#it's blindiing your eyes

[bylertruth3r]

the show started with Nancy dating Steve and then she started having relationship problems with him (cuz she was in love with Jonathan) and s1 ended with her getting back together with him and in s2 she started dating Jonathan plus Byler has many parallels with Jancy and mleven has some parallels with stncy idk how y’all can't see that plus almost every couple in the show has been in a love triangle with someone else: Dustin, Lucas and Max. both Lucas and Dustin had a crush on her (but Dustin got over it and it was never mentioned again and they even gave him a gf in s3) and Lucas started dating Max. Steve, Jonathan and Nancy. Nancy dated Steve but she was unhappy cuz she was in love with Jonathan, Bob, Hopper and Joyce. Joyce dated Bob and you could tell Hopper was jealous about it cuz he was in love with her and in s4 Joyce started dating Hopper. notice how they all ended up with the second person? and guess what

 gf, Byers             bf(?), Byers               bf, Byers

oh and L*nnie and Hopper were in a love triangle with Joyce and she married L*nnie but now she’s with Hopper 

[dee-writes-anime]

Heroes Are People Too

FEATURING Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

SUMMARY You are sick and tired of people asking you and your boyfriend nosy questions without thinking about how they might affect you both.

CONTENT WARNINGS Bakugo being Bakugo, nosy reporters, protective Bakugo, fluff, angst (if you blink, you'll miss it)

AUTHORS NOTE I have had this one in the drafts for a while. I wasn't sure if I was going to post it because the reader is kinda cringe and I wasn't sure if people were going to like that, but screw it. Enjoy Bakugo being taken care of :)

The grand ballroom of the Hero Gala is alive with shimmering lights and the low hum of conversation, the glint of chandeliers reflecting off the crystal glasses and polished marble floors. The space is adorned in hues of gold and deep midnight blue, everything dripping with opulence—a fitting backdrop for the most prestigious heroes in the world, who stand at the center of attention tonight.

And among them, Katsuki Bakugo stands out like a flame in the night.

He's dressed sharply, his usual combat-ready expression softened slightly by the formal setting. His black tuxedo fits him perfectly, tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and muscular frame. The faintest glimmer of his cufflinks catches the light, subtle, understated but undeniably expensive—like everything about this night. His wild blonde hair is as untamable as ever, though there’s something different about him tonight. His usual edge feels slightly smoothed over, replaced with a sense of calm that’s rare to see in him.

Beside him, you walk hand in hand, the both of you a striking pair. The gown you wear flows effortlessly with your movements, soft fabric catching the light, the color complimenting you perfectly. It’s simple but elegant, chosen with care, not to outshine but to match the evening’s grandeur—and to blend seamlessly into Katsuki’s world.

The cameras flash the moment you step onto the red carpet, photographers and reporters calling out Katsuki's name, shouting over one another in an attempt to grab his attention. As the number two pro hero, his presence here is one of the most highly anticipated of the evening, and his explosive personality ensures that wherever he goes, eyes will follow.

But tonight, they aren’t just interested in him.

The moment they catch sight of your joined hands, the interest shifts. You're used to it by now—being the civilian partner of a hero of Bakugo’s caliber comes with its own set of challenges. The constant spotlight, the way people want to pry into the intimate details of your relationship, as if the world has a right to dissect your love just because he's a public figure. But tonight, you’re determined not to let it get to you.

Katsuki, always protective, tightens his grip on your hand slightly, and you glance up to see that his usual scowl has deepened, crimson eyes flicking over the crowd with barely-contained irritation. He’s never been a fan of these events, much less the prying eyes that come with them.

As you near the entrance, one of the more persistent reporters pushes their way forward, microphone thrust towards Bakugo’s face.

“Katsuki! Over here! A quick question about your relationship!” the reporter calls, their voice cutting through the murmur of the crowd.

Bakugo’s jaw clenches, and you can almost feel the surge of irritation roll off him in waves. But he stops, turning slightly to face the reporter, his free hand stuffed in his pocket in an attempt to maintain some semblance of composure.

“We’ve heard rumors about how difficult it is for pro heroes to maintain relationships with civilians,” the reporter continues, the camera hovering dangerously close. “How do the two of you navigate such a high-profile relationship, especially with your demanding schedule, Bakugo? And does it ever get difficult, knowing your partner is constantly at risk?”

Your heart skips a beat at the invasive question, the air suddenly thick with expectation. The flash of cameras feels blinding, the weight of dozens of eyes pressing down on you. It’s uncomfortable, invasive. This isn’t the first time you’ve been asked about the ‘difficulties’ of dating a pro hero, but tonight, with all the attention on both of you, it feels sharper, more personal.

Katsuki stiffens beside you, his fingers twitching slightly in your grasp. There’s a part of you that expects him to snap—he’s never been good at holding his temper, especially when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. But instead, he surprises you.

His gaze shifts from the reporter to you, and there’s a flash of something soft in his eyes, something that no camera could ever capture. It’s a look reserved solely for you, and in that moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.

“The hell kinda question is that?” he growls, voice low, controlled, though you can hear the edge beneath it. He takes a small step forward, his broad frame effectively shielding you from the cameras. “My relationship isn’t anyone’s damn business. If we’re happy, we’re happy. Doesn’t matter what job either of us have.”

The reporter, undeterred, presses on. “But surely the danger involved in your line of work adds a layer of complication—”

“I said it’s not your business,” Bakugo cuts in, his voice firm, final. There’s a warning in his tone, the kind that sends a ripple through the crowd. The camera shutters click faster, capturing every second of his growing irritation, but they don’t dare push further.

For a moment, the tension hangs heavy in the air, and you can feel the weight of Bakugo’s protectiveness settle over you. It’s not just anger driving him—it’s the way he shields you, the way he refuses to let anyone, not even the media, pry into the sacred space you two have built.

Gently, you tug on his arm, offering him a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” you murmur under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

He glances down at you, the fire in his eyes flickering, softening, and after a moment, he nods, letting out a breath. But you aren't done, you won't be silent when there is so much you have to say in defense of your explosive hero.

You know how much he hates this part, how protective he is of your privacy, and how much he wants to shield you from moments like these. But before he can respond, before the situation escalates even more, you take a small step forward, meeting the reporter’s gaze with a calm, steady expression.

“How does anyone navigate a relationship?” you ask, your voice even, though it carries an edge of firmness. The reporter blinks, momentarily thrown off by your composed response.

“I understand that because we see heroes risk their lives for us every day, there’s a fascination with how they spend their time off the job and who they spend it with. It’s natural to be curious. But just because heroes are in the spotlight doesn’t mean that other people don’t face similar challenges. Think about police officers, firefighters, or even paramedics—they all have families, people they care about, relationships they maintain. Their jobs are dangerous too, yet they go home at the end of the day, just like heroes, and their personal lives aren’t under the same kind of scrutiny.”

You glance around, aware of how many eyes are on you, but you don’t falter. This is your truth, and you want it to be heard.

“The question we need to ask ourselves,” you continue, voice steady but carrying a weight that demands attention, “isn’t how heroes manage to maintain their relationships. It’s why we push so hard to pry into those relationships in the first place, when we see real-life examples all around us. Heroes deserve privacy, just like anyone else. They deserve to have moments that are just for them, with the people they love, without the rest of the world looking in.”

The crowd falls quiet, the reporter’s microphone lowering slightly as they process your words. You feel Bakugo shift beside you, his hand still wrapped around yours, and when you glance up at him, there’s a flicker of pride in his eyes, though his scowl remains firmly in place. He stays silent, letting your words settle over the room.

For a brief moment, the flashes of the cameras slow, and the weight of the attention feels less oppressive. Your answer, thoughtful and composed, seems to resonate with the crowd, the previous tension dissolving into something more respectful.

Without another word, Katsuki steers you away from the throng of reporters, leading you inside the grand hall.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifts again, though the weight of the earlier confrontation lingers. The music is softer, the conversations more hushed, but even here, you can feel the eyes on you—curious glances from the other guests, some of whom are undoubtedly wondering about the exchange they just witnessed.

Katsuki pulls you aside, finding a quiet corner near one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the city stretches out beneath you, lights twinkling like stars against the dark sky. He turns to face you, and for a moment, you see the vulnerability he rarely shows anyone—the part of him that hates these events, that hates putting you in the spotlight just by association.

“You alright?” he asks, voice gruff but laced with concern.

You nod, your hand still in his. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You pause, giving him a playful nudge. “I’ve survived worse than a pushy reporter.”

His lips twitch into a smirk at that, but there’s still a tension in his shoulders, as if he’s holding back. “I hate when they ask that shit,” he mutters. “Like I’m not already doin’ everything I can to keep you safe.”

You squeeze his hand, pulling him a little closer. “I know you are,” you say softly. “And it doesn’t bother me. I’m with you because I want to be. I knew what I was getting into.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the gala falls away, leaving just the two of you standing in this quiet bubble. He’s always been fiercely protective of you, sometimes to a fault, but you love that about him. It’s part of what makes him who he is—the intensity, the passion, the way he loves with everything he has, even when he doesn’t have the words to express it.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, glancing away for a brief second before meeting your gaze again, “just... tell me if it gets too much. I don’t want you dealin’ with this crap alone.”

“I’m not alone,” you remind him, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’ve got you.”

His grip on your hand tightens, and for a moment, he lets out a breath, some of the tension finally releasing. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a silent gratitude that you’re here, standing by his side through all of it—through the chaos, the attention, the questions.

And in that moment, you know that no matter how many eyes are on you, how many questions are asked, or how many challenges you face as a civilian in a hero’s world, the two of you will navigate it together—side by side, hand in hand, with Katsuki always at your back, ready to face whatever comes next.

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ One-Sided Love: In Which, you realize Jinwoo was always for Hae-In ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 016 ✦ ┆・

‼️[tw: self-deprecation, depression, hanahaki disease, hurt, no-comfort, pure angst, death]‼️

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 1 || Part Two ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ That boy was your star; but she was his sun] ¡! ❞

You stood there motionless as your eyes watched Jinwoo embrace lips that weren't yours. He was kissing Hae-in with such love. You couldn't feel anything, you couldn't shed a tear nor could you say anything. You just stood there with an empty expression.

Of course he chose her, she was always in his mind, in his heart, beyond heavens and beyond the clouds. It was her.

You were only his friend, a temporary entertainment. A tool to kill time. Your laughs and smiles, as genuine as they were Jinwoo didn't care. He just listened to you because he never had the energy to push you away, so he let you be.

My god, he should've pushed you away. He should've ignored your existence. If he did, you wouldn't have given hope. You wouldn't have clung onto a sliver of faith that he might choose you. It would've been mercy if he had just pushed you away,... But he didn't.

Now here you are, dumbfoundedly glancing over the blossoming of pure love. He was smiling at her.

"Ah....He's Beautiful..." You thought to yourself as you watched those loving grey eyes that looked at her with such endearment, with such passion, with such love that you hoped would be towards you. But no, it wasn't.

Could you blame Jinwoo? No. No you couldn't. She was so vibrant after all, a blinding sunshine that anyone would've loved.

Unlike you, you who is useless. The gloomy, the stupid one, the delusional idiot who thought you could've had a chance.

You weren't even the unfortunate second lead. No, no, no. You are too arrogant to think so. You were never a choice to begin with.

So you turned on your heel and walked away. Did you cry behind closed doors? Did you scream your heart out that night? Did you scratch your skin? Did you bite your lip until it bled? Did you cry and cry until your eyes couldn't shed tears? Who cares.

Not Jinwoo, obviously. He has his Hae-in. Why would he care about your measly existence? The boy didn't even notice when you suddenly distanced yourself, when you suddenly cut off communication, when you stopped sharing your snacks with him, when you stopped greeting him good morning, when you suddenly go home without telling him goodbye. You just withdrew yourself, and he never batted an eye. He was too busy. You're not that important, you prick.

Petals would suddenly come out of your mouth, such pretty flowers stained with your disgusting blood. The crimson red liquid shines against such vibrant petals. You truly didn't deserve such kindness to be able to cough out such beautifully-miserable things.

Your heart would bleed everyday, it was so heavy and painful and it only fuels whenever you see Jinwoo with Hae-in. God did it hurt. But damnit was he so beautiful whenever he smiles so radiantly. The smile that you could never bring out of him, the twinkle in his eyes that never belonged to you. He was just so radiant, he was your star. You loved him like the ocean.

So with a blank smile, you truly embraced your existence as a ghost until you had separated for college. But despite that, your longing continues to sprout uncontrollably and soon enough you would be puking petals left and right. You tried to forget but really, you love him more than life itself.

You could have the petals removed, but in exchange you would lose your memories of him. You didn't want that. Every pretty smile of his, every chuckle he gave, every second you spent with him— You loved every single one of it. So you chose the hard path, you chose to endure.

Like the masochistic fool you were

You loved him so dangerously that you are blindingly throwing your life away. Humans were fools to begin with anyway. Justifying everything for the sake of so-called "Love" just for the hell of it.

And at the ripe age of 19, you died in your deathbed foolishly thinking 'It's all in the name of Love.' But at what cost?

At what cost did you sacrifice your life for a man who forgot about your existence the second you pulled away?

At what cost did you sacrifice your life for someone who never cared to begin with? Jinwoo didn't even remember your existence until Beru asked about you out of a whim.

Jinwoo did try contacting your number but to no avail, so to do it in an easy way. He used his powers that came with being a monarch. The darkness engulfed his body and transported to where you were.

Your Grave.

He stared blankly at your tombstone. Emotions he didn't know would spring up suddenly washed over him and all he could feel was despair as he thought about how you looked at your final days. Did anyone see you in your final moments? What were your last words? He could never know.

Jinwoo felt guilty. Guilty at how he just ignored you. But what would his guilt do? What would his pathetic apologies do?

So with a heavy heart, he disappeared again, and returned with a bouquet of flowers. The flowers you always talked about. The flowers that made you smile so radiantly.

It is his first, and his final gift to you.

The you who is no longer by his side. He bids you a farewell, a farewell he never thought he would do. For a friend.

"Goodbye, may your dreams be pleasant as you drift in purgatory. May your soul rest. I'm sorry."

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[runnning-outof-time]

Through the Night | John Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: John Shelby x reader

Summary: John and (Y/N) grapple with the struggle of getting their son to sleep through the night…amongst the other struggles that come along with parenthood.

Warnings: mentions of breastfeeding

Word Count: 2656

A/N: I’m finally back to writing requests! It was fun to work on a John story again after not writing one in so long. I liked the premise of this one…it was fun to plan out. Thank you for your paitence. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

The shrill sound of cries rang through the previously peaceful night, making (Y/N) sit up in bed with a start. She let out a sigh upon recognizing where those cries were coming from. Movement came from beside her before she could get out from under the covers.

"Let me get him," John's groggy voice came from next to her, making her stop what she was doing.

"No, he's probably hungry again," (Y/N) brushed off his offer, blindly reaching over and patting him on the shoulder as a show of thanks.

"I'll get him the next time then," he conceded, flipping over to his side as (Y/N) got off of the bed and exited their bedroom.

James Shelby's room was two doors down the hall. The volume of the cries increased the second she stepped out into the hallway. She instantly felt bad for the other children who surely had been woken by the disturbance. No matter what she tried, he just wouldn't sleep through the night.

"Baby, it's ok," she whispered to him as she reached into his cradle, pulling the baby out so that she could rock him in her arms, "you need to get some sleep."

She proceeded to try everything. Rocking him, feeding him, walking around with him, changing him, feeding him again...nothing seemed to quiet him down. It wasn't until she had patted him on the back long enough for him to burp that the crying finally stopped. She held him for a few more minutes after his cries had ceased, just to make sure that he wasn't going to start back up again. He seemed to finally be asleep after waiting those few moments. So she carried him to his cradle and gently lowered him into it, hoping that he'd stay asleep.

"Let's try to get more than three hours now, baby," she said as she stood straight again, watching over him for a few more moments until she finally decided to go back to her bedroom.

"He's asleep?" John's groggy voice was heard the second she got under the covers.

"Yes. Finally," (Y/N) sighed as she tried to make herself comfortable, "I think he was gassy...it took me going down the list to figure it out though," she continued, moving over to where John was laying on his side.

"You figured it out and he's sleeping now, that's all that matters," he tried to get her to look on the bright side of things.

"He's sleeping for now," she placed emphasis on his statement. "Where you awake this entire time?" she then asked him.

"I was waiting to hear if you needed back up," he answered her, his words making her laugh softly, "but it seems as though you did amazing on your own," he added, blindy reaching behind him for her hand. He grabbed onto it when he found it, pulling it over his side so that he was no longer twisted awkwardly.

"Hopefully he'll sleep a little longer now," (Y/N) sighed as she scooted even closer to him, embracing the feeling of warmth that his body was giving off.

"How 'bout you and me get some sleep while we can?" John proposed an idea.

"Yes...let's," (Y/N) agreed, finding it easy to fall asleep once she closed her eyes.

——

"Come on, buddy...you've gotta be tired out by now," John sighed as he switched the position of the baby in his arms for the umpteenth time now. Confidence was draining out of him with each loud cry that James would exude. He told (Y/N) that he'd try to get him to sleep tonight, and he'd been at it for a half hour now with no success.

The baby didn't listen to his exhausted father's pleas though, and instead kept on crying...so much so that his little face was turning red. John let out a defeated sigh as he tried to think of something, anything else he could do to calm his son down. Rocking wasn't helping, changing him wasn't helping...John had even tried to tell him a story that he remembered liking as a kid, but it was hard to get a word out over the loud cries. He truly felt like he was at the end of his list of options.

"What can I do, J...what can I do?" he asked in desperation, knowing full-well that the baby wasn't going to give him the answer.

But as if the homing beacon was sent out, the door to the nursery opened the second he was finished speaking. "You need some help, John?" (Y/N) asked as she held onto the doorknob. She didn't want to slide right in and assume control over the situation because she knew that John was wanting to get more involved with his children when he could.

He'd never let it on to the random person walking the street, but John felt terrible that he wasn't able to be around for his kids. Whether it was the war or later the nature of his work, he often left the care of his young ones up to his late wife, Martha, and then his aunt, Polly. When he had this baby with (Y/N), he vowed that he was going to be more present and help out the best that he could. But now that the rubber had hit the road, he felt that he was completely useless.

"John?" she spoke a little louder, realizing that her husband probably couldn't hear her over the baby's cries.

"What?!" he yelled back, not meaning to raise his voice at her, it instead happening as an effect from the frustration he was feeling.

(Y/N) knew that. She could hear it in his voice. "Would you like me to help you with him?" she asked, keeping her voice calm; not wanting to add to the stress he was feeling.

"Please," he just about begged her, desperation present in his eyes. (Y/N) nodded and walked further into the room. "I've tried everything, (Y/N)...he's just not settling. I've rocked him, I've changed him a few times, I...I even told him a story," he rambled on as he transferred the wailing baby to his wife, "I couldn't think of anything else to do."

"Maybe he needs to eat again," (Y/N) suggested as she moved over to one of the chairs in the room.

"I couldn’t really offer much in that regard…so I didn’t think of trying that," John admitted sheepishly as he watched (Y/N) get James to start feeding. He exhaled a huge sigh of relief once the room was finally filled with silence.

"That's alright, love," (Y/N) said to him, laughing slightly at his comment. She glanced down at James then, watching as the baby ate; his eyes starting to droop already.

John slumped down in the chair across the room and watched as his wife fed their child. He was relishing in the quiet because he didn't know if James was going to start crying again the second he was finished eating.

The silence, thankfully, held up as (Y/N) lifted him to her shoulder so that she could gently pat him on the back and hopefully get a burp or two out of him. Once she did, she brought him back down into her arms and gently rocked him a few times for good measure. His eyes were now shut tight and his breathing had evened out, two signs that he'd finally slipped into sleep. (Y/N) held her breath as she slowly stood from the chair and moved over to where the cradle was standing. James made it through the transfer to the bed, only stirring slightly when his body touched the mattress.

"I don't know how you do it," John breathed as (Y/N) made her way over to where he was sitting.

"I got lucky tonight...most nights I haven't a clue what to do," she said to him, sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. John brought the hand he had propped up on the chair's arm down to rest against her thigh, gently squeezing it to show his appreciation.

"I don't know what I'm doing every night," he mumbled into her hair.

"Nonsense, John," she disagreed with him, lifting her head from his chest to look at him, "do I have to remind you of the number of nights that he falls asleep on your chest while you're sitting on the chair with him?" she reminded him, her eyebrows raised slightly.

"He wakes up a few hours later though," John still didn't let up on himself.

"And he'll probably wake up a few hours from now too...he just isn't to the point where he's sleeping through the night yet. We can't be hard on ourselves John, Polly says that this is common," she stated, reminding him that they needed to think positively.

"I feel like I'm leaving it all up to you though," he voiced another thought that had been eating at his mind.

"You most certainly are not," she disagreed once again. "You do so much for this family. I'm not sure where I'd be without you...my partner in crime," she grinned at him then, the final part of her sentence making the softest grin form on his face. He just couldn't stay down on himself when she looked at him like that.

"I'm not sure how much 'crime' you're getting yourself into, love," he teased her, his words making an exaggerated look of surprise form on her face. John chuckled at the face she pulled, and (Y/N) held it for a few moments before letting it dissolve into one of fake hurt.

After holding that expression for a few moments, she tried not to let the smile break onto her features as she delivered the statement she'd been thinking up since John shared his, "that's because you commit enough crime for the both of us, my darling," she said to him, winking after she was finished speaking.

John's jaw went slack as he heard what his wife had said. "(Y/N) Shelby!" he said, his voice a little too loud for the room they were sitting in.

"Keep your voice down, you'll wake the baby!" (Y/N) hissed at him, her eyes wide to show the seriousness of her statement. She then listened intently for any noises coming from James' cradle and was relieved when she was met with silence.

"Let’s head to our bedroom then," he said with a grin, standing up from the chair and taking her into his arms without warning. Him doing this made her let out a shriek of surprise, to which he sent her the same wide-eyed expression she gave him. "Be quiet, you'll wake the baby," he scolded her in a teasing manner, a grin breaking onto his face.

"Take me to bed then," she responded to him, his grin proving contagious as one formed on her face as well.

John didn't waste another minute. He exited the nursery as quietly as he could, carrying (Y/N) down the hallway to their bedroom so that they could get caught up on some much needed...sleep.

—

The bedroom still had an early morning glow shining in through the windows when (Y/N) opened her eyes again. She let out a sigh of content and snuggled in closer to John's sleeping frame. Or at least she thought he was sleeping.

"This is nice," he said in a low voice, his words rumbling through his chest and making (Y/N) smile at the sensation of it.

"It is," (Y/N) agreed with him, drawing sleepy shapes on the skin of his pectorals. She let her eyelids flutter shut then as she tried to soak up all of the last minutes of sleep that she could. It wouldn't be long until John would be needed at the betting shop and that she would be getting the children up for their school day. Wait...the children. "Oh no, John..." (Y/N) started off as she scrambled into a sitting position.

"What, love? It's still early," he complained, not moving from his spot as his wife fumbled her way out from under the covers.

"James, John...he didn't wake us up all night," she managed to get out as she rushed to get her robe on before making her way to the door. "What if something's wrong?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest as the worst case scenarios started running through her mind. She heard the fumbling of covers behind her, but didn't bother to look back and see if he was following her before she opened the door and quickly exited the room.

(Y/N) wasted no time in opening the door to the nursery after hurrying down the hallway as quickly as she could. She then took a deep breath before approaching the cradle, still prepared for the worst. All of the fear and worry were whisked away from her the second she saw James.

"What's happened, (Y/N)?" John's panicked voice came from the door to the room.

"Nothing...nothing's happened," (Y/N) answered, calmness present in her voice now. She heard John's footsteps approaching her as she kept her eyes on her sleeping baby. James looked like he hadn't moved from the spot she laid him in last night, and he was still sleeping soundly. His belly was rising and falling in an even pattern, and he even had the slightest smile present on his adorably plump lips. "He slept through the night," she told her husband, looking over at him to see that he was also focused on the baby.

"That's amazing," John said, a smile breaking onto his face. Much like (Y/N), a sense of calmness had now rushed through him as well. "So wha...what do we do now?" he asked with a slight chuckle as he looked at (Y/N) again.

"I guess we can go back to sleep," (Y/N) answered, grinning at the thought of getting a few more minutes of shut-eye.

"What're we still in here for?" John's grin grew. He was also never one to turn down some more sleep.

The two made the way back to the door of the nursery then, both still grinning like fools at the thought of crawling back under the covers. Quiet mornings were practically unheard of in this Shelby household, and they were going to hold onto every minute of it. (Y/N) carefully shut the door behind her before they began to walk down the hall to their bedroom. They only got two steps away when cries started coming from the room they'd just left.

"There goes our extra sleep," (Y/N) stated, a bit of a deflated look now present on her face.

"I'll go get him...you get some more sleep," John told her, nodding his head towards their bedroom's door before he began backtracking towards the nursery. (Y/N) sent him a smile as a thank you before she continued walking to her bedroom.

"Mum! Katie won't stop making fun of me!" she heard Matthew, one of her older children (step-children) call out just as she grabbed the door knob.

"I am not!" Katie yelled back in defense.

"Yes you are!" Matthew continued the argument.

"Am not!" Katie wasn't backing down.

"Ok both of you stop, I'm coming in!" (Y/N) finally stepped into their bickering, turning from her bedroom's door to go and sort their problem out because it was quickly becoming obvious that it wasn't going to be figured out on its own.

While she became the mediator, John worked on figuring out what would get James to stop crying.

There was certainly never a quiet morning in the Shelby household.

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @cilliansangel @areyenotfondofmelobster @valentinabloom @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite @padfootdaredmetoo

MASTERLIST

[nextikeu]

call you? — 이희승

synopsis. your behavior is what makes heeseung fall in love with you.

pairing. nonidol ! hee x fem ! reader

warnings. angst ?, fluff, profanity, usage of cigarettes, mentions of alcohol

word count. 0.7k (706 words)

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ever since highschool ended, your classmates practically begged you to have dinner with them or even show up at reunions. but each time you had the same excuse “sorry, i'm busy, maybe next time.” eventually, that ‘next time’ did come, and there you were, entering the small restaurant while your old friends cheered when they saw you.

you take a place across heeseung, almost at the end of the table and you catch his eyes staring at you, a puzzled expression on his face. you don't know, but heeseung has been having a crush for years and to him you were nothing but an angel. 

he loved everything about you. your hair, your eyes, the way your dimples show when you smile, or your long healthy hair that you used to push behind your ear while reading, even the sound of your voice. but his favorite thing about you was that even if you didn’t know him, you would often smile at him when you met during breaks, even if you weren't in the same class.

he was glad his friend asked him to come when he saw your figure walking to the table. 

as the night went on, you denied the shots your friends were trying to give you, since you weren't that much of a drinker. you noticed that one of your friends got drunk, maybe a bit too drunk, commenting about how girls these days get their faces done to look good.

“c'mon, you know i'm right! i mean, look at (Name), where did you get your boobs done?” , one of them says, making everyone break into laughter, except one person, heeseung.

“fuck.”

“what did you say?”

you grab your glass of wine, throwing it on the man's shirt, the red liquid getting through the fabric. gasps filled the room and your hands reached for your bag, placing it on your shoulder.

“for someone who wears fake clothes and pretends they're real, you talk a lot.” 

to you, the scene you just made filled your body with embarrassment, your cheeks reddening. on the other hand, heeseung wanted to punch the guy's face until he was left breathless for even daring to talk to you like that, but he was too scared that you'll call him a monster for starting a fight.

once you exit the restaurant, you take a place on the bench close to the building, taking out the pack of cigarettes from your coat pocket. placing the cigarette between your lips, your hand blindy searches for the lighter. before you even reach for it, a small flame lights up your cigarette, making you look up. 

“i didn't know you smoked.”

the older male takes a place next to you, placing the lighter in his pocket, his eyes fixated on your lips. 

“i should be the one saying that” , his voice lingers in the air for a second until you speak again.

“right, my bad, mister good guy.” , he laughs at your comment, closing his eyes as he asks you if that's what people call him now. the sound of his voice made your heart beat faster, and you didn't know if your cheeks were red from the cold or because of him.

throwing the rest of the cigarette on the ground, you place your scarf back on your neck, and you see small snowflakes melting on the ground, soon enough realizing it was the first snow. and you were there with him. before you left, you called his name softly.

“hm?”, he looks up at you, his deer eyes making him look even more handsome. you hand him your phone and he hurries to write his phone number, naming himself ‘the handsome bambi boy’ . he takes out his phone so you can add yourself, naming the contact ‘princess (Name)’. he smiles at you, dimple showing, and your heart melts when he takes out his mittens, handing them to you so you won't feel cold. 

before you leave, he calls your name and you turn to face him, not noticing that he is now standing in front of you, his body towering over yours.

“call me when you're cold, princess.” 

“i will, bambi boy"

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© NEXTIKEU 2023

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Thirty-Six: Drums

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

Drums.

The marching sounds like drums. 

It reverberates through your body like a second heartbeat. Each and every beat sends a shock wave of fear and anxiety right through you.

Just as the sky was brightening, you started to hear it. The drums of evil. The drums of death .

You and Hyunjin were the first to pick up on it, your Elven ears piqued immediately on the first thud. 

The two of you have not left each other’s side since the gate closed. The stone walls surrounding you somehow don’t make you feel as safe as the hand firmly clasped in yours does. 

Hyunjin’s presence is keeping you sane. Every instinct in your body is screaming to leave. Every iota of your being is begging for you to turn tail and run. 

Both of you are standing in the center of the fort, both eyes facing forward, away from the gate. You know they’re coming from the south and the west. Jeongin and Changbin lie behind the hill to the North. 

Louder and louder the drums begin to sound. They sound more like footsteps the closer they get. You begin to hear their armor clinking, their swords bashing against their shields to intimidate you.

Hyunjin squeezes your hand tighter. He’s trembling. Same as you.

Every hair on your body feels like it's standing up. There’s a permanent lump in your throat. 

“I have seen many battles in my day,” Hyunjin whispers for your ears only. “Never have I felt like this before.”

You only hold his hand tighter.

Any moment now, you’ll need to let go and grab a hold of the sword that feels so heavy on your hip. The sword attached to the belt that Jeongin secured to your body with such care. 

The ghost of his kiss sits on your lips.

The archers on the top of the stone walls shift around. They’re all sitting against the wall to conceal themselves from view. The six other foot soldiers stand in the center of the fort with you and Hyunjin.

Louder. Louder. Louder .

You can’t hear your heartbeat anymore. You can only feel it. 

Tighter. Tighter. Tighter .

You’re grateful for each second you get to hold his hand. 

One of the archers makes eye contact with you. His bow is held in front of him with a nocked arrow not yet pulled back to be fired.

The two of you stare at one another before his eyes move behind you. They widen. He gulps. 

What did he see? 

You fight every instinct to not turn your head. 

Do not stare directly into the eyes of the Void, Y/N.

Louder. Louder. Louder.

Do not stare death in the face. 

Tighter. Tighter. Tighter.

Swallow your doom and let it sit in your stomach with your last meal.

Louder. Louder. Louder–

It stops.

It’s silent. 

It was silent before your parents saw the Mercy Division through the window, too.

Your eyes drift up to the sky. It's not quite blue yet. It’s painted orange and pink.

Not a single cloud to be seen. 

How beautiful. 

But, yesterday’s sunset was probably prettier…

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

Every single archer stands up, pulls back their bowstring, and looses their arrows at the same time.

Twelve arrows soar through the air. You have no idea if any of them hit their targets. The yelling starts immediately following the whizzing noises that came from the attack.  

It’s a roar. 

It rips right through you like a lightning bolt.

“By The Six,” you murmur. How many of them are there? 

Hyunjin squeezes your hand one last time, pulling your attention to him.

Your eyes meet. 

“For Miroh,” he says to you.

“For Elves ,” you respond.

He stares at you for a second, grabbing your face with two warm hands and pressing a long kiss to your forehead. His hands feel so warm on your cheeks. He somehow fights off the December chill. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” he hisses against your skin. 

He lets you go just as quickly.

The two of you part and your hand reaches for your sword like second nature.

A wave of arrows comes over the top of the wall, blindy coming down into the center of the fort. None of them are near your body, but still, you flinch. 

The shield of absorption comes off your back and you hold it securely on your arm.

Every archer knocks back another arrow and lets them fly. Over and over again, they reach into their quivers and pull arrows out, not even giving themselves time to think before they’re fired into the hoard.

It’s only a few seconds before another barrage of arrows comes over the top of the fort walls. These arrows are much closer to your body, you lift your shield up over your head.

One bounces off the metal and the shield begins to purr.

There’s a sharp yelp to your right. You turn your head just in time to see one of your archers fall to the ground from atop the wall with an arrow in his chest. 

Hyunjin moves from your side and sprints towards one of the turrets.

“Hyunjin!” you yell after him. He turns and yells back.

“I can shoot my flames from above into their army. Stay alive, mercenary!” He doesn’t say anymore, he turns and runs into the stone leaving you with the six other foot soldiers on the ground.

Another barrage of arrows comes down and you duck under the shield. Three hit the steel. 

Things are happening so fast, you almost forgot how quickly everything happens during battle. It’s one thing after the next within 3 seconds of each other. 

There’s a loud clang to your left against the gate. It chills your bones. It’s immediately followed by more clanging and yelling.

It bangs over and over and over again. The bellows of angry soldiers overlap the hits.

Slowly, you turn and look directly into the eyes of hatred. So many sets of gleaming, evil eyes are pushed against the metal gates of Fort Mire, waiting to be let in. Waiting to tear the flesh from your bones.

These soldiers are uglier, meaner, nastier than any Erban soldier you’ve seen before. 

Their muscles are bigger, their swords sharper, and their hatred stronger. It’s been so long since you’ve seen a Mercy Division soldier.

The fear rips right through your body.

All of these soldiers have one purpose. And it’s to kill you.

And you can feel it in their glares. In the way their screams and words are slung at you.

Suddenly, you’re a small girl again, pulling your cloak over your ears as you run through the woods. You’re hiding from their lingering stares in the streets of Erbus’ capital.

Everything about their aura sends you back.

Your chin dips down as you stare back. You will not allow them to intimidate you more than they already do.

No matter how loud fear is screaming in the back of your mind, you will not let them get to you. Not anymore. 

The rest of your body turns and you face the gate completely. 

Other soldiers around you stand motionless as they also stare at their doom.

“Six protect us,” one of them whimpers under his breath.

Your hand tightens around your sword. You lift your shield up to protect yourself from another barrage of arrows. 

Four this time.

Mercy Division soldiers continue to pound at the gate with their weapons. Dust and tiny bits of debris fall from the stone surrounding the gate with each hit. All of a sudden, you have no faith in the fort’s construction. 

That gate is the only thing protecting you from death.

The archers continue to fire more arrows into the horde. Gods, you hope they’re hitting their marks. 

All around you the air takes a deep breath, The little heat that was in the December air is sucked away.

A loud swoosh sucks up the atmosphere and then there’s a loud roar of screams from the army outside the walls.

Your eyes flick up to the wall just in time to see Hyunjin dance around before launching a large ball of flames down into the enemy horde. The screams get even louder.

“ ELF! ” A soldier screams from outside the gate.

Your blood runs cold as you stare at Hyunjin. He doesn’t even flinch. His lithe body spins around, fingers moving in a dance just as elegant as his body while he draws heat and energy from the world around him.

The world inhales once more and another ball of flames begins to grow in his palm. His other hand comes in front of his body and produces a blue shimmery ward.

A barrage of arrows are shot at him and each arrow deflects off the ward. 

It’s like he has a giant target on his head now. 

He ducks, spins, and launches the fireball into the crowd. More screams and more arrows are fired at him.

“Ladders!” An archer screams from atop the wall.

Oh, shit .

Your feet take off before you can think further. Next thing you know, you’re sprinting into the same turret that Hyunjin entered previously. 

You’re leaping up three stairs at a time up the spiral structure.

The closer you get to the top, the louder the screaming gets.

By the time you run outside along the wall, Hyunjin hurls another fireball into the army. Your eyes follow it all the way down.

Down.

Down…

Down…

To the… hundreds of soldiers surrounding the Fort. 

It’s just … a sea of enemies. They’re everywhere.

Your knees wobble as the fear finally grips your heart. There’s just… so many .

Where’s the grass? You can’t even see the ground between them! They’re all screaming, banging their swords against their shields.

Ladders are being brought to the front of the army towards the wall.

You can see the three flaming craters in the ground from Hyunjin’s attacks. There’s sizable holes in the army where his attack landed. But it’s like taking one brick out of a wall. 

The front line of archers pull back their bowstrings and let them fly.

You bring your shield up just in time to deflect at least ten arrows off of them.

A loud clang comes from your right and you whip your head around to see the ladder resting against the wall. Any second now, a soldier will pop up and try to get to the gate’s lever. 

Once that gate is open, Miroh’s interior legion is done for.

You’re all too familiar with that battle plan. 

Swallowing your fear, you look down at your fellow foot soldiers on the ground.

“ Get your asses up here! ”

Without any further hesitation, your instincts push your body into the passenger seat and you spin around and bash your shield into the Erban soldier that was charging you after he got off the ladder. 

Because of the array of arrows that the shield took the hit of, when you bash the soldier, a loud pop sounds through the air and his body is thrown off the wall.

Behind you, you hear Hyunjin launch another fireball into the enemies below. 

You take two steps closer to where the ladder is leaning against the wall.

A soldier vaults over the stone wall and is immediately met with your sword coming upwards and slicing up under his chin. He doesn’t even have a moment to register what happened before his body is falling backwards off the wall.

Grabbing the wall with your one free hand, you turn and kick the ladder down backwards and down into the army. There’s a loud roar of screams as it comes down with several soldiers still climbing it.

Again, no time to watch. 

You see another ladder being placed against the wall ahead of you, much closer to Hyunjin. 

The mage is looking the other way, his elegant moves never pause once. He’s launching fireball after fireball down into the Mercy Division.

His cape billows around his soldiers. Embers swirl around him like fireflies. His eyebrows are fiercely furrowed in concentration. 

You’re running towards the ladder. 

One, two, three soldiers make it over the top by the time you make it over there.

Two of them turn their attention to you while the third focuses on an archer along the wall.

The first soldier raises his sword and brings it down to you, you raise your shield and block the blow– you feel the metal purr on your arm. 

Pushing his sword away with the shield, you swing your sword upwards at his head, he leans backwards to evade your swipe.

The second soldier swings his battleax at your body, you drop down to the ground underneath it. At the same time, your leg comes out and sweeps underneath the first soldier, knocking his own feet out from under him.

Your momentum spins you around more and you pop back up to block another hit from the battleax with your shield. More and more your shield vibrates. 

Bringing your boot up, you kick the second soldier in the chest, when he stumbles backwards, you shield bash him once more. The energy stored within the shield launching him off the wall. 

The first soldier is just about to get up when you swing your sword down and right across his neck. 

Blood spurts out of the open wound and sprays all over your freshly polished armor. 

Grimacing, you turn and see the archer had already taken care of the third soldier and managed to push the ladder off the wall at the same time. 

There’s a growl behind you.

You turn just in time to get hit right in the jaw with a strong right hook. It blurs your vision and rocks your entire world for a moment. 

Copper floods your mouth and you stumble back a step.

Shaking your head, you raise your shield out of instinct and weakly block another blow from a sword. It knocks you back a few steps.

When you regain your footing, you steel your hold on your shield to absorb several more blows as the soldier relentlessly swings at you.

Hit after hit after hit abuses your shield. 

They’re one after the other, the shockwave from the hit goes up your arms into your shoulders each time. 

You grit your teeth and push back to meet an attack and a deafening crack splits the air. 

The soldier lets out a blood curdling, gurgle-type scream and another gruesome spray of blood washes over your body not concealed by the shield. 

By The Six.

A strong ache blossoms through your jaw from his punch, your vision still feels a bit fuzzy from the blow. 

When you take the shield away from your vision, you see blood everywhere . The damage the shield had done to him was insurmountable. You feel your stomach flip when you see his arm had been ripped clean off. The rest of his corpse was bleeding out against the wall.

“Gods…” you murmur, swallowing the bile in your throat.

There was no time to dwell on that. 

More and more soldiers are climbing up the walls like insects. 

The archers are doing what they can to take them down, but it’s starting to become too much.

You turn and scan the wall.

Hyunjin catches your eye once more. He’s a whirlwind of heat and flames. The very air around him bends to his will as he hurls attack after attack into the enemy. 

There are ladders on either side of him. 

Immediately after he throws fire on one side, he spins around and launches one to the other. Back and forth, back and forth. One after the other. There’s no hesitation between any of his attacks. 

He’s already three steps ahead of the soldiers crawling up the walls.

But you can tell he’s becoming overwhelmed. 

Archers are so focused on the perimeter of the wall, they cannot turn their attention on him even for a moment. The foot soldiers are no longer down below in the fort, like you, they’ve come up to the top of the wall to protect it with everything they have.

The screams of battle are so loud and consistent, they’ve almost become white noise. 

Swords clash. Metal scrapes against metal. 

Curses are thrown as arrows are fired.

Begs for mercy and medical attention hit your ears– but they’re not voices you recognize.

Miroh’s interior legion was not going down without a fight. 

Another ladder comes up and sets into place on Hyunjin’s left.

You take off in his direction.

Other Erban soldiers try to get in your way but they’re quickly introduced to either your sword or your shield. Left and right you cut them down. Some fall to the stone under your feet, others fall from the top of the wall down to the dirt below.

One by one, four Erban soldiers come over the ladder to the left of Hyunjin, three on the right.

Your aching legs push faster, you completely bowl over two more soldiers off the wall. Their screeches barely even reach your ears. 

The closer you get to Hyunjin, the colder the air is around you– he’s taking all the heat from the world around him in order to hurl the flames down into the enemy.

You see his eyes flick over towards you when you’re about ten feet away.

The world moves in slow motion.

His sharp eyes move from you, to the enemies around him. Your boots hit the stone with heavy thuds.

Hyunjin spins and launches a fireball past your body, taking out the soldiers directly to your five o’clock. You feel the heat shoot past your head– it will be a miracle if none of your hair singed off in the crossfire.

You continue running as fast as your legs will allow.

He finishes his spin and bends over, making his back as flat as possible. 

Oh, you clever mage.

An enemy soldier raises his sword above his head directly next to Hyunjin, ready to bring it down onto the mage’s neck.

You shoot forward, your body using its momentum to spin and create even more force. 

Rolling to the side and raising your sword up at the same time, your entire body rolls over the back of Hyunjin's, your shoulder blades meeting for a split second.

Your body glides around and you roll over Hyunjin’s back.

With your sword gripped tightly in your hand, you bring it down to slash across the soldier before he could bring his own down on Hyunjin’s neck. 

As soon as your boots hit the stone once more, your body twists and you bash your shield into another soldier. The metal of his helmet clangs with the metal of the shield and he recoils.

Your arm comes back and you smack the shield forward at him again before he can recover, launching his body over the wall. 

Time resumes at its normal pace.

Behind you, you can feel Hyunjin’s body moving fluidly once more.

The two of you become a sight to see. 

If you go low to take out the legs of the soldier approaching you, Hyunjin goes high and attacks the one after him. You’re fighting back to back, taking on every single Erban soldier that makes it over the wall.

The lever to open the gate rests directly between your battling bodies. 

Anyone that gets close is immediately cut down. 

Both of you look like you’re in a well rehearsed dance with how well your attacks are timed out. You’re defending the lever that opens the gate as if your life depends on it.

Because it does .

Soldier after soldier meets your sword and shield, all of their bodies adding to a morbid pile on the ground below you. Arrows continue to whizz past your head and into any Erban soldiers you or Hyunjin cannot get to.

Over, under, up, down, slash, bash, jump, dodge, stab, left, right. Your two bodies look so graceful in their movements.

Just a pair of battle trained Elves ready to fight until their last breath.

Your vision is so locked into the battle; every muscle is moving on its own. The sword you wield is no longer just a weapon, it’s an extension of your own body. Blood covers your armor, painting a gruesome war painting all along the steel. 

The air around you is so cold, not only from the December air, but from Hyunjin drawing every single ounce of warmth from it in order to wield his blessed fire. 

Your eyes snap to the ladders just a few feet away from you. Soldier after soldier comes up, one after the other. Just a never ending stream of evil.

You need to knock those ladders over. No, you need to eliminate them completely.

How are you going to destroy those ladders? Even if you knock it down, they’ll just put it back up.

Slashing at another enemy soldier, his blood sprays all over your body before he falls to the ground in a heap. 

“Y/N!” Hyunjin yells. You whip around to him. “Shield!”

You raise the shield up in front of your body.

A whistle pierces your ears before you feel a fireball shatter upon impact when it hits you.

The metal on your arm vibrates. You grunt loudly with the impact. 

You smirk.

Just like old times, eh, Hyunjin? Camus is rolling over in his grave.

You spin around, gaining momentum, before you hurl the shield at the soldiers like a discus. 

“ WARD! ” Hyunjin screams. 

Shit.

The shield careens through the air and when it hits one of the soldiers at the top of the ladder, a loud explosion rings out.

Your hand comes up in front of you. 

A loud drumbeat sounds in your ears, it’s so loud, as if the sound was coming directly from within your chest. Every single drum pounds in a strong rhythm. 

That same shimmering magic pours out of your hands before the blast of the impact can affect you. You can vaguely feel the heat against your palm from the other side of your magical shield. 

Wooden pieces of the ladder fly out around you, some of the tinier pieces shooting through your ward and clinking against your armor. 

As soon as the initial blast dies down, you drop your ward and swing your sword around to behead an Erban soldier who was more preoccupied with the explosion than you. 

Then, with no warning, there’s a respite. 

You look around and see no Erban soldiers climbing over the wall on your side. 

Frantically, your eyes look around for your shield. It had to have gone somewhere close by. Where? Where did it go?

Hyunjin runs up behind you, you can feel his pants on the back of your neck. You turn around to look up at him.

His sharp, crimson eyes scan over every part of your face, then down your body, looking for any injuries. Ash and soot spots blotch his otherwise flawless skin.

“Are you hurt?” he pants.

“Nay, you?”

“Nay.”

“Good.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You’ve been fighting non-stop now for who knows how long. The roof of your mouth is so dry, your tongue sticks to it as you try to produce saliva.

Turning, you look over the wall and see Erban soldiers piling up against the wall below, most of them trying to get through the gate. Arrows are being fired up towards the two of you and flying past your head. 

A deep cough comes from your chest and you look around on the ground, still trying to find your shield.

Hyunjin grabs your upper arm and points downward towards the dirt within the walls of Fort Mire.

“Thank The Six,” you breathe out. The metal glints in the sunlight. 

Once more, your eyes lift and you look all along the wall. 

Your heart sinks.

Only three archers remain.

Only two foot soldiers are standing.

The walls of Fort Mire are littered with bodies. Some of them are still whining and begging for mercy or medical attention. But they’re all beyond help at this point.

Blood pools over the stone. The entire wall is painted a deep crimson from the sheer amount of gore splattered all along it.

Your armor is no better— you look like a corpse that rose from the dead. 

“Get the ladders to the front!” an Erban commander screams from down below.

More ladders.

When you wipe the sweat off your brow, you end up smearing blood across your face. It turns your stomach but you swallow the bile rising up. 

By the Six, how were you supposed to hold off any longer?

Your legion is a shell of its former self. How much longer until your body becomes one of the numerous lying dead at your feet? 

Hyunjin takes a deep breath behind you. “Here they come…” he whispers under his breath.

Your head whips around to look to the north. A sharp horn pierces the air in a long, low, deep blast. It rattles your very bones.

But not with fear, no. With hope . 

Hundreds of horses pour over the hills. 

The roar of Miroh’s soldier’s battle cries sound like one constant note at this point. It’s just a low, even hum that lifts your spirits.

Even with how far away he is, you can clearly make out Changbin leading the charge down the hill, his sword held tightly in one hand and his horse’s reins in the other. 

You feel your motivation coming back into your body. You just need to last.

Protect the gate. Protect the fort.

Survive.

[irodimww]

Blindy and Bunster Headcanons

SHOUTOUT TO @fawncr33k FOR INSPIRING ME TO MAKE A POST OF MY HC’S OF THE SILLIES !! (I’ve always wanted to make an HC post omg) thanks y’all for liking the silly jester and carnivore bnnuys !!

BLINDY HEADCANONS

＞FIRST WITH BLINDY’S PERSONALITY OMG: For a quick rundown, he’s cold, distant, private/secretive, very “guardian-like” (but in a dark way), grim, serious, blunt, kinda antisocial, strategic (I’d give a lot more details but we’d be here all day SOBBING)

＞ Blindy’s favorite color is red!! (reminds him of meat)

＞ He is a carnivore! I like to imagine him with fangs/sharper canines due to eating meat

＞ His ears can pick up the most quiet of noises from the farthest of distances away! He’s very fast, and can run in very quiet, quick footsteps. He also has a very strong sense of smell!—Although he has a very dull sense of taste, and his body has been trained throughly to practically not sense any sort of pain.

＞ He is immune to alcohol! I feel like Blindy has a really odd immune system after being in the void (the place he’s first introduced in the secret post-credit scene) and therefore he either is immune, or has a really strong tolerance to alcohol

＞ Blindy is 4’8 ft tall

—— (JorgeWrites, one of the developers of The Bunny Graveyard, actually said that Blindy was a short king—although he never confirmed an actual height sooooo-)

＞ He is very lightweight; as in he weighs very lightly! Being in the void for a long time (in which I headcanon him having stayed there for like, ATLEAST A SOLID 10 YEARS) has him probably at around 80 lbs in weight. ＞ HE DOES NOT SLEEP; from my HC of him staying in the void for 10 years, he probably has gotten used to almost never sleeping—if he does sleep, he either sleeps while standing up and only sleeps half an hour (max time he spent resting was 8 hours probably).

＞ He’s very alert and pays attention to all of his surroundings at all times. He also has the ability to hold his breath for long periods of time and stay very still; very silent! Although, he can’t relax—his regular state is just being alert and highly attentive on everything.

＞ Blindy’s main weapon of choice is a sword! He likes slashing targets with his sword rather than stabbing. The sword itself is very long (almost like a katana!) but it looks like the sword from the SWORD Area of 4/1/1992 (I suggest playing that free mini game btw! It hints at a lot of things of The Bunny Graveyard as a whole)

＞ Blindy hates any sort of physical touch, you touch his shoulder? He’ll slap your hand away. The farthest he’s gotten with someone in physical touch is literally hand holding—also for anyone who’s curious NAWWW HE’S NEVER HAD A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP IN HIS LIFE

＞ Blindy’s Aromantic in my eyes, he has no interest in romance and doesn’t feel any sort of romantic attraction to anyone he’s ever met lol. (I should also quickly say this that NAW he is not in love with Bunster in regards to Blindybun, I’ll explain more about their dynamics in a different post)

＞ He doesn’t really swear a lot, but when he does it’s usually in small doses—to emphasize a point. He picks his words carefully; thinking before speaking ! ＞ He doesn’t lie, but he tends to not give the truth very easily. He has a skill in avoiding and deflecting questions about himself.

★彡 I’m gonna stop the Blindy HC’s right there because WE STILL HAVE TO TALK ABOUT MY SECOND FAVORITE SILLY, THE JESTER OF ALL TIME, BUNSTER !!! ★彡

BUNSTER HEADCANONS:

＞ Bunster’s personality is EASY: egotistical/prideful, vain, arrogant, grandiose, attention-seeking, VERY AGGRESSIVE, temperamental, eccentric, probably has a superiority complex, a major asshole, very petty, bossy, heartless, cruel, (I COULD SAY SO MUCH ABOUT HIM OMG)

—— (ElPichon, a developer of The Bunny Graveyard, also confirmed Bunster being a “bad kind of asshole”, in which he rated him a 9/10 for how much of a jerk he is)

＞ He is 5’8 ft tall (He is confirmed to be shorter than Kiwi, who the developers said was around 6’0 ft tall!)

＞ His main weapon of choice are daggers! He specifically dual-wields a pair of daggers and has a lot of throwing knives on him, not to mention he takes great pride with his GREAT SKILL of using knives

＞ He is the type to want to steal the spotlight off of anyone else and want everyone to pay attention to just him—if he doesn’t get that attention he starts getting into a tantrum and gets violent

＞ He is VERY heartless. He’s an irredeemable asshole that loves no one but himself, and he will use or push down others in order to get himself to the top. He has a VERY small capacity to care for others, but usually whenever he cares about another person it’s for his own benefit—usually.

—— (ElPichon on a stream once had actually said that Bunster had no love in him.)

＞ He LOVES pointing at other peoples’ insecurities and making fun of others to put himself up (in reality he has a big insecurity about his own strength and power)

＞ He falls for flattery very easily, and always craves for compliments—any criticism, however, will probably result in him throwing a knife at you

＞ He doesn’t really make “true relationships” (because he believes he’s already the best on his own and that he doesn’t need others). Because of this he kinda ended up being incredibly lonely, but he’s too prideful to want to let others into his personal life

＞ Bunster is outwardly homophobic (so that others don’t make fun of him) but secretly FRUITY AS HECK. He is ?? So secretly fruity. He’s either a closeted gay or a closeted bisexual in my head LMAO (this is a meme).

＞ He is VERY hypocritical. Along with being a hypocrite, he is the type to CONSTANTLY lie. You cannot trust this guy in keeping his word or telling the truth, he’s gonna lie and betray you the moment you’re weak

＞ Feel like I haven’t said this yet—Bunster is physically strong, and is actually the strongest in his circus (I HC him being the self-appointed leader because he’s the most powerful of his group). He values strength over intelligence, and is not one to strategize—more so he just tries to pulverize and overwhelm his enemy with brute strength.

＞ He has a really distorted image of himself and holds himself to the highest of standards. The moment his image is cracked he lashes out and gets very pissed off—bro just doesn’t want to accept that he’s weaker than someone else (Blindy COUGH COUGH)

＞ Bunster isn’t really the type to compromise, if he wants something, he wants all of it—not part of it or not some of it, all of it. He’s also very demanding and impatient with what he wants.

＞ Lastly, he is NOT into romance, he wants none of the cuddly, strawberry sweet fluff. He just wants a rush of adrenaline bro (cue in his most favorite hated enemy Blindy)

★彡 I think I’m gonna stop here for tonight omg (2 hours of writing HC’s on tumblr, damn) ANYWAY IF YALL HAVE ANY HEADCANONS ABOUT BLINDY AND BUNSTER FEEL FREE TO PING ME !! (Explosion)

NONE OF MY HEADCANONS THAT AREN’T BACKED UP BY STATEMENTS OF THE DEVS ARE CANON BY THE WAY!!!!

by the way THIS IS FICTIONAL; i don’t support people like bunster in real life (just needed to put this in in case people were somehow thinking I liked heartless assholes in real life which I DO NOT—)

[fawncr33k]

Learning to Love AU

(Warning: cursing, violence, mentions of bad parents, homophobia, Bunster is a tad homophobic but he gets better, manipulation(?))

Bunster and Blindy didn't have... the best of rivalries. Bunster was constantly trying to intimidate Blindy, Blindy could be murderous at any given moment, depending on how he was feeling, and unfortunately, Kiwi sometimes got caught in the crossfire. Today was no different.

"Hey! Blindfold!" Bunster called out. "Over here!" Blindy trudged over, exasperation emanating from him. "What now?" He sighed. Bunster smirked. "Eh, just wanted to fuck with you." Blindy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Bunster, if you call me over for one more stupid thing -" Bunster suddenly stood up, more assertive. "Stupid? Hah..." He tried to spit back a smart remark, but he couldn't think of anything. "Look over there! Is that Silvie?" Blindy immediately whipped around, allowing a very small window of time for Bunster to distract him. Bunster quickly slapped him upside the head. Blindy flinched from the impact but didn't show any sort of pain. In a quick reaction, he grabbed Bunster's arm and flipped him onto the ground. "FUCK!" Bunster spat. "You'll pay for that, you fucking-!" Bunster was cut off by Blindy firmly planting a hand on his chest. "Don't attempt to fight me, jester." Bunster, at this point, was a red mess.

Blindy leaned in. "Are we gonna have a proble- AH!" Bunster flipped him quickly onto the floor. Blindy slammed against the ground, taking a second to recover. Bunster quickly rolled onto Blindy, raising his fist. Kiwi sat off to the side, sipping coffee from a large mug that honestly took the whole coffee pot to fill. She had painted it herself, and writing on it said, "Just kiss already" in cursive. At the point in the fight, Bunster was already struggling. No, I CAN'T let him win. He's gonna dangle his stupid little victory over my head, and- Bunster's thoughts were cut off, with Blindy throwing him into one of the stands. A painful crack resonated from where Bunster just landed. "F-fuck..." He muttered. Kiwi winced. "That's gonna leave a mark." Bunster attempted to sit up, but their fight managed to take a toll. He stumbled into a standing position, raising his fists. Blindy scoffed. "I could knock you over with a poke." Bunster growled in anger, lunging at Blindy. Blindy held him back with a paw, pushing him to the ground. Bunster's eyes flashed with something hidden, but he quickly pushed it down in favor of spite. Blindy walked away, and Bunster just laid down on the ground, sighing with frustration.

Later that night, Bunster sat outside in the grass, holding his head in his hands. Blindy came out of one of the tents, sitting beside him. "Bunster." Bunster scoffs. "Blindfold. Here to taunt me about your stupid fucking victory?" Blindy held Bunster's shoulder, turning the battered rabbit to face him. "No. But something's going on, deeper." Blindy checked Bunster over for any large injuries, and once he verified nothing was broken, he grasped Bunster's other shoulder. "You don't have this hard, 'I'm a big tough guy' exterior for nothing. You're hurting." Bunster let out a bitter laugh. "Hah, getting thrown into a circus stand will do that to you."

"No." Blindy murmured. "You're hurting mentally. Something happened to you as a child, I'm guessing?" Bunster froze. Blindy took mental note. "Bunster? What happened?" Bunster shoved him away. Blindy yanked him onto the grass. "You went red. But you're outwardly homophobic to mostly everyone except Kiwi. Why is that?" Bunster squirmed away. "Stop trying to be my damn therapist, I'm fine." Blindy scoffed. "Pfft, yeah. Sure." Bunster quickly whipped around. "Listen! How the hell do YOU know how my goshdamn family life was like? What if I was loved? what if -" Bunster paused. Blindy gave him a look. "Exactly." Bunster sighed angrily. "Fine! You got me. I had shitty parents, happy?" Blindy gently pulled Bunster close. "And they made you think that homophobia was ok?" Bunster nodded. "And due to that influence, you're projecting?" Blindy sighs, nodding again. "I want to come out, but I don't want anyone to think I'm trying to get on their good side... and... I just..." Bunster holds his face in his hands. "Well, try with me?"

"What?"

"Try coming out with me." Blindy repeated. Bunster sighed. "Fine." Mustering up the courage, he readjusted his sitting position. "Blindy... I'm..." Bunster takes a breath, gripping his shirt for comfort. "I'm... pansexual." Blindy holds his shoulder. "See, that wasn't so bad, right?" Bunster lets out a shaky exhale, lying back on the grass. After a moments consideration, Blindy laid down beside him, crossing his hands over his stomach. Bunster glanced over. "Hey, Blindy?"

"Hm?"

"You helped pull me out of a dark place. Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome, Bunster."

Kiwi smiled, watching them start to talk about ways Bunster could break bad habits. "Hey! I thought my mug would tell you guys what you need to do!" Kiwi called out. "Not happening, yet!" Bunster laughed. The sound of an elbow against ribs and a "Ack!" From Bunster made Kiwi chuckle. "Soon, just you wait." She chuckled.

[jortschronicles]

The Malevolent Sheep

Embroidered Livestock Who Hate Everyone, But Me Most of All For Bringing Them Into This World

By Doña Ashildr inn Harfagri, 2023

Presented at Castellan

Purpose

The purpose of this paper is not to document a perfect and period reproduction, but to document my thought process and learning process as I attempt to add to an impression of a 14th century English peasant designed for the casual eye.

I play an English shepherdess in 1360 in the fictional town of Avalon for the Medieval Fair of Norman. Due to the timing of this event, weather can be unpredictable, and occasionally very cold and wet. I am in possession of a wool hood from Hobbitronics featuring the crossed trumpets badge of heralds. While this is a delightful hood and definitely one of my warmest pieces, the costuming director and myself have determined the crossed trumpets are not appropriate for the character of Margery Arkewright and more importantly, do not add to the air of perceived authenticity for the visiting patrons. An important note is that certain concessions of historicity are made in order to create a more coherent and easily understandable experience for the patrons of the fair. For example, we restrict all uses of true (not rusty) red to the King and his immediate family to add visual cohesion and allow patrons to more easily identify King Edward III, Queen Philippa, their children, and their children’s spouses. 

With that in mind, I began to research decorative motifs and patterns appropriate to the time. Two documents referenced early on were The Luttrell Psalter (approx 1320-1340) and the 

Belleville Breviary, a prayer book owned by Captain Jeanne de Clisson, Lioness of Brittany. The latter was particularly intriguing as an inspiration, as the Captain is portrayed as a cast member though she had died in 1359. However, both of these resources are ink on parchment, rather than decoration on fabric. Lady Asa in Blindi pointed out that though aesthetics may be similar, motifs likely differ. 

Thus, the Bayeux Tapestry was chosen for inspiration. Though the date of the Tapestry’s completion is murky with the earliest written reference to it dating to a 1476 inventory of the Bayeux Cathedral, it was likely completed in the 11th century, three centuries prior to the date of the Norman Medieval Fair. However, the popularity of the Bayeux Tapestry in online meme culture with an apparent peak around 2018 (Know Your Meme) in conjunction with the popularity of “bardcore” remixes of popular modern songs starting around 2020 with album art featuring images from the Bayeux Tapestry is hoped to have made the imagery of the tapestry more familiar to the average person. For this reason, even though the tapestry predates the target period by approximately three centuries, the design was based on that of the tapestry.

The sheep were designed to mimic the style of animals portrayed in the Bayeux Tapestry and other contemporary pieces, particularly with the near-heraldic postures in what should otherwise be normal scenes. 

Below the sheep is a straight line and added grass hillocks inspired by Scene 51, as seen below. Above the sheep is another decorative strip, with a straight line in the same color again, above which there are two pairs of diagonal bars leaning towards each other as seen in Scene 35 (also below) of the tapestry. On either side of these diagonal bars are the 10 point mullets of Ansteorra and between them are two bendwise, stylized shepherds crooks leaning towards each other. Though there is no evidence in the tapestry of either mullets of 5 lesser and 5 greater points or shepherds crooks, they were selected for recognizability and for keeping in theme. Margery Arkewright is recognizable as “The Sheep Lady” of the Fair, so the shepherds crooks were chosen.

The sheep have been lovingly nicknamed “Bonald the Devourer” (left) and “John Wick” (right) through the course of the design.

Materials

Approx 11”x9” dark brown linen, pre washed 

J&P Coats cotton embroidery floss, various colors

Chalk Pencil

Concessions of authenticity in materials are made due to supply availability and cost restrictions. I frankly do not have the money to make and dye embroidery floss, yarn, or linen fabric for an experimental piece I expect to see a lot of wear. The actual Bayeux Tapestry is embroidered onto a base fabric of a tabby-woven linen that appears to be undyed, and is embroidered with wool yarn dyed in various colors. In my Bayeux Tapestry themed patch for this hood, I used a commercially dyed brown linen in a tabby weave, and performed the embroidery with embroidery floss also in various commercially dyed colors.

Methods

First the design was sketched out on scratch paper. The fabric then selected was a scrap of dark brown linen. This was chosen because in part earth tones read to the casual audience as “medieval,” “rustic,” and “peasant,” and because in the target decade green and brown were taking off as the most fashionable colors a person could wear. Rather than using modern pattern transfer methods, the design was transferred to the fabric by gridding, using a piece of string as the straight edge and measure. The sheep are outlined in stem stitch as are most of the figures in the tapestry, though they are embroidered in black for visibility on the dark brown fabric.

Then the laid stitch found throughout the tapestry was first tested on the head of Bonald (left sheep) before being applied to the rest of the body. The laid stitch consists of first setting down satin stitch across an area, then applying slightly more spaced out stitches covering the full length of the area perpendicular to the satin stitches, which are then tacked down as seen below. After first application, I compared again to the laid work of the tapestry and added several more columns to better reflect the density seen in the Bayeux Tapestry. The same direction was maintained for the satin stitch across almost the entire body of this sheep aside from the tail, belly tufts, and ears. On the next sheep I experimented with a little more directionality and texture which is also found in the tapestry, which prevented me from having to make a single satin stitch cover quite as much area. Upon trying both methods, I can see the appeal of the variety of directions reducing the overall length of any one satin stitch, which can become unwieldy and tangle or pull the piece taut.

On the horns of each sheep, I experimented using surface couching, which was used in the 14th century. I chose to do this because at first pass, surface couching and laid work appear very similar, and at least to have similar results. At this time, I had finished the first sheep and not started the body on the second, so I was dissatisfied with the density of stitches in the white body of the sheep and was investigating new ways to increase my coverage. Upon finishing the horns, I determined that surface couching produces a very different overall effect to laid work, with denser stitches, but a much less economical use of thread.

After the horns and bodies were done, I added detail to the sheep in stem stitch to better define the fluffy wool. The folds in the fabric on several figures in the tapestry were done in what appears to be stem stitch and act as break points in many cases for the direction of the laid work. Due to the clarity of the folds and details, I had assumed they were applied after the fill color, but after having finished my piece I believe the internal details were applied prior to the fill color.

Following the completion of the sheep, I began embroidering the borders of the top section, the bottom line, and the borders of the diagonals in a soft orange color that reminded me of madder-dyed wool. This also seemed a close match to the color used on said borders in various sections of the tapestry. It was when I started working on the diagonals that I realized I was not, in fact, sewing a stem stitch as I’d thought, but sewing a split stitch. This realization explained several discrepancies I’d noticed in the visual texture of my linework and the linework in the tapestry. The diagonals are sewn in a stem stitch.

The next stage I sewed was the Ansteorran stars, with much wailing and gnashing of teeth. As my chalk lines kept rubbing off before I could get to the stars, I free handed the stars themselves. The first attempt to outline then fill the star like the sheep went sideways as the star did not come out with 5 even points. I eventually settled on sewing the 5 greater points with laid work and the 5 lesser points with satin stitch.

What would I change?

If I were to do this again, I would seek out a more densely woven linen and use either wool yarn as was used in the tapestry itself or the full 6 strands of my embroidery floss for visual density. I believe the fullness and volume of wool yarn will better mimic the appearance of the period piece. I would add more internal detail to break up the longer sections of satin stitch, and I would lay down the detail before adding the fill color. This seems to be the method used in the tapestry, shown in the detail from Scene 51 below.

In the transition from the neck to the spaces of the neck between sections of mane, and in the crook of the horse’s shoulder, the direction and angles of the laid work change. This seems to indicate that the internal detail (horse’s shoulder) was applied before the fill color, and that the particular direction of the laid work can be broken up to better fill a space.

Overall, I believe this project was a success. The goal was not perfect periodicity or reproduction, but to better make a useful piece of garb fit the ambiance designed for the casual (non-medievalist) patron. The patch covers the obtrusively modern machine embroidery and in doing so, helps create the Magic and the Dream for those visiting the Medieval Fair of Norman. I learned a new stitch that I have gone on to use in other hand embroidery projects for the security and economy of materials. I made several mistakes that gave me a better firsthand understanding of this historical piece and have improved and expanded my embroidery skills. 

Navigate Bayeux Tapestry scene by scene https://www.bayeuxmuseum.com/en/the-bayeux-tapestry/discover-the-bayeux-tapestry/explore-online/ 

Bayeux Tapestry Meme Generator https://htck.github.io/bayeux/#!/

Bardcore https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bardcore

Hobbitronics Hood Listing - https://www.hobbitronics.com/hoods.html

Referenced https://cottesimple.com/articles/medieval-embroidery-on-clothing/ for stitching methods

History of Medieval Tapestry Memes https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/medieval-tapestry-edits

Appendix

[booksdaydream]

The Blind Rider Ch35

FIANCÉE

"There are... other ways to be perceptive than with your sight. And Blindy knows quite well how to navigate without it."

The nickname he used for Ominis elicited an angry scowl before you fully processed his words. Your eyes widened, fear in them. After all, Ominis was the one you cared about. If he misunderstood… You swallowed hard, trying once again to break free.

Lucian noticed your fear instantly. A rush of excitement blushed his face. A lazy smile curved his lips, and he leaned in closer to your ear. His voice was a low whisper, barely above a breath. "Ah, so that's what it is, huh? Not Weasley. Not Agathe, much less Sallow. Is Ominis the one important to you?" There was a hint of mischief in his voice as if he was planning something on the spot. Something that would hurt both you and Ominis. Something he’d enjoy marvellously.

"Let go, you brute." You whispered between gritted teeth. Angry, but trying not to be loud so that Ominis wouldn't notice the conundrum Selwyn was putting you through.

Lucian ignored your words, his ideas running rampant in his head. So many interesting directions he could take this. So many manners in which to torment both of you at the same time. He chuckled softly; his breath warm still against your ear. He could sense your anger, and he revelled in it. His hand moved from your neck, trailing down to your shoulder. His touch was soft and gentle, almost as if he was trying to seem less forceful than his words sounded. He took a step close, and his hand moved from your shoulder to rest on the back of your neck, pulling you even closer.

–––––––––––––

*No reproduction of this text allowed without credit*

[myrequestblog]

Hi there! Is it ok if you can make some headcanons of the 🕳 Gaster Gang (any characters are fine, but include Swap, and Stars) comforting a female reader from a thunderstorm? A month or two ago, there were a lot of pop-up storms in my area, and bad weather like thunderstorms makes me anxious. Ignore this if you want, but have a good day!

I’M SOSOSOSOSO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG

You rubbed your arms as the rumble grew louder. Storms made you nervous, but you didn’t want to worry the guys. You took a deep breath, but you tensed up again as soon as the next lightning sounded. Stars was behind you sitting on the floor in the middle of a pillow fort and the remains of a pillow fight, letting the others use him as a pillow. Most of them were asleep. You hugged your knees to your chest and and squeezed your eyes shut. You jumped as you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Human? Are you alright?”

You almost didn’t recognize his voice since he wasn’t shouting, but was Swap.

“O-oh! I’m fine. Just a little bit tired.”

Swap gave you an inquisitive look.

“Then come and cuddle with us.”

You shook your head.

“I’m fine. Stars only has so much cloak he can use as a pillow for us, anyways.”

A soft voice whispered from behind you.

“I have plenty of cloak to go around. Come here.”

You hesitated and glanced at Stars.

“Are you sure? I can just go to my room-“

Fell grumbled, half asleep, and walked over and picked you up like a princess before carrying you over and plopping you down next to Dings and Blindy.

“There. Now quit yappin’. I’m tryin’ ta’ sleep.”

You blinked in surprise as Wingdings rolled over in his sleep and hugged you. Blindy smiled in his slumber when he felt the cloak change to accommodate your weight. He gently took your hand in his and squeezed it slightly. Stars spoke again.

“Don’t try to hide it. We have experience with seeing hidden emotions from Wingdings. We care about you.”

Swap nodded.

“You don’t have to deal with stress alone, little human. You can trust us.”

He smiled.

“I promise.”

[razzek]

how does your blindness impact your art? I would have thought that it would be impossible for a blind person to work in a purely visual medium like you do, but clearly that's not the case. do you use adaptive tech or specific styles/techniques?

(I apologize if this question is ableist. I would like to know more about your experiences, but I don't have a great grasp of what's appropriate to ask and what isn't. I am not trying to be rude.)

Oooh thank you for asking! :) For the record, I’m pretty chill, I know there aren’t exactly a ton of us blindies out there, so feel free to ask questions with the language you have. :)

Haha oh man, my blindness has impacted my art from the very first thing I drew at age 4. I have a small amount of vision in my left eye; no depth perception, no peripheral vision, no distance, pretty good colors though. Life to me is basically a smear of nonsense colors that I put meaning to through context and location. The closest thing to seeing anything clearly I’ve ever gotten was watching cartoons, which I did obsessively as a kid. So first and foremost, I don’t and can’t draw from life, it makes no sense to me. The bold, simple actions of animation and the heavy stylization has taught me a ton.

Over the years my style has become very much about being high contrast, high visibility. But it also tangles with my love of doing pretty intricate detail work (it’s soothing, what can I say XD). In the past I was strictly a traditional media artist and I drew with what I had on hand. Growing up in poverty, what I had was the pens I used to write with in school and the paper I scrounged out of recycling bins. I basically mashed my face on the paper and worked in light angled over my shoulder that wasn’t too bright. I clipped paper to clip boards so I’d always have something lightweight enough to hold in one hand while I drew with the other. I’d sketch in pencil and ink using my very beefy prescription reading glasses, and everything I do had to be self taught. Life drawing class just doesn’t do anything for the dude who can’t see the model. :D

In 2019 a botched cataract surgery cost me most of my functional vision. I can no longer read print for any length of time, I don’t watch tv, and increasingly I just forget to look at most things with my eyes. But! I have an iPad. :D It took a few years and finding a pair of beefy store bought readers so I can focus enough to draw, but using Procrate and zooming down to the pixel as well as sketching on a black background makes the art still possile. I still draw mostly the same way I did with traditional media. I know brushes could probably be used to make some things easier, but I don’t have the spoons or visual stamina to figure out how to use them except for making quick backgrounds (pro tip: never have your character or object floating in a white void, even a single line to ground them will make your work better).

Color of late has been an interesting thing because I literally do not understand how light and shadow really works. I’ve read up on it but there’s only so much anyone can do when they just can’t see the thing. I like to ink the best and color is just an experiment I’m trying every time I do it heh. I make up little rules of style for myself and do a lot of guesswork based on the full shape I think a thing or character has, if that makes sense. I don’t know how a lot of things work visually so I will make stuff up, guess, or you’ll see some funky style things that happen because I read a medical paper once and just like drawing the holes in an iris (that’s what the lines in characters’ eyes are heh).

I’ll have to make a video sometime. Some of this stuff probably makes more sense in action.

Tl,dr: I mash my face onto an iPad and use 35-ish years of drawing experience to guess at what leoks right. :D I don’t think I would have become an artist if I wasn’t blind, I would have had more to look at to distract me. XD

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

ok im the same anon as the one who talked abt y/n parents and im here to talk abt them again.

"These children’s energies are so dark that you would have mistaken them for a different colour. Why are these children so sad? Your mom and dad rush downstairs and your dad ushers both you and Spencer outside before you have a chance to ask them anything." I have a feeling that maybe y/n's parents are abusing them or torturing them, and my guts is leaning towards sexual abuse actually. It was already suspicious that they were fostering so much children and the fact that y/n says "You’re still fostering children?” in shock is like she believed that would have stopped already as fostering children is no easy task. there is obviously some sort of motive back there and her father is not helping his case when he tries to veer y/n off the topic of him fostering children. and this proves he is guilty or something. i know you said y/n completely trusts her parents but i have a feeling this has something do with stockholm syndrome which is a psychological condition where a victim finds it easy to empathise with their captor or abuser. (i study medicine and psychology) this could be a reason why she trusts them so blindy.

“Why don’t you stay here so we can catch up?” Your dad places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. For some reason, Spencer doesn’t like that. “Spencer can pick you up in the morning.” and "He keeps a watchful eye on your dad. He hugs you, but his hands are low on your back–too low for Spencer’s liking. It’s almost like your dad is groping your ass. It could be just him, but something isn’t right here" This two parts are just so suspicious, and honestly it reminds me of a pedophile. and this brings me back to the time she mentioned she was raped and had gotten pregnant. i reread that part and it doesn't makes sense to me. if i were a parent and my child told me she had gotten pregnant, even if it was a prank or if she were young, my first instinct is to ask her what happened and who was it. and honestly how her parents reacted were genuinely concerning psychologically. "The whole time, your parents listened with concerned ears, but as soon as you were done, both their demeanours changed. "You know, it's not nice to lie about things like that, Y/N," your mother scowls. "This is not the time for one of your stories," your dad adds "But I'm not lying! This really happened! "I'm serious young lady, stop with the stories." " Them not believing her because she is ten is one thing, but telling her that she was lying and that, in her father's words by the way, that "lying about stuff like this can ruin people's lives. It makes them look bad because people will believe anything, but it also makes you look bad because they know you're a liar. Now, enough with the theatrics and go get cleaned up for dinner." this sentence just puts me off so much, it's almost like while they are so protective of y/n having a boyfriend, they don't seem to care much about her or more like they were trying to hide something and it leads me to believe that instead of talking about y/n r*pers, it is somehow about them projecting what he feels in that sentence because for some reason, it oddly feels personal like he is telling her it would ruin his life. it doesn't feel right and i also lowkey feel like a profiler right now. i have a feeling the reason why they didn't make the reports abt y/n's r*pe, is because then the police would investigate about her parents and the assaulters which would make them on fbi records. and if they do become suspects in a particular case, and if they have something to hide, everything would be revealed.

and while some people may believe her parents are protecting her from the truth, thus not allowing her to be an fbi, i seriously doubt that is the truth and if they are hiding something, then i have a reason to believe the reason is not to protect her, but them. because if y/n knew then she would investigate it, whether by herself or with the team ( i believe the former is more likely ), and her parents would be in trouble. also the fact that her mom made her send away hannah as they have "too much foster kids" why do they keep fostering kids then? and that fact that even y/n feels that "There’s something about this house that doesn’t sit right with you. After spending one night here, you feel fear and sadness… but why? Shouldn’t these kids be happy they’re here and getting adopted? When you were a kid, kids came quickly and left quicker. You never got to spend time with the other kids long enough to form relationships with them. You’re the only biological kid of your parents, but they’ve always wanted more." the question here is why? why would they want more and why is that they are in fear like there is something going on behind the scenes. forming relationships with them seems out of the question as the kids don't stay long or in other words "left quicker". and this reminds me of "the promised neverland" actually. "Like, why don’t you hear laughter in the hallway? Why do the kids like to cower in their rooms? Why are they quick to do their chores, but spend hours doing something that should take thirty minutes?" the fact that i thought of the same thing is actually so real because it is genuinely so suspicious in a way where i can't wrap my head around it. y/n also mentioned something which is that she paused in the middle of the stairs to look at the pictures on the wall. and she realised that they’re all of her, when she were a baby, early toddler years, late childhood era, etc. some of them are even younger pictures are of her running around in the backyard naked with the sprinklers on, and others are of y/n and her dad cuddling on the couch. and mind you that none of these pictures contain her own mother. and honestly this is so freaky, like having pics of you child is one thing, but having pictures of your child only without you wife is another thing and its not even just normal pictures, like if i were them, i would put like graduation photos or achievement photos or maybe even a family photo but its photos of y/n being naked and her and her dad cuddling? yes maybe it is him just being affectionate but honestly this feels more than a child pedophile case and the way he hangs them in the middle of the stairs, it is almost like he enjoys looking at them whenever he walks pass and if this doesn't pulls an alarm trigger in y/n's head, i don't know what will.

moving on y/n mentioned that "The kids don’t look at you when you enter, they stiffen at your presence." why? i have a feeling y/n's parents have something to do with this. most times this happens due to abuse, whether verbal or physical and i have a strong feeling it's both. maybe y/n is known to be the "favourite child" and her parents make the kids know that one way or another. or maybe they are scared she might be like her parents. "You get no response from them. Why are they so scared?" i know i repeated this so many times but it all links back to y/n's parents being abusive. and also this conversation is just so frustrating because when y/n asked for the boy's name, he says it is james but her father shuts him down and says his name is joshua. now at this point even y/n is getting suspicious because she was questioning if he just standing there listening in because it seems too convenient that he would pop up right as she was asking questions. He says that "Josh has a big imagination. His favorite superhero is named James, and he loves dressing up as him and pretending he is him. He gets confused a lot.” You scrunch your face up in confusion, and your dad clasps his hands together eagerly. “Okay, breakfast time is over. You all have your morning chores to do.” which makes all three kids pack up their things quickly before leaving the kitchen in a hurry but as Joshua passes by y/n, he mutters “my name is james.” which leaves her in suspicion about this whole thing.

continuing, y/n brought the necklace she found in the rubble of her apartment after it was burned down but what is intriguing is that when she set the necklace on the kitchen island right in his eye line, He immediately stiffens the moment he looked at it yet he doesn’t say anything. i forgot what happened but i feel y/n was either meant to die that day and her parents (or dad) knew she was withholding information or at least getting too close to finding out something so she has to go. but this is completely out of their style especially with how her dad loves y/n. also why are her parents always on the move, it almost like they don't stick to one place because of something. im not too sure but that is all i got

also could i be anon 🦊/⛸ hehe

ooooh you're so fun to talk to. the diabolical smile on my face as i was reading this. all i'm gonna say is that her parents aren't normal and they definitely have something up their sleeves *cue evil laugh*

you coin the term anonymous fox? 🦊 i'm not sure what the other emoji is (a ice skating shoe?) but i can definitely call you foxy anon from now on

[omg26lilly]

9/6/24

I was stuck on the M25 wondering if my nan was going to die.

Going back and forth like we are passing trains in the night.

You say good morning I say good night.

Trauma is a collective therapy.

If you are upset by the following please leave.

My grandad says he wants to die, have you got any new tricks?

Ringing up everyone trying to play the entitlement card.

It's a privilege for my presence it's not a requirement.

Why do you think your entilted to a opinion when you haven't a clue about the economy or welfare?

How is that nan calls for reform, is that why a 1/2 of the country are in unrest, unfulfilled and overworked.

Should young people be deployed, you somehow think I'm lazy, when my brain is crazy, I'm clumsy when I'm tired, anger when I'm depressed.

Idk if will all turn to dust, please don't bury us, you think that your the host of our bodies, just as sexism made women follow blindy on sedation.

Shatter me pour me a pineapple crush if time is ticking like sand washing away our sight.

Have I found a ninth mental that I can tick or bore you to death with my expertise?

I'm sitting here why do the people I love burn, like hidden bodies I'm just discovered, reading their wishes as if they were my own?

You love me don't you, running round in circles, who am I, do you remember me as I caress your face.

The selection I can't deal with deception, decit with you lies, I will remember you as when you first loved me, what we shared, our history of privilege, royalty our shared devotion.

Illuminae your radiance or excellence you light up the night when it's quiet, insomnia wakes me, what would daphne do? What would hillary say? How can you show up I'll ask Sophia, if I want a country song to sing along I'll ask bethany.

I'm a girl who takes eye for eye so I'll put posion in your lungs, I'm a pest, I'm trouble, you take pity on my kindness like its a token of charity. To you I hope you get clarity I would ask for payment, if I'm your form of a pet that needs to be tamed, exchange me for something easier to control.

If melancholia is lurking around like the force of dark matter, trying to say my nan your alive, get dressed, have some substance, go out and live your life.

She's possessed the illness has come back just as a self critical narcissistic are like weeds, just as you sign of the deeds, they collect everything that you own, not that you could moan.

You are the girl who lived twice, you are more than human, you are invincible, electic force, I doubt know if the power is running out, without a doubt, you will survive, no matter if your 83, it doesn't matter to me.

[sorrowfulacademia]

Blindy caring for someone only backfires once you've opened your eyes.

Forgetting what you've seen is a task almost impossible for the present mind.

I do not apologize for opening my eyes.

[ariannasenvolant]

He was in the studio everyday. No kind of weather would lead him anywhere other than the studio. No kind of urgency would ever lead him out of the studio. Maybe he would take an unusually long stroll outside the block long apartment complex that also had a floor dedicated to artists like him. Artist in recency. Because he was, in fact, an artist in residency.

He devoted all his time to his craft. Every flick of the paintbrush was a soft kiss on the canvas. The colors he chose were a palette of his emotions. Long nights of a steady violin replaying on the record player he was gifted from a fan of his. He would lay on the pale wooden floors, maimed with frequent cracks and creaks when you step. Splattered with paint here, and there. He would press his ear against the wood, and reach for the sounds of the floor beneath him. He would stay like this, confined to the ground for long, meditative states, and when he would rise, he would rush to the neartest paintbrush, the acrylic paint most vivid in his sight and let the nature of his artistry work it’s magic.

Strokes of blue, pink, yellow. Black. Purple here, can’t forget green. A swirl of representations. “A celebration of colors,” the New York Times once quoted. “A madman with grace”, that’s what he fantasized about for his next debut. Like a madman, he would sometimes walk all over his canvas.

Throw it on the floor out of frustration. It’s not good enough! I feel nothing. The soles of his shoe pressed in ink has to be more provocative. Yes he’ll say your shoes protect the souls of the feet. the imprint becomes us as we wander this earth. That’ll be beautiful.

He continues adding embellishments until his eyes are begging him to rest. Sometimes, intranced by the high of dry mouth, gnawing stomach, and eye bags, and he’ll blindy reach for any material in his orbit and incorporate it into the canvas. It’s his way of letting the subconscious work.

And when so many suns came and moons passed, he would finalize with a signature. His signature signature. A single stroke of DDM. D, for his artist name, short for his right name; Donovan Dreadful M. Of course he never disclosed his real last name to the Internet. He’d often check his famous birthdays to see if the Internet investigated enough to uncover the family history he purposefully leaves out in interviews. They’ve already gotten a hold of his baby pictures. The ones he uploaded to his own Wikipedia page that he created and frequently edits himself.

His last exhibition was over a year ago. He curated it himself and displayed it his very own room. He let the air loose in his air mattress and shoved it in a closet. He shoved all his 1 fork, 1 plate, 1 pot, and 1 knife, and small salt and pepper grinder into his cupboards and hid his paints and brushes under the bathroom sink. The space was bare white walls and hardwood floor, save for the window in the top right corner adjacent to the dtove and countertop and the single gray couch he owned and in The reception Good art takes time.