#he truly sparks joy

[thefrogdalorian]

I rewatched Guns For Hire tonight and I forgot how funny the droid chase on Plazir-15 is.

These poor people are just enjoying their meals in a fancy restaurant and suddenly a Mandalorian in the middle of an intense chase sprints in...

(I love the way Din holds out his hand apologetically to them... in a world of boys he's a gentleman.)

Then said Mandalorian launches himself through a window to catch the droid...

No hesitation, just straight away launches himself through a window.

(And slides along on the floor in a thrilling sequel to #weeeeeeee)

I love knowing that throughout the galaxy there are probably so many people with anecdotes about this one shiny Mandalorian who arrives on planets, causes a ruckus and then leaves without elaborating. Din is truly insane and a nuisance [affectionate] and his hatred for droids is probably infamous at this point.

[dudeshusband]

anyway. i'm having a normal one as usual.

[statementlou]

📧

[tender-hobi]

[nullcanary]

"Now all my other gods are dead. Hallelujah, to the apocalypse in my head!"

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@making-you-in-spore

Incredible works of art from a limited medium, the blog favors quality over quantity and I am always in awe when a dancing creacher in Spore [2008] crosses my dash.

His spores often take him multiple hours to create, and he will go through astounding amounts of effort to commit to the bit. He made his cull poll in spore and then blew it up. Hes also super responsive and active and seems really eager to share his creation techniques and spread the joy of making things in spore [2008]. His blog almost singlehandedly sparked a significant resurgence in interest and playerbase of a 16 year old game that most people see as nothing but a meme. Hes just a guy who likes spore [2008]

i say vote for making you in spore because seeing them blow up their opponents after they win is hilarious

[sylusdarling]

I Do

Sylus x reader

✧ The day that he’s been waiting for has finally arrived

Content: Sylus x fem!reader, fluff, marriage, emotional sylus

A/N: Saw a post on twitter saying Sylus would be a misty eyed groom and I cried. So here we are. There will also be a part 2 with the honeymoon ofc! Also not proofread because I need to get ready for school !

The feeling in Sylus’ chest was unlike something he’s experienced before, it was indescribable.

Though his life has always been filled with chaos and riches, it felt bland whenever he would think back to the past before he met you. His world was unexpectedly dull before you had made an appearance. The dreary days bled into each other and the somber red of the N109 zone mocked him on the daily.

There was a gap in his life that only you could fill. Once you appeared it felt as if a brush with vibrant water colours has painted over his life. The days no longer bled into each other, instead he woke up every day with a purpose. To talk to you. The moon of the N109 zone became a saturated vermillion whenever you were around and he was able to find joy even the small things in life. He no longer cared about the material riches because to him, you were his proudest treasure.

Truly, he never thought a day like this would come. The powerful boss of Onychinus standing at an alter dressed in a white suit waiting for his beloved at the other end of the isle. At the end of the isle you stood in all of your glory. The way the white dress fabric was draped over your body made you look like the most beautiful greek sculpture that anyone could ever create.

The bouquet of roses that you held in your hands stood out against the backdrop of your white dress. You had stated how much you adored roses because they matched the ruby colour of his eyes. You were walking down the aisle with a part of him in your hands.

The organists fingers moved and the notes of ‘Here comes the bride’ began to fill the room. Step after step you approached your soon to be husband at the other side of the aisle way. He couldn’t stop starring, it was as if you were the only other person in the world at this very moment. The room full of people being completely drowned out by your shining beauty.

Sylus was not an emotional person by any means, many people believed he simply didn’t possess any emotions at all and sometimes he believed that was true. But that thought was put to an end the moment his eyes became misty as you approached him.

There you both stood across from eachother at the alter. Your smile was radiant as you stood across from him. He’s never seen something like it. If only he could capture this moment in his eyes forever.

The officiant began to speak as you both stood at the front hand in hand. The rings were presented to you both.

“Do you take this woman to be your wedded wife?” Asked the officiant.

“I do.” Responded Sylus.

“And do you take the man to be your wedded husband?”

“I do.” You stated with the most glorious smile on your face.

At the same time you both slipped the rings on each others fingers. Each ring consisted of half a red jewel. Together you both completed the jewel. You were both two half’s of a whole, two souls being bound togehter.

And finally, finally, the words were said.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Cupping your face, Sylus leaned in for the kiss. Your lips connected and it felt as if a new spark was being born. You both could feel each other smile into the kiss. It was passionate and full of love. Pure, undying love.

“It is with great honor and delight that I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Qin.”

Sylus never knew that he could feel happier than when you said yes to his proposal. But here he was now hand in hand with his wife. Mrs Qin.

Forever you were his and he was yours.

His wife. His beloved.

[italktoomuchxd]

Simon grew up in a household where toys were a rarity, and his childhood playthings were limited to a few humble items. Among them were a set of small green plastic soldiers and a well-worn car, its tire long since worn and broken. However, what truly captured Simon's imagination was his sister's old porcelain doll, a treasured gift from their grandmother.

Oh, that doll! With its delicate white skin glowing softly in the light, plump red cheeks that seemed to blush with life, and bright blue eyeshadow that accentuated its striking blue eyes, the doll was enchanting. Its golden hair shimmered like spun sunlight, cascading in gentle curls, while a long, flowing blue dress adorned it, reminiscent of the elegant figures from a fairy tale.

Simon adored that doll, pouring all his affection into play, nurturing it as if it were truly alive. But his innocent joy came to a devastating end one fateful day when his father, in a fit of anger, hurled the precious doll against the wall. The shattering porcelain echoed through the room, marking the destruction of the most beloved object in Simon's world, leaving behind broken fragments and a heavy heart…

You and Simon were still in the early stages of your relationship when you decided to invite him to spend Christmas at your home. The atmosphere felt cozy, just the two of you introverts nestled away in a familiar space. As he stepped through your front door, a bottle of wine cradled in his hand, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in your stomach.

As he made his way toward the living room, the warm glow of the holiday decorations framed the scene perfectly. However, his gaze quickly fell upon a surprising sight that filled the corner of the room—an array of supplies scattered about. The vibrant fake hair, a box of paints, assorted little fabrics, and the glinting edges of a sewing machine revealed a world that was uniquely yours.

“Oh…sorry—it's my hobby,” you said with a nervous chuckle, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny. “I like restoring dolls.”

At that moment, you could see the intriguing spark in Simon's eyes…he fell for you once more—call it childhood trauma; he didn't care he'd spend Christmas night painting doll faces with you.

Part 2

[malusokay]

5 Classics for girly girls 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Emily of New Moon

The bittersweet process of growing up and finding where you truly belong... The perfect read for the start of a new school year. After her father’s death, Emily Starr is sent to live with her snobbish relatives at New Moon farm. Thrust into an unfamiliar and often cold environment, Emily faces numerous challenges. However, as time passes, she begins to adapt and discovers the beauty in her surroundings. With the support of her new friends—Teddy, Perry, and Ilse—Emily not only finds solace but also discovers her own creative talents, helping her carve out a place for herself in this new chapter of her life.

“If it's IN you to climb you must -- there are those who MUST lift their eyes to the hills -- they can't breathe properly in the valleys.”

Jane Eyre

A true classic for all my fellow gothic-lit enthusiasts, Jane Eyre, reminds us that everyone deserves a love that consumes, challenges, and transforms the very core of your being, offering both profound joy and deep heartache (we love a good situationsship). Following Jane Eyre, an orphaned and mistreated girl who endures a harsh upbringing but grows into a strong, independent woman. As she takes a position as a governess at Thornfield Hall, she encounters the enigmatic Mr. Rochester, sparking a profound and tumultuous romance. Their intense connection is marred by secrets and personal demons, revealing the complexities of their relationship.

“Jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation." "I am no bird, and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.”

The Secret Garden

Mary Lennox, a spoiled and neglected girl, is sent to live with her uncle after the death of her parents. Initially ill-tempered and withdrawn, Mary’s curiosity is sparked by rumours of a hidden, abandoned garden on the estate. As she explores and begins to restore this secret garden, she experiences a beautiful shift (glow-up era). The once gloomy and sickly Mary starts to bloom alongside the garden, rediscovering happiness, vibrancy, and a sense of belonging, making the story a heartwarming tale of growth and recovery.

“At first, people refuse to believe that a strange new thing can be done, then they begin to hope it can be done, then they see it can be done--then it is done, and all the world wonders why it was not done centuries ago.”

Pride and Prejudice

Truly a classic that has shaped my romantic expectations hahah... Elizabeth Bennet battles societal expectations and her own misjudgments in 19th-century England. When the aloof Mr Darcy (he'd totally be a ghoster in the 21st century just saying...) first crosses her path, their initial encounters are fraught with tension and misunderstanding. However, as Elizabeth delves deeper, she uncovers the complexities of Darcy’s character and her own heart.

“I could no longer help saying that I loved him. I loved him not only for his sake but for his own sake. I loved him because he was the only person who had ever really loved me for myself. I loved him because he had made me feel that I was worthy of being loved.”

The Little Prince

A young, otherworldly prince from a tiny planet travels across the universe, meeting various inhabitants and learning profound life lessons. His journey brings him to Earth, where he encounters a stranded pilot and shares his reflections on love, loss, and the essence of human connections. Through whimsical adventures and encounters, The Little Prince explores the importance of seeing with the heart rather than the eyes and reminds us of the value of friendship and innocence.

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched; they are felt with the heart.”

you guys asked for more academia/book stuff so I thought this might be a nice start, especially since I know that many of you are just getting into classics; these are all very much suitable for beginners!! <3

love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Breaking the cycle

Warning ⚠️; Grief, quick mention of child abuse, trauma, angst, past character death, let me be delusional. Spoils for Arcane all seasons.

Pairing: Silco/Male!Reader, Jinx & Male!Reader (Father Figure)

Summary; you were angry and hurt after the death of Silco, your lover and partner, by the hands of your adopted daughter Jinx. So you just walked away, needing time to heal. But how could a father stay away when his daughter needs him?

~~~~~~~~

You never imagined a life without Silco in it. From your time in the mine to now, he has always been there. Either by your side, in your shadow or his name being on someone’s lips. You couldn't recall a time without him except when you were a kid.

He had always gotten your back and you his. You had stopped counting the times you took care of his injuries or how many times Silco stitched you up. You almost lost him, still having nightmares about it even after his death.

You remembered how bloody and raw his face had been. You thought he was done for, but he had lived. Lived and with you had taken care of that ankle biter. Jinx had been a daughter to you the second you were introduced to her as you saw so much of yourself in her. She was a bundle of joy to you.

But now she was the reason of your greatest pain.

As Silco once said “Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?” and the answer was no. No there wasn't. For he had died by the hand of your own daughter.

You remembered screaming at the sight of Silco’s dead body as your heart and soul broke. His skin had been so cold when you cradled him in your arms, rocking and trying to wake up from that nightmare. Jinx had been crying, begging for forgiveness.

But you only felt anger and betrayal toward her. How could she after everything Silco had done and sacrificed for her? She was your only child and in a tantrum, she killed the only person who ever truly loved you.

How could you forgive her?

You had left, needing space away from her. Away from everything so you could heal and accept the reality. Easier said than done. Each morning you wake up cold in an empty bed, in a place filled with silence. Gone is the smell of cigars, makeup and coffee during the morning and it leaves a deeper hole in your heart.

The worst are the dreams and nightmares. The nightmares haunt you with the memories of the past of the mistakes you made. The dream teases you with a reality that isn't yours anymore. Like waking up next to Silco, being able to touch his face once more or kiss him one more time.

Either way, you always wake up crying, breaking more with each passing night.

Before you knew it, months had passed. You kept an ear out, listening to the news. Jinx was still being herself, but the tensions also grew. Even in your hole, you could feel it. It was a question of time before a single act blew everything up and conflict would turn into a bloody mess.

When you came back to your senses, grief still clouding your mind, you felt ashamed. You had turned your back on Jinx when she too was hurt by her own actions. You didn't know what to do, how to approach her and ask for forgiveness.

You wrote letter after letter, throwing away each one of them, disliking them. You couldn't find the right words until you stopped trying. You tried to explain to her how you felt, that you didn't hate her and forgave her just like Silco would have. You asked for her forgiveness for how you just treated her, knowing damn well you didn't deserve it.

After sending it, there was no answer.

Through the great vines, you learn that Jinx had taken a little girl under her arm. A child she had named Isha. Isha, what a sweet name you thought the first time you heard it. Jinx was still the kindhearted girl you remembered her to be and you were glad she had someone by her side even if it was a mute child.

Staying in the shadows, you watched over her. She seemed happy with that little girl, a spark coming back in her eyes. It was clear Jinx saw the kid as her sister, but that child saw her as more than that.

Jinx never noticed you, but Isha did. She came to you a few times and you always gave her a little something. Food, toys and even her own little gun once. Her smile reminded you of Jinx’s when she was little before Vi left. Maybe that was why Jinx kept her around, because Isha was just like her and she knew how to take care of the little girl.

You had wished to take your time coming back into Jinx’s life, but things took a wrong turn and you were forced to act quickly. The battle against Warwick took you by surprise, more than it should have. Why you didn't see it coming, you didn't know, but you showed up.

How couldn't you when your daughter was there, risking her life? But you didn't see her. Didn't see either her hair or heard her voice and you feared you had been too late. That she had died before you could ask for her forgiveness.

Then you heard her scream and just ran.

You saw a little flash of blue as Jinx screamed Isha’s name. The child looked at you as she passed you, running, a gun in her hands. Your blood turned to ice as you immediately knew what she was going to do.

You turned on your heels and followed after her. You were an adult, taller and larger than Isha and, more importantly, slower. But you managed to make your way through the battle and reach her as Isha raised her weapon. You snatched the damn thing from her and threw it in the air. Before it fell back down you took Isha in your arms and booked it.

Your legs and lungs hurt as you ran away, little hands grabbing your clothes. You gasped when the explosion happened, the blow hitting you in the back. You wrapped your arms around the child, trying to shield Isha as much as you could. Your body hit the ground with a loud thud and you felt your shoulder give up, dislocation.

Dust filled your mouth and nose, making you cough and sneeze. But so did Isha.

You opened your eyes, grimacing with pain before looking down. The kid was crying, her little hands rubbing her face. You sighed in relief seeing her unarmed. Unlike you. But you didn't care.

You slowly sat down hearing running footsteps coming towards you. You sat the kid on your lap still making sure she really wasn't hurt. Your shoulder was killing you, but you ignored the pain when Isha smiled at you before hugging you.

- “ISHA!” Jinx’s scream surprised you and you both looked in her direction.

Jinx was running toward you, her long braids bouncing all around the place. Tears rolled down her eyes you saw as she fell onto her knees next to you. You never got the chance to talk, your daughter wrapping her arms around you and Isha before she broke down crying.

You embraced her, letting her melt and snuggle against you. You weren't better as you began to cry as well, asking for her forgiveness. Jinx just nodded, whispering that you had nothing to be sorry about.

You closed your eyes, just wanting to savour the moment, but the next thing you knew darkness actually swallowed you up. You woke up on a comfortable bed, a small ball of heat pressed against your side. Groaning, you looked at what it was only to find Isha sleeping next to you. Her helmet had fallen from her head to the floor, but her hand still grabbed onto you. Little snores left her mouth and you smiled, passing a hand in her hair.

- “You are awake.” Jinx's voice almost scared the shit out of you and you froze, looking to the side.

Your daughter looked tired, like she hadn't slept in days. Maybe it was the case since you didn't know how long you were out. There was sadness and fear in her eyes as her gaze shifted to Isha. The sweet thing was unbothered.

- “Yeah. I guess I am.” You whispered, slowly blinking. “Jinx, sweety I…”

- “Don’t. Don’t say you are sorry. You have no reason to be, I understand. I got your letters I… just never knew what to reply and where to send them.” She cut you off, her fingers pinching the skin around her nails. “Thanks for saving Isha. I… I don't know…”

Tears filled her eyes and you offered her your hand. Jinx took it and you squeezed her delicate hand in your. You knew what she meant as you felt the same. Losing Silco had been painful, the worst pain you ever felt, but the thought of Jinx dying? Of losing your daughter to the cold embrace of death?

Oh, that sort of pain was unbearable. You wouldn't be able to keep living in a world without her.

- “I know princess, I know. That is why I was there, for you. I didn't want to lose you like that, not before asking for your forgiveness. I never should have left. I abandoned you when you needed me the most and I'll never forgive myself.” You said, voice low as to not wake up the kid.

Jinx dried her eyes before almost jumping into the bed. She dropped on your other side, arms around you as she buried her face in your unhurt shoulder. You grimaced a bit, body still sore, but wrapped your arm around her.

- “You are my daughter and you'll aways be. Nothing will change that, Jinx, okay?” You whispered in her hair as she nodded.

- “You scared me. When you lost consciousness I thought you just dropped dead. I thought… I thought I had lost you again.”

Her voice shivered as she fought back her tears. You closed your eyes, kissing her head. You didn't want to think about it. You weren't scare to die, but you also didn't want to leave Jinx alone with a child in her charge.

- “I’m sorry. I never meant to scare you so much.” You said, stroking her hair.

- “That's a lot of sorry…” She whispered and you snorted.

- “Yeah, I have a lot to be sorry about… What about the kid? How’s Isha doing?” You asked, turning your attention toward the sleeping girl.

- “Hadn't left your side ever since we got you here. She helped me take care of your wounds and your shoulder. I don't think she like the sound of dislocated shoulders.”

- “You didn't either at her age.”

She laughed and you smiled.

- “Dad… are you…” She mumbled, unable to fully ask her question but you knew what it was.

- “I am not going anywhere. I came back home, I came back for you and Isha.” You replied and Jinx relaxed against you as if you had taken the weight of the world off her shoulders. “But the kid is still your responsibility. You took her in, you are raising her.”

- “Too young to be a mom!” She whined and you chuckled.

- “Then be a big sister to her. Like I said, I ain't leaving you alone. We will manage. After all, me and Silco raised you well enough. I bet I can do it again.”

Jinx had tensed when you mentioned Silco but quickly relaxed again. She nodded and wrapped her arms tighter around you.

- “Sleep. You need it as much as I do.” You whispered and Jinx denied it.

Yet, it wasn't long until your daughter was fast asleep against you. You looked down at her, admiring the woman she was becoming. You were glad you had managed to save Isha, not liking the idea of her death destroying Jinx. She had lost so much, losing that kid would have been the last straw.

You fell asleep soon as well, wondering if Silco was watching over your little family from the other side. You felt a wave of sadness at the though of Isha never knowing Silco but chased the thought away.

Even if he was dead, you weren’t and you would make sure to share memories of him and Jinx’s childhood with Isha.

You fell asleep with a smile on your lips being finally back home.

[cuverale]

can we have us as Lee Byung Hun wife?? pretty please🙏😭 (idk if I'm write it's right, srry, I'm not good in english)

ᯓ bliss — lee byung-hun.

note: loved the idea!! enjoy <3

────────── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ──────────

tmz_tv

liked by ynmybaby, byunghunspookie and others

tmz_tv Actor Lee Byung-hun and his wife, Y/N L/N, recently celebrated their wedding anniversary in style, and fans can’t stop gushing over their heartwarming photos. The couple marked the special occasion with a romantic photoshoot, capturing their timeless love and undeniable chemistry. Known for keeping their private life low-key, the duo gave a rare glimpse into their relationship, sparking admiration from fans and media alike. Their elegant yet intimate celebration was a testament to their enduring bond, proving that their love story is truly one for the ages.

view comments

kissmeyn they’re the definition of couple goals !!

iloveoldermen the way he looks at her 😭

ynmybaby how do they manage to look even more stunning with each passing year? absolute perfection!

randomuser he’s too old for her tho

byungswife nobody asked for your opinion, hope this helps!

ynsluvr proof that true love only gets stronger with time. happy anniversary to the most iconic couple!!!!

number001 alexa play that should be me by justin bieber ✋🏻😭

simpforfictionalmen Lee Byung-hun and Y/N L/N are the real-life ‘happily ever after.’ Disney, take notes!

mrandmrslee GOD I LOVE THEM SM !!! 💗

leebyunghunswife can we just talk about how these photos are better than half the wedding shoots i’ve seen? iconic.

yourusername

liked by byunghun0712, from_jjlee and others

yourusername wifey wifey wifey wifeyyy

view comments

byunghun0712 my love ❤️

liked by author

yourfriendsuser i’m the sniper btw

yourusername stop😭

ynmybaby MY PARENTS

delulugirl happy wife happy life

from_jjlee happy anniversary to my favorite couple!

yourusername love youuu!!

kissmeyn you’re glowing mrs.lee 🗣️

byunghunspookie the chemistry is unmatched

dilflover look at my man with his wife

ynswifey look at my girl with her husband 😞

mrandmrslee their love story is like something straight out of a movie. wishing them many more anniversaries to come!!

inhosimp these photos made my day 😭💗

byunghun0712

liked by yourusername, hoooooyeony and others

byunghun0712 Every moment with you feels like a new beginning, and every year, our love grows stronger. Thank you for being my rock, my joy, and my greatest blessing. Here’s to many more years of laughter, love, and unforgettable memories. Happy anniversary, my love.

view comments

yourusername i love you i love you i love you

liked by author

yourusername literally crying rn

byunghun0712 let me cuddle you then

ilovebyunghun SIR ME TOO PLS

hoooooyeony 💘💘

ynspookie may this type of love find me

wifeofinho relationship goals? more like LIFE goals. can I just be their third wheel forever??

leebyunghunfan their love story is so wholesome, i might have to start writing fanfic. don’t judge me anyone!

ynmybaby LMAO SAME

inholuvr girl you better hurry up i wanna read that now

byunghunswifey Lee Byung-hun out here setting the bar way too high for all husbands. noted, sir, very noted.

iloveyn someone check the dictionary—pretty sure their photo is next to ‘soulmates.’

byunghun0712’s story

[muletia]

Soemthing about Opitmus' holoform and him just following you around doing domestic things just because

domestic fluff?? in this economy? hell yeah

cw: fluff, pinch of angst

word count: 710

Optimus longs to experience normalcy. Immersed in war, surrounded by the scent of spilled energon and the wails of wounded comrades... after so many years, such a cruel and unjust daily reality is bound to leave a mark, shift priorities, and force him into thinking always of others and never of himself. And so, even for a brief moment, he wishes to allow himself to be selfish. To focus on doing something that brings him joy. And it just so happens that his joy lies in being in your presence—getting to know you, spending time together on activities that, from a Cybertronian perspective, might seem trivial. Carefree. Yet he has distanced himself from such views.

He delights in discovering the hidden sides of you, the parts you don’t reveal at the base. They only emerge at home, in your sanctuary, where you show him another version of yourself. The first time he asked to accompany you home, you were surprised. You enjoyed spending time with him too and treasured your shared moments, but you weren’t sure if he was ready for the boredom that came with it. That saddened him, because he sincerely wanted to know your boredom, to see you from an angle unfamiliar to him. To understand humanity on a more intimate level. To experience what humanity truly is—stripped of philosophy, disengaged from the rat race, living in the moment. In its simplest form. The archivist who no longer existed stirred within him, curious, inquisitive, and hungry for knowledge of the unknown. For a fleeting moment, Optimus allowed him back into his spark.

And so, you let him. You invite him into your home and unveil yourself to him, shedding layer after layer. The first time, he is agitated—not stressed, but uneasy; he’s afraid every movement might damage the furniture or the trinkets on the shelves. After all, he wouldn’t be able to repair them. Even while "being human," he betrays his true essence, unaccustomed to his new, smaller form. His title manifests even through the holoform. You have to take his hand and guide him to get him to move at all, for which he is deeply grateful.

He observes human boredom—washing dishes, doing laundry, preparing fuel (a meal, as you explained to him). You insist it’s dull, almost unworthy of his presence, but he is unwavering on this matter. He craves it. He wants to taste humanity, to see through your optics, even if just for a moment. Because he loves you and hungers to know everything about you—the good and the bad. The mundane and the thrilling. The most trivial and the profound. He needs honesty and openness. To know you trust him, for only then can he truly function.

You show him humanity through dancing, listening to music, and reading books. You let him season the meal, even though he doesn’t understand the purpose of the action. Allow him to water the plants while you share fascinating tidbits about each species. He never leaves your side, desperate for knowledge of your daily life. Becomes your shadow, intent on learning everything—who you truly are.

When you ask if he could read a book to you because you enjoy his voice, he agrees without hesitation, as he’s physically incapable of refusing you. Begins reading, and you rest your head on his lap, smiling as he tenses, trying to suppress his emotions. The words blur together as you start playing with the synthetic skin of his face, exploring with curiosity the false human that feels too real. You tell him you prefer his true form, his true self, and for the first time in his life, Optimus doesn’t know what to say, as no amount of experience could have prepared him for such raw honesty.

But this time, you allow him more. Let him feel the texture of your wet, freshly washed hair, touch damp skin, and dry your head with a towel. He sees you in your pajamas, even though the essence of fashion and clothing is largely unknown to him. Let him cuddle into you, to learn the sensation of closeness from a smaller perspective. And when you ask if he is satisfied with the human mundane, his answer remains unchanged.

[ghouljams]

Hephaestus!Nikto and Aphrodite!reader remind me of that one audio that goes “scary? my god, you’re divine.”

He's been going about this all wrong, Nikto realizes. All wrong. He's been too big, too flashy, too... too not himself. This time he can feel it in the twist of his pliers, in the soft enamel and carefully applied resin. Something worth your eyes upon it. Simple as it may be.

The stars are still dancing in the sky when you awake. They shine with a cold glow that passes like dreams through your gauzy curtains, so dark and distant compared to the soft glow of embers.

You sit upright so quickly it makes you dizzy.

"Nikto!"

The expansion of his chest, the intake of breath, stokes the coals that burn under his skin. Sparks flick from the scars that lace over his skin, breaking like ash from his body. You can hardly see his face, but the scars around his mouth seem to blaze like an inferno, melting against his tongue like volcanic rock. He's finally coming to bed, he must be!

"Zolotse," he grunts, you wait for him to decide if/how he wants to speak to you. In the time you've known Nikto you've learned he isn't hesitant, but whatever he is stills him just the same. Thoughtful might be the better way to describe it, methodical. In all things.

He doesn't speak, but settles a knee on the soft mattress and stills your heart. You tip your head into his searching hands, feel the brush of fingertips against your neck, and the cool brush of something metal. His hands push at your hair, pushing the metal through before twisting it back. You shiver at the feeling, enraptured by the draw of his hands.

Gone too soon.

You grab his arm as he pulls away, turns to leave, his weight vanishing from the bed.

"Please stay," you beg. You're truly not above begging. Not at this point.

No when his lips are parted by flame and his fingers twitch against your own.

"We-" he pauses, and your stomach flips as his knee returns to the mattress, "yes." One word has never set you ablaze so quickly. You contain the squeal of joy that bubbles in your chest as he awkwardly lays down beside you, your bed warming with his fire.

You sleep tucked against his side.

You recognize this feeling, even if you've only ever known it by your own name.

[fallow-hollow]

five stages of grief

…ft! kabru x gn! oblivious! reader

…tags! pining, confession, kabru is a bit of a freak about this, oblivious reader, reader is an adventurer

…word count! 2671

…notes! spreading my kabruganda to the masses!!! kabru is my me so I very much enjoy writing him

denial

At first, Kabru was so convinced that there was something behind your happy-go-lucky exterior.

You were so skilled in the dungeon, able to make it down to floors that even he hadn’t traversed yet. So you must have a good grasp on tactics, not only in battle, but also when socializing! Yes, maybe you read people expertly when they’d respond in kind to your friendly behavior…..

During the stage where you’re acquainted but don’t know much about each other personally, he spends so long crafting theories about what’s going on inside your head.

His party members get sick of hearing about it halfway through the second week.

Once you meet again in person, he’s ecstatic to have an opportunity to take a closer look at your inner workings. His words and mannerisms are calm and purposeful, but there is a certain spark in his eyes, almost trying to illuminate your thoughts and feelings with its shine.

Over the course of the conversation, Kabru starts getting a bit confused at his lack of new findings about you. It takes you saying something particularly damning for him to finally reach the dreaded conclusion.

“I don’t usually run into you in places like this.”

Kabru had encountered you one evening after exiting his room and seeing you and a few party members at the bar. It was nothing short of a strike of luck, and most certainly not him deliberately staying home that evening because he’d overheard your plans to go out.

“Hm?” You perked up, looking at him with a blank expression that was quickly replaced with a kind smile. Even trying to look closely, he couldn’t find anything present in your face except for a simple joy.

He would approach you with long strides, placing one hand on the back of your chair as to be friendly and intimate, but not so intimate as to make you recoil from a touch. The wink he gave you was with the eye facing away from the others on the opposite side of the table, ensuring most of them wouldn’t notice his flirtatious gesture.

“Want me to buy you a drink?”

Immediately, you raised one hand in polite refusal, your smile turning into more of a sheepish one. “Oh, I don’t know if I’d be able to pay you back. I wasn’t going to splurge much tonight anyway….”

As you talked, Kabru pulled up a free chair and sat down, a gesture that cemented himself in the conversation and setting. He noticed when he sat down in the middle of conversation, it made people less likely to turn him away than if he were still standing.

“No, no.” when he shook his head, his dark curls did a swishing movement. Once he looked back at you, he gave a half-lidded smile, only a tinge sultry in hopes you’d pick up his hints. “Your company is more than enough payment for me.”

Your party could only stare on with absolute pity as you waved your previously raised hand dismissively, giving what Kabru could only assume was a reassuring nod. Why did you think he needed reassured….? What did you think he meant?

“It’s completely fine, no need to be polite! We’re beyond such niceties at this point, I’d say. After all, I consider us to be at least a little bit friends, right? You don’t need to buy me a drink just to hang out!”

For a brief period, Kabru felt as if his whole world was spinning around him, before then shattering at the unknowing sledgehammer of your words. These statements and mannerisms suggested something far more than just a passive rejection…… no, it was something much darker.

You truly were as dense as a brick wall.

anger

Kabru doesn’t always react….. too calmly when people defy his expectations.

He’s able to keep a smile on his face just fine, but on the inside he’s screaming.

What do you mean there isn’t more? Where’s the scheme? The ulterior motive? The familiar secrets he can unravel and use to his advantage? Is it so bad that he wants there to be more?????

I’ll be honest, the man experiences his fair number of homicidal thoughts about you. In a strangely romantic way!

You’ll be chatting away with him, each remark and flirtation absolutely flying over your head, and inside his mind he’s just going I should gut them right here and sort their bones and vitals by size if they won’t let me dissect them the mental way.

And then seconds later he’ll go haha what was that! Anyway yes tell me more about the cute bird you saw last week.

I think Kabru does a lot of journaling, so he has a fair number of notes about you. Sometimes they’re drawings of you with notes about your appearance and physical mannerisms, other times he writes more free form about his thoughts regarding you. When he gets particularly frustrated, the writing can became scratchy or heavy handed to the point that it’s unreadable or nearly tears the paper.

The silence and solitude of the night was briefly interrupted by Rin rolling over in her sleeping bag. She was just beyond the range of the firelight where Kabru was still writing, and he could only barely see the way she squinted at him through her own tiredness.

“What are you scribbling about so late at night?” The mage would try to start another sentence, but be cut off by a yawn. If she was trying to be intimidating, it certainly wasn’t working. “Go to bed, Kabru, or else you’ll wake up to being sprayed by an undine if I have anything to say about it.”

That was a rather unpleasant thought….. even if the threat wasn’t legitimate, Kabru recognized that he’d probably spent far more time writing than intended. It was embarrassingly easy to get distracted when it came to you….just another thing that irked him about you. Yes…..’irked’. That’s most certainly the word.

“I’ll wrap it up soon, sorry to disturb your sleep, Rin.” With a grumble, the girl rolled back over, leaving Kabru to glance at his notebook for just a brief moment more before closing it. The writing was near illegible, but he still knew the words by heart:

��I wouldn’t mind if they were scared of me. Maybe, if they sat on the other end of my sword, trembling and wide-eyed like human prey, I’d get to see a truly untouched side of them.’

bargaining

After the shock and rage subsides, Kabru tries to make you realize his feelings through pretty much every method imaginable except for confessing.

It feels like the man always appears at your side, always claiming he ‘happened to be in the area’ or something similar. And you never even question it, infuriatingly for him.

Your party members often tell you that something is up with the guy, that he’s hanging around you a suspicious amount but never being fully transparent, but you’d feel so bad about being suspicious of him when he’s done nothing but inquire about you and even offer gifts on rare occasions!

Kabru isn’t exactly the richest of adventurers, so gifts or treating you isn’t a regular occasion, but it’s certainly something he resorts to as a last ditch effort to try and get you to realize that he’s interested in you romantically.

Once he even tried to offer you a flower, but you still didn’t take the hint.

When you saw the flower in Kabru’s hand that day, your first thought was being so flattered that he remembered your conversation about which ones you both liked.

“Oh, Kabru!” You exclaimed with pure joy, causing the man to become embarrassingly excited that perhaps you had finally noticed the meaning behind all his gestures. Were you finally moved and wowed by his considerate, perfectly planned gift.

Clapping your hands together, you would beam and say, “You liked my favorite flower so much that you wanted to get one for yourself?”

A fly could’ve soared down Kabru’s throat in the time of that pause, but you paid it no mind, instead eagerly awaiting his reply.

The look on Kabru’s face was a completely blank smile, his bright blue eyes seeming to have almost burned out like a pair of oil lamps. Then, as he regained his composure, those lights flickered back on again, albeit wavering slightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it yourself? If you like it so much, I’d be happy to let you take it home.” Poor Kabru, he should have learned by now that hints have no effect against the impenetrable fortress that is your cluelessness.

Your grin was the nail in the coffin, letting him know you had something in your head that was absolutely not anything he could anticipate from anyone else. “But why not use it as some decoration? Your party members always talk about how sparse your room is, and it could even remind you of me when I’m away! Here—“

You ushered him closer, a hand now on the small of his back giving him sparks that teetered between pleasurable and painful. The free hand gestured to the plant he held so delicately, pointing out different features like the petals, stem, and so on. “I can even tell you some facts about it; that’ll help you enjoy it that much more deeply whenever you see it! And you’ll remember our conversation!”

The way you could be so resistant to his advances yet so sweet to him could be nothing short of torturous sometimes.

depression

For a while, something fairly rare happens to Kabru: he falls into a slump.

He spends a long time in the dungeon, slashing away at monsters as if it might help him clear his head. His teammates notice that he can get more aggressive in combat than usual, but never really ask him about it.

He also becomes more spacey during mealtimes, and while some peaceful silence is nice, having Kabru of all people be so uncharacteristically quiet for so long.

It comes to the point that something similar to an intervention happens one day after dinner.

“What’s up with you, Kabru?” Mickbell wasn’t one to beat around the bush, immediately starting his line of questioning while looking at his teammate, void of mischief or amusement. “You’ve been all broody and silent all week. Can’t just expect us to not ask about it.”

“What Mickbell said,” Kuro concurred almost immediately after.

The tallman did his best to blink away his tiredness and offer a more confident look that he usually used when trying to rally his team under an idea or calm them down. “I didn’t mean to make you guys worry that much about me. It’s just something I’ve been personally interested in, so it’s not something you guys need to worry about.”

“A personal problem?” Rin cocked a brow. “If I know anything about what interests you, it’s probably a person.”

“Haha, caught me red-handed like always.” He raised his hands in faux surrender, though Rin didn’t seem to be put at ease by the gesture, so he tacked on another statement. “I was surprisingly stumped on what tactics to use when talking to a certain person, it’s really got me thinking.” Averting his gaze to the side, he could almost conjure an image of your grinning face in the corner of his vision. “It’s pretty exciting, though, so I don’t mind.”

“Ugh, I knew it!” The half foot threw his head back in exasperation, causing Kuro to extend one arm behind him in case he fell. “It’s that brick-headed adventurer you’re getting all cozy with, isn’t it?! What, you thinking of starting a new party?”

While Mickbell was busy stomping his foot to punctuate his accusation, Holm merely hummed. The gnome usually stayed pretty impartial to matters like this, but that didn’t mean he could always resist throwing in a comment or two.

“I’d be stumped too if I thought about human interaction like a battlefield.” His tone of voice remained soft, but his words were still quite pointed. “You really have to be upfront about your feelings sometimes, you know that? At least, if Mick’s description can actually be trusted.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

After those two broke down into petty squabbling, Kabru could merely try his best to mask his realization behind a tight-mouthed grin.

Holm was right, and he hated it more than anything.

acceptance

Okay, this is the part where Kabru actually bites the bullet and talks about his feelings. Truly a miracle of life.

Kabru can have a lot of trouble being fully vulnerable due to feeling like he’s losing control, so he does his best to maintain control over the rest of the outing. He arranges the time, location, even makes sure to get there first. It’s the most he can do to not feel completely helpless at the whims of his own fickle heart.

When you arrive, a new wave of nervousness hits him that’s almost like nothing before. Kabru has slain men without a second thought, and here he is resisting the urge to tremble because he has to tell his crush he likes them.

He starts off with small talk, sort of building up to his confession while also beating around the bush just a little. Asking you how you’ve been, if you’ve done anything noteworthy, if you’ve meet any new people…..

Eventually, Kabru decides that if he waits any longer, he may instinctually try to hide his intentions in the long strings of small talk he’s making, so he finally takes that leap.

He said your name, and your eyes flickered up to his face. Even if you were spacey at times, you never stared past him or through him whenever he was addressing you. It made him feel….strange. It was odd to feel truly perceived at times.

“Can I be….. terribly honest with you?” He cards his fingers through his curls and closes his eyes, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful he looked.

“Of course,” you responded without thinking. Not like you ever needed to think twice about your appreciation for the man. More than that, really.

There was stillness, and all you could hear was Kabru’s deep inhale through his nose. He intended to phrase it more eloquently, he really did, but when he opened his eyes again and saw you waiting on his words with baited breath, there was this instinctive fear that maybe this would be his only chance. That you would walk away or disappear, leaving him with only the memory.

He didn’t want just a memory.

“I want you to know that I love you above all else.”

Your mouth hung agape like his had many times in response to your own remarks. Were it not for how shocked he was at his own words, he would have chuckled at how cute you look.

Before he could even scramble to elaborate on his uncharacteristically blunt comment, you blurted out in a similar fashion, voice slightly raised and head perked up,

“You really feel that way?!”

Faced with your blushing face, Kabru could only affirm the feelings that you promoted from somewhere deep within him. “Yes, I’d been trying to win you over for a long time, really.”

If you were flushed before, then now you were nothing short of flooded with embarrassment from ear to ear. Despite this, you were smiling, wobbly and sheepish. “I mean, it’s not like I’m shocked in a bad way or anything — I always thought you were really wonderful, too wonderful for me anyway. I really never thought you were pursuing me of all people!”

For the longest time, your denseness had given Kabru untold grief. Upon seeing you state it so plainly, however, he just couldn’t find it in his heart to be upset. Not when it was one of the things that made you so fascinating.

“I’d sort of figured as such, yeah.”

[ohhiimweird]

HSR Characters I think would be attracted to Morons aka Moronsexual

These are all my headcanons. I mostly think these are funny and I was thinking about the Dan Heng fic I wrote not too long ago.

I'm also not calling you stupid as an insult. It's an astute observation/ j

Dan Heng

The more I think about this. The funnier it gets. You asked him what Obama's last name was, and now he dreams of kissing you in the moonlight of whatever planet or space station you're on. Those intertwine with his nightmares. It's like tonal whiplash for him. Also, because you're a complete and utter buffoon, you don't overthink his whole dragon identity very much. In a way, being around a stupid person lets him be himself. Yes, he does have to explain something to you five times, but it's okay. He loves those big, bright eyes without a thought behind them.

Sunday

He mourns the fact that he's attracted to a dumbass. "No. Ena. Fuck. WHY?!" he yells to the heavens. However, he is also fascinated by you. For all his life, Sunday has been monitored and groomed to be the perfect family head. Perfection was the blueprint for his life. You were one of the furthest things from that. That's why he's so drawn to you. In a way, you've inspired him to find beauty in his imperfections himself. Maybe. Just maybe. He can entertain that thought.

Kafka

You're both like Roger and Jessica Rabbit. Kafka is a cool, calm, collected, and sexy woman. You are the goofy, loveable dumbass she fell for. I can see her looking at you fondly while Silver Wolf trolls you in a racing game by hacking your controller. You don't notice anything, unobservant as you are. Truly, Kafka has felt something resembling a spark of joy whenever she sees you. That's something she hasn't felt in a long time.

I can go into drabbles to expand on this. This is funny to me.

[solxamber]

Ruler of My Heart - Rook Hunt x Reader

Rook has always pursued beauty, and he sees everything. But has he ever been seen?

Guys I think this is my magnum opus

Rook Hunt knows.

He’s always known. It isn’t a mystery or a slow realization—it’s been as plain to him as the sky above. People find him weird. Unsettling, even. He sees it in their sidelong glances, in the stiffening of their shoulders when his shadow stretches a little too close, in the hesitation before they answer his questions.

Rook has always been acutely aware that his form of admiration—raw, poetic, unfiltered—is too intense for most people. A word too many, an observation too sharp, and suddenly what he sees as praise becomes a warning in their minds.

He’s eccentric, people say. Too much, too strange, too loud in a way that whispers louder than the wind. But these opinions have never truly bothered him. Why should they? He enjoys the strange edges of the world. Where others see cracks, he finds beauty. Where others dismiss a thing as mundane or odd, Rook sees brilliance that demands appreciation.

And he will appreciate it. He refuses to live a life silenced by the fear of judgment. No, non! He will not reduce himself to palatable fragments. C’est ridicule! His every expression of admiration is a song, a soliloquy. Why should he hold back when he finds someone magnifique? Why water down compliments to a tasteless gruel when he could present a banquet of adoration?

Still, it has its costs. He knows that, too.

It’s not easy to be the odd one out—the boy in the feathered hat, lurking in the shadows not out of shame but with fascination. He sees beauty in everything, but beauty rarely returns the favor.

The people he admires most often keep their distance. His enthusiasm makes them uncomfortable, and he can feel the subtle shift in their tone when they speak to him—half polite, half wary, as if they don’t know what to make of him.

He is strange, and strange things are lonely.

That’s not to say Rook isn’t happy in his own way. He is. He has his hunts, his bows, his poetic musings. He can walk under the moon and call it his lover. He finds joy in solitude, and he has long since made peace with the thought that his admiration will rarely be returned.

Ah, but to live an unloved life is still a life worth living, non?

Yes, it is. But.

But then you come along.

The moment Rook Hunt sees you sitting in the courtyard, casually munching on your snack, he stops dead in his tracks. Something inside him shifts—no, sings—as he observes you, unguarded and at ease beneath the afternoon sun.

You aren’t conventionally beautiful. Non, pas du tout. Your features don’t fit the polished ideal found in portraits or poems, the kind that makes others stop and marvel. But beauty, true beauty, has never been so simple for Rook. No, no, no. To him, beauty lies in life’s overlooked moments—the glint of amusement in an eye, the curve of a real smile, the way a person occupies space without apology or artifice. And you… oh, mon dieu, you are fascinating. You exist not like a spark that demands attention but like a warm hearth: quiet, inviting, and so terribly rare.

He lingers at a distance, watching you offer your snack to anyone who passes, a gesture of care so unassuming it feels like magic. With each kind word, each cheerful smile you give to your friends, his admiration grows—uncontainable, overwhelming.

It grips him, this compulsion to speak, to sing your praises aloud. Of course, he knows how people react to him—how they find his earnestness unsettling, how his florid language is often met with discomfort. But he doesn’t care. How could he care when there’s someone like you in the world?

He must tell you. If he doesn’t, it will feel like sacrilege.

And so, he strides toward you, heart pounding with the thrill of imminent expression, knowing—knowing—he’ll scare you off, that you’ll recoil like so many others before. But this is who he is. He cannot suppress it.

“Ah! Such generosity! Such radiance!” he exclaims, sweeping one hand over his heart in a grand flourish as he appears before you. “To sit here so calmly, offering your bounty to others—mon dieu, it is a marvel! A light in the mundane! I find myself utterly spellbound.”

He expects the usual—perhaps an awkward laugh, maybe a hasty excuse to leave, or that look people give him, the one that says: Ah. It’s you. But he cannot stop now. Even if you flee, his admiration demands to be shown.

“Such grace in the way you greet the world! Such warmth, such beauty!” He leans in, voice softening into something more reverent. “Do you realize the gift you give, simply by being?”

And yet… you do not flinch. You don’t stammer, or shift uncomfortably, or glance around for a way out. Instead, you meet his gaze with a smile—soft, genuine, unbothered.

"Thanks,” you say, as if he’s merely complimented the weather. “That’s really sweet of you.”

Sweet of me? Rook’s breath catches. Sweet? You think him sweet? It’s such an innocent word, so lacking in judgment or wariness, that it nearly undoes him.

And then—mon dieu, mon coeur!—you tilt your head slightly and add, “I like your hat. It suits you.”

His heart trips over itself, fumbling in surprise. Compliments toward him are rare things, and certainly not ones so… easy. So natural. There’s no mockery in your voice, no edge of caution. Just honesty. Genuine admiration, directed at him.

He can feel his pulse thrumming through his entire body, a strange, heady mix of disbelief and joy. His carefully curated poise—years of presenting himself as unflappable—teeters precariously. For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t know what to say.

Then, as if the universe hasn’t gifted him enough miracles for one day, you pat the bench beside you. “Wanna sit?”

He stares, stunned. This isn’t just an offer of company. It’s an invitation. A quiet gesture that says: You are welcome here. Stay if you want.

Rook lowers himself onto the bench, the movement careful, as though the spell of the moment might break if he’s too sudden. And before he can even catch his breath, you offer him a piece of your snack with that same warm, open smile.

“I’ve got extra,” you say casually.

Mon dieu. He accepts the food, holding it like a precious gift. "Merci, mon ami," he murmurs, a rare softness in his voice. His usual theatrics fade, replaced by something quieter, something more real. In this moment, he is not the Hunter, not the ever-watching observer of beauty—he is simply a person, grateful to have been seen.

The world shifts around him, as it always does in the presence of beauty. But today, it feels different. Today, for the first time in what feels like forever, he is the one invited to stay.

Rook watches you from the treeline, hidden in the shadows as only a hunter can be. The forest is quiet, save for the soft brush of the wind through the leaves and the faint hum of your voice—gentle, carefree, a song without words. You sit cross-legged at the edge of the forest, paintbrush in hand, completely absorbed in your work.

He’s seen many artists in his time. Some work with grand, sweeping gestures, others with sharp, frantic strokes, chasing perfection like it might slip away. But you? Ah, mon ange, you are different. There’s no urgency in your movements, only presence—fully immersed in each moment, yet untroubled by mistakes.

He notices the way your brow furrows slightly when a brushstroke goes astray, how your lips twitch in a smile when the colors blend just right. Each flick of your wrist, each dip into the palette, feels like a dance, and Rook finds himself swaying in time with it, captivated.

Then, as if the universe conspires to charm him further, a small rabbit hops from the underbrush, drawn to the quiet kindness that seems to radiate from you. You pause your work, placing the brush aside to gently stroke its fur, whispering something soft and sweet before letting it bound away.

The sight strikes him with the force of an arrow straight to the heart. Enchanted. Captivated. Irrevocably lost.

And just like before, the itch in his chest grows unbearable—this need to express, to convey in words what blooms inside him. Rook Hunt has never been shy about his passions, and the urge to approach you, to spill his admiration at your feet, is nearly overwhelming.

But before he can speak, you look up—and you smile at him.

Not startled. Not wary. Just... warm, like he’s an old friend who belongs there, beside you. As though his presence is neither strange nor inconvenient. It catches him off guard, this unassuming acceptance. That simple smile undoes him in a way that even the grandest spectacle never could.

In that moment, Rook knows—ah, oui, mon coeur!—he is smitten. Not just with your quiet artistry or your kindness to creatures, but with the way you see the world. The way you seem to see him without judgment.

You gesture to the space beside you on the grass, an open invitation. He accepts with a rare, uncharacteristic quietness, folding himself gracefully into place next to you.

There are no flourishes now, no grand pronouncements. He is content, for once, to simply sit in silence, to be in the presence of something beautiful without the need to name it aloud. He listens to the soft scratching of your brush on canvas, the hum of your tune under your breath. It’s a kind of peace he rarely allows himself—the peace of simply being.

Time flows differently here, in this small, private world the two of you occupy. He forgets the need to perform, to chase beauty through words and declarations. He simply is.

And then, as if to grant him yet another gift, you turn the canvas around.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s seeing. His own face stares back at him—not a mirror reflection, but something far more intimate. There’s no exaggeration, no caricature, only the version of himself as you see him. There’s warmth in the eyes, a softness in the lines. It is not the hunter, not the performer. It is simply Rook.

For a moment, he can’t speak. The brushstrokes, the colors, the subtle details—they all tell him, I see you.

And for the first time in a very long while, Rook Hunt feels truly seen.

"Magnifique," he breathes at last, voice soft with awe. But this time, it’s not for the art. It’s for you.

You smile, a quiet laugh in your throat, and offer him the brush. "Your turn, if you want."

He takes it carefully, fingers brushing yours as he does. There’s no need to speak further. Not now. Not when this moment, this quiet understanding between you, is more eloquent than any words he could conjure.

And as the sun dips lower in the sky, Rook Hunt paints. And for once, he paints not to capture beauty, but simply to share a moment with someone who finally sees him.

Rook finds beauty in everything.

In the brightness of joy, in the trembling flicker of fear, in the raw depths of misery. Even in tears, he sees something resplendent, something worthy of admiration. But today—ah, mon dieu—something is different.

You sit alone in the classroom, tears streaking silently down your face, your body slumped in defeat. And for the first time, Rook's heart trembles in a way he cannot define. You are still beautiful—he can see that clearly—but the sight of your sorrow grips him, not in awe, but in a peculiar pain he isn't used to. A pang in his chest that tightens with each tear you shed.

He has long accepted that people do not seek him for comfort. His presence, so often strange and unsettling to others, is rarely the balm that soothes wounds. Yet he cannot stand by and watch this—cannot let your sorrow unfold without trying, at least, to offer something. Even if it’s only the quiet company of someone who understands the ache of heartbreak too well.

So he steps forward, his usual poetic flourish tempered by a softness, a quiet yearning to help. You startle at his approach, wide-eyed and surprised, but instead of shrinking away, instead of masking your pain with false pleasantries, you do something Rook never expected.

You ask him for a hug.

It’s simple, so simple, and yet it undoes him. There’s no hesitation, no wary glances or awkward excuses. Just you, with tear-stained cheeks and trembling hands, reaching out for him.

“Please,” you say, voice small but steady.

Rook's breath catches. He moves without thinking, his arms wrapping around you with a gentleness that surprises even him. He holds you close, feeling your warmth, the quiet sobs you try to stifle against his chest. He says nothing, for once letting the silence speak for itself.

And in that moment, as your tears soak into his uniform and your fingers clutch at his coat, Rook knows. Ah, oui—he knows now with a clarity that leaves no room for doubt.

His heart, so often in pursuit of beauty, has found its ruler.

You're perceptive. You’ve always been the type to notice things, the small details, the subtle shifts in people’s behavior, the things they try to hide. But for all your awareness, Rook Hunt remains an enigma.

He is too much. Too loud in his praise, too sharp in his observations, too intense in everything he does. People shy away from him, unsettled by his fervor, his dangerous precision. But where others find discomfort, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something more behind that mask of boundless admiration, behind those poetic words and that sharp, unblinking gaze.

So when he approaches you, as he often does with his bold energy and unwavering smile, you welcome it. You wait for the moment you can unravel the mystery that is Rook Hunt, to understand what lies beneath that overwhelming exterior. But somewhere along the way, in the midst of trying to see through him, something changes. He has become something precious, something irreplaceable to you.

And one day, when life has hit harder than usual—when the weight of it all pushes you down, and tears fall freely—you don’t have the energy to hide. You sit alone, breaking quietly, unaware of the world around you. But Rook notices. Of course he does.

He approaches, his usual dramatic flair muted by something softer, more careful. This time, he doesn’t wait for an invitation. He kneels beside you, a steady presence, and before you know it, his arms are around you. There’s no hesitation, no need for words, just the warmth of him, holding you close when you need it most.

And in that moment, through the haze of your grief, it becomes clear. You can feel it in the way your heart stirs at his touch, in the safety you find in his embrace.

Your heart has chosen him, declared him its ruler, and there is no going back.

You’re standing on the balcony, admiring the stars, lost in their distant glow when—thud. A shadow drops from above, landing lightly beside you on the second-floor balcony as if gravity is nothing more than a mild suggestion.

Your heart races despite yourself, but you know exactly who it is before even looking. You turn to see Rook grinning at you like he hadn’t just jumped from the roof in a completely casual manner.

“Bonsoir, mon trésor!” Rook exclaims, adjusting his hat dramatically, as if he didn’t just cause your heart to leap out of your chest.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “You know, Rook, most people take the stairs. It’s, you know, safer?”

He gasps, hand over his heart in mock offense. “Ah, but where would be the beauty in safety, mon cher? The thrill of the unknown, the leap of faith, it’s magnifique!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “One of these days, you’re going to miscalculate and break something.”

“Ah! If it were to happen in your presence, then it would be a wound most worthy,” he declares, placing a hand on his chest as if preparing for some grand tragedy.

“Is this where I’m supposed to be flattered?” you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

Rook sighs, then suddenly—unexpectedly—he drops to one knee before you, taking your hand in his as he gazes up at you, his eyes shimmering in the starlight. The playfulness fades into something more sincere, more intense.

“My heart,” he begins, his voice soft yet filled with fervor, “it yearns for you. Every beat, every breath is consumed by thoughts of you, mon amour. You have become the keeper of my soul, and I—” he presses your hand to his chest—“am forever yours.”

You blink, caught between amusement and warmth, your smile softening. “Rook, you know, you could’ve just asked me out like a normal person.”

“Mon trésor,” he says dramatically, “there is nothing ‘normal’ about love! It is wild, untamed, and as vast as the stars above.”

You laugh, a soft, breathless sound, and you find yourself leaning in. “Alright, Rook. Under the stars then,” you whisper, brushing your lips softly against his.

For once, Rook is silent—save for the way his breath hitches—before he kisses you back, tender and sweet beneath the endless sky. When you pull away, you smile down at him, your hand still in his.

“I guess that makes me your keeper now, huh?” you say with a grin.

“And I am honored,” Rook replies, standing up to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with nothing but adoration. “For my heart could not have chosen a better ruler.”

this is a little character study on rook and I just like him a normal amount I swear

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