#im sorry I am not tagging everyone here

[ya-boi-alex]

Some WIPs that I'll never finish sadly. If anything, maybe I'll redraw some of them one day. Artstyle changes n all

[honeyhobbs]

I never get tired of drawing his face it's so fun

[taio-kyo]

Ultrakill brainrot doodles because tomorrow is my bday and I'm allowed to indulge :]

S-0 scares me.

[gncrezan]

thoroughly enjoying @infamous-if so here's sketchdump of my post-read doodles before i run through it once again!!!!!!!!!

[lovesickeros]

can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞

☆ affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina

[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]

× yelan

Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.

Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.

She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.

Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.

"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.

"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"

× ei

Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.

..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE

Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.

She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.

But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.

Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.

"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"

She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.

Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.

Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.

× furina

Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.

Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.

Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).

She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!

Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.

Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.

"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."

The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.

"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!

..Maybe a little.

"Just warn me next time, please?"

[smilebug]

alright call me crazy but. how do folks feel about an android wall-e jesskas au

[hobgobbin]

Opinions on the God of War men

[starpirateee]

www.tumblr.com/sleepless-in-starbucks/744084849385766912/guy-whos-stuck-in-a-timeloop-for-so-long-he-stops UHHHH this is so Ted coded to me. do what you want with it :3

Oh wow, yeah, that is an awesome prompt, I'm so behind that! hope you like what I did with it :)

Every day was the same. Ted realised that some weeks in, when history literally started to repeat itself. People started having the same conversations with him, and he started picking up on the ways to respond that didn’t end in a spiral of confusion.

He was dead. He thought he’d figured out that much.

Over the last days, his mind had started piecing itself together, and he came to realise what was happening, bit by gruelling bit. In the morning, he awoke in pain. Sometimes in his neck, most of the time in his chest. The worst of them kept him pinned for a while before he could force himself to work through them. That was the first thing he wondered about. Where the pain had come from, and how he could go about stopping it.

The day the flashes started was the day he truly realised that he may be dead. That this was no more than a sick, twisted purgatory, designed around what used to be his day-to-day.

The flashes came much without warning, and they were the only thing that was different about the endless repeat of the day. The environment around him was strangely pristine, but the flashes showed him the mess swept under the carpet. Death. Rebirth. A knife, dripping in blood.

Every time, he was just trying to get by, to ignore everything that was the same. Maybe he was trying to get lunch, or taking a break on a bench somewhere. Every time, the world would flicker like a dodgy bulb in a subway station, and he was once again faced with the blood, the death, the unexplainable pain.

Eventually, even that became something he got used to. 

After that, he stopped trying to fight the loop. If every day was going to be some flavour of the same thing, then he was just going to roll with it. It always took less effort to resist than to fight, after all, and this pristine nothing world where nobody ever experienced anything new wasn’t… So bad, all things considered.

“Are you fucking crazy? You’ve been saying that for a week now, what the hell’s going on?”

“A week? What're you talking about?”

Ted became an expert on hiding his fear, Those few weeks of being trapped in this endless hell began melting into days he’d long since lost the energy to care about. He stopped counting after about four and a half weeks. His mind lost the capacity to keep track at some point, and he never bothered to try and get it back. Every day he counted felt more like another line scraped into the wall of a prison cell. A pointless count for an exit that would never come.

Death row felt a lot different when the only conclusion was that he’d died a long time ago.

It got to the point where the only thing that changed at all was the colour of Ted’s ensemble. Blue shirt. Grey trousers. Brown trousers. Olive shirt. A collection of vaguely hideous ties, one after the other and then over again.

He kept track of things that way. No matter where he crashed or fell asleep at the end of the day, he always woke up to the shrill tones of his alarm, in his bed, with more of the same awaiting him. The only memories he could keep track of were associated with what he wore. That shirt was the one he got drunk in when he realised he was trapped. Those shoes were the ones that he’d ran from a swarm of angry wasps in, after he’d kicked their tree enough times to piss them off. 

Those tiny changes were the only ones that mattered anymore. Needless to say, he was scared, at least for a while. Even after he stopped trying to escape. Knowing that every day was going to start at exactly the same time, with the same pain like he’d been killed the night before… It was nothing short of daunting.

That’s why he’d hid it. He went about his day like it was the most normal thing in the world. He tried to keep on his mind on the inconsistencies, though they were getting fewer and fewer by the day. One day, he became convinced that there wasn't anything to take note of, that there was no difference in the world.

That didn't make sense to him. Finding the inconsistencies became something of a hobby, and he found some kind of enjoyment in it. Whatever had done this to him had started... Working him out, to say the least. Figuring out that he was looking for something out of the ordinary.

Soon enough, there was only one thing left.

Every day, when he tried to go about his business, there was one man who seemed to be in a different place every time he noticed him. A homeless man, someone he'd normally expect to be in the same place at the same time. But, sometimes, he wasn't there at all, and that confused him more than anything could describe. If everything was supposed to be the same, then why was this strange homeless dude the exception?

No matter what the answer was, he became the only inconsistency in this neverending loop. And that made Ted all the more curious. The next time he managed to catch him, he stopped and made it incredibly obvious that he wasn't going to move until he got some answers. For extra effect, because ‘dramatic bastard’ should've been written on his résumé, he leaned back against the closest wall and folded his arms.

"Hey. You."

The man looked up blearily, and when he realised who was waiting for him- who that voice belonged to- his eyes went wide. "It's you..."

Ted raised an eyebrow. He wasn't quite sure whether he looked like he meant business, but he sure felt like it. "Listen, I've got a question, man." His eyes darted over the stranger. There was a huge part of him saying this guy was just like all the others, he was stuck in the same loop, and this question wouldn't make any fucking sense. But at this point, he couldn't care less what he said, who was listening, or what this random guy would think of him.

After all, it wasn't like any of it actually mattered in the long run. He'd only forget by the time the day reset anyway... "You know something, don't you? About what's going on here?"

He was fully expecting the homeless man to ask for clarification, or to straight up ignore him, but instead, he leaned forwards and seemed to stare into his soul through his body. His eyes glittered with an almost golden hue as the early morning light flooded into the opening of the alleyway they were conversing in. Ted almost felt like shivering. Something wasn't right here...

"You're different," he muttered, in a kind of voice that made Ted believe he hadn't said a word to anyone in years. "You're different, and I think you know it."

"Nah, I'm just like anyone else." But saying that had given him pause for thought. What if he was the same as everyone else? what if they were all experiencing exactly the same thing, but they'd all learned the script by now? His eyes narrowed as he forced himself not to think of that. "What about you, eh? You're not-"

"D'you think I don't know? That I can't... recognise it? You are different. Not like them. You're stuck."

Ted froze. His eyes went wide. For a moment, the world scratched like a broken record, and everything seemed to stop. He knew. This guy knew what was happening to him. Why? And why him?

"... I-I don't know what you're talking about."

The stranger's lips curled into something vaguely reminiscent of a smile. "I can see it on you... And I think you know what I mean."

He did. He just didn't want to admit it. Vague as this man was being, what he was saying did make sense to some degree. He scoffed, trying to act like that hadn't struck a chord and made his heart start racing. "You must be crazy if you think I'm gonna buy that..."

"You'll see."

The next day, just to throw Ted right off the accusatory path, the homeless man was in exactly the same place. 

Maybe he had been imagining seeing him at different times in different places. Why would he be? Clearly he was just like anyone else, and Ted truly was alone in this reality.

The way they'd talked yesterday almost gave him the sense to see otherwise. It seemed at the time like he knew things nobody else did, that he could give him answers to the multitude of questions racing around his head. 

But evidently, Ted was the crazy one here.

"Hello again.."

That voice- his voice- drew him back to the present. He stopped in his tracks and turned his gaze towards where the voice had come from.

"Wh- again? But I- you're-" he didn't know how to explain the fact that he couldn't feel anything other than relief upon finding out he wasn't the only one. So he cut himself short so to not sound like an idiot.

"I told you, didn't I? I'd recognise it anywhere... You don't look the same as you did last time."

And it was true. His appearance was the only thing he could control, so he did. Even then, it was only some things. A constant repeat of the same day meant that his hair didn't grow, that he never needed to shave... There wasn't a lot that was actually in his control, but god did he take what he could, when he could.

He blinked, trying desperately not to stare at the homeless man. "How the hell d'you know that?"

"This is your loop," he shrugged, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to say. "But, you've never been the only one stuck."

"What, you too, huh? You're stuck here in this endless fuck up too?" For some reason, he took an interest to that. In some twisted way, it was kind of relieving to find someone else. But apparently, this was his loop, so logic would determine that it was his fault. He'd never thought about that before...

"Yes. Maybe... Well, I could be."

"You... Could be?"

"You could go. I could take your place."

"I'm not following. What the hell are you saying?"

"I'm saying you could go live again. Don't you want that?"

The homeless man shifted, pulled himself into standing, and looked Ted in the eye. They were exactly the same height, down to the last inch. Looking at him this way, Ted came to realise that they could almost pass for the same person, if someone didn't bother looking too hard. Besides the obvious difference in eye colour, there wasn't a lot between them at all.

He ran a hand through his hair. He had come to pretty much get used to the repetition of everything, and besides, it had been a long time since he last saw a... Wednesday? Thursday? What day was it even supposed to be right now? "I dunno..."

His attention was turned when the man grabbed his arm, looking at him with desperation shining in his eyes. "Listen, I don't wanna go back... I can't. You gotta say yes, man- you gotta!" 

"Huh? Why?"

There wasn't a coherent answer to that question. Ted stared into those golden depths for what felt like a long time, and when his expression didn't falter in the slightest, he sighed. "I don't even know how you'd do that... I tried to get out for, like, two weeks straight, and I couldn't do shit."

"You can't escape by yourself. He'd notice."

"He? Who?"

"... That doesn't matter. You have a chance now, you could get away. Take it."

"What, and you're just gonna take my place?"

This apparently most obvious of questions earned him an enthusiastic nod, but no further clarification on how he was going to go about that. He sized him up again, wondering just how they'd managed to go about their lives as two completely different people who looked that similar. 

There had to be a good ten years or more between them, and yet, it almost felt like he was looking in a mirror. The stranger's age showed in a far more obvious way: thick silver streaks peppered his long hair, and despite the unnatural golden shine in his eyes, they were slightly dim, to the point that Ted could clearly imagine what they looked like when he was his age.

"Sure," he resigned eventually, deciding he didn't have the energy to fight, or to question what the hell the golden eyed man was talking about. "If you can actually do that, then what the hell? Might as well make it interesting, huh?"

The grip on his arm was loosened. Instead, the stranger offered his hand out. Ted hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then took his hand to seal the deal. He was still highly sceptical, but he supposed this had gotten strange when this man recognised him for a second time. Nobody had gone that far yet, so for him to call him out for looking different... That was practically unheard of. He'd been so used to this place having a script that an indication of anything else threw him.

Did he know to trust the golden eyed stranger? Could he trust that it wouldn't just land him in exactly the same position the next time he woke up? At this point, did it even matter whether he did or not?

He decided to put this to the test. That night, he scribbled the first thing he could think of onto a post it note, and left it on the mirror in his bathroom. If the timeline did reset, then that note would be gone. That's how this worked, right? 

Part of him refused to believe it would work. He was sceptical, maybe a little broken too. Everything had been the same for so long, he physically couldn't comprehend a world where the days moved on, when the linear frame of time was stretched out in front of him again. All things considered, this hadn't been so bad! At least it wasn't 2004...

Chance made Ted fortunate that night. When he woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was check the bathroom for his post it note. Immediately, he noticed it wasn't on the mirror, and his first thought was that whichever deal he made the previous afternoon hadn't followed through, that he'd simply been enticed by the unnatural colour in the stranger's eyes. Then, he noticed a flash of yellow in the corner of his vision, and he slowly turned towards it. Sure enough, on the ground by the sink, was the note he'd left himself yesterday.

Funny, he swore he'd written on a green note yesterday...

He was probably just imagining things.

He gathered up the note, crushing it in his fist, and dropped it into the bin as he made his way to the kitchen. If he'd have bothered to pay attention, he would've noticed that his note had been green, and that the yellow note left in his bathroom wasn't even written in his hand. But Ted had never noticed details before, and today was not the day he was going to start.

Right now, his mind was occupied with more important things, like the fact that it was now Friday, and after several weeks of exactly the same Thursday, that was a refreshing thing to think about. His phone finally displayed a different date. That pain in his chest awas nothing more than a memory. He could actually feel the way things had moved on.

His first thought wasn't that of relief, nor was it delight. The first thing he felt when he realised that he had moved on with the world was dread.

Nobody he knew was even aware of the situation he'd been trapped in for weeks on end. They had lived the previous day once, spoken to him once. He'd gone over and over exactly the same conversations more times than he cared to count, and knew every word by heart. 

Before he'd made that deal, he hadn't thought about what being forced back into normality would do to him. He hadn't thought about the nervous tension that would refuse to subside from his shoulders, or the way his thoughts would race to the same tune as his heart, or the fact that he would feel so out of place, even in his own apartment.

That feeling only worsened on the way to the office. It was like someone had planted a brick against his chest, and he was just supposed to continue on with his day without acknowledging that there was a brick on his chest. Every breath felt like it was going to induce another brick, and it was too warm of a day to excuse that shiver that racked his senses and made his hands shake uncontrollably. 

He shoved them in his pockets and bit his lip. Not today. Not on the day the things were finally starting to get a little more normal. Not on the first Friday in two and a half months...

"God, Ted, what happened to you? You look like you're gonna have a breakdown..."

Paul's voice was way too familiar. In part, that was a good thing. He'd known Paul for ages, that hadn't changed in his time away. But for such a long time, the first thing he'd said had been something so completely different. Ted hated this already, and he'd only actually been in the office for fifteen minutes...

There had been a point where he'd perfected this. He'd known exactly what to say at any given moment, but now? Now it was just him and the broken memory of what he'd done to himself, and how far detached he was from reality. 

He faltered. Jesus, how pathetic did he look right now? It was just a question! It didn't even need a long answer! 

Paul's brow furrowed. How long had it been since he'd said anything? Why hadn't he said anything? It couldn't be that hard! 

"No, I'm- I'm fine, Paul."

Oh yeah. Paul was gonna believe that, wasn't he?

"This about yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" There had been endless yesterdays. Which yesterday was he talking about? Of course, there had only been one for him, but which one? Which one was the real yesterday?

"Mhm, you came in telling Bill you'd had the strangest conversation with some guy near your apartment block, and then you didn't say anything else..."

Huh. 

That actually had been yesterday... 

This, he could work with. 

It was a little easier to remember than something that happened right at the beginnning of the loop, that was for sure. A little of the tension relieved itself from his chest, and he heaved an audible sigh that he was sure was noticeable.

"Yeah, no, that guy was weird as fuck... Dunno, I see him all the time, but he managed to pull me yesterday." It had sunk in deep. Not a word of what he'd said had made sense, but he'd be damned before he tried to explain that to Paul of all people. Normal Paul Matthews didn't know the meaning of 'off the cuff'...

"What was so bad about it? I mean, you look like you're on the verge of a panic attack."

"Don't worry about it," he answered brusquely, and momentarily, Paul stopped in his tracks. Ted pressed his lips together and refused to elaborate further. There was no need to elaborate on something that made that little sense anyway. He didn't have to tell Paul anything, but especially not about the homeless man he'd spoken to who'd apparently taken his place in that strange loop.

It was exactly the same all day. Ted stopped bordering on a panic attack at some point when the conversations became less and less predictable, and just started having one. The longer the day went on, the worse he felt. 

He'd been right. He'd been absolutely right. Returning to reality had been the worst of it. He knew he should've never made that deal! Who cared if tomorrow never came? He certainly didn't! The predictability was great, knowing the next step was one of the perks!

Those closest to his office in the middle of the day would swear they heard him break down into a fit of sobs directly behind the door. None of them would be able to say for certain whether or not that was the case, but one of them had dared to get close enough, and heard the poor bastard muttering to himself through gasps of breath.

"I wanna go back. I- fuck- I can't take this shit anymore!"

He knew better than anyone that there was no going back. Not for him. Not anymore.

[gncrezan]

tagged in a wip whenever by @night-triumphantt !!!! i am not even working on any big piece so you get a collection of the dragon age sketching i'm doing on different layers, trying to figure my rook out and learning how to draw lucanis who against my will has enchanted me actually

not tagging anyone but pleaase feel free to do it if you like!!!

[ajdrawshq]

i can almost guarantee ive said it before but. he would thrive in a zero escape game

[megatraven]

hi my friends!!!!!!!!!! i love you :]

[vigilbutts]

i've been silently stewing on this for A While in my little corner but i wish this community would participate in the "send an ask to the person you reblog this ask meme from" thing that other rp communities do on this site. there's been a number of people i've heard from or noticed being bummed about getting few or no asks for these memes within the gw2 tumblr community, and like... maybe as a community we should go back to following that little rule? just something to consider, perhaps.

IF YOU ALREADY DO THIS OR NEVER STOPPED DOING THIS! THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE! I HOPE YOU GET MANY ASKS! 🥰💕

[dailydegurechaff]

You don't have to reply to this, but I am very happy to stumble across a non-problematic Youjo Senki fanpage. 💖

Thank you very much!! I'll continue to do my best!

[im-still-watching-anime]

one piece is crazy fr like what do you mean you’re following up Everyone’s Dead™️ with Objectifying Women: The Arc™️

[mcybree]

Im doing a lot of thinking abt why roleplaying feels different/less natural for me in beastlife s4 in comparison to s3, and i think it’s because there’s ways i know i should be feeling (based on the perception of my character— when i was fresh out of s2 nobody knew enough about my guy to have opinions) vs how i am feeling. I’m catching myself thinking, “it wouldn’t make sense for my character to [blank],” and it’s like… what do i mean by that. what do i mean that this feeling im having in-session “wouldnt make sense for my character” to feel? It might be surprising to other beasts who know me for one thing and expect consistency, i guess?? but in s3 i just acted on feelings and then shit happened. what. why am i trying to enforce a character that does not exist when the strength of mcrp lies in its improvisational nature. I didn’t write this guy on purpose, why am i trying to write him now

[nohrslittleflower]

attention; or lack thereof,

Cute little ball drabble? Wrong. Pipe bomb.

Growing up, Elise had only ever wanted one thing.

She runs through the castle halls, giggling as ever, throwing the door to her mother’s room open eagerly. Her mouth opens, hands lifted to present her mother with her newest creation, but not even air escapes before she’s halted. “Elise, please. My head…” Her mother winces, and her eagerness fades. 

“O-Oh. Sorry, mother…” Her smile falls to an expression of guilt, and her hands lower alongside, gift still clasped tightly within them. Though the momentary glint of the gift from its second in the light doesn’t go unnoticed by her mother, who sits up to mention it. “Is that a necklace?”Elise lights up once more, scrambling over to her mother’s bedside so that her mother can take the carefully crafted necklace from her hands. “Y-Yeah! I made—“ “It’s from King Garon, isn’t it?”

Her mother hums, snatching the necklace from her hands and holding it up to the light as she watches the reflection off of each and every one of the mismatched gems, each chosen without an overall symmetry in mind. Only chosen because the little princess had thought her mother might like them. “Hm. Not the prettiest thing, but it’s that thought that counts. And that means he was thinking of me! Oh, Elise, isn’t it wonderful? He does care!”

She feels like she’s been punched. But at least her mother is in a good mood! That’s what matters! Maybe she’ll feel well enough to listen, just for a minute...! “So… since I delivered it, can you play with me? I thought of this great new game— you wouldn’t even have to get out of bed! We can just—“

“Later, Elise.” But later never comes.

“I don’t feel well today, Elise.” But she says that every day.

She tries to be understanding. She knows her mother is sick, it’s not her fault. So all she can do is try. Try to help. Try to get her mother everything she can think she might need before even the nurses can, hoping only to hear a semblance of ‘good job, Elise’. Try to be a constant source of positivity, to cheer her up, so her mother doesn’t feel any worse.

Try to learn healing magic, in hopes that maybe, just maybe she’ll be good enough one day to heal her mother.

And maybe, just maybe, she’ll tell her she’s proud of her.

She looks down, backing away from her mother’s bedside. It’s stupid to cry over this. It doesn’t matter. She just doesn’t feel good, it’s not her fault. She can try again tomorrow. “…okay…” The door clicks shut.

When the day comes that her mother weakens to the point of no return, when she’s finally allowed close enough for long enough to hold her mother’s hand. Something she’d hoped for for so long, yet now that she has it a choked sob of “Mother….” Is all she can manage. A silent plea of ‘look at me’, of ‘pay attention to me’. A silent cry of ‘love me’. 

Her mother’s voice speaks, quietly and weakly, but Elise hears it as clearly as if it were the loudest scream. “…where’s…” The princess’s head perks up, eyes filled with the light of hope that flickers to life in her heart. ‘My baby’? ‘My daughter’? ‘My princess’? ‘Elise’? “…King Garon…?”

Her mother’s hand falls limp in her grasp. She’s shoved aside by all manner of adults the moment it happens, none taking even a moment to notice the silent tears of the little girl beside them. 

Growing up, all Elise had ever wanted was her mother’s attention.

But she’d never have it.