly, and he noticed you rubbing your arms to keep warm. Without a second thought, he took off his jacket, holding it out to you with that same playful grin you’d come to adore. "Here, wear my jacket—I don't want you freezing to death," he joked, his tone teasing but his actions showing how much he cared. He wasn’t just looking after you; he was trying to make sure you felt as comfortable and safe with him as he did with you, creating this effortless sense of connection that seemed to deepen each time you were together.

Felix

From the very first moment you meet Felix, there's an undeniable warmth in the air, making the encounter feel comfortable and inviting. Felix, with his naturally kind and gentle demeanor, immediately exudes a sweetness that draws you in, making you feel at ease from the start. His friendly smile and genuine interest in getting to know you create a welcoming environment where conversation seems to flow effortlessly. Rather than simply exchanging pleasantries, Felix takes the time to ask thoughtful questions, clearly curious and eager to learn more about you, the new person he's just met. His curiosity is both sincere and endearing, as he engages deeply with every response you give, showing a real interest in what you have to say. There's an ease in the way he interacts, almost as if he's trying to find those little details that will help form a connection. He’s incredibly perceptive, so if he sensed even a hint of discomfort or shyness, he’d make sure to gently guide the interaction to help the new member feel more relaxed. He’d ask them about themselves—not in an overwhelming way, but with genuine curiosity—wanting to know about their interests, what brought them to the group, and how they were adjusting to everything so far.

As you grow closer to Felix, everything about him seems even more endearing. The little things he does that might have gone unnoticed before now feel irresistibly cute. One of the moments that never fails to make your heart flutter is when he spots you from afar. His face lights up the moment he sees you, and without hesitation, he flashes that beautiful, genuine smile of his, the one that seems to light up everything around him. He waves enthusiastically, his happiness at seeing you completely unfiltered, like a burst of joy that radiates from him "How's my favorite person doing today?" he asks playfully as he gently pokes your nose. It’s not just the way he greets you that makes him special, but also the way he opens up as you get to know each other better. Felix becomes more expressive, sharing stories, thoughts, and little details about his life with an infectious energy. It's as if, with you, he feels completely at ease, able to let down any guard and reveal his softer, more vulnerable side.

He talks non-stop, eagerly sharing his passions, dreams, and even his quirks, as if you’ve become someone he can trust implicitly. The way he shares so openly and honestly makes you feel like you’re seeing a side of him that not everyone gets to see—his softer, more delicate side that makes him all the more lovable. His openness is a clear reflection of how special your bond has become, a silent acknowledgment of the trust that’s blossomed between you. With each passing moment spent together, Felix has a way of making you feel not just cherished, but truly valued in a way that feels effortless and sincere. Whether it’s the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, as if you’re the only person in the room, or the way he constantly shares his thoughts, emotions, and stories without hesitation, there's something deeply intimate about his presence. Everything he does seems to radiate with a certain warmth, as though being around you brings out a softer, more open version of himself.

Seungmin

Seungmin might initially come across as a bit reserved when meeting the new member for the first time. He’s the type of person who prefers to observe from a distance, taking his time to assess how someone fits into the group dynamic before fully engaging. His cautious nature doesn’t stem from being cold or uninterested; rather, Seungmin is thoughtful and meticulous, wanting to ensure he understands the new member's personality and how they might gel with everyone else before diving in. He watches interactions closely, paying attention to the subtle ways they navigate conversations and how they handle the newness of the situation. During this initial period, Seungmin wouldn’t be the one to immediately rush over with jokes or questions. Instead, he’d offer a polite greeting, maybe exchange a few casual words, and then step back to observe. It might seem like he’s holding back, but in reality, Seungmin is taking mental notes, figuring out how to approach the new member in a way that feels genuine and natural for both of them.

He’s not one to force interactions or engage in small talk unless he truly feels comfortable, and he gives others the space to adjust at their own pace, just as he does. However, once Seungmin begins to get a better sense of who the new member is, especially if he notices that they have a good sense of humor or a playful side, his more fun-loving personality would start to emerge. Seungmin is known for his dry wit and clever remarks, and he enjoys a good laugh, particularly when someone can match his humor. If the new member shows that they can keep up with his banter, Seungmin would quickly become more open, gradually showing his playful and teasing side. His jokes might start off subtle, but as he gets more comfortable, you’ll notice that he’s got a sharp sense of humor, often slipping in witty comments or playful teasing when you least expect it. If the new member engages with his humor, Seungmin would be more than happy to continue the back-and-forth, forming a bond through this shared sense of playfulness. His jokes might sometimes catch you off guard, delivered with a straight face that makes you question whether he’s being serious or not, but that’s part of the fun with Seungmin.

Seungmin wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned how carefully he takes notes on everything. His memory is sharp, and he effortlessly recalls even the smallest details, whether about himself or those around him. He has a quiet, observant nature that allows him to notice things others might miss, especially when it comes to you. While he may not always show it outwardly, Seungmin silently watches you with a careful eye, picking up on your habits and quirks, even the ones you aren’t aware of. He knows you tend to misplace things often, so he’s already mentally prepared to help when something goes missing. He’s also aware of the tasks you frequently forget to complete, remembering them without needing reminders. It’s almost like he’s keeping a quiet checklist in the back of his mind, not because he wants to point out your flaws, but because he genuinely cares and wants to support you. "I might need to start attaching your phone to you soon," he says with a playful smile as he hands you the phone you left on the kitchen table.

Jeongin

Jeongin tends to be a little shy when you first meet him, often keeping to himself. He’s not the type to initiate conversation right away, usually offering just a soft "hi" or a quick greeting before retreating into quiet observation. It's not that he’s unfriendly, but rather that he prefers to take his time before engaging with people, feeling out the atmosphere. As he sits back and watches, you might catch his gaze drifting towards you more often than not. His eyes will linger, almost as if he's studying you, scanning you in his mind. It’s subtle, not in an intimidating way, but more because he’s genuinely curious about you. He wants to understand who you are before he opens up fully, and watching from a distance helps him piece together the details. His quiet demeanor, coupled with those frequent glances, makes you wonder what exactly he's thinking, as he takes everything in with quiet interest. Though he may not say much at first, his curiosity is clear, and you get the feeling that once he feels more comfortable, he’ll have a lot more to say.

As time passes, Jeongin's curiosity about you only grows deeper with each passing day. At first, he remains quietly observant, content with listening to the things you talk about, the way you express your thoughts, and the subjects that seem to occupy your mind. He becomes increasingly attuned to the details of your conversations, noting what excites or intrigues you, and the subtle emotions behind your words. It's as if he's slowly piecing together a more complete picture of who you are. Then, at just the right moment, when he feels the timing is perfect, he finally steps in to join the conversation. It’s subtle at first—he’ll start with a small comment, carefully weaving his way into the discussion, showing that he’s been paying close attention all along. As the days go by, his contributions become more frequent and thoughtful, revealing the depth of his growing interest in who you are and what you care about. His once quiet presence turns into something more meaningful, as he becomes increasingly eager to engage with you on a deeper level, no longer content with simply watching from the sidelines.

As you and Jeongin grow closer, his thoughtful nature becomes increasingly apparent. He always seems to be looking out for you in subtle but meaningful ways. Whenever he gets something to eat or drink, his eyes naturally land on you first, checking if you’re comfortable "Want some? It's not too spicy, you should eat something. Let's share," he said with a gentle smile.. Without fail, he’ll ask if you want something as well, or sometimes, he’ll even offer you a bite, gently feeding you with a playful smile. His attentiveness feels effortless, as if caring for you has become second nature. What makes these moments even more special is the way he looks at you. His gaze is soft and full of warmth, like you’re the most important person in the room. It’s clear that he’s always aware of you, even in the smallest details. And when you catch his eye and smile back, he smiles too, his expression lighting up as if your happiness brings him joy. Through these little acts of care, it’s clear that Jeongin’s affection for you runs deep, showing just how much you truly mean to him.

[starsjulia]

angel chapter four // the strongest

a/n : sorry this one is a bit boring and short, the next ones are better i swear

warnings : the same as previous

masterlist

The days seemed to blur together as Angel’s treatments continued. Each week brought a new challenge—an unexpected side effect, a frightening scan result, or a moment when Angel’s energy would dip so low that Leah could hardly recognize the vibrant little girl her daughter once was. But then, there were the good days—days when Angel’s laughter echoed down the hospital corridors, her smile shining as brightly as ever. Those moments, however brief, reminded Leah that there was always hope.

Leah’s life had become a careful balancing act, constantly moving between hospital rooms, training sessions, and the occasional Arsenal match. Football had always been her escape, a place where everything made sense, but now, it was also a source of guilt. Every time she left Angel’s bedside, even if only for an hour, a part of her worried about missing something important. She felt torn between two worlds—one filled with goals and victories, and the other with IV drips and whispered prayers.

Her Arsenal teammates noticed the strain, and they did everything they could to lighten the load. When Leah was at training, they made sure someone was always at the hospital with Angel. Katie would FaceTime Leah whenever Angel was feeling up to chatting, allowing mother and daughter to share a moment even when they couldn’t physically be together.

“Look, Mummy!” Angel exclaimed one day over the phone, her little face filling the screen as she held up a drawing of herself with Leah on the football pitch. “We’re winning the Champions League!”

Leah’s heart swelled at the sight of her daughter’s determination. “We will, baby. One day, we will,” she promised, her voice steady, even though she could feel the tightness in her chest. It was hard to imagine that future when every day felt like a battle, but Leah held onto that dream for both of them.

Back at the hospital, Angel’s room had become a miniature Arsenal shrine. Scarves, signed jerseys, and handmade “Get Well Soon” cards from fans lined the walls. Leah had even brought in one of Angel’s favorite things from home: a small, slightly worn football. Though Angel was too weak to play, she kept it close, her fingers tracing over the faded Arsenal crest on its surface whenever she felt scared.

Leah would spend hours by her daughter’s side, telling stories of her own childhood and how she fell in love with football. “I used to kick a ball around in the garden all day,” Leah said one night, as she and Angel lay together in the narrow hospital bed, wrapped up in a warm blanket. “I think that’s where I got my first bruises and scrapes.”

“Were you ever scared, Mummy?” Angel asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leah thought about that for a moment. She could remember moments when she was scared—missing a penalty, or the time she was sidelined with a serious injury. But nothing compared to the fear of potentially losing her daughter. “I was,” she said honestly. “But I always found a way to be brave. Do you know how I did it?”

Angel shook her head, her blue eyes wide with curiosity.

“I thought of the people I loved,” Leah said, gently stroking her daughter’s head. “And how much I wanted to make them proud.”

Angel listened quietly, then squeezed Leah’s hand. “I’m not scared when you’re here,” she murmured, and Leah felt a lump form in her throat.

“Then I’ll always be here,” Leah promised.

Some days, though, Leah needed to recharge. On those occasions, Angel’s grandparents would take over. Leah would drive to a nearby park, sit on an empty bench, and let the wind whip through her hair, closing her eyes as she tried to regain the strength that had been sapped by sleepless nights and constant worry. It was in those quiet moments that she would often find herself thinking back to the person she was before this—someone whose biggest worry was an upcoming match. How distant that life seemed now.

Returning to the hospital on one such day, Leah was greeted by the sight of Angel sitting up in bed, surrounded by a few of her teammates. Lia was there, reading a book out loud while Beth and Viv sat on the other side. They all turned as Leah walked in, and Lia gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ve got everything under control here,” she said.

Leah felt an immense wave of gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you all,” she admitted, her voice shaky as she took a seat next to Angel, who immediately nestled into her side.

Jen glanced over at Leah. “We’re family,” she replied simply. “We’re in this together.”

Still, as the days stretched on, there were moments of helplessness that no amount of support could alleviate. Leah vividly remembered the night Angel had spiked a sudden fever. The panic that surged through her as doctors rushed into the room, the way her daughter’s small body seemed even more fragile beneath the tangle of wires and tubes—it was a kind of fear Leah had never known before. She felt utterly powerless, holding Angel’s hand and whispering soothing words, even as her own heart raced uncontrollably.

“It’s okay, love. You’re okay,” Leah kept saying, more to herself than to Angel.

The fever eventually subsided, and Angel’s condition stabilized, but it left Leah with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. She’d thought she understood what it meant to be strong, but this was a different kind of strength. It was the kind that came from watching someone you love suffer and having no choice but to keep fighting alongside them. It was the kind that took everything you had and demanded even more.

The next day, Angel seemed to sense her mother’s weariness. She reached for Leah’s hand and whispered, “Mummy, are you okay?”

Leah was taken aback by her daughter’s question. Angel was the one who was sick, the one who needed comforting. Yet here she was, trying to comfort her mother. Leah forced a smile and kissed Angel’s forehead. “I’m okay, sweetie. As long as you’re fighting, I’m fighting too.”

Angel’s small smile was a balm for Leah’s frayed nerves. “We’re fighters, aren’t we?” Angel said, squeezing Leah’s hand.

“The strongest there are,” Leah replied, pulling her daughter closer.

The moments of peace were few and far between, but they were precious. Leah would lie beside Angel at night, whispering about all the things they would do when Angel was better. “We’ll go to every Arsenal game,” Leah would say. “You’ll get to be the mascot and lead the team out onto the pitch. And after that, we’ll go anywhere you want. Paris, Disney World, America, anywhere baby”

Angel’s eyes would widen with wonder. “Even Paris?” she’d ask, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and disbelief.

“Even Paris,” Leah would assure her. “And when we get there, we’ll eat the biggest ice cream sundaes we can find.”

In those quiet hours, as they lay side by side, it was easy to pretend that their world hadn’t been turned upside down. In those moments, Leah felt the strength of their bond more acutely than ever. It was a strength born out of love, forged through struggle, and it kept them going, even on the hardest days.

[horse-girl-anthy]

The City and the Self: Or, the Uses of Lesbianism

someone in my server recently asked why Ikuhara seems so hung up on lesbians. I gave a short answer which in hindsight doesn't satisfy me. even this post won't touch on everything, there's plenty more that could be said, but here's a stab at a more complete answer, drawing from RGU specifically, though I think these points generalize to YKA as well.

a long time ago--around 2017, I believe--I posted in the RGU tag, asking about differences between how the western and Japanese fanbases see the show. the answer I got surprised me: I was told a popular fan theory held that Utena and Anthy were the same person. this is confirmed in the interview Ikuhara did with Mari Kotani:

Kotani: How did you think about relationships between two women, like the relationships between Utena and Anthy, Juri Arisugawa and Shiori Takatsuki, and so on? Sometimes it is thought of as one girl and her alter ego. Ikuhara: Yes, that's true of course.

at the time, this didn't make sense to me. now, though I don't take the "alter ego" concept literally, I certainly see where these theorists were coming from.

the very first impression the audience gets of the show, the opening seconds of the theme song, depict Utena and Anthy as mirror images of one another. I can't find the post now, but I once saw someone do a face swap of Utena and Anthy... and there was almost no difference in the final result aside from their eye color. yes, the show has somewhat same-y character designs (pointy chins, noses, etc.), and yes, Utena and Anthy are differentiated by coloring and height. however, there are differences in the facial features of the other characters, including other female characters like Juri and Nanami, meaning that you wouldn't get the same result from face swapping them that you do from face swapping Utena and Anthy.

visually, the show is trying to tell you something: Utena and Anthy are counterparts; not "the same person," in that there are clear contrasts between them, but perhaps different aspects of a single self. to put it another way, they cannot be separated from one another; what happens to one of them will affect the other, and how they relate to each other tells you a lot about how they relate to themselves.

RGU is not the first story to have this premise. I just watched Ingmar Bergman's Persona, which uses two women to tell the story of one woman, and that came out all the way back in 1966. I think that it's possible to do this kind of story with characters of different genders--however, it's most often done with homosexual/homosocial pairings because two people of the same gender are seen as better mirrors to one another.

when I initially gave my response as to why Ikuhara writes a lot of lesbians, I cited the influence of shoujo manga. however, I didn't detail how homosexuality was featured in those manga.

Ikuhara once said that the core theme of shoujo is "self-revelation." he wanted to capture that in RGU, and it seems to have come across. consider Takemiya Keiko's reading of RGU as "A story about independence, about finding oneself. It feels like a story about a girl defining 'what is myself?'"

this journey of self-discovery must involve encounter with the other. part of romance is other-longing, the desire to meet the unknown; love requires a separate entity which is not merely an extension of the self (this is why I don't believe that Utena and Anthy actually are "the same person"). through encountering the other, one can find one's own self, and further, through this encounter, the selves which meet can be transformed.

while plenty of 20th century shoujo did center heterosexual couples, I believe that homosexual and homosocial relations were so prevalent because they facilitated this romance more effectively. on a visual level, a homosexual pairing can create a clearer parallel, as discussed above. for a more thematic angle, RGU's lead writer Enokido has mused that homosexuality removes the issue of "genetic advantage" from the equation; since there is not a clear "survival and reproduction" benefit to homosexuality, it is easier to see it as "pure love." along the same lines, Ikuhara has said that "as soon as you see the destination point of producing children, sex becomes a social system." that's not to say that homosexual couples exist independently from social systems. the point is that writers who wish to pursue the idea of "self-discovery through the other" may wish to do so in the context where the norms of heterosexuality are not an issue, as they could muddy the water.

as an example, take Kaze to Ki no Uta, an influence on RGU. Gilbert and Serge, the lead couple, are very different people. often in conflict, their love ends tragically. that is precisely the power of the story: Serge, who is left alone after Gilbert's death, will live the rest of his life feeling incomplete, unwhole, because he has lost the "other self" by which he came to be defined. in Ikuhara's words, "It’s a story about that which forms the core of an artist - a starvation that can never be satiated."

when done properly, this kind of romance can be very moving, because it is not only a "love story" but also a story about the self and its relationship to the other. and even more potent are stories which are both about "finding one's other self" and about "the city":

Ikuhara: Out of your works, I particularly like the stories about cities... Stories of cities and “one’s other self” are enchanting aren’t they. There are a lot of shoujo mangaka who write about one’s other self, but there aren’t really any who write about cities. I think a story is weak if it only talks about relatives and neighbours and never about cities. In contrast, I think your stories which are simultaneously about cities really bring out their era. I think that allows you to mark out a line for the story of the other self. Takemiya: Personally, I feel at a basic level that stories without a sense of daily life aren’t very interesting. If one thinks of each person as a single cell, then the city becomes the “body”, and one cannot create a world without both. Based on where they live, some people become more modern or more provincial - the environment really plays a role. For me, it is a necessary component.

I agree with this exchange: the best stories about "one's other self" aren't solely about love between two people, but instead love between two people placed in a particular social context. it is that social context which gives the relationship flavor.

this brings us to the other reason that lesbianism (and homosexuality more broadly) is used in Ikuhara's works. not only does it allow him to tell stories about "one's other self," but also to tell stories about social systems. homosexuality is "deviant" within the social system that is set up to produce children in the nuclear family; thus, homosexual couples will face resistence and prejudice. as Ikuhara discussed in this interview, he is not necessarily trying to capture "the lesbian experience" in his works, but rather using lesbianism as an allegory for the sense of being a minority; a person outcast for standing out from the crowd. homosexuality thus allows for a marriage between the themes of "the self" and "the city" which are central to the telling of a great romance.

bringing it full circle, let's take a look at how this plays out in Utena and Anthy's dynamic, specifically the climax of the first arc. in the build up to it, Utena has been insisting that Anthy behave like a "normal girl," and believes she's succeeding in this venture. however, her illusions are crushed when Touga defeats her in the duel called Conviction. Anthy, now his bride, tells Utena that she likes being the Rose Bride and doesn't mind being alone.

Utena's reaction to this is interesting. suddenly, she is obsessed with being a "normal girl" herself, deftly signaling that all along, she was projecting her own conceptions onto Anthy. though she comes to realize this, Utena ultimately decides to duel again; in the episode 11 preview, she says, "Himemiya, wait! I have to try to get the real you and the real me back!" their selves are linked, tied; Utena cannot be herself without Anthy. what's more, the "false self" that Utena presents is linked to Anthy's "false self"--for, despite her words, it is quite difficult to believe that she "enjoys" being the Rose Bride, any more than Utena "enjoys" wearing girl's clothes. after Utena wins the duel called Self, she and Anthy meet again, paralleling the end of the first episode, but when Anthy tries to impart the rules of the rose crest, Utena tells her, "never mind all that, let's just go home." the two share a moment of authenticity, their "false selves" blown away like petals in the wind. they've drawn closer to each other and to who they truly are, while simultaneously gaining a level of independence from the system which seeks to define them by their gender. the rest of the show will play out in the same manner.

----

side note: I don't think that Ikuhara is more fixated on lesbianism than he is on male homosexuality; however, I'm not sure if he's focused on "mirroring" between homosexual males the same way he has between females, despite the fact that his cited inspiration for the way he wrote relationships between girls in RGU is yaoi.

[mandalhoerian]

I love your analysis on Rafayel, I thought there was something wrong with me not understanding his card! If it's not too much to ask, can you break down his final dialogue? I don't get his point. why is he suddenly bringing up love when this has been about art? Isn't he saying that the love he feels is also bringing him pain, isn't this a bad thing😅 Is it just me 😅 I feel crazy... You can ignore this if you want no hard feelings

the said analysis on intertidal zone for people who haven't seen it!

first of all, please don't be hard on yourself for not understanding, you're okay! this was me too. i got you!

"i once stubbornly believed only pain could bring me inspiration. I traveled far and wide in search of it. Pain that inspires me, I mean. Like a sea that's about to dry up. The art of creation is part of my life. You made me realize love and art are so alike. Even if they don't complete me but burn me instead, I still want them with every fiber of my being."

but before i can explain this fully, I want to go take a few steps back and go into what he previously revealed. I swear it makes sense to start from the beginning, trust me. spoiler alert, I've discovered something you guys. (@pasdenomadonner you can put this on reddit too if you'd like!!)

"actually i was here last time for an exhibit and i found myself in the same situation."

this could refer to either his fever, or his lack of inspiration, or both. the next line confirms that he was going through creative block, though -> "as far as i know, this is the longest time my mind's been like a blank sheet of paper."

and mc says, "you mean you can't draw?"

I totally missed this before & thought it was a tangent that came out of nowhere. But what Rafayel did is that, without words, showing her that he was in fact able to fix his inspiration issue the last time. This isn't a random reveal that the ocean and desert painting belonged to him all this time. It says that his trip to here fixed his creative block and the piece he made from the inspiration he got from Aridum made it to the memorial hall. He's saying, "No no, I could draw."

He's come here again for guaranteed inspiration hit. He's basically saying his trip here didn't work this time around and this isn't doing anything for him, despite the tragedy all around him.

Do you know what this means? STAY WITH ME NOW, STAY WITH ME.

because this ties DIRECTLY to him saying "i stubbornly believed only pain could give me inspiration" -- so, if only pain gives him inspiration, why can't he draw now? why is his mind blank? Is he not getting his inspiration from pain anymore? What will he do now, then? THAT'S what he's struggling with.

NOW we can dive into the rest of the final dialogue.

1. “The art of creation is part of my life.”

This line sets the stage. Rafayel isn’t just saying art is important to him, it’s essential. Not a hobby. Art isn’t just a thing he does, it’s who he is.

What he’s really saying here is: “Art is a core part of my identity. Without it, I’m not me.”

2. “You made me realize love and art are so alike.”

Here’s the pivot. It's so confusing at first glance because you expect him to elaborate in "What way?" But I believe Rafayel is setting the stage to make a direct comparison between art--this thing he just declared essential to his life--and love not just by commenting on their similarities but by implying that love (MC) is just as essential as art.

Think about what this means for someone like Rafayel:

Art has always been his way of processing the world, expressing himself, and finding meaning. It’s his lifeline.

By comparing love to art, he’s saying that MC has brought something into his life that feels equally vital, equally irreplaceable.

He’s realizing that MC, like art, isn’t just something that happens to him--it’s something he needs.

3. “Even if they don’t complete me but burn me instead...”

This is where it gets personal and raw. Rafayel doesn’t see art or love as things that “fix” him or make him whole. Instead, he sees them as forces that challenge him, consume him, and demand something from him.

“Burn me instead”: The idea of burning here isn’t necessarily negative, perhaps. It’s could be about intensity and being consuming. Both art and love push Rafayel to his limits, force him to confront himself, and sometimes hurt him in the process. But he’s okay with that. The burn isn’t a deterrent--it’s a part of what makes these things so meaningful to him.

In essence, he’s saying: Even if art and love aren’t easy, even if they don’t make me feel whole or safe, I still want them. I still need them.

4. “I still want them with every fiber of my being.”

This line drives the point home, circling back to how he said they were "alike". Rafayel isn’t just tolerating the burn--he’s choosing it. He wants art and love, not because they’re perfect or painless, but because they’re what give his life meaning. Remember his "Addictive Pain" anectode? I don't think he dislikes this kind of "pain" but MC isn't in a place to understand what he means yet is my takeaway.

YEAH?. YEAH. I'M DOING LAPS IN MY ROOM HE'S SO. HE'S SOOOOOO. AND I'M SO SLOW, I DIDN'T GET ALL OF UNTIL LATER, LIKE HOW THE LAST TIME HE WAS ABLE TO BE INSPIRED BY ARIDUM DURING CREATIVE BLOCK BUT NOT ANYMORE. "Why is he bringing up love all of a sudden. Weren't we just talking about art?" was such a raw connection he was trying to pull and it flew right over my head.

And understanding the burning thing quite literally I imagine, LIKE I WAS DOING, MC is like

he's such a tortured artist

anyway. I hope I was able to help, anon. It's thanks to you I went in and discovered these new things. Why is it always Rafayel. I feel like local tumblrina discovering media literacy for the first time, I swear I'm good at consuming media it's him making things difficult (even though me personally I've made my peace with having a peanut for a brain that runs on brainrot)

[dailyadventureprompts]

Homebrew Mechanic: Meaningful Research

Being careful about when you deliver information to your party is one of the most difficult challenges a dungeonmaster may face, a balancing act that we constantly have to tweak as it affects the pacing of our campaigns.

That said, unlike a novel or movie or videogame where the writers can carefully mete out exposition at just the right time, we dungeonmasters have to deal with the fact that at any time (though usually not without prompting) our players are going to want answers about what's ACTUALLY going on, and they're going to take steps to find out.

To that end I'm going to offer up a few solutions to a problem I've seen pop up time and time again, where the heroes have gone to all the trouble to get themselves into a great repository of knowledge and end up rolling what seems like endless knowledge checks to find out what they probably already know. This has been largely inspired by my own experience but may have been influenced by watching what felt like several episodes worth of the critical role gang hitting the books and getting nothing in return.

I've got a whole write up on loredumps, and the best way to dripfeed information to the party, but this post is specifically for the point where a party has gained access to a supposed repository of lore and are then left twiddling their thumbs while the dm decides how much of the metaplot they're going to parcel out.

When the party gets to the library you need to ask yourself: Is the information there to be found?

No, I don't want them to know yet: Welcome them into the library and then save everyone some time by saying that after a few days of searching it’s become obvious the answers they seek aren’t here. Most vitally, you then either need to give them a new lead on where the information might be found, or present the development of another plot thread (new or old) so they can jump on something else without losing momentum.

No, I want them to have to work for it:  your players have suddenly given you a free “insert plothook here” opportunity. Send them in whichever direction you like, so long as they have to overcome great challenge to get there. This is technically just kicking the can down the road, but you can use that time to have important plot/character beats happen.

Yes, but I don’t want to give away the whole picture just yet:  The great thing about libraries is that they’re full of books, which are written by people,  who are famously bad at keeping their facts straight. Today we live in a world of objective or at least peer reviewed information but the facts in any texts your party are going to stumble across are going to be distorted by bias. This gives you the chance to give them the awnsers they want mixed in with a bunch of red herrings and misdirections. ( See the section below for ideas)

Yes, they just need to dig for it:  This is the option to pick if you're willing to give your party information upfront while at the same time making it SEEM like they're overcoming the odds . Consider having an encounter, or using my minigame system to represent their efforts at looking for needles in the lithographic haystack. Failure at this system results in one of the previous two options ( mixed information, or the need to go elsewhere), where as success gets them the info dump they so clearly crave.

The Art of obscuring knowledge AKA Plato’s allegory of the cave, but in reverse

One of the handiest tools in learning to deliver the right information at the right time is a sort of “slow release exposition” where you wrap a fragment lore the party vitally needs to know in a coating of irrelevant information,  which forces them to conjecture on possibilities and draw their own conclusions.  Once they have two or more pieces on the same subject they can begin to compare and contrast, forming an understanding that is merely the shadow of the truth but strong enough to operate off of. 

As someone who majored in history let me share some of my favourite ways I’ve had to dig for information, in the hopes that you’ll be able to use it to function your players.

A highly personal record in the relevant information is interpreted through a personal lens to the point where they can only see the information in question 

Important information cameos in the background of an unrelated historical account

The information can only be inferred from dry as hell accounts or census information. Cross reference with accounts of major historical events to get a better picture, but everything we need to know has been flattened into datapoints useful to the bureaucracy and needs to be re-extrapolated.

The original work was lost, and we only have this work alluding to it. Bonus points if the existent work is notably parodying the original, or is an attempt to discredit it.

Part of a larger chain of correspondence, referring to something the writers both experienced first hand and so had no reason to describe in detail. 

The storage medium (scroll, tablet, arcane data crystal) is damaged in some way, leading to only bits of information being known. 

Original witnesses Didn’t have the words to describe the thing or events in question and so used references from their own environment and culture. Alternatively, they had specific words but those have been bastardized by rough translations. 

Tremendously based towards a historical figure/ideology/religion to the point that all facts in the piece are questionable.  Bonus points if its part of a treatise on an observably untrue fact IE the flatness of earth