#im keeping it in because. it’s not the worst drawing ever

[calamarispiderart]

hello hello!!! random question before i get started on work haha

how do you come up with dialogue for ur hms comics? the back n forth of them feels so heavy and realistic. especially the casualness paired with the bleeding-brooding (alliteration for fun) violence makes everything just. hit. in a tragic and hopeless way imo. it’s so neat :0

i’ve been trying that kind of writing out a bit lately too. this is what i’ve managed with my iambic pentameter gang (hms but rain world iterator). MiND is being threatened by the rage pent up inside himself. and, strangely enough, it has the voice of HeART.

constructive feedback is welcome ^_^!

once again, hello hello! sending good wishes and all :]. i love ur work ^_^ 💛

oooo hmm... this isnt something ive ever really thought about trying to explain, thank you for the question! big fan of the posing in the piece youve added here btw, i like the alliteration in 'heliocentric heathen' B:•∆

honestly the way i go about writing them isnt something i feel i can put into words with a clear structure of process... often with my comics it starts with me simply having a vague idea of 'i want to make a comic today', and drawing what feels right to lead into it. the words typically link in with the actions as well - i usually draw something, draw the next thing, write a bit of dialogue, draw the next thing, write more dialogue.... not in that exact order but the words always feel to be a reaction to the actions and the actions are a reaction to the words (and/or, words and actions work in tandem). people rarely talk in a vacuum, especially when theyre having the conversation in person, so i find it helpful to see the actions as part of the dialogue and vice versa.

occasionally ive scripted out dialogue beforehand (always with actions included within the script.) but even with a script what actually is said needs to adjust with whats been drawn. when i dont write with a script (which is the norm), its often while im drawing the next frame that im thinking over whats being said. typically i just go over and over a sentence mentally, adjusting bits until it feels right, looking at it once its written on the page and adjusting it more if necessary.

perhaps a bit vague? apologies! i do have certain mental rules i try keep in mind for each of the threes characters while writing. 'how would heart respond, how would he word this? mind? i cant word it this way because i know he doesnt do this...' <subconscious questions and thoughts but they are important to keep in mind. i find it the most helpful to keep the core traits i personally see in them in mind, and let those traits kind of... guide what is said. if i think of how that collection of traits and facets would respond to something, the vague concept that creates can then go through the filters of dialogue traits i have in mind for them. ...ehhh, put more simply... 'what is the general response this character would have to this situation' and then 'how would they structure that response through words and/or actions?'.

i, being who i am, cccc being what it is, am somewhat naturally inclined to writing grim and bleeding-brooding (nice word) things. i also consider myself to be quite a grounded person, which i hope comes through in my work! however, natural inclinations aside, cccc itself is quite a bleeding-brooding album (at least it is to me). its one about depression and self hatred and it really doesnt pull many punches in that respect. or at least, thats my read on it! as a result, that becomes reflected in my interpretation of hms. however, id also note that cccc is silly at times, theres humor in it. all good grim things need a bit of levity to really make it feel Real... people joke in the worst of times, not just the best, and it really helps in writing serious things to have just a little bit of joke to it, even if its not immediately noticable... this is hard to really give examples of honestly but it is relevant i promise. im unsure if youve read much of my writing aside from my comics, but theres just a bit of absurdity and humor in both my cccc pieces that would make the writing feel sorely lacking without in my opinion. notable with how violent and tense both those pieces are.

lots of words now! hopefully helpful ones B:•] or at least interesting! ill try write out some of the core traits and details i keep in mind when writing hms so as to give better reference points to all my prior words:

heart: reactive, not instigative. he doesnt start fights, he finishes them. he also doesnt need an insane amount of prompting to get going... but he does need prompting. apathetic, a bit fanciful. hes depressed, and not in a cute way. he talks casually but he uses serious words. no point in simplifying his language - he wants to be taken seriously, and while he makes himself look small and weak at times he is Not weak and he is Not small. hes just as much of a wordsmith as the other two. he covers his mouth when he speaks sometimes, and he puts his hand over his chest... a bit defensive? muffling his own input, but notably he still speaks. lies by omission or by twisting facts - if full honesty helps his case, thats what he uses. if a white lie works better... i personally see him as a bit of a planner too. sometimes his reaction to things is built up to; it never comes out of nowhere, even if it may seem like it.

mind: instigative, less reactive. he still reacts to things but hes generally the one starting shit and hes honestly very bad at Not talking shit. uses contractions. <this is a small one but mind says 'dont' and 'cant' and i dont think ive ever heard him Not use contractions to any notable degree. kind of weak! hes proud of himself, very proud of himself, and even in the moments of the album where theyre getting along he cant drop his superiority complex. hes bad at making compromises that put him as the lesser one. hes also quick to point blame and to lie (even if hes a bit roundabout abt it). hes also not That smart - or at least, hes not any smarter than the other two. he Thinks hes smart and hes quite confident about that but that doesnt actually mean hes right lol. aggressive verbally, passive physically. hypocritical.

both of them tend to see soul as an afterthought, or as something to benefit from. note the 'something', not 'someone'. imo, they dont really see him as a valid living entity in the same way they see themselves. speaking of soul...

soul: hes difficult. hes a difficult and complicated guy. vague, fanciful, depressed, suicidal, tired... i personally see him as quite passive. both passive and active... hes violent, towards himself and towards the others. just as they dont see him as an individual, i believe hes too apathetic and burnt out to see them as individuals either. when he threatens to hang himself, thats a direct threat to the two if them as well - and it functions as one, seeing as they are all linked in that way! his suicidality isnt purely self destructive in the way it would be in other story contexts which i find important to remember. i see him as someone who sleeps a lot... and as someone who is treated more like a tool than anything else. but he is, simultaneously, idealistic. he hopes for the best and would do anything (Anything.) to try and achieve it. he wants things to Get Better or to Stop. most of the time when i write or draw him its within the 'Stopping is the only option to Get Better' stage of things. hes tired and he doesnt want to deal with things but he has to and he doesnt want to and hes at the end of his rope. honestly within the album he feels a bit like a ghost. hes granted a similar level of personhood as the shadow of what could be, which is both more and less than mind and heart get.... hes confusing! hea a difficult guy. honestly you can take a lot of my notes and thoughts on his character with a grain of salt because hes always been such a puzzle to me haha. i find him easiest to convey in art... OH yes one last thought/trait is hes a bit... arrogant? hes tired and hes careless. listen to me or fuck off and die. arrogant. what a guy.

ahaaha this kinda became me just rambling about my reads on the three but.. hopefully helpful!! this is all stuff i try keep in mind when im writing and drawing them. theres certainly nuances ive missed and things i havent worded as well as i could, but you get the idea i hope! all of that informs how i write them and... in a way they almost lead me through the piece.

also! this isnt something i often think about because its just a natural part of the process, but sometimes i end up scrapping stuff! entire paragraphs, panels and poses, because it hits a stasis where i cant find any way for one or the other to continue the interaction - theres a distinct difference between this and the interaction hitting its ending point. if ive written one person saying or doing something and none of the parties involved are able to respond in any way at all, thats a sign that ive conveyed their characters wrong and i need to go back. people *always* have a response to something, whether thats continuing the conversation or leaving or anything. if none of them can come up with a response that feels like them, ive messed up somewhere. dont be afraid to go back and rewrite things.

ummm yeah thats all i can think of to say now! thank you for the question, and thank you for the nice words!! B:•∆ im very happy my comics come off the way youve described, and very happy youve enjoyed my work enough to want to ask me about it!! means a lot to me B:•] your rainworld iterator hms concept sounds swag as hell, id just say to keep at it!! from what youve shown here youve already got a great start B:•∆ thank you again! hope you and anyone else reading this has a good week!

[sallymew4]

ritsu + (older) teru

[todayisafridaynight]

[lucksea]

drawing lately kind of feels like im getting covered in plastic wrap or something. which is weird

[impostorsshow]

Sometimes you just listen to a TikTok audio and get the need to make a post about a self destructive cycle your in only to never acknowledge the post again yknow

The song is Don't Smoke by Mitski, specifically the TikTok version is the Audiotree Live version

[lowkeyren]

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar. 

alhaitham. 

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%. 

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal. 

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win? 

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings. 

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU. 

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him. 

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you. 

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with. 

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away. 

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway. 

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.” 

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó…  nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you. 

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake. 

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow. 

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. 

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window. 

alhaitham. 

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why? 

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you. 

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears. 

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot. 

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from. 

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile. 

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you. 

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today: 

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you? 

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still. 

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!” 

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.” 

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.” 

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?” 

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening. 

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her. 

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could. 

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions? 

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.  

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE. 

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.  

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl. 

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance. 

alhaitham. 

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave." 

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction. 

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold. 

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable. 

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you. 

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you." 

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."  

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."  

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear. 

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically) 

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket. 

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting. 

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN. 

To [Name],  I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise.  You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you.  If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly,  Alhaitham. 

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it. 

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay. 

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. 

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so? 

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours. 

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.” 

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue. 

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops,  until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm. 

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin. 

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it. 

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub. 

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?” 

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?” 

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.” 

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly. 

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—" 

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

vietnamese — @https-sourlimes

tagalog / filipino — @vxnuslogy

arabic — @ughscara

chinese, japanese — me!

ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated ^^

pspspss check out the cool fanart / comic based on this fic here by @rei-plswork 🤍

MASTERLIST.

[bigfatbreak]

How can you still draw while being so stressed? There aren't even times where you just give up and you broke your tooth because you were gritting it due to stress. You can post 1 fully coloured drawing at least once a week/2 weeks and you're having one of the worst times in your life. How?? How do you do that??

if im ever so far gone i cant put pen to paper, i want you to ritualistically shoot me behind a laundry shed. the day i cant express myself thru my art even with the overwhelming burden of existing is the day im not human anymore. making shit is apart of my function, like how a printer prints or a fridge keeps things cool or the way your eyelid flickers and your pupils contract when the lights get turn on. i make because i must because i breathe

[takes1]

THANK YOU FOR WRITING MY KUROKEN REQUEST OMHFGSGHFGRS. IM SO SO HAPPY THANK YOU AJJWKAJDHFBTNFJEJ!!!!!CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT! :D

[p.2] kenma sharing you with kuroo

im so glad youre into it!!!! i love hearing from you! this was getting too long again, had to break it up AAAAAAAAA so there will be another part idk why i cant be concise theres just a lot of juicy stuff here

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / threesome / angsty smut / jealous!kuroo / secure!kenma /petnames / submissive(with conditions)!reader / praisewhore!reader / kenma being rough on purpose / f!rec oral / backshots / riding / kuroo being rough on accident / very mastermind!kenma / poly!kuroo, poly!kenma, poly?reader / crushing on kuroo / fluid pecking order / 3k words / somehow more to follow, pls reply to be added to taglist for HOPEFULLY FINAL PART

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. part one here. final part.

The sheer size of his physique always made you and Kenma both feel smaller, and fragile at times. Like a couple of toys to him.

Now that you could see what he had been hiding underneath his shirt; a full, wide chest that stretched, taut, across two robust shoulders. Lines worked under his skin, cropping up like guitar strings as he tossed his shirt to the side.

Comparing him to Kenma was useless. They weren't just in different weight classes; it was simply unfair to draw the full list of their differences out.

The worst part was that he knew how hot he was. He acted like he was the best thing since sliced bread. Always flexing in every mirror, offering a bulky bicep for you to squeeze just to watch you squirm on more than one occasion, leaning over both you and your boyfriend, crushing you in unnecessary group hugs.

"How's that sound, baby?" Kenma muttered against your ear, speaking in that low tone he knew you liked.

Face burning hot, you stared at the floor until Kuroo filled your vision. His chest was blocking your ability to ignore him, to try thinking clearly enough to maybe say something back.

Kenma was keeping you still, one arm around your middle, the other hand rested under one of your breasts, "You can touch him. It's okay."

They shared a look you couldn't see.

"I won't bite anymore," Kuroo whispered. He kissed the top of your head as an apology, of sorts.

He lifted your wrist and placed it onto his sculpted stomach. It was a safe move, because it did help you calm down and give you something to look at. You weren't sure if you'd be able to look him in the eye ever again.

Your heart was still racing, but you did want to touch him. Both of your hands slid over his impressive body, thumbs prodding harder into the bulky muscle you weren't so used to- the type of grabbing and groping you had always been curious about. The back of your hand brushed his dark happy trail, your breath clipped at how his v-line dove deep into his sweats.

"Kemma," He muttered, breathy, over your head, keeping your hand right there, at his waistband.

You missed whatever exchange they must've had outside of your focus, but you were right on time to turn and watch them kiss.

Mouth open, you watched, shamelessly turned on, at the steamy exchange of tongue and spit, past and power between them right next to your head.

Nothing about that was unsure in nature. You could have been convinced that they kissed frequently.

Kuroo's hand kept yours barred on his tummy so you couldn't let him go- his other hand slipped between you and Kenma, pulling possessively at the small of your back. Kenma was also pulling you harder, closer, and you felt his hand slide onto your neck.

He usually did that when he wanted comfort- but it felt different for blur of reasons here.

They were both holding tightly onto you, but kissing each other. It nearly gave you whiplash, how fast it simplified things.

The way Kuroo parted, jaw flexed, a little flare on his nostrils in restraint was outrageously sexy. His narrowed, drunken eyes looked to you.

Your wall was back up, immediately- but you couldn't move, so you took his kiss, anyway.

His lips were wet and warm with the faint taste of Kenma. And he was making himself busy at he curve of your neck, noisily sucking and biting that little sensitive spot where it dipped into your shoulder, where he knew you held all of your stress.

"Mmnh-!"

Your uncontrollable sound was eaten right up, and Kuroo was able to get his tongue in your mouth, all clumsy, needy, like he just wanted to be inside of you no matter the method. He pushed your hand further into his pants and -of course- he wasn't wearing any underwear.

Did they kiss just to get you to this spot? The thought was concerning, but fleeting.

You gasped when he finally parted- for air, at Kenma's mouth, and the brief, unintentional brush against his cock.

Your hand shot back out of his pants, and though it looked like a struggle for him, he didn't continue trying to keep your wrist hostage. Kuroo didn't have much patience. The way he showed his passion sided closer to some kind of underlying bitterness, if anything.

A big, loud, tingly kiss to your neck, "He's good, huh?"

You glanced at Kuroo- he watched Kenma, a toothy smirk on his handsome face, like that compliment truly resonated somewhere.

"Yeah," You sighed, still scratchy. You hadn't used your voice in a while.

His arms slipped from you, a small lull in all the intensity for a position shift. You went maybe half a second with neither of them touching you- Kuroo scooped you up just as you were moving to take your seat on your boyfriend's lap.

"What're you thinkin', buddy?"

He held you like a display for him, both hands cupping your tits, a few giggly pecks to the top of your head.

"Wanna know what's goin' on in that brain of yours," His mutter felt aggressive against your scalp, making you feel a bit meek, yielding to his greedy touch.

Kenma scanned your intertwined bodies with a calculated, muted (as most of his emotions read), excitement you had rarely ever seen before.

What he had in mind was inventive, certainly not your first thought, but it was in your favor.

Your concern was quelled as you saw his little idea into action- he could handle more weight than you thought, as Kuroo straddled him, a little amused smile on his face. He took in the view of you perched atop Kenma's face, your hands crossed delicately on his chest.

The idea was so you would have to look at Kuroo.

He caught the hickeys scattered along your shoulder and neck.

"Damn Kemma, that's pretty gnarly," Kuroo's finger slipped over your skin and you flinched, "You sure that's gonna heal before class?"

Kenma shrugged underneath you, another kiss over that already tingly, sensitive bud. You tried to shift away, but he barred his arms over your hips to kept you in place. You had to brave the sensation, this position, longer.

"That's the point," Mumbled against you. Kuroo smirked at how your form broke, a curve to your spine already.

A big, slow lap at your pussy was just what you needed- all this grabbing and pinching and bruising, you just needed some head at this point.

Your moan, light, fluttery, and soft, had his attention locked.

Kuroo's thumb was gentle -not quite as gentle as Kenma- brushing your cheek, the rest of his fingers curled lightly under your jaw. You could look at those shoulders, that thick neck, his veiny forearms all day, but it was just different, difficult, having to meet his face.

"Ohh, you gotta learn to look at me, babydoll," His thumb was lowered, swiped across your glossy lip, his voice bittersweet, "Or we're gonna have a tough time."

It was like looking at him would make it more real. To your defense, it did- every time. You hated that he was using it as a way to get at you, because now he wouldn't give it up.

Finally, a kiss you didn't move away from.

His height gave him the advantage of being able to lean across the distance comfortably. You got to sit 'still' on Kenma's skilled tongue.

Since you weren't making it an unnecessary struggle this time, he was softer. Or, he was just trying to prove he could play the 'good guy,' too. He stroked himself over his sweats to the sounds you spilled across his mouth.

It only took a minute for him to move away from you, clambering off of the mattress, temporarily--

"'Ey bud- I'm takin' my pants off- I can't stand this shit."

You looked away as he stripped, so quick, so eager to get back to his kisses.

There was a clouded, dreamy haze in your vision at his slow, methodical circles. It was impossible to sit straight, but you knew Kenma could take a bit of weight on his chest.

"M-mmnh-ah,"

It took a second for your brain to catch up to everything, but when you replayed how he announced his actions, you really liked that he was, in a way, deferring to Kenma.

"Thaat's better," He groaned, lowering in a silly way to look at your pleasure-drunk expression, "Hm."

He looked down at Kenma, a palm gliding over the lines in his stomach. The muscle underneath danced, twitchy, and sensitive.

"Does he feel good, babygirl?"

You nodded, a weak, "Mh-mm, ah-!"

Kuroo seethed at the sound and quickened his pumping hand, "Ohh- you wanna tell him how good he feels?"

As his eyes trailed down your pretty, weakening form, he barely stopped himself from touching the tent in Kenma's pants. Instead, he kept his second hand gripping his hip bone, probing the skin there.

"Mmh-!" You cried, stooping forward with a tremble.

The little pitiful, embarrassed expression on your face was deserving of another kiss, however fleeting.

"Go 'head. Tell'm, baby."

Kenma must've loved the idea, because he made it intentionally difficult for you to get your words out. It was huffy, and broken, and interrupted by a quick, higher whine or two- but you did manage to tell him how perfect he felt, just like Kuroo wanted.

He didn't notice your reaction to his quiet, natural, "Good girl."

A couple of taps let you know to take your weight off of him. You were shaky, close, and already embarrassed, by that time, though.

Kuroo helped by keeping you upright and supported as Kenma slid out from his position.

"You are sooo cute," He cooed, a big hand squishing your face up so you couldn't avoid another kiss.

He liked smothering you with attention, in the absence of his more intense habits. It felt like you were dealing with cuteness-aggression, unable to wriggle out of his hold.

Your attempts were always half-assed, since it was everything you wanted. The subtle pushing, evading his kisses, little dissatisfied huffs, were more about the principle of not letting him treat you however he wanted. Kenma always put you first. You didn't want Kuroo's sudden presence to change that.

Since he knew you wouldn't touch him, he just stroked himself, between your bodies. It only worked to get him more frustrated at how difficult you were.

"Could you-- damn," Kenma did a double-take at his friend's dick, and left it at that, "Could you lay down?"

Kuroo liked his role. He liked his dick getting praised, too. His smile was unshakable, as he followed along and adjusted per Kenma's nudging. He looked up at him once more when you were prompted to sit on his lap.

Though your pussy was aching for something more, after an hour of essentially just on-and-off foreplay -especially a fan of the big, hunky addition to the bedroom beneath you-, you only hovered until Kenma weighed your hips the rest of the way down.

Kuroo was whiny, speaking only to his friend, "Why won't she look at me?"

He looked at you, "Aren't we friends?"

You grew warm, shuddery at that call-out and the fact that he caught you staring at his abs again.

A good distraction was Kenma, finally taking those stupid sweatpants off; you leaned towards him, quick to pump his cock and treat him well to a flurry of kisses.

He looked sleepy, satisfied with how easily you paid him attention.

His question was mumbled against your lips, a way od depriving you of your last kiss, "Why won't you look at Kuroo, hm?"

You squinted and sighed, a thoughtful effort on your brow until you felt the addictive, slick sensation of Kuroo's cock sliding against your folds, bumping your clit just right.

He was such a tease- he knew what he was doing, when he did it. He wanted to cut you off and smirked at his success.

An uneven whine- your hands landed on top of Kuroo's, swallowing up the crease of your thighs, hips, and ass with his outrageously big fingers.

"You should be nicer to him," He placed a gentle kiss to your cheek and left your side, opting to get behind you.

Kenma guided you by the shoulder to lean forward, face-to-face with Kuroo, knocked to your elbows. He pressed himself against your entrance.

"Oooh, what'd I tell ya?" He spoke right through Kenma sinking deeper into your pussy, finally filling you up, and still rocked his own cock against your clit, "You gonna- ah, look at me now? Or are you about to make this hard?"

You and Kuroo were in similar roles, in the way that you had no idea what Kenma was thinking, or why he did it, aside from speculation.

"A-ahh-!" You gasped, brow furrowed at how much you needed him, how much better this felt with Kuroo here, really here, instead of just in your fantasies.

The stretch, the delayed gratification of finally taking him, loosened your personal reigns a little. You wanted to see how his friend liked it.

It was difficult, but you managed to take in his handsome, dark features while Kenma filled you over and over again. His jaw was tight, flexed, as he bit the inside of his cheek. His eyes never looked endearing but they were clearly narrowed on purpose, focused and tense at your decision to keep your attention on him only now.

He was so jealous that it looked like he was struggling more than you. You loved watching it play out in his eyes, having to sit there and listen to you get railed right in front of him.

"You've got such a pretty little slut for a girlfriend-," He quelled his hunger for you with a quick, harsh kiss, muttering just between you, "Lucky bastard."

Kenma stayed deep, just barely rolling his hips with a sigh. You choked out a moan against Kuroo's frown.

There was an enviable ease to his words.

"I know."

This whole mess of a dynamic was unfolding and taking different shapes the more you all switched, resisted, or accepted your roles.

He was deep, and you were taking him so well that he wasn't as slow, or as soft as he usually opted for. The audience present gave him just a small kick of energy that he used to be a little harder with you.

"Koz-ume--!" You begged, "Mmh- slo-w-- slower..."

He didn't slow down because he knew you were only being theatrical. The intention behind his willful ignorance, still made you search for something, somebody, that would listen. It left you holding onto Kuroo for comfort instead, squeezing him closer to you, mumbling your incoherent whines past his ear.

In the process, his greedy, pinchy hands became more sympathetic, as he had to hold you still. His frown became occupied with shushes and little pecks to your shoulder, and he eventually had wrapped his arms around you, like a hug.

"You're takin' him soo well, babygirl," His low mutter did nothing to soothe you. It only made you want to cum to the sound of his voice. He rubbed over the scratches Kenma had been busy raking across your back.

"Soo fuckin' good."

Neither of you were ready to part, not yet- but Kenma pulled you out of his arms. He hugged you to his own chest, stalling deep inside of you, stuffing your poor pussy with a cruel thrust.

Again, one of those instances that wouldn't be replicated as easily with a big difference in height.

He was breathy, but he didn't stutter: "You gonna be nice to him?"

His hand squeezed your neck, his eyes steady from you, to Kuroo. Your breath was labored, your eyes narrowed, wanting, down at him.

"Hm?"

In the stillness, you could feel the extra wet running down your legs and wondered if you'd ever be so perfectly turned on again.

A managed a higher, breathier, "Yes," and he loosened his grip, letting you back onto Kuroo. Though he hadn't gotten any, he was more than satisfied with how pliable it made you.

You couldn't stop looking at him now.

He kept his grip tight on you, in case Kenma wanted to try taking you away again. His kisses had more depth, more appreciation. As hot as it was seeing Kenma so assertive, he hated being left out in the cold.

"That's too bad."

Was a phrase that both of you, even in spite of your stimulation, paused at. Your lip was hesitantly let go from its place between Kuroo's teeth. He gave him a dirty look as you burrowed your head into his giant shoulder.

Kenma was toneless, void of empathy, "You wanted to third, didn't you?"

Kuroo's expression shattered- the tension in his whole face dissipating into a thousand little pieces for about two seconds, as he tried to decipher what he meant, how he meant it, and how he should take that.

"I'm kidding-" Kenma snickered, still speaking through his fluttery, cute giggle as he addressed you, "You still wanna fuck Kuroo?"

It really hit home, for both of you, that none of this was going to work without Kenma being decidedly cool about a lot of things.

"Yes," Spilled from your lips, muffled against Kuroo's hot skin- you repeated yourself, shakily pushing yourself up for good measure, "Fuck yes."

A 'See? I told you so,' look to Kuroo. He slowly pulled out of you, leaving you to deal with an emptiness that altogether worsened your clingy exterior.

Kuroo's jealousy had softened to appreciation, and your apprehension traded spots with a need for attention. Kenma liked the control of facilitating it all.

☆VIP☆

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[wcnderlnds]

you and i | peter maximoff

・❥・ summary: peter loves his daughter very much and wants another one ・❥・word count: 1.9k ・❥・warnings: 18+ smut, nsfw. unprotected p in v. swearing. female reader. ・❥・ authors note: we all love dilf!peter so i tried. the smut is badly written pls be gentle im still trying to get more confident writing it. also i went with katya for the name bc always headcanon his family is from europe/sokovia.

Never in a million years did Peter think he’d ever settle down. He’d always thought of himself as a loner – someone who would be happy by himself for the rest of his life and he had no problem with that. Commitment had always been something that he feared. Maybe it was something to do with his dad leaving his mom before he was even born. He’d never had a good father figure to look up to when it came to… well, anything. All the people around him had severely unhealthy relationships so he never wanted to be a part of one himself. Peter would much rather hook up than settling down and being unhappy with someone. As much as there was some part of him that idolised his father, he never wanted to be like him. Being a let down was one of Peter’s worst fears. All he wanted to do was make sure his mom and sisters were taken care of. If he was doing that then he was doing something right. He didn’t need a relationship or another person to make him happy.

That was until he met you.

It had been a chance encounter at the arcade. You had been occupying his favourite Donkey Kong machine. There were others but that one was his. So, annoyed, he leaned against one of the other machines with arms across his chest obnoxiously blowing a bubble with his gum. When you finally did step away, he ran over quicker than you could even say Donley Kong to get his machine back letting out a loud ‘what the fuck’ when he saw that you’d beat his high score. Peter had tried for the whole day to get his name back at the top but it was no use. As you tried walking out of the arcade, he had caught up to you bombarding you with questions about how you'd done it and if you’d cheated. All you’d done was smile and tell him it was a secret. That was enough to keep him hooked. Day after day the two of you would meet at the arcade. Peter would find himself seeking you out. When he’d started to get little heart flutters every time you smiled at him or any time you’d beat him at a game, he freaked out. Feelings like that weren’t something he was used to. In fact, he’d never had feelings quite like it before. It was all new to him.

Over time he had come to accept that you had won his heart. Somehow, someway you had wormed your way in there and he couldn’t get enough of you. All he wanted to do was spend every second with you. The relationship had blossomed so naturally – it all came so easy to him. Being with you felt like heaven, it made him the happiest he’d ever felt in his life. He had convinced himself so much that he didn’t need anyone but himself but he did. He needed you and he wouldn’t live the rest of his life without you. So, he had proposed at the arcade where the two of you had first met. It wasn’t overly romantic but it was Peter coded and that was more than you could’ve asked for.

Now, two years on, the two of you were married with a two year old daughter. Peter had taken to being a dad like it was the easiest thing in the world. He was so fun and caring. There wasn’t anything he’d do for his little girl. Katya was his whole world.

“Oh sh-” Peter instantly stopped knowing if you heard him swearing in front of your kid, you’d kick his ass. “...shizzle.” As he’d walked into the room, he’d noticed that Katya had drawn all over the wall with crayon.

To be fair, that had been his fault. You’d told him before you left for work to put the crayons out of reach because Katya was in her ‘destruction’ era and wanted to draw on any and every surface she could get her hands on. In true Peter fashion, though, he’d been distracted. The newest Pac Man game had his attention. He just had to beat it before you did because - he’d never admit this - you were better than him. It was one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with you in the first place.

But, right now, he had to clean this shit off the walls before you got home and gave him the scolding of a lifetime. “Alright, baby girl, come here.”

Katya grinned instantly dropping the crayons as Peter crouched down in front of her. With wobbly legs, she got to her feet and slowly toddled into his arms. He picked her up, holding her tight to him. Her little smile was enough to almost make him put her back down and let her carry on showing her artistic skills on every wall in the house.

“You’re gonna get me in sooooo much trouble, Kitty Kat,” he booped her little nose to which she grabbed his finger between her small ones. It was enough to melt anyone’s heart. He placed her in her crib with promises of snacks once he’d got the walls all cleaned up.

It was a few hours later when you got back home. The house was oddly quiet. Usually you’d come home to the sounds of Peter chasing Katya around the house or him teaching her naughty words that he definitely shouldn’t be teaching her but there was nothing. That made you slightly worried. Your footsteps on the wooden floors echoed off the walls as you peeped into your daughter's room but she was fast asleep in her crib. So, where was Peter?

When you walked into your bedroom, you spotted him easily. His mess of silver hair could be spotted a mile away. He was sprawled out on the bed, his face buried in the pillows, limbs spread out all over the place. It brought a smile to your face. Careful not to wake him, you sat on the edge of the bed, running your fingers gently through his hair.

“Feels good,” he mumbled sleepily into the pillows. Sometimes you forgot how much of a light sleeper he was.

“Hey sleepy head,” you greeted him, kicking your shoes off to lay on the bed beside him. Peter’s head turned slightly to see you. His tired eyes meeting yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Even now years later, he was still the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. His dark brown eyes, his perfect nose and the stubble that adorned his face was enough to make any person melt. It was still mind blowing that this man was yours.

“Your daughter is a menace,” he wrapped his arms around you, rolling over to pull you onto his chest.

“She gets that from you.”

“Nuh-uh, you.”

“Definitely you. You’ve been a menace since the day I met you.” Your lips brushed against his.

“You love me anyway,” he kissed you, lips moving together slowly. “We should have another one.”

With a furrowed brow, you pulled away to look at him. “Another…?”

“Kid, babe. Baby. Y’know, that little human we have in the other room? Yeah, we should make another one of them.” His eyes were hopeful, almost pleading.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah! I mean, I’m fuckin’ exhausted and sometimes this whole parenting thing is real hard but… it’s worth it. Having a family with you, being a dad… it’s everything I never knew I wanted. You make me want this, babe. So, why not have another one? Kat’s old enough now for us to bring another one into the fray.”

It was another big step for the two of you. Could you really handle two children? You were always the most practical one out of you and Peter. He mostly followed his heart while you followed your brain. It was probably one of the reasons why you were so perfect for each other. It was the look in Peter’s eyes that really sealed the deal. He wanted this. He really, really did. Watching him be a dad, the way he loved your daughter — it was everything you had ever wanted.

“Okay,” you cupped his cheek, the pad of your thumb stroking against his soft skin. “Let’s have another little Maximoff.”

Peter didn’t say another word. Instead, he flipped you over so you were on your back, lips lazily attaching to yours. It took him no time at all to have your dress off and tossed to the floor, his own shirt and sweatpants following. His hips lazily, slowly grinded against yours, the feeling of his growing bulge rubbing against your core. Peter could already tell how turned on you were by the small gasps that left your lips, the way your nails were digging into his sides as you held on to him. He moved his way down your body, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck and between the valley of your breasts. Hands snaked behind your back to unclasp your bra.

“Want you so bad,” he mumbled against your stomach as he trailed lower down your body. Your panties were off in one swift movement. When Peter got impatient his powers always came into play. One of his long fingers trailed up your slit, your arousal coating his finger. That was apparently all the restraint he had because before you knew it, his boxers were off and the head of his cock was prodding at your entrance.

“Peter, please,” you pleaded with him, bucking your hips against his erection. He didn’t need telling twice as he slowly pushed into you. His eyes almost rolled back at the feeling of your warm walls squeezing around him. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, his hand lacing your fingers together as he slowly thrust into you. Going slow was never Peter’s forte but right now, he was too tired to care. This was gentle and it was perfect.

Your free hand tangled in his hair, lightly tugging on the strands as he tortured you with his slow, lazy pace. He was tired, exhausted but he wanted nothing more than to put a baby inside you and what better time was there to start than the present. He brought his forehead to rest against yours, your breathy moans mingling with his.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. His thrusts losing rhythm as he felt his release closing in. He sped up and you took this as your opportunity to wrap your legs around him. Peter groaned, angling his hips to hit deeper.

It only took a few more shallow thrusts before he stilled, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he came inside you. The sounds leaving his lips enough to trigger your own, a cry of his name leaving you as your walls clamped down on him.

Peter collapsed on top of you in a heap of sweaty, heavy breaths. His lips pressing light kisses against your neck as you both came down from your shared high. “Think we made a baby yet?”

It took you a minute to register what he said. You laughed breathlessly, your hand lightly running along his back. “Dunno, might have to keep at it just to really make sure.”

Peter grinned. Even in his completely exhausted state, he felt like the happiest man on the planet because he had everything anyone could ever ask for, something he’d always wanted — a loving family.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @ldydeath @jazz-berry @lemoniiiiiii @bohnerrific69 @honeymoon8 @lacucarachapisser @evanpetersbf

[lucabyte]

obligatory ramble about postcanon loop ask

also your art is amazing

Hiiiiiiiii :D thank you :)!!

and thank you for the excuse to post the. just absolute wall of text that i truncated down to form the tags of that post. (i did,,, hit the tag limit. i forgot tumblr had one of those...) so let me just paste that and tidy it up a bit...

I am putting this under a readmore because it's a bit long. but:

This is like. The General Context for all* of my postcanon doodles? (Except AUs obviously) Like this is the base idea I've been drawing them all in. So, feel free to backread with this in mind. I've basically had this 'postcanon' timeline set in my brain since finishing the game...

My general thoughts are that I like the idea of Loop (even if through dubiously ethical means) being able to slowly reintegrate with the party as a whole new person, because they are, in fact, their own person.

It's a muddle of thematic threads im pulling on and "wouldn't it be fucked up if", but. (at its core, it's powered by the fact that like, while narratively isat's theme of 'the only person who can truly take the first step to help you is yourself'. (wrt: loop helping the party help siffrin in act 5) which i LOVE AND IS GREAT NARRATIVELY…. would be super fucked up irl to learn that your friend 'learned as a lesson' while you stood by kinda uselessly. I know i'd be upset about it. but thats mostly background here. doesn't really come up. at least not until loop has to explain who they are and the party realises they had to fall back on literally themselves again for help, but i digress,)

The real core concept is: Occam's razor. It is like, inherently, a buckwild thing to accuse a person of being somehow a clone or copy of your friend. Even if they start vaguely alluding to a backstory it's far more likely they were some other person before all that. (I still think Odile has that theory in the back pocket but she's rational enough to know it's a really long shot without a solid explanation. and i think Loop deep down knows this, and would, if cornered into confessing, turn the situation around to go J'ACCUSE and make HER explain it instead. Ever longer dodging being direct with their emotions...)

And the party are nice! And if someone has changed and wants to keep stuff secret it's kind of not their business? (Though it's hard not to speculate… see: the main joke of the doodles) And they seem important to Siffrin so they just try to accept them abrasive quirks and all. And eventually the question of their prior identity just fades away since, well, they're Loop. Their friend Loop.

but yeah. personal headcanon is that a few months/weeks after picking up and getting aquainted with Nille** (since that was presumably the IMMEDIATE TASK postgame), Loop reappears (either after a literal period of nonexistance, or just spending a few months wandering the french countryside alone being attacked by wild dogs). Since Siffrin has had a while to be therapised by the party they're doing mostly okay, but Loop showing up and still being agitated/aggressive pulls them both into a bit of a backslide behaviourally and puts the party on the back foot again.

Hooowever, I do think that due to no longer being literally stewing in the worst pressure cooker of all time together, the two do mostly actually sort themselves out with productive conversation. (Via a cycle of: genuinely distressing argument -> weeeird lovebombing -> ok we're good -> repeat, that gets less intense over time)

Thus, allowing the party to just. Integrate loop as a new person. They and Siffrin shuffle into different ecological niches (Loop taking over stuff Siffrin is now too squeamish for, etc (see: hunting, mostly)), and while it's not exactly what Loop wanted they generally get that beggars can't be choosers and it's a pretty good deal. And the rest of the party does straight up just like them as a friend, especially when Loop quits trying to actively antagonise them after a few weeks of being around them, since they just can't keep up being mean to people they like forever.

As for how I think the truth eventually drags itself out. This is where I invoke The Isabeau Torment Nexus™. So its gonna get shippy here for a bit hold on.

Which is, I think giving them time before Loop reappears long enough that Siffrin and Iseabeau actually manage to become established, Isabeau has to be the one to nudge the pair of them and go. "Hey. You know we're in Vaugarde right. I'm okay with polyamory if we all communicate." Before Loop and Siffrin actually even acknowledge that whatever the fuck they have going on kinda looks a lot like a relationship of some kind. (or have already been agonising about that via fighting and arguing, depending) (Obviously this comes after Isa "Emotionally intelligent enough to keep a lid on the jealousy" Beau has managed to use that big brain of his to Not just go Scream somewhere on the daily because oh godddd they keep talking like theyre suicide-baiting each other jesus chriiist. is it overstepping his boundaries to bring that up?? god)

This, taking a bunch of the tension out of Loop and Isabeau's relationship (Since I imagine Loop is a. being weird for the obvious reasons and b. feeling kinda guilty about 'getting in the way of' Siffrin and Iseabeau), allows them to actually get close in a normal friend way. (I think an interesting turning point could be Isabeau actually taking Loop's side in an argument vs Siffrin, which would absolutely break Loop's brain. Especially if it's an argument that matters. Like what do you mean he isn't just going to play favourites. What?)

Then Isabeau, just actually open minded and charmed by Loop (and maybe even somewhat at Siffrin's suggestion?) tries to close the final open side on the polyamory triangle here and that's the final straw for Loop on "This lie by omission is too unethical to keep up, this is just actually sick and wrong. I can't do this while he doesn't know who I am." Though. Obviously it probably goes. Very poorly with emotions high like that. And the added element of several months of deceit. Getting dark here for a second but that dagger is going MISSING and so are THEY for a hot minute.

Then yaaay everything works out in the end 👍 yippieee!! all it took was maybe a lot of harrowed recontextualisation of all the weird shit your new friend said and did when it turns out they're your old friend. It's fine.

But yeah. this is basically the context all of my postcanon doodles have existed within? And those exist to give other people something to chew on. So this does too.

I suppose TL;DR: Imagine if sloopis almost fucking happens before isabeau knows who loop is. can you fucking imagine. can you imagine having to navigate that. nightmare.

*Yes this includes the implied cannibalism comic. Uhh. Comes part and parcel with headcanoning that Loop went way off the deep end similar to A5 Sif But Maybe Worse before giving in. Add weepy half-asleep confessions to murder wherever you see fit in your mind palace. 👍👍👍

**Re: Nille footnote. I don't have anywhere to put this besides here! I have some thoughts on Loop and Nille having an odd dynamic. I don't imagine Nille to be super gung-ho on trusting a bunch of adults (even if they are majority around her age) given their implied backstory. It's probably a big shock to the system, especially since Bambouche is a good couple hundred Kilometers up north from Dormont and these guys don't seem to have trains. She would've been unfrozen and without Bonnie for some time....

Which is to say: I think she's suspicious of them. I think she may be looking for excuses to distance herself, keep Bonnie safe. SO.... A new guy showing up? And antagonising the party? What do they know that I don't...? I should find out.

And since... Loop didn't ever know Nille, they have no ammunition or real reason to be cruel. Plus, if they're trying to stay on Bonnie's good side (SINCE... if Bonnie thought Loop was cringe they may as well kill themselves. In their mind.) they SUPER have no reason to antagonise Nille.

Mostly, they might be able to open up to each other easier than they can the rest of the party?

I feel like this resolves with Loop feeling compelled to apologise for what they and Siffrin let happen to Bonnie, though... Hmm... Depends on how you interpret Nille that they'd be glad nobody else had been told about that yet, or furious it had been secret this long. I lean toward the former.

[danyllura]

I do wish the movie had implied Tigris at some point had been forced to sell her body during the war, because I think it’s one of the biggest indications of Snows true nature. Before she ever mentions/reveals anything, Coriolanus ponders over the idea of her having to trade herself for his shirt and immediately considers how much money she’d be worth, critiquing her looks but concluding “she had a sweetness, a vulnerability that invited abuse” showing how he views other as commodities. At that point he doesn’t know the truth behind his speculations, but when he does he’s not any kinder. And we as an audience obviously know what Coriolanus forces the later victors into as president. To me learning about Tigris, the forced prostitution the victors experience becomes a much bigger betrayal and indication of the depth of Snows lack of morality. Because Coriolanus is a narcissist, but based upon his classmates it is arguable many of his tendencies and prejudices are not solely reflective of his character but rather that of the Capitol. But one thing that is entirely Coriolanus, is his pride, his pride in his family/family name. Tigris has taken care of him for years, and in many instances she is the one who tethers him to reality. She’s gone above and beyond to help him hide their financial struggles and has repeated with him their mantra of “snow lands on top” since they were children. All her sacrifice and he later feels no way of abusing the victors as she was, letting her likely witness them subjected to it as well due to her proximity to him and the games. Cannibalism is discouraged/banned from the games due to the capitol finding it distatsful. And we know that Coriolanus witnessing Nero Price harvesting a maids leg for his family to eat deeply disturbs him and haunts him for years to come. I would find it unsurprising it is his personal history with the subject matter that leads to its discouragement. The capitol loves brutality, and it shows the “savageness” of the district people, if Snow could come up with ways to make the games more digestible at 18, im sure as an experienced gamemaker he could have discovered a way to utilize that as well. Yet he draws the line because of his own past discomfort. But Tigris’ trauma holds no weight to him. Despite what she likely was forced to having had done to help keep him alive, and the potential pain of her having to be exposed to witnessing that nature of work with unwilling children. Snows loyalty’s have always been to himself. Seeing Tigris’ fate, a struggling shop owner with barely any food, we know his sympathies lie only with himself. And even someone who has loved him at his worst, gave up anything and everything for him, and even posses the thing he values most- the last name Snow- she too is just another pawn in the game to him, disposable when she’s no longer useful.

[nuturalsuper]

I believe Sam had to be the one to draw it out for Dean and explain to him that he was in love with his little brother and it was probably uring an argument too, im imagining Dean with his usual 'I'd do anything for you' monologuing and Sam who finally snaps 'That's because you're in love with me!'. Then, Dean freezes and doesn't move for what feels like hours while Sam tries to explain how he 'didn't mean it like that'and 'it was a joke'. It all ends with Dean walking into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and puking his guts out until he passes out and forever pretending that nothing has ever happened but the idea keeps him up at night and he thinks hes the worst person on earth for being in love with his brother while sam sits in his room and thinks about how he's screwed his chances and how disgusted dean was even the idea of it.

everyone is unhappy. The End <3

[todayisafridaynight]

lit cannot stress how much fuckability masato lost after becoming aoki like emo death is real and its so so tragic

[blackheart-6]

dess-ember day 31/31

very long thoughts below the read more!

hi yall

woo-hoo, ive finished another month of dess-ember!! it really has been fun, if very time consuming, but ive made many pieces over this month ive loved and had a great time sharing them all with yalls 😄😄😄

but anyways, lets get to the final entry! its a bit of an unusual one :D

its some pixel art!! i have only done 2 other pixel things this month (i originally wanted to do more, but i am very slow at it 😔), so i felt like ending with it wasnt a bad way to go!

i took dess, noelle, berdly, kris, ralsei, and susie and made some different sprites of them, which were taking the way i draw them and making them into sprite version, and also me making omori style versions as well

i had a couple different versions of the art, layed out in different ways, but stinky tumblr only lets me have 10 images. unfortunate 😔.

but anyways, now weve got the main part, each individual character! you can skip past this if you dont want to hear my thoughts i had while doing the individual drawings, its kinda alot :/

i put them all in a format like this, hopefully it isnt confusing!

we can go in order of how i have them in the very first image, so we can start with kris :D

kris was a very fun one to do, they were actually the second one i made, and them turning out so well is what led me to making even more. i feel like im pretty much entirety happy with them, the omori style turned out cute, and the deltarune style isnt half bad either! i did forget to give them bangs though, like i normally give them in my art, but i was too much of a bum to go back and fix it after i finished :|. i feel like they translated very well ❤️

next would be ralsei, but im doing him last actually, because he has the most to talk about 😤😤

now weve got susie! her hair in her canon form was tricky to translate into the omori style, but i think it was worth it, cause it turned out well! and i think her canon dark world omori sprite might be my favorite i made, her outfit turned out great!! im not as fond of my versions of her design, they didnt translate that well into sprites, but it could be worse lol. her face was a bit difficult to do, since the omori head shape is meant for a human, but i think she turned out good regardless 💜

next is berdly, and im so sorry for him, he turned out roughhh. if i thought someone like susie, with her head, was hard to translate into the omori style, it was nothing compared to trying to turn berdly into it. with his beak and his head feathers and wings and his legs... yeah, it was not a fun time 😔. i tried though, and i dont think its entirely bad! the legs are probably the worst part, they are kinda hard to see, but the rest of it came together... kinda. dont get me started on turning my version of him into a sprite though, i dont wanna talk about it 😫. sorry berdly, if i ever sprite you again ill make it up to you 🩵

next is noelle! she was the first i did, and i feel like she turned out so cute 🥰🥰🥰. her dark world, my version, deltarune style sprite might be my second favorite one i made, i think it actually translated well to sprite art. her fur is a bit rough, gradiants are tough in pixel art, but i dont think its that bad overall. but yeah, im pretty happy with her 🤎

penultimatly, weve got dess! gotta have her, its dess-ember after all!! hers was hard to do, trying to take my own design and alter it to make it more canon (mostly, i just simplified some things, but i dont think it looks enough like a canon sprite :( ill keep trying with it), but i think she turned out cute as well! im not entirely happy with it though, as i said, i might go back to fix up the deltarune styled ones at some point 💚

lastly, weve got ralsei. ohhh ralsei, how cute you are, but how difficult you were 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫. to start off with, i had a goal in mind for the deltarune style sprites. normally, when you look at the canon ralsei sprites, you might notice they look a bit different. obviously theres the hat, and the fur color, but its more than that.

theres so many differences, and yet my goal was to make the sprites lose all those differences, and be more consistent with each other. i didnt think it would be too bad, but it was a rough time. i made his hatless version easily, and i was like, oh, ill just add a hat, change his color, itll be easy!! ...it was not easy 😶‍🌫️. i did that and he looked so wrong, it barely even looked like hat ralsei at all 😖.

i mean, that doesnt look right, right?? so i had to keep editing, and changing both versions, trying to make them better. i spent so much longer on him than anyone else, but at the end, i think it was worth it! i feel like he ended up adorable, but boy was it work 😂

the omori sprites of his were pretty easy though, once i had all the deltarune sprites down i just omori-fied them, took barely any time. i did make his outline purple though, like the headspace denizens, since hes a darkner 🩷

but thats it for that! this is where youd wanna skip if you didnt wanna read all that lol. now for me to yap about this month, and dess!

i feel like this was a pretty productive dess-ember!! i definitely ramped up my art from last year, trying to do as few small drawings as possible. was that a mistake? maybe lol. it was certainly difficult, and led to pretty much every drawing being late because most of them took like 8 hours or so, but i suppose a couple hours late doesnt affect much, and i still did all 31 entries!

and id say while it was a struggle, it was a good thing i did it! i enjoyed my time drawing, and sharing all my art with yalls is always a fun time for me ^^ and i really do like drawing dess, i think i made a pretty good design for her all those years ago (like 2) 😊

there is the question though, of 'what about next year? will you do this again??' and to that i say... i dont actually know haha. i would want to, even if im busy i could always do a smaller one, but the real thing that could affect it is that, in 2025 we are getting more deltarune!!! im more excited than i could ever say, but if we see dess in canon, then i dont know if ill do another dess-ember. there would be my design vs canon design, which would be strange to reconcile with, and i imagine someone would probably do an official month for her of art prompts.

but thats all if she even appears. if she doesnt, well, expect me back next december to do this! if she does, ill have to think about it, so we will see then ^^

anyways, ive had a good month doing this! it may be a bit before i post new art, to give myself a break, but ill be back 😄

bye yall, and happy new year 2025!!! 🥳🥳🥳

[artist-issues]

Okay here are some questions that are all related but could have different answers depending on the slightly different phrasing.

Do you think that Paladin Strait is gonna be the point-blank end of the saga? The final message will just be, 'the cycle continues' and their next album will be totally something new? (gosh i HOPE not that would be the worst) But if they do this, do you think they'll 'justify' it to their fans?

If it does continue, how do you think THEY will continue/end it? (positively, what we [you + me and maybe others who have similar worldview] WANT)

If it does continue, how do you think THEY will continue/end it? (negatively, what we FEAR they will do)

How do YOU wish they would continue/end it? (99% sure i know the answer but im curious how you'll phrase it exactly)

What do you think the biggest strengths of the Clancy story have been?

Biggest weaknesses?

What are you still drawing question marks on for the whole thing?

About Paladin Strait:

Okay, I hope and tentatively believe that that’s not what they’re doing. I don’t believe they’ve ever been pointing to a big “You’ll Always Struggle Forever” theme. It’s been almost fifteen years, I just have never gotten that impression (until this last album, but I still don’t believe it.) But, if that is somehow the hopeless message they’re perpetuating? I don’t think they’ll have to “justify it” to their “fans” at all. The majority of the twenty one pilots fandom justifies everything the band does, for themselves. Unless it comes to the band refusing to speak on social issues that the fandom has decided are important, and unless it comes to the fans not getting to stand where they feel special in an arena. I’ve seen the fans demand an explanation for those sorts of “lack of action” from the band. But I’ve never seen the fans get upset about any song or performance. They basically make the songs mean whatever they want them to mean, like the majority of fandoms do. So they’ll say “that’s a beautiful message,” no matter what the message actually is.

I don’t know how they’ll end it. They’ve always stopped short of a resolution. They go, “There is a problem (acknowledge it;) here’s how I feel about the problem; here’s what keeps me in the problem; and here’s how I’m crying out for help with the problem—“ but they’ve rarely, ever, said, “here’s how that cry for help is answered, definitely.” Taxi Cab and March to the Sea get the closest (of their “canon” stuff.) Everything else ends with the cry for help, never the answer. So, if I were to respond to “what do you think the answer will be, if they finally tell us about the answer?” I would say: they’ll point out that it has to be “Someone Outside Yourself, Who Knows You Better Than You Do, Answers the Cry For Help.” I hope the Torchbearer will, in some way, save Clancy. Even if it’s pulling his body out of the towers after he’s defeated so it can’t be seized. Some kind of saving. Because that’s what Taxi Cab and March end with; the spaceship takes Tyler up and shows him who to follow instead of the Dead Line, but he has to keep choosing that New Direction every day until the march is over. Or the Three Men hijack the hearse, pick the lock on his casket, and take the Dead Man to the Morning Sun. See, even when the Cry For Help is Answered By Someone Outside of Yourself, they end it on “but the journey isn’t over.” But at least there’s new direction in those songs, not the same old direction. Death-to-Life direction. I don’t know, though, and that’s what has me biting my nails.

About How I Think They’ll End It (Negative)

I don’t love thinking about this because my emotions are real tied up in whether they do or do not step out in faith. But I will point out that the worst-case scenario is, just to answer this question: the worst-case scenario is that Josh has decided there is no One True Faith and he’s into Eastern pagan religion that he associates with Christianity now, and Tyler has decided that whatever might be true about Christianity, the organized-religion Church is wrong about it all, starting with the LGBTQ+ stuff, and so he doesn’t know what’s right but he’s happy with that because it means he can keep “searching” and “imagining.” Like the “journey is the destination, we’ll never really know,” stuff. Which is not Christianity. It’s not true faith.

C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Because faith is focused on something bigger than and totally outside of yourself, yet real and knowable. Faith in “I dunno what it is, but there’s somethin big out there I guess I believe in, but we’ll never know what it truly is” is just a cheap disguise for “faith in my own understanding and control.” If you don’t know exactly what the object of your faith is, then you can pick and choose the things you like out of vagueness. Whatever, I can make a post about that later.

But if that’s where they’re at—I am not enjoying thinking through this right now—then the thing that makes most logical-story-sense coming out of that mindset, to me, would be “Clancy becomes the new leader of the Bishops, but ushers in an era of sunshine and imagination instead of the cold bleak walls of the city. What they burn down is the organized-religion analogue aspects of DEMA.” I think that would be a super stupid way to end it but maybe.

That’s worst-case. I think second-worst case would be “the cycle continues.” Clancy wakes up in his old room, the Banditos are gone, the neon gravestones are glowing, and then he like looks down and sees a flower, indicating that the Banditos are still out there and he has the chance to re-start the cycle and do it all better this time… or give up based on the idea that nothing will ever be better. And we end on a twenty-one-pilots-esque “Pick One” ending. I think this is the most likely ending, because it’s not an ending at all, and it will keep the religious crowd and the secular crowd both happy. Plus, as far as the story describing Tyler’s wrestling match with doubt and dark thoughts? It would mean he gets to keep wrestling, which, I hate to say it, has produced lots of successful music so far. But you know what, so would a winner to the wrestling match, because truth is worth more than success.

Third-worst-case scenario—Clancy “dies,” taking down the Towers of Silence with him. And all the Glorious Gone zombies fall over Phantom-Menace-style, leaving battered Banditos standing. And they live to fight another day; Nico is still out there, probably ready to seize and rebuild; but the Torchbearer goes to Clancy’s body and looks somber and takes the mask off of him and carries it away, or some other type of nod to that old performance of Time to Say Goodbye—but the point is it’ll end with the idea that Clancy goes on, but “Clancy” was always a character, an idea, a belief, that anybody can embody if they’re willing to sacrifice themselves so that others can get their focus off of Dark Thoughts. You know, kind of like how Tyler Joseph gets them to focus their ability-to-hurt-myself-energy on him, as a performer, instead of on themselves (Guns for Hands.) This is semi-fine because it’s about some form of self-sacrifice, but I don’t like that the emphasis is on “if I just sacrifice myself for the hope that things can get better, it’ll somehow help people, even if I don’t know what the Hope is.” It would obviously be better if someone outside of Clancy brings about the resolution to Clancy’s story.

FOURTH-worst case scenario—as in, the least bad of all of them—Clancy fights and wins against Nico by using his ability to “seize” Nico, and burns down the towers, and dies or disappears doing it. This is good because Nico dies, and good because of self-sacrifice, and cool because he uses “seizing” his Dark-Self-Focus and puppetting it, rather than letting it puppet him, is very close to what they’ve always been saying: the Biblical Idea of Taking Your Thoughts Captive, and using art as an introspection-weapon. BUT it’s bad, because then it makes Music the Savior, in a sense.

I wish they would end it like this:

Clancy is seized by Nico, who pilots Clancy’s body over to the window of the tower and shows the Banditos, fighting, that their hero has been defeated and is being used. It’s super disheartening, because the implication is maybe this was always going to happen, Clancy was never going to escape, or worse, Nico knew the plan and it was always doomed to fail, because somehow Clancy was always under his power, and Clancy is doing some kind of demonic dance or demonstration with yellow eyes showing that he’s nothing but Nico’s vessel now—but Clancy’s still fighting Nico’s control, on the inside, mentally. (In a music video I guess they could cut-away, between what’s happening outside of Clancy’s head as Nico shows the Banditos that he’s been defeated, and then cut-away to Tyler singing and fighting a battle in Clancy’s mind, trying to re-take control.) But Clancy’s losing the mental fight, too. He just manages to get a kind of moment of control back—maybe his eyes go back to being their normal color instead of seized-yellow—and he basically does this as a cry for help. Then Nico takes over again.

Clancy is seized, he can’t save himself, he’s tried everything and followed the plan of the Banditos up until this point…and it didn’t matter. This defeat is where it’s led. He’s overpowered, seized, back in the same grip of the Bishops, and the Banditos could look, lose heart, and be disheartened, and lose, even after all this work. So he’s managing to fight off Nico just long enough to get that “I CAN’T DO IT” message to the Torchbearer. And the Torchbearer understands. Because he’s not down there on the ground with the Banditos. He’s up in the tower with Nico and Clancy, and has been all along, and now that Clancy flashes the help-I’m-in-here-but-I-can’t-do-it message through his eyes or however they want to do it—THEN Torchbearer saves the day. I don’t much care how, as long as Torchbearer saves the day. I think the best way for him to do it would be to straight-up kill Clancy and that kills Nico. Because they were always connected. And then it seems sad, like Clancy was always going to be the sacrifice, as DEMA burns up. But then at the last second in the music video (or however they end it) he opens his eyes, and the Torchbearer helps him up. And the Clancy mask is burning along with Nico’s robes in the background, something like that. Because if Nico is Self-Focus (which leads to anxiety, depression, and most of all insecurity) then Self-Sacrifice, death of the Self, so that you stop considering yourself so much, is the only cure. And we both know only Jesus can kill your old self and raise you up a new creation.

But they don’t have to do it exactly like that. Torchbearer could beat the Nico out of Clancy, like Jenna Joseph does in the Tear in My Heart music video. That would be acceptable, because it would go with the idea of “Someone Outside of You Who Loves You Despite Your Imperfections Can Beat Your Insecurity About the Imperfections Out of You.” You see, the reason I want Nico to seize Clancy is because this whole time, Clancy has been relying on his ability to seize the bad guys as a method of defeating them.

Using Music, getting inside your darkness and then making it work for you, is the closest twenty one pilots has ever gotten to a functional-savior in their story. But the truth is that only works for a moment. It’s just a bandaid solution. Music can help you see what’s wrong, and help you feel control over what’s wrong by virtue of understanding it and making it work for you…but then eventually, you know what happens? The thing you’ve created becomes what you place your faith in, and then it has power over you.

But in like layman’s terms I guess you could just say: “Boy Feels Darkness -> Instead of Giving in to Darkness, Boy Makes Music About His Darkness -> Darkness Works for the Boy; Others Hear and Like the Music -> Darkness Appears to be Controlled by the Boy as a Way to Connect, Inspire, and Be Successful -> Boy Can’t Stop Focusing on Darkness or Writing About Darkness, Because That’s What Made Him Famous -> The Darkness is Not Defeated, and It’s More a Part of His Identity Than Ever. Who Is He Without The Darkness, Now? It’s Not Gone, and It’s In Charge”

You see? I know I’m saying it five different ways but at this point I’m wishing I was saying it to him.

Demons don’t care if you think they’re powerful, or if you think they’re powerless. They just care that you’re not thinking rightly about them, either way. It’s not “Ignore the Darkness,” and it’s not “Make Everything About the Darkness,” either. It’s “There is Darkness, and it is powerful, and acknowledging that just makes the LIGHT LOOK EVEN MORE POWERFUL.”

So Nico has to seize him. When all along he thought he’d be doing the controlling. And then someone from the outside has to save him.

What do I think the strengths have been?

The idea of seizing. That is so good and perfect. Because creativity is what gives Clancy the ability to seize, but it’s not a perfect solution. The Bishops can use that, too—and guess what, they did, they used Scaled & Icy.

Even Trash the Dragon, who was supposed to represent limitless imagination, is the symbol of that Bishop-Propaganda album—which is interesting, because it makes limitless imagination look like a bad thing, if it’s being used by the bad guys. But also, it’s dead, because the dragon was able to be seized, meaning it was a corpse. So Limitless Imagination was dead all along? Oh but wait, its corpse can still be used—by Keons, who is a bad guy? No, because he betrayed the other bad guys and freed Clancy using Creativity to Revive Limitless Imagination for one specific purpose. And if it’s for one specific purpose, then it’s not limitless. Imagination shouldn’t be limitless, or else you can imagine you’re worthless. It should be used for one specific purpose instead—setting you free from the bad thoughts. UUUUGH that’s so good.

And the contrast between Natural Light (fire, which also happens to be destructive and can get out of human control) and Man-Made Light (neon, which is stale, sterile, and totally under human control.) Goes perfectly with the contrast between a wild, green continent called Trench—and a lifeless, concrete, circular (cyclical) city made by man.

Plus, of course, Torchbearer. Torchbearer being three-and-one. Torchbearer being the leader of a group who wear yellow, a color the bad guys cannot see—and he’s also only able to be seen by Clancy when Clancy’s imprisoned. But sometimes he’s not seen by Clancy and Clancy doubts. But ultimately Torchbearer has always been with Clancy, and always had a plan, and even the Bishops can’t escape being made part of his plan. Torchbearer having an X that lands over his heart made of yellow tape—which looks like a tilted cross. Torchbearer having tape wrapped around the knee where Josh Dun has Tyler Joseph’s name tattooed. Torchbearer having a yellow bandanna that covers his face in the same division mirroring where the Bishops have black smeared.

Also, the fact that Clancy, as a character, is never sure what’s going on. When the whole story is about trying to decide where to go, and why. It’s about a journey and whether or not the destination is worth it. And the main character himself wrestles with that so constantly. He doesn’t know if the Torchbearer’s plan is going to work. He doesn’t know if the Bishops are really all bad, or if the safety they provide makes up for it. He doesn’t know if he’s having dreams or if he’s somehow seizing vultures and seeing real things. He doesn’t know if he wants to leave the city, or stay—and when he figures that out, he doesn’t know how any of this could’ve been planned. He;s constantly trying to separate the good from the bad and figure out which side he’s on, where the attacks are coming from. That’s his whole character.

Polarize is taking your disguises Separating 'em, splitting 'em up from wrong and right It's deciding where to die and deciding where to fight Deny, deny, denial

Domingo en fuego I think I lost my halo I don't know where you are You'll have to come and find me, find me

I'm navigating, I'm navigating my head Give me some advice I am wasting all this time My, oh my Don't know how long it's been My, oh my

And then on the other side? Torchbearer’s role is to guide? They're the perfect pair. Clancy never knows what’s real or not real, what’s going to work or not work, who’s right or wrong, or even what his role is. The world is a dark map and he can’t find himself in the “You Are Here” Dot. But TORCHBEARER lights the way.

Biggest weaknesses in the Clancy Story?

I don’t know because I’m not sure what the Point is yet. I could try to pick apart where the story isn’t doing well with “form” (everything used to deliver the point, the mood, the character design, the pacing, the dialogue, all that) but this is a story embedded in a series of albums and music videos and lots of mixed media. So it’s told in basically the most engaging way it can be told, it’s genius, I have noticed no weaknesses.

…unless you want to say, “the story is too unclear and vague; you can’t understand what they’re trying to say because they’re not really saying anything.” You could make an argument for that. I would be able to pick that argument apart more easily than I would be able to make that argument, though.

Endings mean concluding. Conclusions mean a Point. You can’t end a story without revealing whether or not you had a point. So we’ll find out, I guess!

What Are My Question Marks?

What’s going on with Keons? I can’t figure out Keons at all. I can’t figure out why Keons betrayed the other bishops, what led to that, how he’s connected to Ned.

What’s the Car representing? The car at the beginning of Heavydirtysoul and Jumpsuit—it’s burning onstage for the whole Trench era. It’s a Cadillac, it looks like a charred up version of the one from the No Phun Intended album, so is it supposed to represent a former mindset? It keeps recurring, so it means something, I just haven’t figured out what. The closest I get is “that’s the music, or how he used to use the music.” But I’m not sure.

What does the smearing have to do with the Glorious Gone? The letters make it sound like it’s just for dead people, but Clancy’s been smeared in the music video for Levitate and in Jumpsuit. Am I supposed to believe he was dead all along and being seized by someone this entire time? If that’s the case, he hasn’t been aware of that, according to his letters.

Who was Clancy talking about in that one letter when he was captured by the Bishops and said “He was never there, I would have felt him?”

Above all, what does Tyler think of God now? Where’s he at in his faith? Is he still struggling with the same stuff I am or is it a different blend?

I think that’s all for now.

[beatboxing-puppy]

saw some posts on this website discussing what sort of videogames the dunmeshi characters would play and i think everyone is wrong. everyone is wrong except for me so im going to spell out exactly who plays what. putting it under a read more because im going on a damn tangent.

Laios: He's not a gamer he does not play games on purpose he will only ever play video games when his friends ask him to join them in their multiplayer things. One day tho Falin told him about Monster Hunter and now thats the only thing he plays aside from Spore and he has sunk countless hours into that damn game. Also he probably has played Some pokemon but he doesnt like PLAYING it he just likes it in concept he knows the name of all the pokemon

marcille: people keep saying she would be a cosy gamer playing animal crossing and stardew and other cute games ^-^ its so lalalaaaa NO!!!!!!! no she does not. Marcille plays games that stress her out on purpose marcille plays overwhelming micromanagey games like lobotomy corporation and rimworld and etc. She also likes games with deep lore and mysteries to discover. The only thing that doesn't fit in this category that she plays is Minecraft shes always in there CREATIVE MODE building virtual dungeons and other crazy shit. Also she plays on her work laptop with trackpad ok

Chilchuck: This one is for me. This one im just basing off my own dad ok. Chilchuck used to be a hardcore gamer in his youth but specifically he was playing stuff like world of warcraft and old school runescape he had really big setups so he could run several instances of the game at once on all his alt accounts so he could beat a boss by himself and he was really good at it. But then he had kids and didnt have time for this sort of thing so he stopped playing videogames aside from occasionally helping his daughters beat a super hard mario level. Later in life he probably discovered some shitty little low-commitment phone game like pokemon go or pikmin bloom or some daily sudoku puzzle thing and he plays it every day but its not that big a deal. He has been pressured by his friends and daughters to make a roblox account but he hasnt played it at all.

Senshi: THIS guy is the one that plays animal crossing. He logs in when he can but hes not on that every day grind. Also he doesnt play the newest one he doesnt play horizons he plays one of the DS ones. Wild world probably. He either doesn't like or doesn't know about the nintendo switch. Whenever one of his villagers say that they want to leave he'll nod solemnly and say smth like "Well... I suppose it'd be selfish to ask ye to stay, friend... Just promise me you'll stay safe and never forget me... Go and explore the world. Wish ye the best." Plus his island would be covered in weeds. He also has some mobile games he enjoys angry birds and candy crush and crosswords (gotta keep the brain in shape!) but other than that he doesn't videogame much because he prefers board games and tabletop stuff he isnt too jazzed about all this modern technology plus a console or a laptop and all that gaming equipment is a lot to lug around and hes a nomad he would NOT have that shit

Falin: Now FALIN is the cosy gamer. kind of. Falin plays animal crossing new horizons sometimes and has fun making a bad island on purpose. Very mildly "bad" tho the worst she'll do is use the drawing feature to hide a giant penis on the beach or whatever. Or she'll give her villagers silly outfits. She also plays minecraft (either skyblock or she makes a new world and explores and builds a couple houses and then forgets about it and makes another new world) and roblox (likes 'trolling' strangers by dressing up funny and acting kind of strange in roleplay servers but she's never actually mean or anything.) But the big thing she likes is story-driven indie rpgmaker games. She's the person who will say shit like "Yeah I played Blums Booglies the quest for Big Dinners and it was so good I cried for 9 hours" completely unironically.

kabru: social gamer like laios but the games he plays on purpose are the sims (he likes to cause them problems) and online multiplayer games (he likes to peoplewatch). I can also see him doing absurd and tortrous challenge runs of games like No items no pokecenter one type hardcore nuzlockes. im correct

izutsumi: ACTUALLY trolls people on roblox. And she plays needlessly gory flash games. Maybe she calls people dumbfucks over valorant voice chat sometimes