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beneathashadytree · 7 months ago

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HAVE A CIGAR - FUSHIGURO TOJI X READER

Warnings : older!reader, middle-aged!Toji, both reader and Toji are assassins, blood, cigar smoking, murder, non-sexual nudity, shotgunning, nightmares, mentions of hell and dying together, Shiu implied to be a lil nasty, jail, Toji is… not a good father (but because he actually poses a threat to their safety), use of “doll” and “sweetheart” (not necessarily fem! though), reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic but fucked up ig?

Word count : 2.0K words (woah???)

Additional notes : I… literally haven’t written this much in over two years. Probably more, even. But I was so inspired by that one ask @textmel8r received and shared with us a couple of days back, that I couldn’t help but put it to words. It’s very messy—as it often is when you word-vomit all your ideas within an hour—but it’s honest work😔🙏🏽 Anyways, I hope you guys like it, and I hope this is what you had in mind Rae, when you wanted someone to write this!!🫶🏽🫶🏽 (and yes, the title is basically the Pink Floyd song—)

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“Take yours first. ‘ve still got a few calls to make.”

Weary bones dragged as they walked slowly, slowly, with nothing more than a hum to show that they’d even heard him in the first place. It only spoke volumes of their sheer exhaustion when they didn’t even protest, just tossing their gun aside with a clatter on their shared dresser.

Toji clicked his tongue in annoyance—how many times had he warned them that such a finely-made gun could be easily shattered on impact?—before he all but unceremoniously pushed them into the bathroom, his blood-slicked fingers staining the back of their shirt and then the door handle as he slammed it shut behind them.

He’d definitely be getting an earful about that later on, but he’d take it with no qualms whatsoever—but only if it were after they’d rested from the day’s shit-show. And after he’d called Shiu up to make sure that he’d cleaned that mess up after them, of course. The man was nothing if not a professional and certainly wasn’t waiting for him to remind him to never keep any loose ends untied, but still. It gave him something to do as he heard the shower run, too.

Short words. Even shorter answers came over the phone. That was the way it usually was after every assigned target was taken off the map, and Toji supposed his handler had the common sense to never question that, nor care much about the fact that he always hung up before he got more than two words in edgewise.

With the phone thrown in some far corner of the room (did it really matter, when he knew damn well that as soon as he stepped through that old creaky door he couldn’t give two fucks less about anything that happened outside their little bubble?), he went over to his half-empty bedside drawer and pulled out an almost-untouched box, a chunky metal lighter that had cost an embarrassing sum, and his pocket-knife, absent-mindedly going through the motions, until—

“Shit,” he hissed to himself, watching as he left bloodied fingerprints on the cigar next to the one he was pulling out. He hated how tiresome it was for them to clean up after another job. After a few seconds of consideration and then coming to a fuck-it-all conclusion, Toji wiped his fingers against the hem of his shirt, before quickly slicing off the end of the cigar and carefully lighting it with an out-of-practice flick of his hand.

His were clumsy hands that didn’t know how to carry a love like the one he buried in his chest; clumsy hands that could only convey it through gestures like letting them take their shower first because he knew that the hot water in this crappy apartment would only last one person, and he’d rather that person be them, or like drawing the thin curtains closed whenever he woke, damp with sweat and with catching breaths near dawn, because the glaring sun only ever shone down their side of the bed to give them a rude awakening.

But inexperienced in the realm of love as they were, at least they were hands that kept them alive, if nothing else. He’d stain them with his multitude of sins over and over again, fail to scrub them clean when he’s too tired to see straight, and grow callouses that roughened his thick palms if it meant that they’d stay safe and warm together under one roof.

And as decidedly ugly as he found the sight of his hands sometimes, he didn’t really have the heart to hate them when they were entwined with theirs—their own skin marred beyond recognition after the dozens (if not hundreds) of times they’d tightened their grip around their weapon to steady it as they sent off yet another person to meet the Grim Reaper.

Toji dragged and rolled the taste of the cigar between his tongue and teeth, holding his thoughts and the smoke simultaneously for a few odd beats, his scar stretching around his lip as it curled in pleasure. A rare habit of his, smoking cigars was, if the pristine condition of the box was anything to go by, but one he enjoyed no less as he savored the caramel-richness. An even finer enjoyment when he’d just sent three to their early graves, and simply wanted to unwind after putting multiple bullets to their brains.

Truly, it was sickening how little he cared about those silly details when the two of them wound up half-passed out in bed together at night. It even felt somewhat good, in a twisted sense, knowing that no matter how unforgivable his crimes would be in the eyes of a cruel jury or a heartless deity, they would always be right by his side, taking the same blame and going hurtling towards the same hell.

If ever there was one—hell, that is, an idea that almost seemed cynically amusing—he knew that they both belonged there, still tethered together in the next life of damnation. He’d grown rather fond of that sentiment.

He didn’t care for much else, he had to admit. When you were a man that possessed so little (and deep down he knew, somehow, that he wasn’t thinking of their financial status when that particular thought crept up on him), you could hardly be blamed for cherishing even less.

“Water went cold by the time I was scrubbing my feet,” they quietly said from behind him. Just as he’d predicted. Should he take some pride in knowing their quaint home like the back of their hand?

“Figures.”

With an exhale of smoke as he pulled his cigar away, he turned around to find them drying their hair with a towel—though nothing else covered their dewy skin. If it were any other time, Toji would feel himself stirring with the need to pull them onto his lap and make a mess of their sheets all night long. But right now, all he could think of—with all the fondness a man like him had—was how much better suited they were to looking so soft and warm.

“I tried to set aside some hot water for you in that plastic tub before it went out though.” Ah. There it is. That kindness they reserved only for him, in the exact same manner he only extended the chambers of his heart to them. There was a certain tenderness to the thought that he was indeed somehow loved in the same way.

So who would blame him when he tugged them down to the edge of the bed for a slow, tobacco-sweet kiss to their lips? “Thanks,” he mumbled into it, reveling in how their hand curled around his wrist.

They hummed, a little decadent half-smile on their lips as they pulled back, eying his still-fresh cigar. “Corona?” With a nod, he handed it over to their hand, where they twirled it between deft fingers as smoke curled around the glowing tip. “You always get the best ones.”

“Guess you’ll have to thank Shiu for that,” he smirked at them, something tugging at the spot lodged between his ribs as he watched their lips wrap around where his have just been, taking their own drag of the expensive taste and expertly undoing the band. “Bastard would take any shit y’have to praise him for.”

“Bet he would,” they chuckled, huffs of smoke slipping out from between their teeth, with no surprise whatsoever at his words. “Can always feel his eyes on me.”

“He’d have to be blind otherwise, doll. Face of an angel, swear it.”

Twisting the cigar between their fingers, they slyly cocked their head up at him. “Would you let him make a move on me?”

“Ain’t a problem f’me to put a bullet between his eyes too.” Toji might’ve been grinning, but there was a hardness to his voice that he let slip.

“Not if I did it first. Wouldn’t want you to go to jail for me, after all.”

The sheer irony made him laugh out loud, his still-sore muscles aching as he shook with the force of it—and it was all worth it when they smiled back at him like that. Jail? Him? It really was laughable, and they knew it. 40 year-olds like him didn’t wind up behind bars. They lived out of a burning spite and sheer will to lash out, like a rabid dog baring its teeth. He only knew how to bite.

And—maybe if he allowed himself the thought—to keep two hazy silhouettes shrouded in the safety he’d never be able to provide by their side. No, it was best to just blindly push on through from a distance for them, and hope it doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass. Not when they needed him.

So no prison for him.

“Pity. I’d have ya visit me.”

They arched an eyebrow at him, taking one last puff from his cigar before handing it back and grabbing him by the shirt. With a tug, their lips found his again, and he almost fucking groaned as the sweetness of smoke entwined with the taste of them that had been seared into his senses. And yet, the novelty would never wear off, not even after all these years. His palm would always find its way digging for purchase into their naked hip, grounding him and barely stopping him from going insane for them.

Hooded eyes shone up at him as they pulled back, slowly blinking (was it out of tiredness this time, or a simmering want?) and shushing him with a finger, only letting mild smoke slip out. “Idiot, I’d be getting you out the second they put you there.”

A menacing grin. He didn’t know how else to react; how to not let them feel how embarrassingly furiously his heart was pounding in his chest at the sentiment curling around the edges of their words. “Nice to know I’m wanted.” And it really was.

“You have your uses,” they quipped back, though they weren’t fooling him either. He could see it in their eyes, how they’d rip apart the ends of the earth for him. And for once, it felt good to know that someone truly would. They had the strength to keep that promise if need be.

Taking in another puff of heady smoke, their eyes fluttered shut as they rotated the cigar once again between their fingers and savored every breath. It was almost funny, how natural they looked with it, completely bare save for the towel draped over their shoulder and with half-dried hair, leaning back on their elbows to rest on the bed.

“Brat,” he huffed out, though there wasn’t any actual irritation in his voice. In fact, it was almost an endearment at this point. “You’ll get ash on the bed. I ain’t cleanin’ that up.”

With one eye open and glaring at him—though theirs was a gaze empty of malice—they pushed back up, their free hand reaching out to flick at his forehead, earning a grunt of protest. “You really don’t have any respect for someone who’s older than you, huh?” they rasped out, shaking their head. “Besides, you don’t clean for shit.”

“I sit there ‘n look good, sweetheart. ‘S enough work, dontcha think?”

A very pointed look was sent Toji’s way, eying him up and down in the state he was in, and he was painfully reminded of the fact that he was rotting in someone else’s blood, and that the water they’d set aside for him was probably ice-cold by now. So with that, he carefully set down the cigar in the ashtray on his bedside, and began to walk off to the no-longer-steaming bathroom.

“Have a cigar while y’re at it.”

They shook their head at that, a quiet admiration in their eyes as they watched him pull out clean sweats. At least he had the common sense out of the two of them to remember to take clothes with him to shower.

“Nah. They’re yours.”

He paused at the door, an incredulous look on his face. “D’y’ really want me to say it?” he sighed, exasperation laced with affection in his voice. “What’s mine is yours. ‘S our flat. Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.”

And if they noticed the tips of his ears flushing red as he turned his back to them, and picked up on the embarrassment at his own sappiness burning at his insides as he slinked off for a much-needed shower, Toji was grateful that they didn’t comment on it.

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies @em-3456 @angry-and-yandere @avvsfs @invisible-mori @flurrina @eurekazz @dann-acalle @rin-sv14 @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @myturnwhen @carsonology @stellisangelicus-world @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @musiclover2119 @hrhmimieucliffe @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @urlocalautistic @lovra974 @rafayels-procrastinator @sour-chaos @lynayr @viemags @ayumi-darling @priestessrosery @jammycheese @moonlight-inthe-sea

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crtter · 8 months ago

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THANK YOU!!!

Alright! There are two aspects in which most of today's 2D animation and the 2D animation made in the 30s differ from each other and those are method and purpose.

Method is rather straightforward. I think most people know that cartoons used to be animated in paper, inked and painted on transparent acetate sheets called "cels", and then photographed. This process was somewhat automated during the years in various small ways but, at its core, it remained the same since its invention in 1914 up to the 1990s! Here are a few scenes from a 1938 documentary showing how Popeye cartoons were made, in case you’re not that familiar with traditional animation:

These days, though, you can make cartoons without using any paper whatsoever. They’re made digitally. And it was through animating digitally that a new method of animation that cut back significantly on the amount of drawing needed was created: puppet animation, also known as rigged animation, popularized by the well known digital animation program Flash.

In puppet animation, not unlike in 3D animation, a character is rigged with movable joints and changeable body parts. Then, a bank of expressions, hands and certain poses is made for it. After that, the artist only needs to change them around instead of redrawing everything from scratch, as if they were posing a doll. Frame by frame animation never really fell out of usage and there are many cartoons that still employ it, but puppet animation is very popular at the moment due to being an efficient way of cutting costs and production time without a significant drop in quality in the final product. A lot of cartoons nowadays are fully animated this way, especially those aimed at younger children. If you’ve ever watched, say, Peppa Pig or Bluey with a younger relative, you’ve watched something 100% puppet animated!

As you can see, puppet animation doesn’t necessarily look less dynamic than frame by frame animation. However, having to adhere firmly to the character models doesn’t leave much room for stylistic deformation, which can make the movement look a little “stiff” at times, especially if we’re talking about simpler character designs. So, while it’s not a hard rule, if you compare a current puppet animated cartoon to a cartoon made in the 30s, the latter might look more fluid, even if only on account of having been animated frame by frame.

But you’ve probably noticed that even current frame by frame animation isn’t as “bouncy” as 30s cartoons were. Animation made in the 30s had a knack for making things look elastic and rubbery and unable to stay still and that’s where the purpose comes in. Simply put, we don’t highlight the same things we used to do back then in cartoons nowadays because… the public doesn’t watch cartoons for the same reason it did back then!

You see, animation was created in the 1890s, but the 1930s were when it truly blossomed as an art form! Cartoons went from being made entirely by a single person from being made by a group of artists, each taking care of different aspects of the animation process. This allowed cartoons to become longer and the animation more refined. 24 frames per second became the norm. Designs that looked the best on screen were established, which gave us the so famous half-dressed animals with black fur and white masks characters that we still associate with cartoons nowadays. This meant that animation went from looking like this:

Joys and Glooms (1921)

to looking like this:

Bimbo’s Initiation (1931)

in the span of a decade! Did you ever notice how 30s cartoons usually don’t have much in the way of a plot or dialogue and are mostly mainly animated to a song? Ever wonder why even the background elements were animated? That’s because people didn’t really watch cartoons for the plot back then. They watched them because they were drawings that moved to sound! Both animation and the ability for film to have sound were so new, the appeal was that it existed in the first place! So the focus was on maximizing movement and synchronization with the background music.

It’s been almost 100 years since then, though. The public isn’t AS impressed by the fact you can make drawings move in of itself anymore (unless they’re a little unwell about cartoons like I am, that is), so now animation focuses more on interesting plots and exploring different art styles rather than on just making sure everything is ready to dance. That’s why we don’t see things in cartoons like buildings randomly coming to life as much anymore. A pity.

The final boss of “learning social skills” is seeing someone online say something about a special interest of yours that’d be the literal perfect opportunity for you to talk about it but deciding not to do it because the person made the comment so long ago it’d be kind of weird to reply now. If you can restrain yourself, you’ll be awarded the “King of Acting Normal” prize on national television by the president. Or so I’m told.

#Long post #Phew! Hope this is at least kind of interesting heh

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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

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Ser Stephan of Harring’s Town Part 2

Just remember that 20 slots for tagging is the max.

Part 1

The next day Steve had barely been up for a twenty minutes when there was a knock on the door.

He opened it to reveal a very nervous Will on the other side.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Will said with a sigh of relief. “I was worried I came over too early.”

Steve laughed. “Can’t get rid of the early wake up call from sports. Come on in. You have breakfast yet?”

Will shook his head.

“I was about to make some scrambled eggs. You want any?”

“Sure,” Will said with a furrowed brow. “You don’t have to.”

Steve smiled. “I know.”

He made them some scrambled eggs and poured them both a glass of milk.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?” Will asked.

“PBS,” Steve said.

Will raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t have anyone to teach me and my parents weren’t around.”

“I would have that thought that with all the money, you would be ordering take out and fast food all the time,” Will said with a half shrug. “I would have.”

Steve smiled tightly. “I probably would have, too. But that much junk food and shit makes for a shit poor athlete and I was in three sports.”

“Three?” Will asked. “I knew about the basketball and swimming, but what’s the third?”

“Baseball,” Steve said. “All of the seasons lined up so I could be in one right after the other until almost the end of the school year. Kept me busy until I was old enough to take care of myself.”

“Wow,” Will said. “Your parents really didn’t like you, did they?”

“Nope!” Steve scoffed. “I’ll be right back with my art stuff.”

When he came back downstairs Will was waiting for him in the front room. He had two sketch pads both have finished.

“I only took a couple of art classes in high school to fill out my electives. So like I said they aren’t anything special.”

He handed them to Will.

Will took them from him and began flipping through. “A lot of static poses, but not bad. You’ve got the basics down and you can tell they’re all different characters.”

Steve blushed. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, really,” Will said, coming up to sit next to him. “Here let me show you what I mean.”

And he did, after he was done, Steve was feeling better about his art.

Will picked up the other drawing pad and a slip of folded paper fluttered to the ground. He frowned as he opened it. Inside was a very good likeness of Eddie.

“Wow,” Will whispered. “That’s really good.”

Steve frowned and then looked over Will’s shoulder. He resisted the urge to snatch the drawing from his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Steve muttered.

“Why?” Will asked, confused. “It’s the best thing I’ve seen so far.”

Steve brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “It’s only good, because if you draw the same thing over and over again, you can’t help but improve.”

Will looked down at the drawing of Eddie again. “How many times have you drawn him?”

“I have seven drawing notebooks, and those are the only two that aren’t filled with drawings of Eddie Munson.” Steve buried his head into his knees.

“Do you like boys, Steve?” Will asked gently.

Steve lifted his head slowly. “I think I like both.”

“Wow,” Will muttered. “It is true what they say.”

“What do they say?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow.

“That like attracts like,” Will said. “That in a small town all the weirdos and queers flock together even subconsciously because they can sense it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t a little strange, that you’re bisexual, me, Eddie, and Robin are gay, and that likely others in the group are some variation on that theme?”

Steve looked at Will for a moment. “Oh.”

He felt this weight lifted off his chest. And then it really hit him.

“Eddie’s gay?!”

Will laughed. “I was wondering when you were going to pick up on that.”

“Oh that makes perfect sense,” Steve said with a laugh. “I thought he was teasing me. Turns out he was flirting with me.” He just started laughing and couldn’t stop.

Will started laughing too. “You really have to stop using your head as a shield man if it made you this slow.”

Steve shook his head. “Tell that to the rest of the world, man. Because I don’t like doing it anymore than you like see it.”

“I was never going to be the normal one,” Will said, “even before the Upside Down and the bullying. But it’s nice to meet other people like me and not feel alone. Because yeah, my mom and Jonathan are always going to have my back they’ll never understand. Not fully. So it’s nice that I know that there are people I can go to, people who are like me.”

Steve wrapped his arms around him. “I’m glad I got to be one of those people, Will.”

“Me, too,” Mike said with a watery chuckle. “Because it’s gonna piss Mike off so much.”

Steve looked at him, wide eyed. “Am I hearing that right? Will Byers isn’t defending Mike Wheeler? I think I might need that hearing aid after all.”

Will chuckled. “Eddie pointed out that I can disagree him from time to time. I don’t have to stick up for him when he’s being a little shit, because it just encourages him to continue his bad behavior.”

“Sounds about right,” Steve said, sitting back. “You fight with friends and lovers. That’s just what happens. It only becomes a problem when you fight about the little stuff as well as the big stuff. And if you’re fighting over every big thing than man, find someone who likes you. Because they really don’t.”

“Is that what happened to you and Nancy?” Will asked.

Steve pursed his lips. “I don’t know what happened between me and Nancy. Was it the Upside Down? Was it not being right for each other? Was both? Neither? I just...just don’t know.”

“I heard that she couldn’t even say she loved you,” Will murmured.

“Where did you hear that?” Steve asked, rounding on him.

“I eavesdropped on Nancy and Jonathan after the fight,” Will admitted.

Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Really? What else did she say?”

Will looked at him. “I don’t think you want to know man.”

Steve looked at him for a second. “No, no. You’re right.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and they turned to each other.

“You expecting anyone else today?” Will asked.

Steve shook his head and got up to answer the door.

He opened the door and was surprised to see Eddie standing there looking a bit sheepish.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Eddie said.

Steve laughed. “Early riser me. Come on in, I was just showing Will some of my drawings.”

Eddie perked up. “You draw? Lemme see!”

Steve prayed that Will was fast enough to hide the drawing of Eddie before the man himself came bounding through the hallway.

“Eddie!” Will greeted cheerfully, standing up to hug the older man.

“How come you got to see a Steve Harrington original before me?” Eddie teased. “Kidding, kidding. I know you draw too.”

Steve come up from behind them. “We all draw, right? Eddie’s little cartoons, Will’s epic masterpieces and my little hobby.”

“Oooh!” Eddie said bouncing. “We should form an art group.”

Steve laughed. “For some so anti-establishment, you sure like clubs.”

Eddie frowned. “You don’t have to.”

Steve ruffled his hair. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I just think you’re weird. In the best way possible.”

Eddie’s expression went from confusion, to mollified, to embarrassed. “You keep talking like that and I’m going to think you’ve got a crush, Harrington.”

Will and Steve looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

“What?” Eddie asked.

Steve ran his hand down Eddie’s arm. “I’ll you about it later. But come see my art work.”

Eddie flopped on the floor and began rifling through the notebooks.

He stopped at one and cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t know you liked ‘Labyrinth’, Steve.”

Steve and Will leaned over to see which picture he was talking about. It was one of the ones that Steve had actually colored. And it was of the ballroom scene clothes.

“Doesn’t look much like David Bowie, though,” Will admitted.

Steve bit down on his lip.

“And I thought his hair was blond in the movie,” Eddie said. “This is brown.”

Steve began actively chewing on his lip.

They both looked up at him for an explanation.

Steve scratched his cheek and pushed his hair back. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Will and Eddie shared a look.

“Why don’t you want to tell us?” Will asked.

Steve tilted his head back, rolling his eyes. “Oh god. Fine. Turn the page. Maybe that will clue you in.”

Eddie and Will frowned but did as he asked. There in a male version of Sarah’s ballgown was Steve.

Eddie looked up at him wide-eyed and then back to the other page.

Will caught an faster than Eddie did. “Oh shit.” He glanced at Eddie and then back at Steve.

Eddie caught the panicked look on Steve’s face and then back down at the drawing pad.

“It’s me.”

“This was back before...” Steve waved his hand, “before.” Will and Eddie nodded. Before Eddie fell into Steve’s life. Back when he was just the kid’s DM. “Robin wanted to watch it. And it struck a cord with me you know. I felt like you’d stolen the kids from me. I had to go through so much to get them to like me and you just waltzed right in and were instantly adored. So you became my goblin king.”

“And the fact that it’s a love story...” Eddie asked.

“It’s not though,” Steve said with a frown. “He’s obsessed with her sure. But if he loved her he wouldn’t have hurt her. Would have...I don’t know.” Steve threw his arms in the air. “I think the message is that you aren’t beholden to someone because they say they love you. You are your own person. If you want to love them back, if you can love them back, that’s okay. But it’s not on you to cater to those feelings. It’s in his speech at the end. About her doing everything he tells her and he’ll be her slave? Love doesn’t work like that. Or at least it shouldn’t.”

Eddie blinked. “Wow. You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

Will was staring up at Steve with new appreciation.

“You caught me, I’m a romantic at heart,” Steve said with a heavy sigh. “I guess I always will be.”

“Do you have other pictures like this?” Eddie asked holding up the notebook. “Where you draw your friends as movie characters?”

Steve shook his head. “Not really. It was just something I felt in the moment.” He pointed at Will. “That’s more Will’s thing than mine.”

Eddie turned to Will. “You’ve drawn the party members as characters before?”

Will blushed. “Sometimes. Mainly it’s Mike.”

“Ah.” He moved to stand back up when he saw something sticking out of the cushions of the sofa.

Steve watched in slow motion as Eddie pulled out the paper and unfold it. He watched as Eddie gasped, covering his mouth with his hand as the other hand began to shake.

“Eddie?” Steve asked, his voice higher with worry.

“I’ve never seen myself drawn like that before,” he whispered.

“Like what?” Will asked, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Eddie ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the drawing. “Like I matter to someone.”

He looked up at Steve. “When did you draw this?”

Steve’s heart was racing in his chest as he fought to get the words out. “Remember that night when I came early to pick up the kids. The night you guys finally convinced me to play?”

Eddie nodded. “Can I keep it?”

Steve could feel the weight being lifted from his chest. “Yeah, sure.”

“Hey, Eddie,” Will said, trying to break the tension, “why are you here? I mean it’s been fun, but you can’t have come over for Steve’s art, because you didn’t know he drew until today.”

Eddie looked between Steve and Will in confusion a moment as they waited for his answer. “Oh! Right, I had an idea for your character and wanted to talk to you about it. But I got so excited that I just drove over here without thinking.”

Steve laughed and even Will smiled and shook his head.

“So let’s hear it, then,” Steve said.

And soon the air was filled with discussions of the campaign.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Tag List: @itsfreakingbats @marvelousforlife

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #dnd #steve's hidden talents #ladykailtiha writes

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gunterfan1992 · 4 years ago

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Interview with James Baxter (the Human)

Guess what, everyone? I just had the pleasure of exchanging emails with James Baxter—that’s right the James Baxter! James is something of a legend in the animation world, and he is known for his beautifully expressive animation style that is able to make even the simplest shape look majestic and full of life. In addition to the myriad movies he has worked on, James also contributed special animation to Adventure Time, working on season five’s “James Baxter the Horse” and season eight’s “Horse and Ball”; not only was the character named after him, but he even got to voice his horse doppelgänger!

And so, without further ado, Mr. James Baxter the Human:

GunterFan: I know that you've recounted it before, but would it be possible to get your take on the 'origin story' of the "James Baxter the Horse" episode. How did it all come together?

James Baxter: Well, Pen and I were in contact with each other while I was working at DreamWorks. I had known about him since he had left CalArts and I had already told him how much I liked Adventure Time, and I had told him that if he ever needed me to do anything to give me a call. I guess he heard me because later he asked me to meet him at a tiny sandwich place that was on Flower St. and Sonora in Burbank (it's called Little Ground now, but I can't remember what it used to be back then). There, he pitched me the idea for the character and he gave me a quick sketch of James Baxter the Horse. I said yes, absolutely I would love to animate and voice that for you, that sounds amazing. He also reminded me of one of my animation demo lectures that I had done at CalArts when he was a student there. I usually ask for suggestions from the students of what they would like me to animate for them, so they can see the thought process. At that lecture someone yelled out, "Do a horse balancing on a ball!" (it may have been Pen) I guess as a goof, knowing that might be a little tricky for a quick demo. I remember asking for something a little simpler please. I suppose Pen remembered that moment because that's where the idea came from. As far as the actual episode goes, and what happens in it, that's all Pen and his team.

GF: What was the animation process like? How long did it take you to get everything all together?

JB: I saw the storyboard, and they gave me a printed copy of it, as well as some exposure sheets for the shots that the horse was in. I spent a little time working out some different cycles that I could move between, James balancing in place, James turning in a circle etc. I was trying to do cycles that could be reused over and over in different shots to save on work. it was all animated on paper and all the clean up drawings were done by my wife Kendra. Then all those drawings were shipped overseas to the production studio that was doing the rest of the animation for the show, so that they could do the color and compositing. I guess it took us about a month or six weeks, but I was only working on it evenings and weekends.

GF: How much say did you have with regard to the character design? What about key poses? Were you given creative freedom?

JB: I was given a lot of freedom. I just had that one sketch that Pen had drawn, but he had suggested that I give it a more flowing mane and tail. I remember sending a drawing of mine back to the team at Cartoon Network so that they could do a color model for him. As far as key poses went, I just had the boards to go from, which were clear but not super detailed, so I had a lot of freedom to make up the animation as long as I stayed true to the staging and to the length of the shots. By the time i got the exposure sheets the dialogue tracks had already been written on them, which is common practice, so I could animate to the sound.

GF: I love James Baxter (the Horse)'s voice! What inspired the accent and the whinny? What was the recording process like?

JB: I guess the voice is me just trying to be horsey, and a little posh, and British. He only ever says his name (no trouble remembering the lines!), so it's a little hard to really define an accent, but I'm British so that's where I went. My natural accent hovers somewhere over the mid-Atlantic since I've lived in the US for over thirty years. The whinny is just me trying not to cough as I'm trying to make horsey noises! Voice acting is not my talent, but it was a lot of fun, mostly because it was so surreal just saying my own name in different ways for half an hour! They were very nice and patient with me.

GF: I haven't been able to find a lot of info on "Horse and Ball." What was that like? Was it different the second time?

JB: How did you feel returning to the show? Well, I was very pleased to get another chance to do more James Baxter, but there was more footage of him in the second episode and I had less time to do it. That meant that I only animated a few shots of him in that episode, not all of him as I had done in the first one. I would have loved to have done it all, but there just wasn't time. But it was just as fun to animate, especially falling off the ball and the dance at the end.

GF: What has the reception been like on your end? Do folks ever connect your name to the character without realizing that they're both you?

JB: I’ve never had the "Oh, I never knew that James Baxter was a real person" comment face to face, but I've seen it quite a lot in comment sections on YouTube and other places online. I've got to say, it's very gratifying having this amazing alter-ego of me in AT, especially since he's such a benevolent character. I'm glad Pen didn't decide to make him a jerk! All he does is ride around cheering people up, how amazing is that?! It's certainly become a gateway for a whole lot of people to discover me as an artist, not just a cartoon character.

I hope to incorporate all this information into the second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo... one day. Either way, thank you James Baxter for not only agreeing to a little interview, but also making the world a better place!

#adventure time #adventuretime #atimers #james baxter #james baxter the horse #james baxter the human #animation #interview

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sondepoch · 5 years ago

Text

HC: They see MC’s sketchbook!

Art. It’s a private thing. Showing someone your work is akin to showing them a piece of your soul, an insight into who you are and everything that lies within. So when the Obey Me! boys get a glimpse of your sketchbook, they find themselves wanting for more—and all in different ways.

Word Count: 6.0k

*Mild NSFW themes for Asmo & Diavolo

Characters: All Brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

At the beginning of the year, there is 0 trust between the two of you

Not only has he actively tried to kill you, but he’s already so suspicious of the pacts you’re making with his brothers that he can’t help but be wary every time you cross paths

So when he realizes that you’re always absentmindedly scribbling in a notepad every time you interact, he’s more than a little perturbed by it

100% thinks you’re secretly taking notes on his and his brothers’ behavior to use it against them

So, obviously, when he next sees you using it in his presence, he wastes no time in snatching the notebook from your hands

“Oh hey, Lucif—what are you doing?!”

“Nothing you should be concerned with, human.”

“That’s my sketchbook you’re holding!”

“Sketchbook?”

Instantly flips it open and sure enough, inside there’s nothing but doodles and sketches

luci.is.confuzzled.exe

He’s still convinced that there must be something incriminating in the book, so he continues flipping through it. But the more he sees, the more he realizes how wrong he is

It’s only when he flips to the section with his family that he begins to feel guilty

In the beginning, you just draw basic poses. Mammon, glancing at you over his shoulder. Asmo, posing for a camera. Beel, about to bite down on a hamburger.

But the further he goes, the more elaborate the sketches get, and as he flips through the pages, he can feel the amount of work that has gone into each piece

And then he gets to the page where you drew him

Keep it lowkey, but he thinks his heart stopped for a second

He stares at the picture and wonders if that’s what you see every time he shifts into his demon form, because for the first time since his fall, he can’t help but think about how beautiful he looks. Everything looks so right in your art style, from the diamond on his forehead to the way his wings flutter out of his back.

It’s perfection

“I’m confiscating this,” He says quickly, not looking you in the eye.

He then escapes the room faster than you’ve ever seen, and never speaks of the incident again to you

But roughly a week later, you find a small red book on your pillow, and you know that it's a sketchbook from him, to replace the one he took

And even later—after the two of you grow close—you find your old sketchbook stored in his most secure drawer, locked away with a key he keeps hidden. And you know that he’s spent hours looking through the book on rough nights, through the doodles of him and his brothers and everything else you’ve ever drawn

And though he’s too proud to admit it, you know he loves your art

Mammon

He found it when he was going through your stuff, absentmindedly checking to see if you had any valuables on you

And the moment he flipped open to see your little notebook of doodles, his mind went B I N G O

He loves your art the second he sees it, spending a whole hour just sitting on your bedroom floor, flipping through the pages

Adores everything about your art style

And when he starts to see the little doodles you do of his brothers, he’s even more enraptured

You draw all the things he’s imagined but never seen: a sketch of Lucifer dressed in a onesie, snuggling a giant teddy bear. Beel, using a sleeping Belphie as a food tray for a pile of snacks as large as the sixth-born himself. Asmo with cat ears, being chased by Solomon, who appears to be a wolf.

And yet, there are no pictures of Mammon

Man is hurt by the fact that you’ve drawn all his brothers but not him. He’s your first man, after all. You should have been the first person he drew!

Gets a bit upset about it and throws your sketchbook back into the drawer he found it in, stomping back to his room with childlike indignation

Is just a bit petty about it afterward

“Hey, Mammon, can you walk me to school? Class starts in half an hour.”

“Huh? Oh, so now ya want me to do it, huh? Well, why don’t you ask Asmo instead?”

“Okay? I will???”

Soon everyone in the house has realized that Mammon’s being a bit off, and while it was nice at first to have peace and quiet from the resident troublemaker, you guys grow concerned pretty quick

And eventually, you go to his room to talk things out

Let’s just say that when you found out he’d been going through your stuff, you were not pleased. But seeing that he wasn’t going to be the mature one, you sucked it up and whacked the demon on the back of his head, telling him to “wait a second” while you went to “get something”

Cue the retrieval of your second sketchbook

And when Mammon sees it, he’s not sure what he feels more of: guilt or happiness

Every single page in this second notebook is of him. Only a few are colored, but Mammon finds himself enraptured by even the casual doodles in the corners, where he’s doing little things like eating a banana or flashing the viewer a few Grimm

Man is touched. He’s never had anyone do this for him, and certainly not out of their own volition. So suffice it to say that when he tackled you for a hug that night, he didn’t let you go for a long time

And maybe some other stuff happened too. Who knows? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Leviathan

TSL

The second Levi sees you sketching in your artbook (after an incoherent stumble of words which you assume are synonymous with praise), the only phrase coming out of this man’s mouth is TSL

Begins begging you to draw fanart of the Shadow Lord, asking you to sketch him in different outfits, draw him in different poses, put him in various backgrounds, etc.

Basically wants you to bring his imagination to life

“Oh! Oh! Can you draw him baking a cake now? Wouldn’t that be so cool?!”

Absolutely does the wwooooooOOOOOAAAHAHHHHHHH sound effect every single time you show him your work, even if you’ve only made minor changes from the last time you showed him

He takes you on a spending spree, pulling up Akuzon and offering to pay for whatever supplies you want if you’ll just make him a super fancy poster

And so you start

It actually gets to be a pretty good way to grow closer: every day, after school, you head up to Levi’s room to work on the poster he asked you to make him. In exchange, he lets you borrow his manga and you guys watch anime together

Eventually, boi gets the idea of throwing Ruri-chan into the poster, and the second he thinks it he won’t shut up about it

“Oh, come on! You can do it—look, just put her in this little corner right here!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Levi?! Ruri-chan and the Shadow Lord are two completely different characters who are meant to be drawn in completely different art styles! If I mush Ruri-chan into the corner, it’ll ruin the poster’s dynamic!”

“But pleeeeeaaaassseeeee?”

Cue extra pouty Levi

Eventually, you agree to make a separate drawing of Ruri-chan for Levi to hang up next to the poster, because you think that otherwise, he’ll go crazy

When the date rolls around where you’re almost done with everything, Levi formally sends out an invitation to everyone of importance

Man invites everyone from Luke to Diavolo over for the “revealing ceremony” where he plans to hang the poster on his wall

Actually tried to get the demon king to come as well, but Lucifer stopped him before he could get an invitation out

When everyone sees what you’ve been working on for so many weeks, they’re all MEGA impressed because hello??? they did not know you were this skilled???

It quickly turns into a competition, with each one of them trying to outdo each other with how vigorously they can compliment you

And soon enough you find yourself swamped with requests from every other demon in the room, begging you to make them something as elaborate as you did Levi

Satan

It’s a system you guys have set up, where every Tuesday and Thursday night, you’ll sit in the common room on the couch facing each other and will simply open your books to do what you will

You always draw, and Satan always reads

And neither will bother the other until the grandfather clock chimes twelve times, whereupon you both bid each other goodnight and wait for the next session where you do it all over

Except for today, that is

“What are you drawing?”

Ah, there it is

The one question you were hoping Satan would never ask

You subtly (incredibly awkwardly) change the subject, commenting on the color of Satan’s jacket to distract him from his inquiry, and he picks up on the hint, quietly huffing as he turns back to his book

But the mild irritation he feels doesn’t let him fully delve back into the realm of the nonfiction novel he was reading, so he’s more than a little distracted as he goes back to reading about human anthropology

And it’s in this state of distraction that he notices the little glances you’re stealing every so often, before returning to your sketchpad

Yeah, it doesn’t take long for Satan to put two and two together

“Are you drawing me?”

An incredulous question, asked in such an offending tone

He sounds so irate by the fact that you can’t help but helplessly deny it, muttering something about drawing plants and flowers instead

But Satan doesn’t believe it, and in an instant he’s standing behind you, staring at the sketch in your hands which has oh-so-beautifully captured the essence of him on the couch, engrossed in a book with the light from the flames in the fireplace flickering gently against his skin

The anger at being drawn without having agreed to it quickly melts into a quiet awe for your skill

“Can I see your other drawings?” He asks gently, no longer irritated but actually impressed

“I-I’m not sure if you’ll want to—”

“Nonsense. Show me.”

And so you do

You hand him the sketchbook, avoiding his eyes as he flips to the very first page—and imagine his surprise when he sees that even that is a sketch of his face, though the artwork is significantly less advanced than the piece he just saw. Satan flips to the next page, and then the next, and the next, and sure enough: they’re all of him

“I-I just needed a model to practice my artwork on,” You mumble, gaze fixated on the couch. “And you were right there, so I couldn’t resist...and then I needed a model again. And again. And you were always there, and I know I never asked, but I’m sorry, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t—“

“Nonsense,” Satan murmurs, pressing a finger to your lips. His smile has never looked as sincere as it looks now, his gaze flickering back and forth between your face and the sketchbook in his hands

“I’ll be your model, if you so desire it. Just tell me how you want me to sit.”

Asmodeus

Your model for everything

You’re trying to draw the Hulk and you a good frame of reference? And you need a really muscular model? And Beel ABSOLUTELY fits the bill?

Yeah no, Asmo’s your model

You want to draw a child? Someone small and short, roughly the exact same height as Luke (who is an ANGEL and would absolutely help you)? Yeah no, Asmo’s still going to be your model.

Want a cute guy? Asmo. Cute girl? Asmo. Cute animal? Still Asmo.

Man refuses to leave you alone - the second he learns that you’re an artist he insists on gracing your work with the holy sight of his body

Highkey wants to model nude

And you’d be lying if you said that he was a bad model—man can hold a pose for hours without moving even a little, his only fault is that he talks incessantly—but you can easily quiet him by saying that you’re drawing his lips - and the moment you do so, he’s suddenly he’s stiller than a statue, doing his absolute best to remain frozen so that you can capture his perfection

Boi posts 100% of your content on his Devilgram, and while you were hesitant about it at first, now you’re just used to it

Thanks to him, you’re a lowkey celebrity

Like demons love your art style

It’s apparently very refreshing and human-like as compared to the dark and dreary art found in the Devildom, so people go wild over Asmo’s Devilgram page for it

Man thinks that they’d go even more wild if you drew something where he modeled nude

In fact, it’s lowkey a business deal that the two of you have - you allow Asmo to post your work on his Devilgram (giving credit to you, of course), and in exchange he pays for all your art supplies, acts as your model (though that’s really more of him wanting to than it being your choice), and even goes as far as to keep Mammon apart from you while you work, insisting that you need “privacy” and “quiet” while you draw

100% acts like he isn’t even more chatty than Mammon when given the chance

On the bright side, it’s thanks to these weekly art sessions where you draw and Asmo models and talks that you’re always up to date on the latest gossip. You’re 100% caught up with the fact that Zahhak just found out he has another illegitimate son and that Baphomet just liked Rusalka’s post from fourteen centuries ago

So yeah, the two of you have a mutually beneficial relationship

Asmodeus still insists that one thing would make it better though: him modeling nude

But Asmo is a sweetheart about everything, and he goes out of his way to pamper you

Specifically, your hands—after all, those are what work your artistic magic!

Expect him to always be peppering your dominant hand with kisses, massaging it whenever you look tired, giving you weekly manicures completely free of charge, all out of the goodness of Asmo’s heart

*ahem* and weekly requests to model nude

Beelzebub

a m a z e m e n t

Boi is entranced

Like, he’s so mesmerized by your art that he’s not even paying attention to the food sitting right in front of him, simply opting to stare more intently at the drawing you’re holding up so eagerly

It’s quite beautiful, really: The seven demon brothers surrounding you, a reworking of a photograph Lucifer took a few months ago but in your art style. And for that last fact, Beel thinks he likes this version better

“Wow,” He finally manages to say, still too impressed to really think of anything else

He lets his brothers shower you in praise and compliments, silently nodding along and agreeing with every plaudit they thrust your way

But the moment you’re alone, expect to be scooped into his arms and carried to his room

Boi instantly wants to know the process

When do you draw? How long does it take? Where do you do it? How are you getting your supplies? Who pays?

It’s not so much the physical process he’s interested in, but rather the nuances of art that make your work look so you. He’s not interested in learning for the sake of doing, but simply for the sake of understanding because he already appreciates your art so much

Absolutely invites you to his room to have you show him the art process the next time you start working on a piece

And after the first time, then, he invites you back a second - then a third - and then the two of you have settled into a routine where after school, you come to his room and pencil away in your sketchpad, with Beel watching in the background, munching on snacks

It’s quite relaxing for him, actually

He likes watching as you bring a piece together, going over previously flat areas with a second layer of shading to make certain elements pop—and even if he doesn’t completely understand what you’re doing, he’s entirely willing to learn, listening peacefully as you explain what the various tools do

By the end of the month, man has actually memorized all the names of your supplies, handing them to you every time you ask for it - be it something as simple as a request for an eraser or just the blending stump

Lowkey, your work has actually improved since you began working up in Beel’s room

Not only does he have the most comfortable setup, but the man pampers you like royalty, always making sure that there’s water or food for you in case you need something

(And if you do happen to require something that isn’t already in Beel’s room, man will 100% get it for you so that you don’t have to stop what you’re doing)

Honestly, it’s the perfect arrangement: he gives you the ideal working space and you give him hours upon hours of intrigue

And if you happen to begin sitting in his lap one day while you work, something which quickly turns into a pattern, who’s there to stop anything? ;)

Belphegor

Man naps

A lot

And you just happen to be his favorite pillow, so it’s hardly a surprise when all your free time is spent in the presence of a dozing Belphie, always passed out over your legs

So once, just once, you pull your sketchpad out from under your pillow and work on it, a cautious eye trained on the seventh-born’s every move in case he stirs

And when that first time goes smoothly, you pull your sketchpad out a second time

Then a third

Then a fourth - and suddenly, you’re caught in a pattern

It was really just a matter of time until Belphie woke up one day and you didn’t notice

And it’s already too late when the drowsy demon lifts his head, peering curiously onto your lap to see what you’re working on—much to your horror

“Y-you’re awake,” You mutter halfheartedly, a sick feeling settling in your stomach as you watch the demon’s expression shift as he studies your artwork

You hate it

A bubble of anxiety begins to rise, fear over whether he will like your work or call it bad, whether he’ll make fun of your work or tell the brothers, whether he’ll be kind about it or mean

But then, much to your surprise, he flops back onto your lap, utterly unphased

“Nice,” The demon comments casually, stretching as he rests his head along your thigh. “It’s pretty.”

You can only blink as he falls back asleep, utterly confused as to what just happened

He woke up, right? And he saw your art? And he complimented it, telling you that he thought it was nice and pretty?

A sound of disbelief escapes your mouth as you try to process the utter nonchalance with which the whole exchange had concluded with, your shock only interrupted by the light sound of Belphie, who’s already snoring

You groan

But now that Belphie has seen your work, it’s not like there’s much point in hiding it any longer, right?

You pull your sketchbook out, silently continuing to work on the design that the man napping on your lap had said to be “nice,” adding some finishing touches to it

And when Belphie wakes up, he speaks nothing of the entire exchange

From that point and onward, you become a little more comfortable around him, relieved that you don’t need to talk about it with him

And he gets it

For all your free time, while he naps, you draw, and the two of you find a comfortable form of peace together, an odd tranquility lurking in the fact that there are no questions, no answers, just you and him, the sound of scribbling and snoring, your sketchpad and his pillow

And really, who needs anything else?

Solomon

He’s probably the first one to realize, on his own, that you’re an artist

The two of you have nearly all your classes together, thanks to Lord Diavolo, so it’s hardly surprising when the ever-astute sorcerer picks up on the fact that every time he casts you a second glance, you’re working on some mysterious sketch underneath your desk

Doesn’t really care at first

Until he sees your work

Man actually stops when he picks your sketchbook up off the ground, inspecting the page it had flipped open to after you dropped it

“Holy shit”

Doesn’t even ask for permission, he just begins browsing through the sketchbook, growing more and more impressed with each new page he sees

You only snatch the book back from his hands when you realize that the sketch he’s staring at so intently is one you drew of him, thanking him for picking it up with a huff and awkwardly trying to remove yourself from the situation as fast as humanly (heh, yes that is a pun) possible

Wizard boy stops you, ofc

“Come with me”

“But I have class soon—"

Again, doesn’t even wait for your agreement, man just drags you by the forearm to the library and flips open a book, throws down his own notebook, and demands that you use your “art skills or whatever” to help him

Sigh

Precious wizard boy isn’t very good with words when he’s all worked up

It takes you a good 5 minutes to understand that he wants you to compare the summoning circle outlined on the book with the one he sketched to identify where he went wrong, because apparently you have an “artist’s eye” and therefore you should be able to assist him - and he refuses to believe you when you try to convince him that no, this is not your strong suit and you will likely be unable to help him

He gets whinier than Asmo (probably where he gets it from) and will not stop nagging you even as you try to leave, so eventually you just give in and agree to try to help him - and it wounds up being surprisingly easy for you to realize that he missed the secondary outline of the inner circle, among another few minor mistakes

Huh, maybe you are naturally inclined toward this

From that moment and onward, Solomon decides that you are officially valuable (not only do you have magical potential, but you have an eye for summoning circles too? how UNFAIR) and begins spending all his time with you

Doesn’t really care about the fact that you’re an artist at first—is really more interested in how your skills can be applied

But then one day, after a particularly rough night of going through twelve whole summoning circles for twelve powerful demons, he takes a nap and wakes up to find you passed out on the floor, sleeping on top of your sketchbook where you fell asleep doodling him

Highkey touched

And slowly, he begins casually “falling asleep” around you more often, to see and flip through more of your artwork when he wakes up

Sigh

Bby is fucking shady even when he does wholesome shit

Simeon

Okay let’s be real

There’s no peace with the seven demon brothers. Solomon is chaotic. Luke, as much as we love him, is just a lot to be around. And even with Barbatos next to him, Diavolo is a walking tornado that tends to wreak havoc whenever he wills it (and he usually wills it).

So honestly, being with Simeon is the only place of tranquility you can find in the entire Devildom

Specifically, his room

*Which is off-limits to all the aforementioned individuals

He extended the invitation for you to spend some “relaxation time” in his quarters whenever you pleased at the beginning of the year, his angelic heart already sensing the absolute whirlwind of disaster you were walking into when you joined RAD

And while you declined his offer immediately out of politeness, you found yourself sheepishly knocking on his door not one week into the program

And now it’s become an every-day sort of thing

So yeah

Simeon knows about your art

In fact, you can’t seem to draw unless you’re in his presence, because at this point, he naturally soothes you so much that your hand is only steady when you hear the sound of his calm breathing in the background

In fact, you work best when the two of you are spread out on his couch, your back resting comfortably on Simeon’s shoulder while he writes (yes, he manually writes all his books on pen and paper) and you put your legs up on the couch, sketching away in your notebook

It’s the very image of peace, something you can’t seem to find anywhere else in this realm

And Simeon, bless his heart, may be a master of calligraphy, but the precious angel cannot draw to save his life - a fact which you have taken it upon yourself to handle

See, the angel gets tired every now and then—understandable, given that he produces literal masterpieces at his hands

And so when he gets tired, what does he do?

Make incomprehensible doodles in the upper left corners of his papers

So, of course, you’ve taken it upon yourself to bring those doodles to life (even if it requires a half-hour of inspection before you can make out what the sketch was supposed to be) and Simeon loves it

The expression of eagerness that surfaces every time you inform him that you’ve finished a piece is so rewarding, because the childlike glee with which he takes the paper from your hands to inspect it always sends a rush of warmth to your heart as he gushes in appreciation

But uh

Simeon is a special kind of chaotic, something that manifests every time he doodles something on paper

You stare at the angel in disbelief as he informs you that his latest doodle (what appears to be a banana-looking creature in sunglasses?) was actually a monkey ironing clothes—unsure what to say in light of this information

But it’s okay :) There only needs to be one artist in this relationship, and it clearly isn’t him

Luke

It started with cake

He needed “inspiration” to make something for Barbatos, as a thank-you gift for the pastry lessons the elder gave him, but Luke claimed that everything he made, while it tasted fine, lacked in the aesthetic department

And while normally you would play it Simeon-style, leaving it to the younger angel to handle things on his own so that he can grow individually, you felt too bad watching him discard another batch of cupcakes into Beel’s mouth, rubbing his head in aggravation over how annoying it was that nothing was looking right

So you helped him out

It was nothing major, really

Just eight doodles—subtle yet elegant designs for a triple-tiered cake, childish and bouncy arrangements to store flan, little details in frosting to give cupcakes the added element of specialty that makes them infinitely better

But the second Luke saw your paper, he went wild

Boi was running to the kitchen so fast he barely even had the time to shout “thank you”

Apparently, your little sketches sparked inspiration in him so strongly that the flames burned til midnight (much to Simeon’s disapproval), but when Luke was finally done with everything, he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of desserts that looked so perfect it was hard to imagine that he brought them to life from your sketches

Luke spent ages thanking you, shoving desserts down your throat even when you insisted that you were full, so unimaginably grateful that you helped him out of what he called “chef’s block”

Each “thank you” was accompanied either a brownie or a slice of mango mousse or whatever new pastry Luke was creating that day, and before long you were getting to enjoy luxury foods on the daily (much to Beel’s jealousy)

Boy only believed that the debt was paid when you told him that there was no debt to pay, that you sketched those quick little doodles for him out of kindness and not obligation

Believe it or not, Luke’s eyes actually welled with tears for a second at that, before he wrapped you up in a giant (is it really giant if the hugger is so little?) hug, wailing something about you being too “pure” and “perfect” for the Devildom, and that one day you would be very happy in the Celestial Realm

You pat his head, telling him that if it truly made him this happy, you would be glad to help him out again and sketch some food doodles whenever he wanted some new ideas

Cue another round of hugs, muffled crying, and sobs about how amazing you are

Barbatos

Barbatos knew, of course

Not because he used his powers or anything, he would hardly use them for something so trivial, but he was aware from the start that you were an artist because it was he who prepared for your arrival in the Devildom, ensuring that you had all the same amenities and comforts you were used to in the human realm

And, as such, that included art supplies

So the very moment he set his eyes on you, he was aware that you were an artist

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually be good at it

He sees your sketchbook when he’s casually strolling through the RAD library, finding you completely knocked out on one of the tables, the spiral binding of the sketchpad still digging indents into your cheek where you lie on top of it

At first, the butler rearranges your position as a courtesy

He lifts your head and rests it on your hand - which makes a much softer pillow - coincidentally placing your books back inside your bag and taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across the desk

But then he just happens to glance inside

And the second he does, he’s mesmerized

There’s not much in the world that can surprise Barbatos - not after he’s looked after Diavolo, of all people, for so many millennia - but the butler still finds himself holding his breath as he flips through your sketchpad, each piece telling a story so evocative that it leaves him wanting more even when he arrives at a blank page, abruptly realizing that he’s just gone through your entire sketchbook without your permission

Of course, you just have to wake up at that precise moment - sleepy eyes glancing up at the butler and wondering if you’re hallucinating, but the book in his hands is far too real and the shocked expression on his face is impossibly jarring and you flinch, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you realize what must have happened

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman about it, kindly telling you to get more rest so that you don’t pass out in a public library surrounded by demons who want to eat your soul, but he ends the sharp warning with a rather kind remark about your artwork

“I liked the second-last piece best,” He murmurs, casting you a cryptic smile before bidding you farewell

And obviously, the moment he’s out of sight, your nose is buried in your sketchbook, fingers flipping furiously to find the second-last piece you drew which you cannot seem to remember at all, and—

A flush immediately erupts on your cheeks as you see the colored sketch, something inspired by nothing more than a whim

It’s simply two people on a walk—both of them vague imitations of what your mind had wistfully conjured up—one of them bearing the telltale mismatched hair and olive green eyes, the other sharing a quiet resemblance to yourself - a conscious decision, of course

But just as you’re about to flip off the page, another detail you’d forgotten about draws your attention—and your cheeks suddenly burn in embarrassment as you realize why Barbatos singled this piece out

The figures are smiling, gazing at each other from the corners of their eyes. And there, in the very center of the piece, it is obvious:

They are holding hands

Diavolo

RIP to Diavolo’s royal painter

They have been replaced

By you

As much as you fought it, as much as you argued that you were not fitting of this position, as much as you pleaded with the demon lord to not force this title upon your shoulders, Diavolo’s decision to appoint you as the honorary Devildom painter was final—and nothing can change his mind once it’s made up

The title is really just that: a title. Diavolo knows that you’re a busy student, and while he honored your artistic talents with this position, he’s not about to actually force you through the expected proceedings of a true royal painter, not while you’re trying to survive being an exchange student in hell with an entirely unfamiliar curriculum in front of you

But on occasion, he’ll send you a text, asking if you’re free

And you’ll head on over to his palace, ready to paint him

And unlike every other demon, angel, and human in the Devildom, when Diavolo models for you, he actually models nude

Asmo is jealous

Sexual tension is high when you paint him, let’s just leave things at that

And honestly, it really doesn’t matter what you paint - Diavolo seems to be more interested in the fact that it’s a human who did the art in the first place

He once saw your RAD binder, noticing the little doodles you’d drawn on the corner of all your papers, and he immediately took them—declaring that they were art to be preserved for all eternity for historical documentation purposes

So yeah

There’s a hall in Diavolo’s palace filled with your RAD math homework, an eternal reminder of the assignments you copied off of Solomon

(You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you’ve drawn some rather inappropriate doodles on those pages or the fact that, despite having copied all the answers, you still managed to get nearly one-third of the problems wrong, and now your mistakes are to be showcased in the Devildom for centuries to come)

It gets to the point where you and Solomon start making bets over how basic you can get with your art for Diavolo to still consider it “amazing” and “utterly awe-inspiring,” as he likes to put it

In honor of that bet, there is currently a banana peel with a few marker doodles on it hanging in a preserved case in an iced room in the lowest levels of the palace, as none of the “art” can be wasted

But in truth, the demon lord’s fixation with human culture is endearing, especially when Diavolo tries so hard to be accepting of it

So eventually you stop giving Diavolo wacky art and actually start putting your full effort into your creations—your reward being the fact that the final piece you complete gets hung in Diavolo’s private bedroom, where he promises to gaze at it every night for the rest of eternity, vowing to remember his time with you every time he sees it

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sunnyville36 · 4 years ago

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Mamihlapinatapai {part 1}

See {overview} for more info!

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: mentions of death/war, emotionally abusive parents

Rating: Mature

Word count: 4.2k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mamihlapinatapai - (noun, Yagán origin) a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate)

Bond | Kingdom of Gu, present day

“Good morning, Your Highness,” you called, entering the prince’s room and walking to open the curtains, revealing the cloudless sky behind them. Of course a beautiful day like today would have to be ruined by the very event you were here to collect Chan for.

Chan’s head peeked out from around the dressing panel, smiling softly as you pressed the shirt he’d clearly been looking for into his hands. “Good morning Y/n.”

“Your father’s in quite the foul mood this morning,” you said, leaving Chan to finish changing as you tidied up his dresser and prepared the many pins and beads bearing the royal crest that would adorn his formal attire for today.

You could hear the scowl in his voice as he grumbled, “Only he could manage to be upset during an event solely orchestrated by him and his insufferable band of so-called advisors.”

You nodded your head, indulging him in his ranting. Better he get it all out now with only you here to hear than cause a scene in front of the court. The prince took his responsibilities seriously and hardly ever openly clashed with his father, no matter how much they disagreed. But this had been an exceedingly upsetting matter for him, and, by extension, you as well. You’d spent the majority of the last week attempting to keep the peace between him and his father, as well as show your support for your friend as best you could.

Chan stepped out from behind the screen, and you had to stop yourself from doing a double take at the man in front of you. A far cry from his normal outfit of loose breeches and dirtied, tattered tunics, his cleanly pressed white shirt was tucked neatly into snug fitting black trousers, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim figure. You were sure he hated the confines of such an ensemble, but you were equally sure he would turn every head in the kingdom during today’s events, and you smiled at having the privilege to see him here first as he struck a nonchalant pose and asked, “So, how do I look?”

“Very handsome,” you replied, stepping up to pin his bright red cloak around his shoulders and set to work attaching the fineries to the outside.

“You do as well. Look very nice, I mean,” he corrected sheepishly, pose all but forgotten and head tilting forward as a blush formed on his cheeks.

You glanced upward, smoothing his hair that had gotten tousled from his rushed dressing. “Thank you, Your Highness,” you replied quietly. You decided to throw in a humorous quip, hoping to lighten his mood as you finished decorating the course, red fabric. “We couldn’t have the prince’s personal attendant looking like she’d just had a spar with a knight and lost, now could we?”

“Certainly not,” he laughed, then quieted as he continued, “And you’re still wearing the flower.”

You reached your hand absently up to the flower that was perched behind your ear, and you felt his fingertips ghost over yours as he gently pushed your hair to sit behind it.

“Of course, Your Highness. Is it not our tradition that I wear it until it is completely bare of petals?”

“Mhmm… our tradition,” he hummed, his hand lingering next to your cheek.

“We really must be h-heading out.” You cringed at the unsteadiness of your voice. You needed to get out of here, needed to get him out of here. You straightened the clasps of his cloak and tapped your hands on his chest.

“There. Now you look like a real prince charming,” you said, forcing a smile to your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He shook his head as he half chuckled, half grimaced at your words, lips forming into a straight line. “Then I suppose we must go meet my future wife.”

You Have My Bow | Kingdom of Gu, 19 years ago

“Mama, Mama, look what Papa made for me!” you squealed, bounding into your tightly-packed cottage and nearly crashing into your mother’s legs as she stood boiling soup at the stove.

Your father had taken you to the woods that morning, your favorite place to go with him when he had a rare spare moment away from the castle. You had thought he was taking you for your usual ritual: fishing by the river’s edge in the hopes of catching something to use for dinner. Instead, when you reached the riverbank, your father knelt down and pulled a tiny child’s bow from his knapsack, small enough to fit in your four-year-old hands.

“I’m going to teach you how to use this bow Y/n. Not many girls will know how to, but you need to be able to fend for yourself and your mother if anything should ever happen to me.”

“Why would anything happen to you Papa?”

“Well, Papa helps the king to keep our home safe, and there are some people who might want to make it unsafe.”

“Like the Lajorans? Or the Mirohans? The ones with the missing princess?! Or the Sillans? I heard old man Jerrald talking outside the tavern, and he said Lajorans like to ...”

“Yes, just like those,” your father interrupted your enthusiastic babbling, “though you shouldn’t believe everything old man Jerrald says, alright?” You nodded as he continued, “The king does everything he can to keep the peace, but sometimes our peoples get into fights. Really big ones, where people use swords and bows like this. And I want to make sure that if that ever happens, if one day a fight should come here, that you can keep yourself and your mother safe. Do you think you could do that for me, Y/n?”

You’d agreed of course, your little body bouncing with excitement as he pulled you in for a hug then took the bow and began to show you the basic principles. The two of you had spent the rest of the day practicing, and you couldn’t be more excited to show your mother what you’d learned.

“Y/n be careful,” your mother admonished, kneeling down to your height as she gave you a tight squeeze. “Now let’s see what that father of yours has cooked up for you this time.”

“It’s called a boo!” you all but shouted, whipping the bow out from behind your skirts and drawing back the string in a mock archer’s pose.

“A bow, Y/n, it’s called a bow sweetheart,” came your father’s voice from the doorstep. He crossed the small space to pull your mother into a tight embrace as he said, “And be careful with that in the house, or your mother will have my head.” You nodded back at him and he sent you a mischievous wink over her shoulder.

Your mother turned to face him with a wary smile as you started galloping in circles, pretending to ride an imaginary horse. “Giving our already rambunctious child a deadly weapon, Minhyuk? You want to get her into trouble, I see.”

“Julietta, you worry too much,” your father whispered, pressing his lips to her temple in a gentle kiss. “Besides, I’d be more concerned about the trouble she’d be in if she didn’t know how to take care of herself.”

Little did you know that everything you learned that day would soon come crashing into your life, taking many precious things with it when it left.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold | Kingdom of Gu, present day

You struggled to keep up as you walked behind Chan, the two of you heading to the throne room where you were sure a very short tempered King Bang would be waiting to reprimand you for your tardiness. Sure enough, when the guards opened the doors, you saw the king pacing in the small space in front of the raised thones, his head snapping up as he heard your footsteps approach.

“You’re late. I told you to have him here 20 minutes ago Y/n, did I not?”

“It’s not her fault,” Chan defended. “Besides, they’re not here yet, are they?” He gestured around to the otherwise empty hall, save for the usual servants and guards, then slumped into his seat at the right hand of his father’s.

“You would do well to lose that attitude before they do arrive. I will not have you embarrassing yourself or this court because of your petty feud with me.” Chan gave a hollow laugh at that, eyes closing to block out the mere presence of his father.

You took your place behind Chan’s throne, hands coming up to rest on the ornately upholstered back. You liked keeping your hands there; it made you feel like you were supporting Chan in some way, the closest you would ever come to being able to actually hold his hand the way you wanted to right now.

After a few moments, you heard the telltale sound of trumpets and the growing shuffling of a group of approaching footsteps. Chan straightened in his seat and his father took his place at the head of the room.

The doors opened, and you were greeted by a small party of what appeared to be political ministers and guards, in the middle of whom stood a woman clad in a yellow gown. She was beautiful, golden hair spun up into a twist and a delicate silver circlet resting above it. You would know she was a princess from a mile away.

The Gu herald spoke first, gesturing towards the two men seated at the thrones. “May I present His Majesty, King Bang Geun of the Gu Kingdom and his son, His Royal Highness Bang Christopher Chan, crown prince of the Gu Kingdom.”

The gaggle of people gave a quick bow, then parted to allow the woman through. She stepped to the front, then dipped into a low curtsey. “I am Princess Korenna Dormio of Lajor,” she spoke, her high, clear voice ringing in the chamber. “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

The king stood up, walking towards Korenna with you and Chan trailing behind. He took her hand and kissed the top of it, his voice exclaiming in a fake bright tone, “We are honored you could join us in our kingdom! May I present my son, Christopher.”

Chan stepped forward at that, hand outstretched to take hers. “I prefer strangers to call me Chan.”

You could feel the icy gaze King Bang was sending to his son, but he pressed on, ever the politician.

“This is Y/n. She is Chr- err Chan’s personal attendant, and will be at your service during your stay. Go to her with whatever you may need.”

Korenna eyed you with a curious look, and you knew why. It was unusual, though not entirely unheard of, for a prince to have a woman as his personal attendant. Not only did they complete duties for him in the domestic sphere, but they also served a professional purpose, a sort of squire, scheduler, and strategist all in one, roles typically reserved for men. The unique circumstances surrounding the time of your’s and Chan’s upbringing had made having you as his attendant a logical choice, but you could understand her concern about the man she was supposed to marry spending most of his time in the company of a woman she knew nothing about.

You knelt into a curtsey, head leaning forward as you heard Korenna’s voice. “A pleasure to meet you Y/n.”

“You as well, Your Grace,” you responded. Glancing up, you saw that Chan was not even looking in her direction, gaze apparently trained on a fascinating branch just outside the rightmost window. Well this was off to a wonderful start.

“Very well,” King Bang said tentatively, “I will let you two become acquainted. Y/n, I believe you were given their itinerary for the day?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

As the king made his way to mingle with the rest of Korenna’s visiting party, Chan turned to the both of you, eyes almost glaring at the princess.

“I don’t want to be here, and I doubt you do either, so let’s just get all of this shit over with so we can go back to our normal lives.” With that, he stalked towards the door, leaving you and a highly affronted Korenna to follow in his wake.

***

The next few hours only got worse.

The pair were thrust immediately into making a multitude of decisions about the wedding ceremony: What kind of flatware did they want? Which cakes were their favorite? How should the shrubbery around the edge of the garden be trimmed? And all the while you stood between them, relaying information to the various servants charged with these tasks and corralling the two royals between each of their stops.

Your latest one was with the palace groundskeeper, to determine what flowers would adorn the wedding canopy.

“We can always have tulips brought in from the highlands, Your Grace.”

“Tulips are fine, but I was thinking something more along the lines of white roses or lilies.”

Chan’s annoyed huff at her words was impossible to miss.

“Can you at least try to give some input about this?”

“We’ve barely met and they have us making all these asinine decisions about something weeks away! What do you even care what I have to say about flowers anyway?!”

“I don’t want to fight with you about this.”

“Isn’t that what your people are good at?! Picking a fight with someone who never asked to be involved in the first place?”

You hated seeing Chan like this. His normally kind, generous, and thoughtful demeanor, that you knew to be his real self, not just some facade put on to impress the nobles or win ladies’ affections, was being replaced by this antagonistic attitude, intent on ruining any chance of finding common ground with this woman. You knew he was doing it to protect himself, both from his father’s antics and from his own fear of being open, of letting someone in and risking actually wanting to keep them there. But under different circumstances, you knew he would never want to be seen treating anyone like he was right now, let alone a princess from another powerful kingdom. And she didn’t seem to be so bad; if she felt the same malice as he felt towards her, she at least did a better job of hiding it. You needed to stop him before he did something you knew he would regret.

“Your Highness, I believe Prince Minho wanted to brief you on the latest border patrol, seeing as he is back in the city for the time being. Why don’t you meet with him while I escort Her Grace to the ladies afternoon tea?”

“A wonderful idea,” Chan muttered unenthusiastically and began walking towards the closest castle door as you guided the princess in the opposite direction. You looked back and locked eyes with him, reading the expression of thanks on his face.

When you were out of earshot from Chan, Korenna turned to you almost immediately and asked, “Is he always this standoffish?”

You were unsure how to answer that question, wanting to make it clear he wasn’t always like this without getting her hopes up that he would change his attitude about this particular situation any time soon.

“His Highness is not especially fond of this arrangement. It has nothing to do with you personally, Your Grace.”

“Well I am also not especially fond of this arrangement, but it’s the arrangement we have at present and at least I’m attempting to be civil towards him.”

“Perhaps you should tell him of your similar feelings, to establish some common ground?”

Korenna became agitated at that suggestion, visibly tensing as she said, “And risk my father finding out I feel that way. Absolutely not.”

You understood that apprehension, that fear. Stories of her father, King Eunther, had spread often throughout your kingdom, and from what you heard, you knew he was not someone you wanted to cross.

You walked in silence for the rest of the way, until you rounded the corner into the courtyard where you could hear ladies’ voices and the gentle clinking of fine china. Korenna turned to you, placing her hand on your arm.

“You and him seem to be… close. Maybe you could talk to him, ask him to try to appear like he doesn’t despise me and everything I do or say?”

You had a feeling that would only make it worse, his oldest friend asking him to grin and bear it for the “good of the kingdom.” You also knew his political protest against his father might not be the only reason for his general disdain of everything that had happened the past week. But Korenna seemed like she was genuinely trying to put in some effort, and you couldn’t bring yourself to outright deny her request.

“I will try, Your Grace.”

As you left Korenna in the garden, you reached up to feel for the flower by your ear, and found that all the remaining petals had fallen off.

Arrangements | Kingdom of Gu, 1 week ago

“Have you heard anything? From the staff, about what this announcement might be?”

Chan was walking briskly ahead of you, voice coming out slightly strained. You knew why; his father calling an unscheduled meeting with the entire court, alluding to some mysterious “announcement,” had everyone on edge, Chan most of all. The king still kept his son in the dark about the majority of his political proceedings, much to Chan’s frustration and chagrin, and no one but his closest inner circle had any inkling as to what this might be about.

“No, Your Highness. It’s been quiet in the servants’ quarters; everyone is equally surprised.”

“Well, whatever it is, promise to take my side?”

“Have I ever not?”

The two of you entered the throne room, and despite your knowledge of what a full court gathering was, you were still taken aback by the sheer amount of people present. Every nobleman, every knight, every person who wasn’t otherwise occupied was here, filling the space along the wall and facing the dias at the head of the room where King Bang sat, the empty seats to his right and left standing out amongst the crowded room. Even Prince Minho, the king’s nephew and second in command of the royal guard after Chan, was back from his post on the Lajoran border.

Whatever this announcement was, it was serious.

Chan approached his seat next to the king as he usually did on occasions like this, but was stopped by his father’s voice.

“Chan, please remain there. You are the subject of my announcement today.”

You saw Chan’s face pale as he remained in the center of the room. You were still standing behind him, debating whether or not you should stay beside him or step back to one of the walls where the servants stood. As you scanned for your mother in the crowd, that question was answered for you.

“Y/n, you too shall stay where you are. I will have instructions for you as well.”

You bowed your head slightly in acknowledgement of his order, and took your place slightly behind Chan’s left shoulder to await whatever insane proclamation King Bang was about to make.

Nothing could have prepared you for the words that left his mouth.

“Chris, I have made you a wedding match. You are to be married to Princess Korenna of Lajor in six week’s time.”

The entire room was silent, every person holding their breath to hear what the prince’s reaction would be. This was not something anyone was expecting, Chan least of all. It took every ounce of your willpower to school your face into a neutral expression as you tried to contend with the hundreds of thoughts flooding your mind.

Chan was to be married? To someone from Lajor? One of Gu’s oldest enemies suddenly wanted to form an alliance, and through marriage? What would that even entail? Who would hold what powers? Why was the ceremony so soon? Who would be in charge of the preparations? How would this change your relationship with Chan?

After what felt like hours, but was more likely only several seconds, you heard Chan’s voice echoing one of your thoughts out loud.

“A Lajoran?! But father, they are responsible for - “

“You need not remind me what they are responsible for, Christopher.”

“Then I don’t understand, how did this come about?!”

You couldn’t stop the low ringing slowly building in your ears, accompanied by a sudden wave of nausea. You vaguely registered the king’s voice, explaining how King Eunther had approached him, how he agreed “it was time we put that mess behind us,” and how his daughter would be a suitable match for the Gu prince. Your mind wandered, remembering how many times Chan had told you he never wanted to be used as a pawn in his father’s political games, how he hated the idea of being forced to marry a stranger. You couldn’t seem to register any other information, thinking solely about Chan, the man you’d known since childhood, your friend, having to be married off to satisfy his father’s need for power. Finally, a loud voice cut through the fog in your head.

“Y/n, are you listening? Look at me when I’m talking to you, girl!”

You looked up in surprise to see the king’s unpleasant expression looking down at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chan’s pained face turned slightly towards you, waiting to see why his father had kept you in the center of the room as well.

“I apologize, Your Majesty.”

“You will serve Princess Korenna when she arrives for her introductory stay here a week from today.”

You heard a scoff from next to you and glanced to see Chan’s face growing angrier by the second. “First you lay this on me, now you’re taking away my servant?! How do you expect me to cope with all of this?”

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words. You knew he was simply talking in a language his father would understand, explaining how it would be an inconvenience for him to not have someone available at all times of the day, to keep track of his schedule, to clean his clothes, bring him his meals, prepare his horses and armor. But you couldn’t help the sting of being referred to as a “servant”; surely Chan saw you as more than that, just as you saw him as more than just your future monarch.

“You will manage with half of her normal attention,” the king answered, his tone laced with a hint of irritation at his son’s current attitude. “Besides, you’ll spend most of your time with Korenna, so she’ll be with the both of you regardless.”

The anger was coming off of Chan in waves, so palpable you felt like you could reach out and touch it. Finally he set his jaw, facing his father.

“Is that all you had for me?”

“Well that’s all for the matter of the marriage yes but - “

Chan turned on his heel, walking out of the room to the sound of hushed whispers and his father’s increasingly pitiful protests.

You wanted nothing more than to run after him, to pull him into your arms and soothe him, tell him everything would be alright. But you knew better than to leave, not having been dismissed by the king yet. So you stood there, heart aching so badly, feeling exposed, like everyone could see the shattered pieces of it that had fallen at your feet.

“I’ll go look for him,” you heard Minho say as he passed by you, the king nodding and waving his hand to dismiss the rest of you. You heard your mother calling for you but you ignored her, wanting to get out of that stifling room, to go somewhere, anywhere where you could be alone. You knew where Chan had gone, where he always went when he was upset and needed time to think, but no one bothered to ask you in their search for him.

***

He returned to his room that evening like you knew he would, the door creaking open as you stood across the room ironing his rarely used formal wear with the glass smoother.

His voice came out choked as he whispered, “I’m sorry for what I said. For referring to you as my servant.”

“It’s alright, Your Highness. I know you were upset - “

“That’s no excuse.”

Feeling his presence close behind you, you turned to him, reaching for his hand. “I forgive you.”

He brought his other hand to your cheek, and when you looked up, you saw his eyes staring at you, imploring you to stay, to talk to him. It was so tempting, the desire to give in, to lean in to him and let him hold you like you knew he wanted. But you had to be strong, for him and for yourself. And you knew if you stayed, if you opened up to each other, tried to confront the feelings you knew you still had and could only hope he reciprocated, neither of you would ever recover. So you took his hand from your face, holding both of his in yours between you as you said, “You should get some rest, Your Highness.”

“Y/n please,” he murmured.

“It is done. There’s nothing you or I can do.”

He made one last attempt, turning and holding your wrist lightly, but let you go as you pulled away. Opening the door, you wished him goodnight, desperately trying to hold in your tears as you left. Your footsteps took you down the hall quickly, but not before you caught the small sound of a sob coming from behind his door.

{part 2}

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

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Who? (Forlorn Tale of Dionysus Part 2)

Part 1

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2,843

(A/N): I’m not exactly sure if this will continue any further, this was just a fun little thing I had in my drafts for a while after some interesting convos in my discord server (which you totally should join, it’s a vibe). This is lowkey word vomit, but eh. This is all strictly platonic btw

“Michael, are you sure you saw a house out here? I really don’t think-” You were interrupted by your much shorter friend yanking on your sleeve to get your attention. You looked down at him in question and watched as he raised his hands.

‘I am sure I saw that house, (y/n)! It is here somewhere.’

You fiddled with the sleeves of your thick coat with unease, “alright, but if we don’t find it soon I wanna head back. Uncle Boo and Uncle Tubbo are probably going to start to worry.”

Michael huffed at the mention of his parents. You knew how overbearing they were, causing your friend to crave new experiences and adventures. You’d known him for a couple of years now and he was rebelling more with each passing day. You could relate slightly, Philza and Technoblade had hardly let you out of the house without another person to accompany you. You never really understood why, you were almost thirteen now so you should be able to explore what you want.

An excited squeal left your friend’s mouth before he started to pull you towards something in the distance, startling you out of your trance. You matched his pace with ease and felt nervous excitement tingle in your chest.

As you got closer, you could make out small details of the cabin. It was a simple small cabin built out of spruce planks with glass windows and a brick chimney, but you liked it. It strangely felt homey.

You pulled Michael into a nearby shrub underneath a window and peered in. The interior was also as simplistic as the outside was, looking untouched and tidy as if nobody was living there. You could see that the ceilings were taller than average, perhaps a hybrid of some sort lived here?

Michael tapped your shoulder, ‘it doesn’t look like anybody’s home right now. Let’s go in.’

You opened your mouth to object before the sight of his set jaw and his eyes dead set on something inside made you close it. You learned from experience that when he was this determined, there was no stopping him. You sighed, “fine, but the second we get caught, it was your idea.”

You both made your way to the front door. Without a second thought, Michael twisted the doorknob and swung the door open. A startled snort left his throat as he stumbled inside, making you put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. He jabbed the side of your lower torso, ‘shut up, I thought it was going to be locked.’

He pulled you inside and you both explored the living room. Bookshelves and portraits lined the walls, a single large couch sat off to the side, and the fireplace mantle was lined with a few small golden hooks. Michael made a beeline towards it, admiring the metal. It seems that’s what he saw that made him so determined to get inside. You hoped that he wouldn’t steal them and explored the area further.

The portraits on the walls were a slight shock to you, they all included some people that you could recognize; in one you could make out a picture of younger versions of Ranboo, Philza, Technoblade, and Niki. Technoblade and Philza were sparring with shining golden swords while Ranboo and Niki sat in the grass on a hill watching with interest. Maybe this was just one of their old cabins?

You saw people that you didn’t recognize as well. Namely a cat hybrid with striking sapphire blue eyes, a man seemingly human (you say seemingly because your eyes caught sight of pointed ears) wearing a white bandana keeping his jet black hair out of his face, a tall man with green freckles and a creeper mask, an anthropomorphic diamond block with beady black eyes and a wide smile, and a man that looked strangely like Ghostbur except he was wearing a uniform of some sort. However, a demon quickly caught your eye and made your heart leap for joy. There was someone out there that was like you!

The man looked kind, always wearing a cheery smile and occasionally waving at the camera. He was tall and lanky, always towering over the others by a considerable amount. That made sense, Philza had told you that demons were naturally very tall when you asked him why you were growing faster than Michael when the zombie piglin was two years older than you were. Large wings and horns akin to yours sprouted from his back and head respectively. If he wasn’t constantly smiling, you would’ve thought that he was malevolent.

You heard the rapid footsteps of Michael’s boots behind you as you turned around. You bounced on the balls of your feet excitedly, “Michael look, another demon! Do you think he lives here?”

You watched as he shrugged and pulled you towards the kitchen. ‘I don’t know, but look! There’s another demon that looks exactly like you!’

On the kitchen table surrounded by various trinkets (bottles of wine, gold bricks, stale bread, and the decomposed remains of flower crowns and bouquets being the majority of the items) laid a framed picture of said demon lazily smiling and looking off to the side. Michael was right, they looked exactly like you except at least a decade older. Everything matched your physical features to a tee; from the red accents on their black wings to the way they smiled, it was like they were your clone. The only thing of yours that they were missing was the three circular birthmarks on your forehead. It was eerily uncanny.

Your eyes widened before you snatched the picture off from the table, studying them further. If you squinted, you could see that there was someone barely in frame. You flipped the frame around and took out the picture, unfolding it. In the picture was your adopted father and adopted uncles and aunt. What was going on? If they knew the demon, why didn’t they ever tell you about them?

‘Woah, that was smart. Do you think you might be related to them or something?’ He tilted his head before he perked up, ‘could they be one of your biological parents?’

“Maybe, but if they were, why didn’t my dad tell me about them? I… have a right to know about them, right?”

He nodded firmly, ‘you definitely do. It’s kind of fucked up they haven’t told you anything about them.’

“Yeah, it is. Do you think something bad happened to them?... Oh shit, is this a memorial?” You hurriedly refolded the picture and put it back into its frame.

Michael’s eyes widened and flickered around the table at the trinkets before he fished out two gold bars from his pocket and placed them onto the table. You crossed your arms, “what the fuck man?”

‘I thought they wouldn’t miss a few pieces of gold! You would’ve done the same thing if you were a piglin,’ he defended himself before he paused and shuddered, ‘we’re in a dead person’s house, that’s creepy… What if their ghost is right behind us?’

You spun around and put yourself slightly in front of Michael, your heart beating in your throat. Nothing was there. Michael snorted, making you slap his arm, “not cool, man.”

You were about to stomp off until a piece of paper caught your eye. It was a drawing of this person done in messy purple crayon, probably done by a very young child. It was signed by a Michael.

You turned to the wheezing zombie piglin and patiently waited for him to stop laughing. When he did, you showed him the picture, “did you draw this? Did you know them?”

He scrunched up his brow in concentration, squinting at the paper. Eventually he shook his head slowly, ‘I don’t think so. At least I don’t remember drawing it… This is getting weird.’

You nodded in agreement, putting the drawing back onto the counter. You walked towards the stairs and climbed them. They creaked under your foot loudly, a part of you was scared that you would fall through them. It was clear they haven’t been used in some time.

They led to a small loft, the ceiling coming to a point far overhead. A part of you was glad that this stranger (relative? Parent?) was a demon, it wasn’t often that you found lofts that fit all six and a half feet of you.

Like the rest of the house, it was very simplistic. A gigantic bed laid in the center of the furthest wall, made neatly with multiple fluffy blankets, part you was tempted to catapult yourself onto it. On the nightstand next to it sat a redstone lamp and a frosted glass of water, cracks spider webbing up the sides presumably from the cold.

You opened the lone drawer and discovered a book. Upon further inspection, you discovered that it was a journal with the name (y/n) written inside the cover. So this person had your name as well as your looks? This merely raised more questions than answers, so you slid the book into a pocket in your coat to read later. Under the book laid another picture of them posing with the strange group of people from the portraits downstairs. The de- (y/n) looked younger there. On the back, the word family was written and it was dated to be about twenty years old. You also pocketed the picture.

Michael walked over to the window and looked out at the vast tundra only to squeal in alarm. He ran over to you and pulled you downstairs. You looked out the window only to yelp when you saw a few crows standing on the window sill staring at you with their beady eyes.

You and Michael ran out of the house as fast as the both of you could, the snow being slightly tough to run through for the five and a half foot tall zombie piglin. You could hear the crows following you overhead. After a while of running, you both finally got back to Snowchester and raced past Ranboo and Tubbo. You hid in Michael’s room with the curtains tightly drawn.

You sat on his bed with your legs crossed and your back pressed up against the headboard. You let your head bang against the wall and you ran your hand down your face. “We’re fucked, dude. We’re literally so fucked.”

‘Uncle Phil’s still out of town so it’ll probably be a few days until they find out.’ Michael plopped next to you, panting and trying to regain his breath. “Still, we’re gonna be in so

much trouble for going that far out. I didn’t think my dad’s crows were still here.”

‘Might as well read the journal you found before we get grounded.’

You nodded and took out the journal, flipping it open to the first page. You both read the journal until it was dark outside and Michael was passed out on your shoulder. Subconsciously, you wrapped your wing around him as you read the journal.

The other (y/n) acted like you did for the most part, the only differences between you two was the lack of swearing and the fact that they felt alone even when they were surrounded by people. Your family’s names were dropped several times, especially when they were talking about ‘The Syndicate’. The code names they used were after various Greek myths, leading you to believe that Technoblade was one of the founders of the anarchist group.

You had learned that their family (potentially your family?) was strangely possessed by an egg and that they were previously possessed by said egg. They had a brother named Sapnap (your potential uncle?) that helped them escape to the tundra. It was there that they found the Syndicate, reminding you of the found family tropes you would read in books. The last journal entry detailed their last mission, how they were going to destroy the Eggpire from within and get their family back. That entry in particular gave you chills, even someone with half a brain could tell what happened to them after that.

By the time you had closed the book, it was dawn and the sun was peeking out from behind the closed curtains. You shook Michael awake and stretched out your aching body. Your neck muscles protested movement, sending a wave of pain across the area.

‘Damn, did you stay up all night reading that?’

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I? I needed to find out about my biological parent somehow. I just- nothing makes sense, Michael.” You growled out, your voice deepening and distorting slightly as your frustration rose.

‘Chill! You’ll figure it out soon, let’s just focus on staying under the radar.’

“Too late for that.”

You both jumped and fell off the bed as you heard Philza’s voice. In the doorway, Philza stood with Ranboo, Tubbo, and Technoblade by his side, all looking equally angry and disappointed. Next to you, Michael shrunk in on himself and smiled sheepishly. He was about to raise his hands to sign, but a pointed look from Tubbo next to him told him that there was no getting out of this one.

Behind the anger, you could tell that something changed about the way the four were looking at you. You couldn’t tell what emotion they were hiding, whether it be wariness, longing, sadness, or just more unleashed anger, but you could tell that they knew something you didn’t. If the frustration that overcame you when you were reading the journal at the lack of questions answered burned inside of you, then what you felt now was a blazing inferno.

“We’re going home, grab your stuff (y/n).”

After a short staredown with the older man, you huffed in anger and gathered your things into your bag. The entire time, tense silence filled the room. Your hands were shaking with the rage you felt searing every inch of you. You could hear the sharp flicking of your pointed tail cutting through the air and occasionally hitting objects near you.

When you were done you stomped over to your adopted family and shouldered between Philza and Technoblade, speed walking down the hallway. They quickly caught up with you after saying a quick apology and a goodbye, Technoblade grabbing your arm and holding it in a vice grip.

They led you out of the mansion and into the harsh winds of the tundra. It wasn’t until Snowchester was far off in the distance that Technoblade shook your arm, “what the hell were you thinking, going into someone else’s house like that! You don’t know who lived there, you could’ve gotten yourself and Michael killed!”

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?” You ripped your arm out of his hold and spoke in a low voice, struggling to contain your full rage. “I have a goddamned right to know about them.”

“...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Philza muttered out and resumed walking back towards your house. “You’re grounded when we get back, no flying or dueling lessons for two weeks.”

“Of course you know what I’m talking about, Dad! Why are you hiding them from me? I have a right to know about my biological parent even if they’re dead!”

They both halted in their tracks and glanced at each other in slight confusion. “What-”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about. Gods, I can’t believe you thought I’d never find out,” you laughed sardonically as your hand subconsciously gripped your growing horn. “(Y/n)! You know, the demon that lived in that house? The one that looks exactly like me?! Does that ring a bell or do I have to show you this?”

You rummaged in your pocket and ripped out the picture, shoving it into Philza’s hands. Technoblade looked over his shoulder at what you gave him. You watched as their expressions turned blank when they saw the demon in the picture.

Minutes passed with them continuing to stare down at the picture and you were slowly getting impatient. “Why did you never tell me about them? Why are you keeping me from them?!”

Without looking up at you, Philza mumbled, “you weren’t supposed to find out about them. You were never supposed to find out.”

“Do you have any idea how ambiguous that is? Just tell me who they are!” You could feel your eye twitch as your frustration grew.

You could see the internal conflict on Philza’s face growing by the second before he dipped his head downwards and stalked off in the opposite direction of the house. You spread your wings to chase him in the air, but Technoblade’s hand on your upper arm stopped you from lifting off.

When you looked up at him, the look of regret and sorrow etched into his features caught you by surprise. “Let him go, he needs to do some thinking… (y/n), do you know what reincarnation is?”

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur @nottheotheruser @ohworm-writes @localwolfanon @realitycanbeajerk @v10dw4lk3r @esylwen @seraphsema @boiled-onionrings @smolgreenybeany @louistommosnesquickmilk @hyacinthrosearsha @ryxjxnnx @autumnpleaves @ravennightingaleandavatempus @0ton1n @self-righteous-dumbass @a-simp-for-block-people @fortunatelylazystranger @m1lkmandan @mirios-sunflower @ahmya-4 @shinipii @noyasblush @auroraskyfall @cryptocry @hee-hee-haw @blackstar-gazer

Gender neutral reader taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@totem-awooga @parkeepingparker @whatislifebutlemons

#michael_beloved x reader #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing

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rayshippouuchiha · 4 years ago

Note

Nezu finding a younger Izuku and helping him hone his analysis skill (and build some confidence and ultimately creating a terrifying child who can analyze anyone in seconds and take them down just as fast with a smile) and then enlisting him to actually teach classes on the subject

just imagine Aizawa having to interact with this terrifying nightmare child who can read him better than a book

~Ah hell here we go again~ Read More Below!

Nezu doesn’t often leave UA’s grounds these days and even more rarely does he venture out unaccompanied in some way. He has made it a habit of sorts to stay on the campus as much as possible ever since he solidified his hold on the school almost a decade ago.

It’s a move that is he admits, even if only to himself, fueled by equal parts pragmatism and paranoia.

After all UA has most of everything he needs within it already including a set of private apartments scaled just perfectly to his size and tastes despite what impression the large, human suited desk in his public office tends to give any visitors to his domain. Why should he worry about venturing out into the city when anything the campus might not be able to provide for him can easily be procured by his minions dear employees or through delivery via secured drone?

And the fewer trips he makes off campus means the fewer opportunities there are for those who are still displeased with something someone such as himself holding such a position of power over such a prestigious hero school to take action. He, of course, has all faith in his ability to protect himself from whatever ham-fisted assassin might come his way but Nezu is, above almost all else, pragmatic.

The fewer bodies left in his wake the smoother his daily life tends to run.

It had, after all, been such a pain to get the records from his time at the tender mercies of his human captors completely sealed and the quietly buried.

The humans involved in the case had finally agreed though and in the years since they did so like to tout how the illustrious UA Principle had been “rescued” from the laboratories.

Few remained who remembered what the heroes who’d raided that hellish place had actually found when they’d arrived.

Those unlucky few who did remember had long since been silenced by hook or by crook. That had been one of the first things Nezu had done when he’d finally managed to accumulated enough power that his subtle threats and sharp toothed promises had finally come to hold real meaning on more than one level.

When he’d finally managed to bite and claw himself into a position of power that showed him as the threat he always had been for those who might dare cross him.

That had been the very first secret he’d ensured would be kept as it was one that posed the biggest threat to his reputations in a number of circles.

Nezu’s intellect wasn’t his only weapon after all, only his most dangerous. Though his teeth and claws could work in a pinch if the situation called for it. And when they’d tried to take his eye it had certainly called for it.

A self professed level of resentment and sadism could be excused by most of humanity for someone of Nezu’s circumstances.

But a body count? Well. That’s when humans tended to get ... tetchy.

So while Nezu does, of course, have a residence of his own off campus for paperwork purposes and as a secondary fall back location, UA’s campus has been his unofficial residence for some number of years now. And it will be his official one as well as soon as he manages to finally get the dorm system he’s been aching to implement passed through.

They will have to pry that school, his school, and what he’s attempting to build there from his cold, dead paws and whatever other insurance policies he manages to put into action between now and his inevitable death. Which will, of course, be some time in the far far future if he has anything to say or do about it. And he will.

All of that aside there are times when leaving the campus is unavoidable, this being one of them. An unfortunate scheduling conflict and a private meeting that absolutely had to be conducted in person had left him where he is now, strolling down the sidewalks of Musutafu and quietly lamenting how very oversized so many things were.

It truly was a pity that more accommodations had not been made for those whose quirks and circumstances of birth left them on the smaller side instead of on the larger scale. But progress could be rather unfortunately slow and so it was just one more issue Nezu hoped to begin subtly influencing in the coming years.

He’s just turning a corner, intent on visiting a nearby cafe with an excellent tea selection before he returns to UA (one must have their indulgences and a good brew and a finely crafted cigarette have long been amongst Nezu’s chosen pleasures), when he hears it.

“Get back here and get what you deserve, Deku,” a voice, rough and young but edged with a viciousness that makes the backs of Nezu’s teeth itch, practically howls.

Nezu, attention instantly captured, pauses just long enough to avoid being mowed down by the child who comes tearing around the corner.

For a split second their eyes meet, a blazing green gaze Nezu can’t help but admire just a bit locking with his own, as the boy sees him and swerves to avoid running into Nezu in his obviously frantic escape.

Nezu hops backwards a half step just as the boy loses his footing and crashing painfully to the side walk beside him.

“A-Are you o-okay?” the boy half stutters, half pants as he looks up at him, eyes wide and seemingly uncaring of the blood Nezu can already smell on his scraped palms and likely ripped kneecaps.

“Are you?” Nezu asks back evenly, eyes tracking over the boy and instantly compiling details and facts as he takes in the tattered school uniform, the pale face, the singed backpack and the bruises he can see just peeking out from beneath unseasonal long sleeves.

Everything about the boy screams battered to Nezu’s sense.

And then he looks down at his feet and sees his shoes.

His distinctive red shoes at that, vibrant in color and thick soled, subtly different in make and construction than most ordinary shoes seen these days, much like the footwear Nezu himself wears even now.

Which means that this boy either has a quirk that affects his feet or ...

“Thought you were going to get away didn’t you, you Quirkless fuck?” A small group of boys rounds the corner then, ignoring Nezu entirely and focusing on the boy who abruptly goes even paler somehow. “Just cause sensei couldn’t prove you cheated doesn’t mean we’re gonna let you get away with it.”

Ah, Nezu thinks even as he presses the urge to snarl down and away, option two then.

The green boy, because Nezu will not be calling him Deku even in his own mind, scrambled up onto his feet then. But, surprisingly enough, he doesn’t turn to run.

Instead he edges forward just a bit, sliding a shoulder and a foot forward until he’s standing almost protectively in front of Nezu himself.

“K-Kacchan,” the green one stutters, “I-I didn’t cheat I s-swear! I wouldn’t d-do that.”

“Tsk,” the blond leader, Kacchan, tisks then, a snarl thick and heavy on his young face. At his sides his hands flex in a move Nezu knows must be related to his quirk. “Bullshit. No way you’d get top of the class in anything without cheating, you worm.”

Nezu has known this child for roughly 6 seconds and he finds that he does not care for him at all. But then he’s never been overly fond of most of humanity either so perhaps that’s to be expected.

“H-Heroes don’t cheat,” Green insists, the naïve if well meant words sounding like a declaration. “If I’m g-going to be a hero then I c-can’t either.”

That explanation only seems to enrage Kacchan even further if the way his hands begin to pop and crackle is anything to go by.

This, Nezu knows as the scent of burnt caramel begins to fill the air around them, is going to escalate quickly.

“Public quirk usage is ~illegal~,” Nezu singsongs as he steps around the green boy and plants himself firmly in front of him instead, abruptly drawing the blond boy and his followers attention toward him. One paw slips into his vest pocket to remove the specially designed cell phone he’s never without. “I would hate to be forced to report this to the proper authorities.”

Never mind that, technically, he is the proper authorities.

The blond glares at him for a long moment before he huffs.

“This isn’t over Deku,” he snarls. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

It’s an obvious threat but the boy turns on his heel, shoves his way through his friends, and stalks off back around the corner in the direction he came.

So Nezu lets it go. For now.

“Now that that has been handled for the moment, young man,” Nezu turns towards the green boy beside him with all of the showmanship that’s come to define his patented introduction, “let me introduce myself! Am I a dog, a rat, or a bear? Either way I am Nezu th-”

“Y-You’re the Intel Hero Nezu,” the green boy says brightly, cutting Nezu’s introduction off even as he rubs raw and bloody palms against his black slacks and starts to dig through his backpack, “You solved the H-Hanamura kidnapping and the Inugami murders! You’re one of my favorite heroes!”

Nezu can’t help the way he stalls out just a bit at that because ... well he’s never been anyone’s favorite anything. Their nightmare yes but not their favorite. Especially not a child. Children around this age normally tend to have more simplistic reactions to him. And most of them don’t know about the string of rather gruesome ritualistic homicides he’d solved or the high profile kidnapping cases he consults on in his down time.

“C-Can you please sign my notebook?” the boy says then, head bowed low and a notebook and pen held out in Nezu’s direction.

Nezu admits to being slightly intrigued when he sees the way the cover is labeled Hero Analysis For The Future Vol 8.

That intrigue only grows when he opens it and his attention is immediately captured by the rather impressively done sketch of Pro Hero Starstreak that he finds there.

Unable to help himself Nezu reads over the page quickly and then keeps going.

Well now, Nezu can’t help but think just a bit gleefully as he sees the absolutely unbelieve level of analysis this young, quirkless boy has compiled, isn’t this interesting.

#BnHA #Anonymous #RayRambles #The Principal's Unexpected Protege AU

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dapandapod · 3 years ago

Note

Dearest Pandolfius,

I have heard that you write excellent stories, so I have come to your askbox to humbly beg for some Lambden content. I'm thinking a Modern AU in which Aiden is a ballet dancer, but in one of his performances he stumbles on stage. Do whatever you want with that hehe.

Love, Jolfius

I am so sorry Jolfius my love, this took way too long to publish. It has been sitting in my drafts for ages because I couldn't think out a crude thing for Lambert to say. But here it is at last <3 (Oh yeah, and let's see if anyone catches my zelda reference ehehe)

Thank you @kuripon for beta reading and @all-hail-the-witcher for helping me do dancing somewhat correct, and @damatris for letting me borrow drunk sheep on a tightrope <3 You are the very best

Warnings: Mentions of serious injuries and recovery. Lambert shows he cares by getting angry, and poor dancing knowledge.

On Ao3 here

Lambert sits in the audience, his knee jumping. It is opening night and the company has been practicing for months. And practicing harder than probably most was his love, Aiden.

He doesn’t have a big part, staying towards the back of the corps sections. Nothing that can be too much. They are really lucky they decided to keep him, but Tissaia always had a good eye towards Aiden.

The curtains open, the orchestra starts, the ballerina on stage breaks her pose and starts her pirouettes and twirls, her complicated leaps and turns, ever graceful.

A man approaches her and together they dance to the trembling violins. It is beautiful, it is painful, it is aching and full of emotion. Two years ago, Aiden had been in an accident. A piece of scenery came undone, the moon literally falling down on stage. Luckily, Aiden was the only one who got hurt.

Nothing lucky about it, in Lambert's opinion.

The worst part of the injury had been the head trauma. He spent two weeks in a coma, and when he woke up, they discovered that he had lost sight in one eye and was suffering terrible migraines. His right knee had also taken a bad hit, and nothing pained Lambert’s heart more than watching Aiden get the news of his injuries.

Lambert had spent many months with him in the hospital, in physical therapy, cuddled together in their pitch black bedroom when the outside became too much.

But nothing, absolutely nothing could keep Aiden from his dreams.

The first time Lambert drove Aiden to the studio, they both were nervous. Tissaia said Aiden would always be welcome back, but they all knew they couldn’t afford a dancer that couldn’t dance.

“You could always become a teacher?” Lambert offered after a long silence, Aiden staring out the side window. “If you are half as good as that twat Vilgefortz, you would run him out of business. He looks worse than a drunk sheep on a tightrope.”

Aiden didn’t reply.

Somehow, Aiden had made it through a gentle training program. He was not the first dancer with injuries, and he wouldn’t be the last. His knee kept up surprisingly well, but his depth perception was fucked up now, so there had been some wobbly landings.

But how Aiden shined.

And here they are, after a long journey. Tissaia finally agreed to let Aiden be a corps dancer, to stand on stage again. Lambert follows the story with mild interest. It is an adaptation of a Polish fairytale about a sorceress, and a man bewitched to be her destiny. Despite being each other's halves, they fight like the sea fights the shore.

It is a lot more complicated than that, but Lambert is not here for them. He sits with rapt attention, and after almost 45 minutes, Aiden steps out on stage.

It is hard to see him, hidden in the third row of dancers on the left side, but Lambert only has eyes for him. They fought about this. Hard and loud and angry.

Lambert thinks Aiden is an idiot for still trying, for not taking a step back, for risking everything all over again. The doctor had said one bad landing and Aiden might not even be able to walk again, yet alone dance.

But as the light shines on his hair, slicked back in a tight bun, his eyes rimmed with kohl, Lambert can see why Aiden fought him. The way he carries himself out here, how in control he is of his own body. He is beautiful. Alive. Happy.

He might never get a lead role, might never dance with the prima ballerina. But being out here is enough. Aiden lives and breathes for his dancing.

And just as Lambert relaxes, Aiden stumbles and winces. It is small, just a light misstep, but Lambert saw the wince, the clench of his jaw.

Fuck.

As soon as the first intermission begins, Lambert goes backstage. Many of the dancers greet him, but he doesn’t have time. Aiden sits with his leg held high, muscles taped and tense. Worry and

anger well up in Lambert, and soon it spills over.

“I fucking told you this was a bad idea!” he spits, and Aiden jerks in surprise, turning to look at him.

“I’m fine, Lambs.”

“No, you are fucking not! I told you and you never listen!”

“Lambert.”

His tone is sharp, and Lambert draws in an angry breath. Holds it.

“Do you trust me?” Aiden asks him, taking his hand and squeezing it.

The anger drains out of him, but the worry remains.

“With my life,” he says quietly. “Just not with your legs.”

Aiden smirks, just on this side of dirty. The things they have done with those legs makes it hard to dispute just how much he trusts them, and Aiden knows it.

“Shut it,” Lambert mutters, and Aiden laughs, deep and happy.

Somewhere behind them, the stage manager yells the five minute warning, and Aiden pulls Lambert down into a kiss.

“I’m fine, Lambchops,” Aiden says against his lips and then he leans back. ”It was just a stumble. It happens, it hurts, but I’m alright. I have a half hour break before the next dance, and Triss will never let me out there if she decides I can’t. It’s fine.”

Lambert grumbles, but finds himself defeated.

He does trust Aiden, and he trusts Triss to keep Aiden down to earth. Aiden pulls him in for another slow, warm kiss, soothing the last remnants of anger and worry away.

“When we get home tonight, I got a surprise for you,” Aiden whispers, dragging his lips gently across Lambert's cheek. Fuck, how he loves this man.

Aiden doesn’t stumble again. His dance is flawless, and Lambert can’t breathe. When they get home, they are both exhausted. Lambert helps him with his night time routine of stretching and massaging.

He is beautiful, aching and full of emotion when he lowers himself down to one knee in front of Lambert. He is alive, happy and full of hope when he lifts a red velvet box and offers the ring inside to Lambert.

Once again, Lambert can’t breathe.

#lambden #modern au #ballet dancer au #the witcher #lambert x aiden #hurt/comfort #mention of serious injuries #supportive lambert #angry lambert #he is a caring boy just in shouty ways #soft surprise at the end #no im not trying to trick you to read it what are you talking about #dapanda writes #laiden

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antiloreolympus · 3 years ago

Text

7 Anti LO Asks

1. Do you know what really gets my blood boiling about this comic? Persephone and Demeter's relationship.

In the myths, Demeter and Persephone loved each other more than anything. Their reunion is so important - it marked the coming of spring and growth. A whole cult was dedicated to this for crying out loud. Yes, the myths were far from perfect, but the Persephone and Demeter myth showed the strength of a loving mother-daughter relationship with Demeter searching endlessly to find her child that was ripped away and had her innocence forcibly taken.

Now, RS is not the only author to make Demeter this over-bearing mother type in order to put more positivity onto the Hades-Persephone relationship. However, RS takes this trend to a whole new level - to the point where I would even consider it misogyny.

How is it, she takes this beautiful mother-daughter relationship and makes it out to be an abusive and controlling one, and then takes the Hades-Persephone relationship from a forceful one to a loving, perfect relationship with no problems? How is it ok to ruin one relationship to elevate another?

I understand that many versions of the myth try to downplay Hades' actions, and even make it so Persephone actually falls in love with him and there is no rape. But it doesn't change that this relationship was problematic, and meant to represent the loss of innocence.

Then fans have the gall to claim this comic is feminist and then claim on top of that that Demeter and Persephone's relationship was the same in the myth? These fans clearly don't know the myths, and neither does RS.

Making Hades a good person is fine. Changing it up a bit to make Persephone's loss of innocence something else is also fine. But ruining Demeter and Persephone's relationship? Especially when Persephone has to spend half the year with her? So horrible.

2. im sorry, but rachel cant introduce KRONOS coming back and then dropping it for several episodes to focus on a stake-less trail and persephone not knowing what lingerie to seduce hades in. like thats too much of an earth shaking development and huge stake plot point to just ignore for months to focus instead on something as minor as hxp's relationship, which only points out a huge flaw: why is hxp's relationship so minor in this? isnt the whole point supposed to be about them?

3. I think LO completely dropped the ball over Hades’ characterization.

From the first ep I thought ok, this is good, we have some bones to see he’s not that lucky in love and is just tired and lonely, and while ignoring the creepy actions towards Persephone, I thought ok, Artemis hates him, Hestia hates, even Ares hates him, maybe once Persephone finally sees the underworld and probably gets to know him it’ll be a clever twist and they’ll be proven wrong. The underworld will turn out to be fair and just, the citizens will love Hades, he’ll be revealed to be a good leader and king and not like his brothers, it’ll be like everyone saying Hades of myth isn’t actually that bad, and it’ll help reinforce why this sweet and bubbly Persephone wants him, she sees the real him, not the mean rumors and assumptions, this is perfect.

And then it just didn’t happen. The exact opposite happened, actually.

We’re shown the LO underworld is cruel and unjust, where the poor dead are forced into slavery and Hades created a harsh class divide with him and him only on top, the citizens hate him, the underworld gods don’t trust him and openly seem ok if he’s taken out of power, he’s not a good leader and king and doesn’t even want the job yet keeps it for his own ego and grip of power m, and on top of it all he is just like his brothers, if not worse. He loves to get violent over any little slight against him, he hoards wealth and resources to enrich himself while his citizens starve and struggle to survive, he’s corrupt, he controls all the media and laws to bend to his will, sleeps with his brothers wife for centuries behind his back while claiming to be holier than thou, he has sex with his secretaries who are made dependent on him for any way to survive, and now he lusts after his barely legal intern who is also now dependent on him for her way to survive, and that’s only what I remember off the top of my head.

LO perfectly set up to prove Hades isn’t the devil or the false pop culture assumption that he’s evil and to show some actual facts from myth, and yet Rachel only ended up reinforcing exactly that and even making him even worse with her made up ideas, all while thinking having Persephone ignore or excuse it somehow makes it not bad or even a good thing. It’s honestly kind of impressive just how bad of writing that actually is.

4. Chapter 172 is not that interesting. It’s setup had me excited to see Hephaestus and Hera and learning more about echo, but it’s cut so short. Because again the story can’t leave HXP out for 2 seconds.

I can also see why Zeus is gonna go insane.

5. i agree w/ other anon. LO should have pulled a PJO or a BoZ and just made up OCs and have them interact with the gods than whatever Rachel thinks shes doing, which is lying she's being accurate and faithful while completely changing all of it, removing what is needed, and adding what isnt so that it lines up with no actual myth besides like, various 50 shades fanfic she read in 2015 and some popular tumblr text posts.

6 . the animation studio behind blood of zeus literally can only draw one face for the men and one face for the women and they were still able to make the gods all look distinct and hot while LO can't even bother to use more than 6 colors and can only have the women look as tiny as possible with the biggest boobs while the men are all just lego men.

7. ////FP SPOILERS////

Okay so like I stopped reading LO way back before season 1 ended, and a majority of my knowledge of the series comes from what I read here on your blog which is enough for me lol and I decided to read the latest 5 chapters just to see what's up (on zahard. I refuse to give the actual series any views)

And I just. Could not take the whole scene with Daphne running from Apollo seriously? The anatomy and art inconsistency was so distracting that i genuinely could not find it serious. Even when Thanatos discovers her hibernated body I couldn't take it seriously because of how she looked?

And when Hades had that call (??? Was it a call? Or his inner dialogue? I couldn't really tell ngl) with Zeus and said he's causing Persephone unnecessary distress, and that she didn't pose any threat. B!tch??? She killed a ton of mortals??? She has no control over her powers???? She's literally a fugitive for the aforementioned things??? She apparently woke Kronos up? (Idk if anyone knows about that, again my knowledge only spans to whatever I read here) Hello????

And I have a lot to say about the chapters starting the trial but I'll only mention one thing; Hades saying "I don't think blindly supporting my little brother would be doing him any favours (as a ruler)" had me cackling. This is coming from a guy blindly supporting a girl he's literally only known for a few weeks, who's like what, only recently turned 20? Sit tf down Hades you're not cool, you creepy ass overgrown smurf.

Overall I still hate this series lmao. Regarding art though I feel like I wouldn't be so miffed about the anatomy much if the character designs were consistent and the story was compelling. They literally change hairstyles and body types frame by frame, and it's distracting.

The timeline from what I read here is laughable. 4 years in publication with almost 200 chapters and you're telling me only like a month has passed canonically. That's wild and such poor writing.

And as someone who literally will sympathise with any lead character pretty quickly, the story makes me hate them. It makes me want to root against them. I also hate the fact this trash is somehow top ranked on webtoons when so many other stories are far better then it.

Anyway, many thanks to this blog for existing and allowing me to dump so much text here to vent out my hate for this series lmao. You the mvp fam, hope you're having a good day 🥂🥂🥂

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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mooniefics · 4 years ago

Note

AFTER CONTEMPLATING FOR SEVERAL MINUTES:

reiner braun 🤪 + “please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

this is literally the cutest moonie, i'm proud of you for hitting 250!! ilysm 💖✨💕

oh my gosh i’m so sorry this took me so long,, thank u so much for the request n the congratulations mar !! very happy that my first work for this event can be for my love, our one n only reiner ♡(｡- ω -)

in all your years of knowing reiner, you couldn’t say that you’d ever once heard him sounding so frantic.

“please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

those were the exact words he’d used over the phone, imploring for you to come to the official marley high ten-year reunion and pose as his girlfriend. despite how you assured him that you were certain no one would judge him for being single, he seemed adamant that it would be the exact opposite. and after a few apologies for your laughter at his predicament and a brief negotiation over his payment of getting you your favorite drink from the cafe near your workplace for the next few weeks, it was a done deal.

though you admittedly felt a twinge of anxiety upon entering the venue of chattering adults, dressed in the best semi-formal outfit you had in your closet, you could see that he was the more obviously nervous one between the two of you.

“just relax, rei.” you murmured, slipping your hand in his and giggling at the way his arm tensed, “these are your high school friends! i’m sure they’ll be surprised enough that you managed to find a nice girl like me all by yourself—“ he huffed disapprovingly, earning another small laugh, “—and only ask about your work or something.”

you barely finished your brief attempt at a pep talk when a loud voice came from somewhere by the food table. “is that you, braun?!”

reiner’s jaw shifted, a sign you’d come to learn meant him holding back a wince, turning to see a man with slicked back hair and a broad grin on his face approaching. based on his heavy-lidded gaze, paired with the red solo cup tipping dangerously horizontal in his grasp, you assumed he was quite tipsy already.

“considering how late you are, i wasn’t sure you’d even show,” he chuckled, still having to peer up at reiner despite still being taller than you, “but the more i thought about it, the more i remembered you never were the punctual type anyways.”

“great to see you too, porco..” reiner replied half-heartedly, palm already getting clammy in your grasp.

you glanced momentarily between them, deciding to come to your friend’s rescue by clearing your throat, drawing the teasing attention away from him. “actually, he was late because of me.” you flashed a smile, leaning into reiner’s side. “just wanted to look my best since i knew i was gonna be meeting his old friends.”

“holy shit..” porco muttered after a moment of silence, hazel eyes blowing wide as he stared at you like you’d disappear if he blinked even once, only breaking his gaze to turn over his shoulder and call out, “piecky, c’mere! i think reiner’s actually got a fuckin’ girlfriend!!”

you barely stifled a laugh at reiner’s low sigh of discomfort, pointedly ignoring how the people around glanced at porco’s shout. “did you seriously used to hang around with that guy?”

“no..” he grumbled back, “he hung around the people i hung around with and always gave me shit for no reason.”

“wow, rei, feeling a little feisty tonight, are we?”

he scoffed as you reached up to poke at his cheek, able to see the pink flush that had settled over his sharp features despite the dim lighting, dodging your inquiry while he looked ahead. “he’s coming back.”

putting on the smile you’d practiced so many times right back on, you caught sight of a cheerful dark-haired woman sidling over to your small group. “reiner?! you seriously got even taller? who’s this?”

you both exchanged names, offering a hand for her to shake which she eagerly took, turning to reiner for affirmation of your identity, to which he said, “yeah, she's my.. girlfriend...”

“how long have the two of you been together?”

“a couple months—”

“—almost a year.”

you quickly laughed off the sudden nerves of giving conflicting answers, turning back to reiner’s friends and recovering with, “we’re not super big on keeping track of dates. you know how time flies when you love someone.” you turned up to reiner, lips perking into a doting smile, “right?”

his cheeks flushed an even darker red, a sheepish smile brightening his expression. “right.”

“looks like you’re the only single one, pock.” pieck teased, laughing when the man rolled his eyes and huffed.

“you’re still with zeke?” reiner asked, prompting her to extend her left hand, waggling her fingers to show off the large diamond ring on her finger.

“yep, engaged for two years now!”

“apparently still too good to come to anything she invites him to.” porco grumbled in response.

“i already told you he’s on a business trip,” she frowned, taking his cup from his hand and taking a generous sip from it, “i’m sure he would’ve come if he hadn’t had somewhere else to be.”

“whatever you say..” he sighed, letting her finish his drink despite his apparent annoyance.

thankfully, your small slip up had been ignored, allowing both you and reiner to relax when the two finally turned their attention back to you. the night progressed much less turbulently than you’d previously anticipated, reiner allowing you to handle any questions directed at your relationship, not saying anything when you frequently slipped in little white lies to make everything seem more convincing. it didn’t stray terribly far from the truth, you were entirely honest about the way you’d met and the things that had made you “fall in love with him”.

you took a strange amount of joy in posing as his significant other, just as he gave equally genuine reactions when you wrapped his arm around your shoulder or ate something from his plate of food, flustered and smiling all throughout. for a few brief moments, you almost forgot that he was meant to be pretending too. he’d seemed more than happy to see that you were getting along well with all his old friends.

you learned more about reiner in the hour that you’d been milling around the room with him than you probably ever had in the confines of the job environment that you’d met him in—intrigued to hear that he’d been the captain of the football team, feuded with the neighboring high-school’s while being head over heels for the captain of their cheer team, held the title of champion arm-wrestler for all four years he attended marley—little details that you made you would’ve never known had you never agreed to come. the unintentionally intimidating, humble, easy-to-fluster human resources manager that you’d befriended apparently used to be a total jock, always getting himself into trouble.

and, based on how many times you’d been congratulated on managing to stick by his side for longer than a few months, you could only assume that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of discovering the entirety of reiner’s character.

eventually, your small group of four that’d you started out the night with had reconvened, tipsy from constantly sipping on spiked punch, an excited exclamation from pieck made all of you turn. “look! the photo booth finally opened up!!”

she was already rushing away for the corner of the venue before anyone could say a word, everyone following suit with a laugh as she stuffed a five dollar bill into the pay slot.

“uhh, pieck, i think this thing was only meant for two people.. max.” porco said after drawing open the curtain, earning a frown from her.

“but i want us all to take a picture together!” she slid into the booth despite the observation, turning to you, “c’mon, i’m sure we could all squeeze in if you sat on reiner’s lap.”

you felt your face flush, knowing there was no way to work around her request without raising some kind of suspicion and ruining the act you’d both somehow maintained for the entire night. “sounds like a plan..!”

you could feel how tense reiner was behind you as you got settled on his thighs, hesitating to rest his hands on either side of you while pieck and porco struggled to work the screen before them. you were starting to regret not asking if this was okay with him before agreeing, but you were sure he would’ve found some way out of the situation if he was truly uncomfortable. he only seemed to be preoccupied with the thought of making you uncomfortable, something which made a flicker of affection warm your chest.

“alright! we’ve got four pictures,” pieck announced, “starting... now! and make the first a normal one!”

the first three pictures were the standard photo booth antics—one with all of you smiling normally, one with all of you making the most ridiculous face you could think of in five seconds, and one of all of you arguing over what the third photo should’ve been.

“do something cute for the last one to make up for the messed up one!” pieck demanded through her laughter, pointing urgently at the countdown on the screen, “hurry up an’ kiss or something!!”

you turned back to look at reiner, wide golden eyes gazing down at you, obviously unprepared for the steadily escalating circumstance that was only being intensified by the chanting of “kiss, kiss, kiss!” coming from the woman who’d paid for the photos in the first place. and although you knew you had no obligation to do what she asked just because she had been so kind to you despite only meeting you tonight, or because the timer was winding down towards zero all too quickly, you still found yourself reaching out a hand to settle just under his jaw, heart racing impossibly fast when you realized he was already leaning down to meet you halfway.

his lips were still sweet with whatever juice had been mixed with alcohol, skin warm and blushing from your proximity, the hand that had been resting in your lap wandering to lace your fingers with his. the exchange didn't last nearly long enough, the click of the camera drawing you back to the cramped reality, pieck's cheers through giggles and porco's disgusted scoff for you two to get a room.

"i better be invited to your wedding!" pieck joked, reaching across you to draw open the curtains in a silent sign for you to pry yourself away from reiner.

"likewise." you replied with a smile, almost giddy with excitement as you clambered out of the photo booth.

though reiner's expression just barely passed as casual, his cheeks were burning red, even the tips of his ears flushed as the four of you waiting for the machine to dispense your photos. the function was winding down fast, and as soon as your drawn-out goodbyes were finally finished, you and reiner left, hand-in-hand, much to talk over but neither of you willing to speak until you'd reached the privacy of his car.

you turned to him, smiling in the dim glow on the lights of his dash, laughing softly at his sheepish expression, "i know you said we'd only pretend for a day but.. you think i could request a little extension?"

#moonie's shooting star event 1 #reiner braun #snk reiner #snk #aot #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner x y/n #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk x you #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction

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gentrychild · 4 years ago

Text

BNHA chapter 290 reactions

Oh boy, just when I was saying that such a long arc was eroding my ability to hype myself...

Oh boy... I guess we finally got the answer to “Was that message for Rei or for the whole country?” and the answer is both. Dabi sent a direct message to his mom and we don’t know what he told her.

And since we have a big close-up on the flower “Enji” gave Rei without leaving a message, I am now wondering if it wasn’t a gift from Dabi.

Ah, the Todoroki pose of “I have no idea of what to feel.”

Also, I think we now have the confirmation that Dabi is a theater kid.

Okay, so first, it’s nice to have the confirmation that Izuku did make some damages.

What’s less nice is knowing that AFO can control Tomura to this extent. By accepting to become a guinea pig, he became AFO’s puppet and I am not sure of how long it will take before AFO erodes his will and takes full control of him.

Horikoshi, think of the fanfic writers. When you show cool attacks, explain stuff about them, please. Because of you, I will have to spend an hour trying to analyze three panels.

Oh, that’s a meme waiting to happen.

Endeavor when Nejire and Shouto fight Shigaraki: “RUN! HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU! RUN!”

Endeavor when Midoriya was fighting Shigaraki: “Welp, this might as well happen.”

I don’t know what’s the more terrifying, Gigantomachia channeling the Rogue Titan or AFO having fun with Forced Quirk Activation. Okay, probably the later.

There should really be a limit to how long those tentacles can get, thank you very much.

Bakugou is awake and if I was him, I would go straight back to sleep but no, not him.

Does... Does he still have a quirk, though? I would like to see some sparks flying. Just to be sure.

However, he is right in the sense that they need to kill Shigaraki now. If he manages to escape, they will have lost everything. That would mean that another cataclysm can happen at any time and society will collapse. I am not talking about the hero society. I am talking full Dawn of Quirks mess.

I do not want to witness what so many people with uncontrollable powers can do when they are scared.

I am going to believe that Machia assumes that the second “Master’s scent” also comes from Shigaraki because with all the smoke in the air, he didn’t notice Izuku and his multiple quirks who are right there.

Also, Izuku wasn’t using cough... all for one... cough several quirks when Gigantomachia arrived, don’t think I didn’t notice it.

I was robbed from my Little Lord moment!

Shigaraki, every bones of his broken and the only reason why he remained standing so long is probably because AFO was manipulating his strings: “Oh, do tell me about your problems. It’s not like I can go anywhere after I was INCINERATED THEN BEATEN HALF TO DEATH BY THE INCARNATION OF FERALNESS. But please, tell me how hard it was for you.”

The small green child with broken bones isn’t named Shouto, Endeavor.

More seriously, you see Endeavor’s hand on Midoriya’s back? He isn’t checking that he is alright, he is actually holding him back because he is scared he is going to yeet himself again at the villains and try to finish the job.

That’s why you never make promises on live television. Too many witnesses that will call you out later.

Shouto is so fucking done at this point. He just survived a decaying wave, he showed up only to see all the heroes and his friends half dead, he almost got slapped by Gigantomachia, this is NOT the day to keep messing with him, and here is this asshole, all happy during the worst time of Shouto’s life.

As for Dabi... This man is hilarious. Look at how happy he is. His audience is here, too weakened to kick his ass, and now is the time.

Also, you see the bottle he is shaking? That was in the pouch he has been wearing since his first appearance. He was ready from Day 1.

Now, the riddle for the ages, the thing that interests me far more than what happens one panel later: what the hell is this and how did it bleach his hair so fast?

What am I hearing? Oh yes, the sound of ALL THE DABI IS A TODOROKI BEING VALIDATED RIGHT NOW. CONGRATULATIONS, FUNKY LITTLE CONSPIRACY THEORISTS. MAY KNOWING THAT YOU WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG MAKE YOU LIVE LONGER.

Whatever you’re thinking about Dabi, you have to admit that he knows how to use a narrative. He has been sitting on this for years, waiting for the right time to do the most damage, and here he is.

Let’s all appreciate this rare moment where Shouto and Enji have the same face of “What the hell is going on?”

But more importantly, let’s all appreciate Midoriya who was once again dragged into the Todoroki drama.

This has nothing to do with him, and yet, once again, a Todoroki appeared and felt the need to announce his entire tragic backstory in his vicinity. All those jokes about Todoroki never meeting Izuku because he would have coughed up his secret in the second were true.

Dabi looks so soft here and some part of me wants to believe that’s because he knew Rei would be watching.

And by that, I mean Dabi is a Momma boy.

I am bravely trying to keep a straight face as this guy is about to explain us why he killed 30 innocent people instead of his dad or some members of the Hero Commission.

I mean, Fuyumi managed not to snap despite many reasons, so really, there is no excuse.

More seriously, I hope that he won’t only reveal what Endeavor did. I want to know why he was considered dead. And I want to know if my theory about Touya being in the same HSPC program as Hawks is true, because there has to be a reason why he knows his real name.

Of course, for the last one, I can accept that Young Touya found a drawing of Endeavor and a young kid with red wings sent by a little fan through the Endeavor agency.

But I would much prefer to see more about the HPSC and how horrible it is.

The real victim of this chapter: Can’t-You-See-kun.

Look at how happy he is. I am pretty sure this is the best day of his life.

@pocketramblr is the one who realized that Horikoshi had to knock Dabi unconscious in Kamino because that man would have jumped on the occasion of screaming to the world who he really is, only to see society freak out.

There is 50% chance that AFO would have killed him for being more dramatic than him but, man, what a way to go.

*squints* Is that his hair becoming white due to the strain?

I am... actually not surprised by it. Dabi doesn’t know Shouto. And he isn’t Touya anymore.

The only thing Shouto is to him is Endeavor’s weapon to become number 1 and the child that stole his place and who made all his pain meaningless.

Endeavor: “Redemption arc?”

Dabi: “Hahaha NO. Step 1 of my plan where you get everything you want right before I make you choke on it.”

This is nothing short of breathtaking and once again, Horikoshi steals my breath away.

Make no mistake: Touya is dead. He died a long time ago. Only remains a rageful ghost hold together by hatred and staples. He will not hesitate to sacrifice anything to destroy Endeavor, be it himself, others, and even members of his family.

I have about zero regret for Endeavor but the rest of the Todoroki family? Dabi just took a sledgehammer to that and now, they will all have to live with the consequences.

Kudos to Dabi, though. He did what All for One didn’t manage to do. He wanted to ruin the number 1, to show that he was a liar and how pitiful he was. All for One failed to do so when he revealed All Might’s true form but Dabi executed that plan perfectly.

The other really good point about this is that no one will care about Izuku using multiple quirks. With how Dabi stole the show, Shigaraki will be lucky if people still talk about him.

#bnha 290 #bnha spoilers #bnha #bnha reactions

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onebizarrekai · 4 years ago

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v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

#god I keep telling myself I'm gonna stop rambling about v3 #v3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #random stuff #but making this… it sounded so fun #danganronpa

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