#might draw her someday maybe perhaps

[c00kietin]

@rogdona hope you don't mind me tagging you but your oc ponsis reminds me of an oc I used to mess around with often-

seeing all the fabulous angel blorbos (including yours) reminded me I have an angel of my own! :D Not a nice one, but one regardless :'D

[arcadekitten]

Currently on a Witchywool brain rot…. Hurggh I love em so much 😭❤️ How do you keep creating such interesting and unique dynamics to ships? Like, becoming obsessed with a bloodthirsty anthoropomorphic sheep and his star witch girlfriend playing god was NOT what I expected when I first played SnD, but here we are 💀

I have a few questions about them that I’d like to ask, if that’s alright!

1) We know that Stella came in from a shooting star… but where did she come from? What are her origins? I read in other posts that she was made out of concentrated stardust and that she came from an entire race of star people… is it alright if you can elaborate on that more?

2- Similarily, does Stella, Lambchop and the other characters have family or something? And if they do, are they going to be introduced sometime? Or will they just be unimportant NPCs?

3- If Stella and Lambchop ever enter a romantic relationship, how would everyone react? Especially Ruuuby; will she be upset at Stella, or will she accept it (after a lot of tears?)

4- Relating to the last question, how would they get together first? Would Stella develop romantic feelings and confess to Lambchop (probably in a VERY sweet and romantic gesture ❤️) or would it be something else that’ll bring them together?

5-What are their feelings about each other and the relationship in general? And what would their dynamic be like? Would it change much from their original friendship, or would it remain somewhat the same except with more physical affection?

6- What are their love languages for each other? (Gift Giving, Quality Time, etc…) As in, how would they show their love for each other?

7- And finally… what would their wedding be like? ;D

I am SO, SO SORRY if this is too much!!! 😥 It’s just that… well, I’d like to write a fanfic of these two someday… and since these two have less screen time together I am STRAVED for content about them, not blaming you, ofc!!! I absolutely love your work and it’s totally understandable that with the amount of time and effort you put into your games that it’s already amazing that you keep finding time to draw them together and create additional content for em! It’s just that I’d love to see more of these two and understand their characters better so that I can write them accurately, if that makes sense :D

So thank you for taking time to read my silly questions (and hopefully answer them if you’re not too busy) and I wish you a good day!! 😁

I'm so happy you like them!! Now you can brainrot with me!! ♡♡♡

I'll try to answer your questions to the best of my ability!!

Perhaps not at this instance but, time permitting, maybe I'll be able to expand it just a bit! I will say though that star people come in all genders and probably dress in similar ways to how Stella does! (So, like...lots of magical girl inspiration haha!) ===

I haven't thought much about it! Stella for sure doesn't have parents--she was born from the stars! As for Lambchop and the others, it's a mystery! ===

I think everyone would be a bit surprised, but happy for them! I answered once in another post that if Stella and Lambchop were to pursue a romantic relationship, Stella would try to set-up Ruuuby with somebody else to try and dampen the blow. If that didn't work, Stella would explain to Ruuuby very gently that she and Lambchop want to be together. Ruuuby would cry, upset that Lambchop doesn't like her, but would be happy for Stella because she loves Stella and wants her and Lambchop to be happy too! ===

I'm hoping that perhaps I can explain this a bit somehow in some of the arts I make of them! I can't see it ramping up to the level of being a game (especially because I don't want to take away from the themes of the original--and I've got other stories I want to make too!) but I think it might be a mix of a confession and something else. ===

If they were to officially get together I don't think it would change too much about their dynamic, but there would be a LOT of physical affection. Lambchop especially would be very clingy, always wrapped around Stella. Calling her things like "My Stella". They each have their own houses but I'm sure Lambchop would invite himself over to Stella's for a "sleepover" a lot, where they're forced to cuddle on her not-big-enough-for-2-people bed to fit (not that they're complaining) ===

I feel as though their love languages are like a mix of gift-giving and quality time, in their weird twisted ways. Lambchop kills people so Stella will have something to fix. Stella fixes everything so Lambchop will have something to ruin again. They might not even fully realize they're doing it, but they do it! ===

Oh their WEDDING? Well, I think it would be a happy one with all their friends, more or less! (Though probably with a lot of disagreements on how to go about it...) I think Stella also, being from the stars and all, might not be used to the concept of dating vs marriage so she might have to get herself accustomed to the idea. Also Lambchop wears a top hat, 100% === I hope that satisfies! And thanks again for your kind words!! ♡

[daveyfvckingjacobs]

not a single person cares but unfortunately I’m hyperfixated so that won’t stop me posting the last binding writing <33

basically I wanted to draw this concept, did not have the ability and remembered I’m also a writer and should write smaller things more <3

There’s an old house, out in the English countryside. It’s surrounded by sprawling land, dominated by creeping vines that infest cracks and dust that has settled into the air itself. There’s a beehive and a garden and a tree on a hill and something about those three things hangs in the air like a myth fighting desperately to not be forgotten.

The house belongs to someone. Someone who inherited it from someone else, who tries to look after it like it was looked after in days gone by but the house is large and the time for such manors long past. It’s a memory, a creature trapped in amber and if you listen closely, sometimes you can hear it’s heartbeat still.

The house has stories, like every good house does. Stories about frozen lakes and the way magic used to be and about faeries and bizarre things that can’t possibly be true. Names are attached to the stories, but they’re impersonal. Dusty words with nothing but the ghost of a breath and a laugh, if you’re still listening close enough.

The house has an attic. The attic holds life, the way it used to be. There’s a walking stick and some journals, books with faded scribbles down the margin, old waistcoats and shirts that have managed to survive for so long untouched. There’s a box in that attic too. A box that holds photographs and the someone who owns the house know will find them someday, sitting back on their heels in the old attic of an old house and maybe they’ll smile at what they see.

The first photograph might have been black and white once, but it’s faded to a sickly sort of yellow, edged with the brown of a bruise. It shows two young women in the middle of four men. It’s as impersonal as the names given to the stories. On turning it over, the someone will find a note written in a carefully swooping hand.

Sir R. Blyth, Mr E. Courcey, Miss M. Maud, Miss V. Debenham, Lord J. Hawthorn, Mr A. Ross, 1910

The names won’t mean very much. Each individual looks hardly different than the last, though the man identified as Sir R. Blyth has the same round face and twinkling eyes as the Miss M. Maud. Siblings perhaps, though it’s hard to think of such a thing existing so long ago. The man on the left - Mr A. Ross, according to the note - is an odd one out, with the way his clothes are patched and his grin slants. Mr E. Courcey is faded of colour, the Lord so stern he must not be a real person.

These aren’t real people, the someone will think as they brush their thumb over the faded image. Too stiff, too emotionless. They didn’t live and breath here, did they? They can’t have. Nothing but letters that form names and ink that forms faces.

The second photograph is different. It’s tucked into the bottom of the box, almost like it wants to remain unnoticed. It’s not different at first glance; still faded and bruised, taken at the same time as the first image but it’s different nonetheless.

The colourless man has more of a smile, the Sir R. Blyth gazing at him like he’s forgotten about the camera entirely. One arm loops around his waist where before a distinct gap existed between them. Next to them, Miss M. Blyth is pressing a kiss to the cheek of the other young woman, who’s mouth is open not in a smile but in a laugh, a hand fluttering over her chest. Next comes the unpleasant looking Lord, who’s mouth has been pulled up as though on a string. One of his hands rests on the shoulder of the Mr A. Ross - he in return is scowling up, arm raised mid swat but something about it lacks venom.

There’s writing on the back of this photograph too:

Robin and Edwin, Maud and Violet, Alan and Jack, 1910

Maybe they’re smiling at whoever took the picture. At a comment made or face pulled, the way you might encourage a smile from a child. There’s comfort in this image, trust, care and it breathes life into the coolness of the attic. It makes the someone think. About arms around waists and kisses on cheeks and the stories that got lost instead of told, hidden in the bottom of boxes at the back of attics.

There’s something sad about that, in a poetic way. Something close to tragic, but the stories don’t have just have names anymore. They have faces, have the hints of lives and if they can only be seen this way, in light filtered through a dusty attic window then the someone will hope that that’s good enough for them.

For the man called Robin, who must see the stars themselves in the one called Edwin. For the dimpled young Maud and the way the woman called Violet is laughing like she’s made up of scraps of the sun. For Alan - the odd one out - who scowls like he’s trying to decipher the way the moon is shining through the Lord with such a boyish name as Jack.

They’ll tuck the picture into their pocket and hope against hope that it’s good enough for them.

[antiquatedsimmer]

"Lucile, what are you doing out here? It's freezing!" Josephine exclaimed, her body shivering as she stepped out from the warmth of the stove-heated home into the biting, crisp air.

"I won't be long, Josie! Just need to get these last few roots cleared," Lucile called back, her breath visible in the frigid air.

Josephine trotted over, rubbing her arms in a tight embrace against the cold. "What are you digging around in the dirt for? You'll catch your death out here. Surely this can wait."

Lucile gently shook her head. "If I want to try planting this spring, I need to get a head start on clearing this place up. The overgrowth is atrocious."

"Look at the ground, poor baby," Lucile said, "The dirt is scorched and mostly rock. It's going to take a mountain of work to make it usable for planting."

"All the grass doesn't seem to mind," Josephine replied, raising an eyebrow and gently fidgeting with her fingertips in an attempt to stave off the cold.

"Well, technically it's not grass at all! It's just dead plants mixed with sticks and tumbleweeds," Lucile said, brushing strands of hair out of her face.

"It's not just that," she continued. "Our little bugs won't be long before they start walking, and that's only a step away from running, they'll need a place to play so they don't drive us crazy."

"Right," Josephine replied, her gaze drifting off into the distance.

Lucile tilted her head, noting the distant look on Josephine’s face. "What's the matter? The yard will look much prettier after everything's planted. The kids won't run us ragged in the house, and I thought you might like the idea of a garden… your garden party friends would love that."

"Oh, it's not that," Josephine said quickly, drawing her attention back to Lucile. "Sometimes I worry our children will outgrow the house, you know? I wish we had time to spruce up the place, make it more fitting for them. It feels like we're living in a broom closet."

"Hmmm," Lucile murmured, turning her head toward the house and taking a moment to think. Nothing could ever take Josephine out of her heart, but there were things she was beginning to notice about her that she hadn't before.

Josephine's privileged lifestyle… Even lived with Silas, she resided in a lavish place and was barley asked to lift a finger. Here, it was different, and keeping her happy in a home that could be the size of her old bedroom was a struggle.

But she wasn't wrong either. Their children would eventually outgrow this home, and the situation was even more tenuous given that it wasn't really theirs. They were just renting, and someday Nia's children would need to move in.

"Well, I can't exactly start knocking down walls, Josie, the wood is too old, and I'm honestly scared of what I'd find in the bare bones of it."

She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I was thinking about getting into my own wine-making. Maybe earn a few extra clams so we can start saving for a two-bedroom place in town. What do you think?"

Josephine sighed, "Perhaps. But what if you can't make sales? You sure there's no work that can pay you more?."

Lucile gently wrapped an arm around Josephine, steering her back toward the warmth of the house. "I've seen firsthand how folks around here love their wine. It's impressive, really. Brands even ship out to other places! I’m confident I can turn a profit if I come up with something good, Josie."

"Hmmm... I don't know," Josephine murmured

"There's a huge demand for it," Lucile pressed on. "A few bottles here and there, and by the time the kids are grown, we could have enough to move somewhere new.

It won't be anything grand...we're keeping a low profile, remember? Just the occasional bottle at the farmers' market.

"I know, it's not that I don't trust you know what you're doing, it's just... such a long way off."

Lucile thought for a moment, then smiled. "How about this? I'll give you some cash, and you can pick out some wallpaper to redecorate the nursery."

Josephine perked up, gasping excitedly. "Really? Even though money is tight?"

"A little color wouldn't hurt," Lucile replied with a half-hearted smile. Josephine buried her head into Lucile's shoulder affectionately.

"You treat me so well."

"Of course," Lucile chuckled. "Everybody knows if mama ain't happy, nobody is... But maybe," she nudged Josephine playfully, "you could pay me back in other ways?"

Josephine replied with a smirk and a teasing purr, "Oh, I think I know a few ways I can show my gratitude."

[livingdeadhorse]

YOU GET IT!!! YOU GET HOW ABSOLUTELY CRINGE GIRLFAIL FAKE CELESTE IS!! 

The moment she started yapping about her experience as a gambler in her FTE, to simply turn out to be nothing but gambling manga references, made me so embarrassed for her. She’s absolutely so cringe, and to add on that, in “Hair & Gyoza” (Danganronpa 3 Drama CDs ALL 4 DISCS: Kizakura’s Double, Departure, & 2 Bonus Discs! ~LOST MEDIA~ found on YouTube), 

She mentions wanting to ride a robot. 

(My Japanese isn’t that good, but I’ll try to translate to the best of my ability.) 

“I have almost done everything that can be done in this world. Someday, I would like to be summoned from the Tokyo Tower to another world and try gambling while riding a giant robot.” 

Like, what!? HELLO???

It’s also explained that she only joined Hope’s Peak because Kizakura Koichi mentioned a lucky student would be joining her class, and she flat out said it was a sign she was chosen by the ultimate lucky student in her class (Naegi). And for my personal view, when she antagonized Naegi for Sayaka’s murder, I feel like that’s her testing his luck, perhaps? But it also might explain why she’s in the background of every pre-game photo just standing, she spends her life in the underground gambling so of course she’s going to be socially awkward

SHE’S SO CRINGE I CAN’T //affectionate!!

And you’re so correct that everything in chapter 3 was just her being her! People mention why didn’t she use her great poker face in that trial, as if we didn’t see her snap over the littlest thing, such as Hifumi over her milk tea not being exactly how she wanted, or when in “Hair & Gyoza,” throwing a TANTRUM when Kizakura accidentally slipped on a gyoza wrapping and ripped off her drills, kicking, screaming, only to calm down when she requested Kizakura to give her a massage. She makes me physically recoil. So, of course, she’s going to be yelling when she is on trial for a DOUBLE MURDER!! 

As for Celeste’s ass-kissing scene for Byakuya, I interpret it as Celeste having a crush on him, maybe? In the DR collab with Sanrio, Kuromi has a crush on Badtz-maru, something Celeste and Byakuya are seen with in the collab and Celeste’s JP voice actor interview mentions,

“It’s something like, Celestia, Togami, Fukawa, a love triangle?”

that I found on 101soundboards (DANGANRONPA REARRANGE SOUNDTRACK & ORIGINAL DRAMA CD ダンガンロンパ リアレンジサウンドトラック ＆ オリジナルドラマCD - Video Game Music).

I think that’s a neat detail, but SHE’S SUCH A LOSER!! I LOVE HER AND HATE HER!!!

HIIIII YO I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THE MANGA REFERENCES. So cornyyy what is wrong with her. More evidence for my Hifumi and Celeste were friends propaganda. Two losers who live vicariously through media.

I had NO idea about the drama CDs oh my God, I can't thank you enough. She wants to be ISEKAI'D LMAO.

I remember Koichi mentioning he was going to scout Celestia, but I don't remember the tidbit about the lucky student. Is that from the anime or other supplementary media? Either way, Celestia living out her "chosen one" fantasy through such stupid means. I can't take her seriously I can't. Her antagonizing Makoto to test his luck is a really cool interpretation! I chalked it up to her usual meddling behavior but it's been established that she had been curious about his luck and how it compares to hers....thinking emoji.

Also yeah, I'm sure the actual reason she's just standing there in the photos is because they didn't want to draw a complicated character design over and over again but. One of the only pictures where they don't slap a sprite png on the background is the one with Hifumi where she's visibly embarrassed. Honestly, I think most HPA students are socially awkward. It'd be easier to count the ones who ARE good at socializing. Also in the manga it's slightly implied that she grew up isolated or even bullied. Also her insistence that Yasuhiro is a loser's name...#wdym

She makes me physically recoil. So, of course, she’s going to be yelling when she is on trial for a DOUBLE MURDER!!

OH MY GOD YOU GET IT. This is the riskiest gamble she's ever done and from the moment Hifumi doesn't die immediately, she knows she's fucked.

I had no idea that there were hints towards her crushing on Byakuya! I personally interpreted the ass-kissing as her wanting to BE Togami. He's rich, powerful, famous, and nothing about his life is "boring". From the second he shows up, he draws everyone's attention and even gains admirers. He is looked after by servants and travels the world. He is EVERYTHING Celestia wants, so he's definitely at the very top of her ranking system.

ALSO THANK YOU SM FOR THE DRAMA CD SOURCES!!!! I love and hate her so much. Just such a weird woman (VERY affectionate).

[follyglass]

Follyglass : Home

The book had nothing to do with myth or legends or dragons or even cats, but on the seventy-eighth page of a millinery guide there was a fanciful scribble in jewel-blue ink of a catdragon. It was odd and charming and curious, this quick render of scale and twisted horn reminiscent of illuminated manuscripts. As she ran her finger along its back in admiration, Milla may have heard a purr.

It was something she liked about used books, these little personalized moments, these leavings of bits of character from previous owners. At the counter the seller turned the book over, muttering to himself ‘I really don’t remember this one, it dun’t even have a price..’while Milla pushed money across the counter.

All the way home, she wondered who drew the little creature. She particularly liked to think that a literary graffiti artist was responsible. That way, there was a possibility of other catdragons, and perhaps someday she might find another.

In her living room she opened the book to page seventy-eight to marvel at the little drawing, but the page was frustratingly black-and-white in its ordinariness. Perhaps the drawing she saw was disappearing ink? Was it all a trick? She resignedly placed the book on a little shelf and left it there. Having a millinery book wasn’t so bad, was it?

Months later while reading a book of poetry by the fire, Milla turned the page and was pleasantly startled to find the catdragon, curled and sleeping next to a line about peaches. Seeing that the lovely little beast could move between books, she thought it her responsibility to expand her library – if only to enrich the catdragon’s environment.

And so it was that Milla filled her walls with glossy shelves and began to stack books of every subject within them. Booksellers remarked about her voracious reading habits, visitors were astounded to find that she had so many shelves (’even in the pantry!’) and edged laughter into their voice as they wondered aloud about the strength of the oak floor. But she pressed on.

Milla’s guess was right. The catdragon gamboled…and the catdragon grew. She named him.

Sometimes she read through pages and pages overlaid with a palimpsest of blue scale and feather, the book vibrating with Axscalamander’s purr. Sometimes he would play games with her and hide within the stacks; she would coo that he was such a clever catdragon and upon hearing the smile in her voice Axscalamander would shiver with love, which also made his chosen hiding place tap slightly against the shelf.

Eventually, he got too big to fit into novellas, so Milla sorted all of the little books out of the shelves so he wouldn’t get cramped or worse – stuck – and replaced them with atlases and old encyclopedias. When Axscalamander began to shed feathers – a jot of blue trail that she would encounter over months in different subjects from Scandinavian fairytales to volumes of greek classics – she began to worry.

Was he sick? Was he just shedding his feathers so he could grow bigger? Milla could only guess at the answers, as there weren’t any books on catdragons. Often, she found him sleeping in the atlas cradled by oceans. He slept for a tumble of days at a time, and though he looked somewhat peaceful, he looked thinner. Smaller, maybe. Milla could not stop worry from staining her thoughts. He shouldn’t be left alone, she decided, so she tucked the atlas into a satchel that she brought with her everywhere, sometimes whispering encouragement to it. Sometimes, the book shivered. She liked to think Axscalamander was dreaming and could hear her voice. She told him that he was very clever and beautiful, and she considered herself to be the luckiest person in the world because she knew Axscalamander.

At night, she nestled the atlas on half of her pillow, and she whispered bedtime stories about dragons saving princesses until she fell asleep just before the ‘happily ever.’ The atlas shivered her into dreams.

One morning she awoke to a soft rumbling, not too terribly unlike the far-off thunder of a welcome summer storm. She grabbed at her atlas and fanned the pages quickly to locate Axscalamander, who was stretching in the Ural mountains. Upon seeing Milla, the blue catdragon blinked and purred, then patted out a drowsy little jig. Down the hall, the thunder rumbled again. Milla tucked the atlas under her arm and hurried through the maze of shelves that her home had become. Only when she was still did the rumble come again, but this time it came from all around her. There were books on every shelf that shivered softly. The atlas crooked in her arm shivered, and a few seconds later the books all around her library responded. She flipped the pages of the atlas to the Urals and asked Axscalamander “do you know what’s happening?”

Axscalamander shivered his whole blue brilliance again.

The books shivered in response.

Milla grabbed a book from the shelf and flipped through its pages. There on the corner of page twenty-seven was a tiny blue scrawl of a catdragon rendered in whimsy and scale. It looked just like Axscalamander.

Books around her library shivered again. A quick count revealed at least a dozen or more brilliant little catdragons, each in their own book where Axscalamander had shed his feathers.

Milla stood, bewildered, in her library house. She realized it would be a good time to have some tea… to think. Yesterday, she worried only about Axscalamander. But now. A dozen or more catdragons resided in her shelves. How brilliant. How marvelous. How many books could she live in? What could she possibly do? The rim of the teacup was still balanced on her fingers when the tea had gone tepid. It afforded her no answers.

Again, Milla wished that someone had written a book about catdragons, because she didn’t know quite what to do. There was only so much library that her – their– home could accommodate.

Would they grow as big as Axscalamander?

How many atlases could she have on her shelves?

She went to her friends who each eagerly agreed to take in a book, and over pumpkin scones and pearwood tea, they came up with a plan. Instructional guides were written in golden script, then tucked into each book where a catdragon dwelled. Over the course of months, the friends visited libraries and bookstores, secretly dropping off a book here or there. It was agreed that libraries and bookstores were places for the people they needed, who would eagerly welcome into their lives something as magic as a book-dwelling catdragon.

The friends hoped it was enough, and that the catdragons and their potential new guardians saw they deserved the magic of a loving home. Filled with books, of course.

[sunnydaysunshine]

And then, there was the second Sunshine >:)

While her main story has not yet begun yet, I’m currently in the middle of trying to finish up a preview for what is to come. Mainly involving her and Ian’s story. If you want to check it out, here’s the link https://archiveofourown.org/works/46184566/chapters/116270185

Mona Blue (affectionately known as Mo, Sunshine, and Sunspot) was born on My 17, 1999. She’s the life of the party. Well, once her and her third boyfriend to count (now ex) Ian broke up. Unlike in her previous life (ooops, spoilers but it shouldn’t be if you follow the series lol), Mona likes to draw in her free time. She was born in Tampa, FL, but moved to Chalmette, LA. Though she struggled with the wanting of being a cartoon animator someday, she also wanted to pursue a career in nursing. Mona isn’t really a patient person, nor does she necessarily have a good financial background, so she settled to become a Medical Assistant for now until she could work her way up to at least LPN status. She works Dr. Ashmir’s Family Medicine clinic, where she is free to explore the benefits of all fields and techniques. She gets along well with her coworkers, who finds her personality amusing and brightening. Though, that’s inside of work. Outside of work is a whole different ball game.

Its like ever since her and Ian Duff split after the scandal, there was always a black cloud hanging over her. Hidden by smiles, outrageous jokes, and silly antics. During her free time (the weekends mostly), Mona spends her time drowning herself in alcohol and partying with her friends. She used to wear clothing that would cover her up (not necessarily from head to toe, but some decency would be nice huh?) but now, her friends convinced her to show off some skin to attract a new bae. Her hair done up as nicely as possible despite it being short and make-up caked upon her face whenever she stepped out. Desperately trying to forget her breakup with whom she assumed would be the love of her life three months prior. Though, her world changes when suddenly, she stumbles across a strange VHS tape that NOBODY could explain ended up in a clothing store.

Well, her best friend Shaun is supposed to be coming to stay with her for awhile. Might as well buy him some kind of cool trinket that he would find neat.

Well, shortly after a night on the town with her friends at a hot spot club on Bourbon Street, throwing it back on some hot guy she was tempted to take home with her and decided against for the night and getting absolutely shit-faced, she goes home to take a bath and decides: hey, there’s this cool ass VHS tape in the living room with possibly some nostalgia shit on it. Lets watch it!

Only to find out that there’s really nothing on the tape. Except static and loud noise in and shit. In defeat, Mona decided to down one more glass of Rose wine. Just one. Or two. Maybe three. That turns out to be a bad idea as she collapses, passed out from too much booze. Nothing but the TV watching her now. And perhaps...someone else.

Someone else who’s spirit was forever binded to the tape. Until now.

And when he sees her...ohhhh..how she looks so much like his Sunshine all those years ago. But it couldn’t be her...was it?

Mona, unlike her previous counterpart is a spit fire. Easily irritated, never backs down from a fight, can be sweet a lot of the times, but also very blunt. She likes to party and have fun, but there’s also times where she’s cool with just staying home and chillin. As stated before, she loves to show off what she’s got when she’s out. But when she’s home? T-shirt and panties people. MAYBE socks. She likes any color, but she prefers the color blue, just like her last name. That’s why she colored in the butterfly tattoo blue. Not just in memory for the sister she lost who ALSO had a blue butterfly tattoo, but because she likes the color blue. She hopes to get more tattoos in the future. She also likes to vape. A lot. ESPECIALLY when she’s stressed out (no worries, no nicotine is in any of them), and when she’s bored and alone, she likes to keep busy. Anything to keep her mind off of HIM. But when she gains a new roommate that’s annoying, childish, yet somewhat interesting, she doesn’t need to keep herself busy as much. As he ALWAYS finds something for them to do.

Again, while Mona’s MAIN story with Jack hasn’t started yet, you can at least read His First on A03 to get a better feel for Mona and her relationship with Ian.

[herstoriies]

Now onto the better wedding discussion! :D

The Aristide x Priscilla wedding in Joie de Paris!The Diva is finally tying the knot with who was at one time her former significant annoyance & archrival, discovered to be her soulmate ❤️❤️ (rotfl autocorrect almost wrote soup-mate 🤣!) It is still a fairytale <3 and perhaps better yet a love story in honest reality, a fitting compatibility, companionship, and mutual devotion. As well as their special mutual attraction of course ;)

Anyways! Perhaps one thing that stands out to me is Pris’ surprising want for simplicity & practicality in a wedding (nothing to get stressed over). Perhaps another way to phrase it is, quality over quantity.

Which on the surface seems ironic for Pris who in the pinnacle of her career as an opera starlet always lived life in Paris to its fullest to near exaggeration and kept up with an expensive lifestyle and living off gifts from dandies & stage-door johnies. Then again, it’s a new chapter, and she’s matured & character developed, and I mean, who she’s marrying has certainly rubbed off on her xD ! She is by no means to be mistaken to be miserly, but certainly a more responsible, conscious, and decisive economist xD (plus there’s honeymoon and general married life future things considerations worth spending etc etc all dandy~)

So what are these quality over quantity priorities? Pris’ personal pick would be fashion, food, & flowers (This is Paris, after all!). Everything else can be ‘humble’ xD! The location for the ceremony, the parish, and the reception, are something she is agreeable and open to suggestions. Be it in the country or shining lights of Paris both sound lovely. Surprisingly for someone with a larger than life personality and demands to be is frequently the center of attention, if you asked her, she’d prefer not being one for anything grandiose with numerous attendees. Rather, something more personal and intimate.

Memorable, yes. A great time, for sure. Entertaining & dancing? These are theatre folk, what did you expect. A full page in the newspaper and the talk of the town? No thank you. Whether she wants/likes it or not Pris does find herself in the gossip column often enough, so if there’s a tiny blurb… uhhh fine.

Rather than a spectacle this is a celebration <3

A warm celebration of celebrations she would want spent with those closest to the bride & groom and a most joyous celebration it will be ❤️

Ok some more into the fashion, food, and flowers tidbit!

Naturally, the dress is a statement piece. Of course, the dress will be designed by the House of Worth. Not so much for the status symbol but because she loves their work. Priscilla is a flashy peacock (& let’s face it, she’s a beauty and doesn’t shy to flaunt it!), and she always dresses spectacularly for the occasion and her wedding will be no different. Dressing for herself, and her significant other. And! One of my favorite historic tidbits I’ve learned is wedding dresses in that era would be repurposed afterwards.

That said also there will be something different to this gown’s details & construction compared to her past/everyday “peacock” attire, that’s fitting with her character development and the occasion and elegance. I found something that’s basically it :D might create a collage or something maybe draw it someday <3

The food must also be spectacular. Again, this is Paris. And a most special occasion. Be it for the private dinner, or guest hors d’oeuvres. The exact meal and food courses and cake (who cares about the Victorian tradition of fruit cake here, they can do better than that! xD), again she’s open to, so long as it’s excellent.

Ah yes and flowers too. It’s still being decided, but the bouquet will be fitting. perhaps including white roses & lilies of the valley. Garlands, tiny bouquets for decoration, etc at the wedding will also be present. Here it’s not so much as how exquisite or ornate or rare the flowers are, but that there are flowers. Even if it’s generously buying everything from the local flower girl & making someone’s day.

Oh yes and of course the photograph! (Was it still that era the daguerreotype?)

So! This is what I have so far, always room for revisions :3 more to come soon!

[stonyponyofficial]

hello i've got a twofer for you :3c hope that's alright......

one is if you could be transformed into some variety of mythical or supernatural beast right now, what sort would you choose to be?

two is do you have any kind of bucket list? something you've always wanted to do but haven't gotten the chance yet?

oh yeah thats fine the last one had like 4 hidden and tucked away. seinfeld voice not that theres anything wrong with that. ill answer sooooooooooooo many questions (so send her some)

1 looking at list of mythical beasts voice ohhhhbh yeah... thats sick... awrsomeright im answering a question. well i was gonna answer something relatively normal until i found the Azukiarai/Azukitogi at the end of the alphabetical list for A on winkipedia. these are creatures that. well. they wash and grind their azuki beans (respectively, literally what their names mean) by a stream, and anyone who approaches "will inevitably fall in the water" because u see this is a scheme for eating people. not the beans im preparing right at this second mind u. why i would even have a little song about it that i sing to draw u near and it might go a little something like "Will I grind my azuki beans, or will I get a person to eat? shoki shoki" aaaaaaaand ur in the water. um normal answer id be a pegasus for no reason whatsoever stop looking at my profile picture. start looking at my hooves and massive wings, betch. < jesse pinkasus btw

2 an actual list, i do not have. feels too big. scary even. like if i said to myself i wanted to do something and then never did and also died id be sooooo embarraassed, while dead, than if i had just never done it anyway but never said i wanted to. initially im thinking just stuff like "i wanna visit this place and do this there" which at first dont feel like good enough answers until i realize going places and doing things there is just what people do anyway, until they die. so there are perhaps a few places id like to go as well as things id like to do there. um sorry number one is japan and i would be the most embarassing person to be with. its so prettyyy and it would be awesome for learning the language mroe. 100 percent language immersion babey.. . i wanna learn japanese, i guess is another thing. and probably more useful languages to my everyday life too! idk if this is bucket list material or just things i want to do. i would also like to go somewhere with a mountain someday i think. my area is renowned for its flatness and lack of buildings, so perhaps i would like to be somewhere with those things :3 maybe even.. go near the moutain.. . O.O no. not yet. far too scary by far.

[waiting-on-a-dream]

aurora, i just realized that we haven't really talked about our ocs' relationship dynamics that much :0 like, what are your thoughts about them, do you think any of them could be friends, rivals, enemies, maybe you have ideas for potential ships? 👀 i'm just curious!

Ooh~ Talking about ocs' relationship dynamics, eh? 👀

I actually made a post on Mia and Irene's thoughts on your RSA ocs, so that covers their relationships already. XD

I've sent in interactions for Avery with Slyvan and Iris before. I think both of them would want to befriend Avery for the same reason, but perhaps with different ways of going about it? They just see a cute angry boy and go: Wow! :D That's so cute. But whereas Slyvan is all smiles and offering gifts, Iris chooses to tease the poor boy instead.

We both already know how Violet thinks of Vance. 😶 There's potential for a genuine friendship though! Once Vance stops being such a chaotic troublemaker and Violet learns to let a few things slide. Wyn would totally get along with Vance though! Their cheerful energy would bounce off each other so well! Though Vance's fourth wall breaks do scare Wyn sometimes.

Reading Merrill's personality and unique magic again...Iris would be drawn to him like a magnet. He's flirty, mysterious, and somehow knows the juiciest romance gossip in NRC? She'll be eagerly looking for any chances to talk to him. Perhaps they'd get along really well, perhaps Merrill would find her exhausting. Either way, he's not getting rid of her for a while. 🤭

Allen and Mia would get along like a house on fire. Cheerful and energetic boy, always smiling? Mia would like to know your location. She doesn't even mind that much when he does something wrong and claims he didn't know it was wrong either. She actually believes him when he says that! She'll just forgive him and tell him not to do it again ajsajsasaaksa So yeah, they'd be great friends! 😄

Emile and Roland are best gardening buddies and I will die on this hill. I can imagine them pruning leaves together now. 🍃

Austin is like a prickly little hedgehog that won't stop biting people lmao. Good thing Zoya is immune to tsundere behavior. I don't think they'd ever be friends, really. Just acquaintances perhaps. Zoya tries to be friendly and teasing with everyone she meets, and she might double down on Austin because he actually fights back. She loves a good challenge. Wyn is another one that would try and befriend Austin! He thinks Austin might just be shy or has trust issues, so he tries his best to seem trustworthy! Hah...My poor sunshine boy will get hurt someday at the rate he's going.

Violet and Minnie are 🤝 constantly are we know it. Their energies are almost completely similar so it's safe to say they'd make a great team! (Aajsaiodiandi I can imagine Minnie and Violet scolding Vance and Seth now- 💀)

Aurora has taken an interest to Hayden, as he seems to change his personality depending on who he's talking to, so the poor boy will have a mini panic attack whenever they approach him now.

Xenon and Riley superiority, that's all I have to say on this relationship. I think Duran wouldn't mind hanging out around Riley either, as long as he stays quiet and doesn't draw any 'fans' over.

With time and effort, perhaps Chandani and Blythe could be friends! As of now though, Chandani sympathizes for her poor vice dorm leader in silence. Perhaps she'll bring her a snack to relax one day.

Aurora would be drawn to Seth at first, finding him to be super interesting and fun! He's already 18, but he's only a first year? How odd. They'd start to find him annoying once he shows more and more of his main character syndrome though, finding him to be too self-absorbed to get along with. Xenon would also find him interesting, but prefer to observe him from afar. Maybe he'll find out more about Seth than everyone else watching him from behind the scenes.

[jediknightjameslunagazer23]

@theblueskyphoenix @dreamstormdragon

Hey there, finally got around to doing something to kick off 2023 for me, and this time it's a concept flashback of how one of my Trauma Center OCs Juila first met Nurse Leslie Sears for the first time as teenagers and became friends as a result.

Whilst doing this drawing, I actually began to have a few headcanon ideas forming in my mind about what Leslie might have been like as a Teenager, I'd like to think that unlike the kind, reassuring always smiling demeanor she has now, Leslie was actually a lot more introverted and insecure about herself and her looks, unfortunately this led to her getting bullied by most girls her age.

One severe case was when one day, Leslie helped some kids at a nursery that she used to volunteer at part-time, when some gangsters got extremely vicious due to Leslie hanging with some popular guy they wanted revenge against her for in their eyes, stealing him away, unfortunately in trying to defend herself and the kids, it nearly led to poor Leslie almost being drowned in the nearby beach, and if it hadn't been for a timely arrival of Juila calling the police or diving in herself to save her, Leslie may have very well perished that day.

Juila even faced down the gangsters herself, knocking out several but she ended up getting the scar she has over her right eye when one of them pulled out a knife, thankfully the police arrived right after, and the gangsters were all sent to juvenile prison.Afterwards Juila went over to ensure Leslie was alright, despite her injury Leslie rebuked Juila for being reckless, that she shouldn't have tried to fight the gangsters as it could've gotten her seriously injured or even half-blinded, trust me Juile had a lucky narrow escape on that one.

Julia however was quick to brush those concerns off, and then extended a hand out to Leslie thanking her for her concern and even suggested the idea that she could be a nurse someday, and even told her she was beautiful on both the inside and outside.

Taken aback by such kindness Leslie immediately became friends with Juila and even began to develop the giving a reassuring smile to those who are at their worst personality she has today.Afterwards, I'd like to think Juila's rebelling nature and self-confindence rubbed off on Lesile, so much that when Juila eventually cut her long hair to defy her controlling, overprotective father as a means to show she would not let others decide her path or define her by looks, Leslie ended up following suit, though that doesn't mean that she hated the braided ponytail she used to have, she just probably felt she needed to make an new start for herself.

And I'd like to think maybe the reason Leslie does Amy Chase's hair up into braids is because she maybe sees a bit of herself in Amy and would happily act as the older sister figure, to ensure Amy doesn't feel lonely like she did in her life before meeting Juile, however... that doesn't mean every smile Leslie gives is always genuine, as I'd also like to think that on occassions when things are bad, she perhaps forces a fake smile to hide whatever is hurting her deep down, and when that mask finally breaks it's even more of a shock to those who don't know her well.

Only Juila would know of this, and whenever that happens, she'll be there to growl and scare off any nosy gossiping types in Cadueceus to make sure Lesile's left in peace, after all, that's what friends are for right?

Unless it could be something… rather deeper than just friendship and something more that either Leslie or Juila realise themselves… but that's currently yet to be certain.

This will defintely be something I'll likely cover if I do any stories focused around Lesile Sears later down the line, also maybe because of how she was intially lonely in my heacanon, Leslie also probably see herself in the shy James Lunagazer and would add more of why she considers him to be a younger brother in her view, and just really look out for him.

I'll see you lot later, as I'm determined to have a lot of stories coming in future this year!

[spideysneighbor]

Hello Neighbor: Welcome to Raven Brooks - Chapter 18 The Librarian (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1242108692-hello-neighbor-welcome-to-raven-brooks-chapter-18?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=NeighborReno12&wp_originator=lssUEhNL0EUZARURdzJ61YB5p63IezG4KsM0mTyU96LVzqTpKXpdlWTLI1DyYnaUwzxvhdrZ0OdZmXJN19rokGP%2Bb5vBpRirHgRXJSRArapbcWtGk9pNJBgmRETid9OP 

link here ---> https://www.wattpad.com/1242108692-hello-neighbor-welcome-to-raven-brooks-chapter-18

I just post another chapter on my fanfiction after like MONTHS so if you guys want to read it here the link you don’t have to just wanted to post it hope you guys have a great day.

I focused on the pages of the book seeing page after page, drawing after drawing, as the sunlight lit up the room, helping me see better but it only bother me I couldn't help to rub my left eye and sigh " well narf time to act like you slept good. " I got up and started to do some stretches because I felt like the aliens drain my human energy maybe because that was pretty much what happened but perhaps it was god himself or just lack of sleep but I didn't bother to care about myself because I was too busy cleaning up the couch to make sure there was no evidence I was here so Mr. Esposito and Miss. Esposito wouldn't know. Once I was done I was planning on continuing to study the observation notebook but I wanted to explore more since now the rooms were now no longer shadowed by darkness. I found myself walking down the hallway that led to the bathroom, I walk there because it was the only place I could see Esposito's pictures that were hung up on the wall. While they were pretty much the same, with all of them just having a picture of each family member doing something together or apart they were fascinating to me because I have never seen this many photos before, mainly because they all looked so happy with each other, while I couldn't do stuff like fishing, soccer, engineering, spend more time with my parents.I continue to look at the picture until I heard footsteps. I turn around only to be scared by a single boo that makes me jump back only to see the two siblings " ha got you, Nicky " she said with a gentle smirk as I rolled my eyes playfully " yea you got me, your getting better at that " I replied which got her to smile even bigger than before " thanks, you're making it easy for me " she said, to which I grin at her " oh I'll get you back, that I swear to holly aliens and god, I will have my revenge " I grin.I look up to her brother " you look like crap " I said to him to which he just smirks " yea, well you don't look so hot ether " I let a laugh hoping Mr.Peterson wouldn't hear me " but seriously you look worse did you even sleep " Aaron asked, to which I was just stood there not really knowing how to respond " y-yea I didn't sleep that good " I said to which he put his hand on my shoulder " next time try to go back to sleep " he said to me while rolled my eyes " yea well I can't, i-it not easy I'm not as lazy as you " I said but then he gave me a punch on the shoulder " oh please you can't even get out of bed most of the time " he said as I rolled my eyes " okay but seriously you need sleep " he said " okay fine what do you got to say " I asked as Mya lean against the wall " well you know how you like engineering and how it makes you more relax, well it like sleeping, try thinking of ideas that you could build or make adjustments to and the more that you think the more time you drift off. "His eyes sparked as he smiled revealing his white teeth that were almost perfect looking as his smile, but yet it had an effect on me that made me put a smile on my face " thanks for the advice, I might use it someday" I said he let out a sigh " well you better use it tonight because this is our last sleepover since your parents are coming home tomorrow " he said " yea they have been doing a lot of work " I said a little quietly only for Aaron to speak " well at least they will be back and you can hang out with them. " I was about to talk until Mya let out a cough " you should get your breakfast before I steal yours " she said only for Aaron to grin at her " oh you are a little thief if you dare lay finger on the pancakes I will use a gamma ray to destroy you " he said only for her to roll her eyes " I wasn't talking to you " she smirk, as I felt a little grin on face " oh that how going to be...well SEEYA " I yelled as ran pass her " GET BACK HERE YOU ALIEN BUTTLER " she screamed behind me as we both came down the stairs, both of us laughing as well ran through the halls, with the floors squeaking from our footsteps and the halls echoing our laughter only to stop once when I hit something in front of me that made me fall to the ground cause me get up and look up to see Mr.Peterson as fear was now all I felt " what are you doing boy I can hear you from the living room " he growed at me making nervous with his russian accent putting me on edge as I felt myself trying to make out a word but it never came out.I only stared at him as the both of us locked eyes " morning dad how did you sleep " Mya's voice said behind me with a happy tone that sound excited but Mr.Peterson seemed to ignore it as he look at her " I didn't sleep I was...working and you should be quiet Mya or you can go back to your room " he said to her like he was annoyed with he, as if she was just some nuisance it made me have a spark of anger that I felt inside me, but I kept calm " now you all be quiet or Nicholas is going home early " he said to us, that when I felt more anger but that was interupted by a voice behind me " they weren't even screaming that loud, they were just having fun " I look behind us to see Aaron who had his arms cross as he stared at his father " what did you say oMeN  you better have a good reason on why you dare to talk to me like that " he growed at his son with his hand rolling up into a fist " I said they were just having fun, father " he repeated but he sounded irrated rather then scared of the man stepping forward to him.

[pardoxtrappedmspfa]

UNDER CONSTRUCTION!! PROLOG REMAKE

Kept ya waiting huh?

After another unfortunate break due to the fact i unfortunately have a life outside PT, im here to bring you an upgrade to some old stuff!! just before i start working on the new.

TLDR in case you dont want the long reason: PT's prolog is kinda shit so im gonna be updating it so that its pacing is better and also the art meets the standards of my current skills.

IF YOU WANT THE LONG OF IT READ MORE

ok so recently ive been thinking alot about my work on PT so far. Since i havent really been working on it due to collage and junk and also just a lack of motivation which ocasionally hits me, and while looking back on pt's prolog i relised how... fast? the pacing was? Nothing really had time to sit. Things were introduced and had little time to explore them. Half of the things in Veritas Room werent even interacted with. Most stuff in the hidden room wasnt interacted with either. And also the writing just kinda sucked??? and unlike something like Johns introduction from HS you couldnt really gadge Verita as a person from her introduction and interactions in the prolog, She doesnt even really react to the readers sudden preasence.

So. Thinking on these issues i decided, Im going to remake PT's Prolog. I will redraw the panels, Rewrite pages, maybe even add some new ones in the process. Perhaps add more CSS stuff or something. Since while i mostly have issues with pacing most of the early pages in PT kinda suck visually. Just look at Veritas Old Sprite compared to now.

Ultimately, the goal is to improve the Prolog so i can start working more on Act 1. get back into the groove of drawing in HS's style, get back into the writing, and also just make a better story so that newer readers will get more enticed. I want PT to be the best it can be, and while this might take a while this should hopefully help in that goal.

Course as i work on PT in general my art style and writing will get better. So someday i might be compelled to do this again in the future. but for now i think this is a solid way of getting me back in the chair.

Thank you for reading, and i hope to see you guiding our hero soon.

[shaddashk]

I wrote a thing (FF7)

STILL not the one I’m wanting to work and finish on, but to be fair this one “started” before that one so... eh. If it gets me going, right?

Chapter One

Swing.

He didn't think on the fact that the trooper falling victim to his blade was only one of still probably a hundred more to go. Maybe more. Not like he had time to count them.

Block.

If he thought about it he might falter. Faltering was bad. He would die if he faltered. And then who would make sure Cloud didn't get his three meals a day? Cloud?

Dance to the side. Smash the pommel into the chest of the sword trooper.

wait... who am I fighting?

So he focused on just breathing. Allowing his mind and body to move without thought. The Buster sword became an extension of himself. His dreams, fighting to be free. Limited only by his body

“Zack!”

Too slow. A pike snagged flesh and drew a bloody jagged line down the length of his forearm.

pike?

Aerith was waiting for him. Her laugh, her smile danced in his mind, almost crowding out the sight of the soldiers in brown and red crouched ahead of him, long pikes in their hands.

what... Aerith?

Green.

Green like the mako tanks that had held him and Cloud. The mako tanks that they would put them back in if Zack failed. Zack snarled as rage flooded his body like he had never felt before and whirled away from the pike soldiers in front of him and lunged for the source. At the trooper in blue standing with a hand on his wrist, a bracer flickering green light oddly and swung with all his might.

Clang!

The rage faltered as the sword blocking his wasn’t any normal sword. It was the broad metal of the Buster Sword. But... That wasn’t... Zack blinked as he focused for what felt like the first time on his hands. On the... regular sword clenched in a two handed grip that couldn’t quite fit on the pommel.

Suddenly he couldn’t seem to draw breath into his lungs as it felt like something physical smashed between his eyes and his vision went white.

~~~

Aerith jerked back as ethereal green threads bloomed like flowers out from the ground that she had just been working on. She held her breath, mainly out of wonder but with a touch of fear. The Lifestream had never done this before. What was happening?

The "petals" of the Lifestream waved in the air, as if dancing to some unfelt wind. And perhaps it was. Sometimes Aerith swore she could feel things around her that were not… "here". Things were different for the Lifestream.

The green threads uncurled more and seemed to stretch out to her hand, reaching. Seeking. Without realizing what she was doing, she reached her hand to it and held her fingers still as the green stream wrapped around her fingers. Warmth that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature blossomed in her hand and darted up her arm. Whispers threaded their way through her mind, *almost* words but not words.

…hold on… 

...love lasts…

...hold on…

Feelings ripped through the Lifestream before it let go of her hand and shattered into a million little pieces that faded back into the ground.

Aerith took in a breath, not realizing she had somehow held it all that time, eyes wide. That had been the most… Wonderful and strange experience she had ever had. Carefully she poked at the soil and felt a twinge of disappointed when the Lifestream didn't bloom again.

“Too bad there isn't anyone to tell about this.” She sighed, carefully swiping at the corner of her eyes. While caring, she knew that Emyra didn't know what to make of it when Aerith talked about her experiences with the Lifestream. This would definitely rank up there on the strangeness scale. Maybe someday there would be someone who would take her strangeness in stride.

Just not today.

She went back to working the soil, digging gently with her hands into the dirt, carefully mixing in her special "plant food" mixture into it. Unnoticed, the heads of the flowers waiting to be planted bowed and swayed for a moment, as if dancing in the wind.

[jasontoddiefor]

A gift for @thenegoteator :D

It took a Temple to raise a child, and Mace Windu was very much aware of this. However, it did not explain what Ahsoka Tano was doing at his door in the middle of the night. Ahsoka had deep bags under her eyes, which wasn’t too much of a surprise considering the current living arrangements of her lineage. While little Luke and Leia were relatively well-behaved newborns, they were still only a few weeks old. If their human caretakers didn’t wake up at every single little whimper, then the togruta with the superior hearing certainly would.

“Do you want to come inside?” Mace asked, not letting his confusion show. He was used to people coming to his door at the oddest hours.

“If—if I can?” Ahsoka replied as if only now becoming aware of her actions. In this, she reminded Mace of her Grandmaster and the many nights Mace had found Obi-Wan coming to his doorstep during the first months of Anakin’s stay at the Temple.

“My door is always open, Padawan,” Mace said – and watched her wince.

Ah.

So there was the problem.

“Caleb is currently sleeping in my bed as Depa is away,” Mace explained. “So please keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake him unnecessarily.”

The boy had already had a hellish enough month behind him, he needed all the rest he could get. Even though the war was officially over, enough planets refused to surrender, drawing out the battles until they had nothing but children left to sacrifice. It weighed on Mace’s shoulders, making him wonder whether he wasn’t too old to carry such burdens still.

Ahsoka nodded and followed Mace inside. He couldn’t recall whether Ahsoka had been in his room before, but from the way she eagerly looked around his quarters, taking in the sight of old instruments, books, and holos, he guessed she hadn’t. Well, at one point in their life, every Jedi had set a foot inside Mace’s quarters, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Ahsoka tore herself away from the sight and looked at him with surprise. “I—yes? That would be nice.”

“Then I will make a cup. Do you have any preferences? I believe I even have Obi-Wan’s favorite blend here.”

Mace had no idea whether he had bought it or if Obi-Wan had just left it here from himself when he came over. Knowing the other man, it was likely that the latter was the case. For a man claiming to be so very polite, Obi-Wan could be a right brat.

Mace’s kitchen was small, with only a few cabinets and one shelf, two cooking tiles, and an oven. He wasn’t much of a cook himself and preferred to eat in the cafeteria with everyone, frequently taste-tasting what the Initiates had prepared. He selected two uneven cups Depa had made for him when she’d been young from the shelf. Why she had decided to pick up pottery of all hobbies was beside him, but he supposed that she found the motion soothing. Devan did enjoy parkouring through the lower levels and Echuu was quite content playing the guitar to calm himself.

Perhaps Mace should focus less on why all three of his Padawans had decided they wouldn’t follow him into theatre so they could continue to make fun of him. Setting the water to boil, Mace searched through his cabinets until he found Obi-Wan’s favorite blend. The fruity tea was far from the blend he preferred, but Mace prided himself on being a good host. While he waited for the tea to finish steeping, Mace enjoyed the quiet of the night. For all that there were few sounds as dear to him as that of people walking, or in the case of some younglings and few selected Knights, running, down their large hallways, Mace could appreciate the quiet when the world came to rest.

With two finished cups in hand, he returned to the living room, where he found Ahsoka curled up on the sofa, no longer studying his quarters for any hidden secrets.

“Thank you,” she said when she accepted the cup from him. She held it in her hands as if to warm them, letting the steam hit her face. She breathed in once, twice, finding her rhythm again. Mace waited until she’d calmed enough to speak up.

“What brings you to my door, Padawan Tano?”

Ahsoka flinched and appeared to make herself even smaller as if attempting to vanish. When it became apparent that it didn’t work, that silence hadn’t been what she had sought him out for, she let out a sigh. “You keep calling that.”

“Calling you what?” Mace asked, his brow raised, playing oblivious.

“… Padawan.”

“Are you not? I was under the impression that you had returned to the Temple.”

“I did, but I still left,” Ahsoka replied. “I left and I was convinced that I had to leave and that it was good that I did. I still think I had to leave the Temple behind.”

“Then why are you torn?”

Ahsoka’s hold on her cup tightened and so, perhaps in wise anticipation, she set it on the table and buried her hands in her robes instead, hiding their twitching from view. Mace could trace all her mannerisms to her teachers and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to purposefully rip all those pieces from yourself when they had become so ingrained in your very being. Even Dooku, who’d fallen so far from their beliefs, had been unable to fully rid himself of Yoda’s lessons. Maybe it was for the best. Hope had become a scarce commodity during the war, yet Mace considered the possibility that in a decade, they wouldn’t be imprisoning a Sith anymore.

“But am I still a Padawan? A member of this Order?” Ahsoka asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she shook like the leaves on the trees in the courtyard.

“Has your Master told you anything different?”

Ahsoka paused. “…. No.”

Seeing that realization was settling within her, Mace nodded. “Then you should not doubt him. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, and you will remain one as long as you live by our tenets.”

That teased a startled laugh from her. “Compassion for all except people who cheat at push-n-pull?”

As if transported back ten years, hearing Anakin say the same, Mace snorted. “The similarities between you and your Master astonish me every time. Yes, Padawan Tano, compassion for all.”

This seemed to calm the youth as she reached for her cup again and emptied it slowly. “It’s good.”

Mace smiled into his own cup. “I’d be insulted if it wasn’t. Obi-Wan forced me to memorize all the steps for making it.”

The then young Knight had been frazzled, and Mace honestly couldn’t tell what it had been about and had forced Mace to learn how to make this tea until he’d more or less collapsed on Mace’s sofa, completely knocked out until morning when Anakin had picked him up.

“He does do that,” Ahsoka agreed. “I think this is the only thing anyone can make reliably now.”

“Sleep-deprived much?” Mace inquired.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I love Luke and Leia dearly, but they are demanding and need a lot of attention.”

That was honestly kinder than Mace would have described newborns at her age.

“There is a reason why we usually don’t have children this young in the Temple,” Mace said. “They are very handful. Do you get enlisted to help very often?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, Obi-Wan, Skyguy, and Padmé got it covered, and I’m mostly just helping out somewhere else.”

She trailed off a little. This, perhaps, was another issue, but one that could be equally easily dealt with.

“Thank you then for going where you are needed,” Mace told her.

Ahsoka blinked. “Huh?”

“You will grow into a specific role someday, Ahsoka, and that needs time. Do not feel as if you need to earn back your place in the Temple. You don’t need to earn yourself a home you have always had. For now, trust me when I say that everyone you’ve helped is glad that you were there. It is an admirable quality to have a sense of where you are needed. Do not see it as being the odd one out.”

This was the hardest lesson to teach and learn, the fact that there was a path out there for you, but that it took time to see where it would lead. Too many of their Padawans now felt utterly lost without the structure the war had provided them with.

“Oh. I guess if you say so.”

“Yes, I do say so,” Mace agreed. Then, eyeing Ahsoka’s empty cup, he added on, “do you want another?”

“No.” Ahsoka yawned. “I think I might best head back.”

“You can also sleep here if you want, and don’t mind Caleb hogging the blanket. I won’t go to bed tonight anyway.”

Ahsoka squinted at him as if attempting to discern whether he was lying. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really—”

“Ahsoka, go to bed.”

Clearly feeling better already, she saluted and, after Mace showed her his bedroom, made herself comfortable in it. She took off her shoes and tossed her robe over a chair before climbing into the bed. Ahsoka had barely laid down when Caleb already turned around to curl around her, clinging like a little monkey. After a moment’s apprehension, she relaxed and was fast asleep. Stealing one last glance at the two Padawan, Mace returned to his living room, looking through the incoming reports.

Hectic as the aftermath of the war was, as much effort as caring for their children was, Mace wouldn’t trade it for a single thing in the world.

[tarydarrington]

It takes about half an hour for the general topic of conversation at the party to turn to his scars.

It shouldn’t be a surprise; any guests of Archmage Beck’s are bound to have at least a passing familiarity with the way a Scourger’s arms are meant to look. The maze of ink is a symbol of power, a sign of something dangerous and elite, and his ragged array of raised, pale cuts is a far cry from elegance. It’s natural that they would pick up on the difference. It’s natural that it would be gossiped over. It’s natural that Caleb feels rather like teleporting straight home and letting his future self deal with the social consequences.

To borrow an odd turn of phrase Veth had once used, two halves are at war inside of him. One is filled with an angry, headstrong pride that makes him want to shove his scars in the faces of all those who care to gawk and let them have their fill. The other wishes he had brought a coat.

It’s rare that Essek does much at these functions aside from artfully disappearing in such a way that lets him mingle with as few fellow guests as possible, but after only a few moments of stares following him, the elf appears at his side.

“May I borrow you, a moment?” he asks.

The way his eyes dart around the room reminds Caleb of an irritated cat’s tail swishing.

“As many moments as you like,” he replies, and follows Essek into an empty hallway.

The sound of the crowd is immediately muffled by the walls as they step inside, and Caleb wonders fleetingly if this is where Essek has been all night. Someday, if they ever manage to talk about whatever this is between them, maybe the two of them will attend a party without the rest of the Nein. Just for the pleasure of being able to leave early without stranding anyone, if nothing else.

Or they could stay. Caleb thinks he wouldn’t mind a party like this quite so much, if he were with Essek.

He shakes the thought as Essek finally looks him in the eye for the first time, and Caleb’s eyebrows shoot up as Essek begins to shrug his way out of his cloak.

“Herr Thelyss, we are in public,” he deadpans, and grins at the way Essek’s face - not quite his own, here, of course - flushes.

“What is the Empire saying? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you?” He takes the cloak in both hands, holding it out between them at its full length and width, turning a critical eye on Caleb. He seems satisfied with his findings, folding it neatly over one arm before clearing his throat. “If you like,” he says in a softer tone, “you may borrow this.”

He might have been less surprised if it were a striptease. Essek is fond of his layers. They’re elegant, they present an image of inscrutability, and - most importantly to Essek, he has learned - they obscure his body. It gives him privacy, this kind of which he values greatly. To be offered something like this is quite a gift, indeed.

Essek seems, as usual, to know what he’s thinking. “It is rather warm, tonight. I dressed accordingly.”

Caleb gives him a once-over for precisely the length of time that could not possibly be considered staring. He’s not lying. The fine, light clothing beneath his cloak is amorphous enough to preserve his modesty.

Caleb thinks of the way their stares follow him. He thinks of all the pain he went through to get these scars, and all the good he’s done to ensure they are never inflicted on anyone else. He is not ashamed of these scars. Essek will understand, if he turns the offer down. He always understands.

Then, he thinks of the faces they’ll make if he returns to the room wearing Essek’s cloak.

The rest of the night passes about as he expects, with three important observations made. Firstly, Essek’s cloak is still warm and smells very much like Essek. Secondly, the well-tailored, black tunic he had been wearing underneath follows the lines of his body loosely enough to obscure most details, but just closely enough to draw his imagination to fill in the blanks. Thirdly, despite the smattering of murmurs and stares that still turn in his direction from time to time, the sum of the previous two facts makes this evening entirely enjoyable.

He suspects, from the way Essek steals a few more glances than necessary, that it might be a positive experience for them both.

-

The number of times the Mighty Nein find themselves in combat before the end of a fancy party truly ought not to be as high as it is.

Then again, Essek remembers the circumstances of their first meeting. It may be absurd, but it isn't surprising.

What is surprising - or rather, what would have been surprising, had one informed him of it several years ago - is the way he doesn't think twice before placing himself between a nearly-downed Veth and the blow intended to finish her. The blade cuts him from shoulder to chest, catching him at the wrist on the follow-through and leaving a stinging cut in its wake.

Caduceus sees to the wound with his usual easy precision, but the magic doesn't work the same way on his clothing. He picks dejectedly at the tattered remains of his neckline, the end of his sleeve hanging ragged to match. This had been a nice cloak. That, and the Ruby’s festivities inside, blissfully unaware of the commotion in the gardens, are still due to continue for another few hours.

Just as he's considering how bad a faux pas it would be to call it a night, Caleb ducks down into his line of sight, squatting beside him where he rests against the low stone wall.

"You know, I think perhaps you are a little breakable to be trying for Yasha’s role,” he says with a bemused smile. Before Essek has a chance to respond, he adds, “That was very brave of you. I will thank you on Veth’s behalf, since I think she has, ah, moved on from the moment.”

Moved on from the moment seems, in this case, to mean that she has been offering for the last several minutes to bandage Bluud’s barely-scratched biceps. Essek waves a hand.

“It’s perfectly alright,” he says. “Though I must admit, I will mourn the clothing.”

Caleb gives him a sympathetic grimace, and Essek tries not to fidget as he watches those blue eyes assess the damage and catch on the strips of rarely exposed skin. He makes a little clicking sound with his tongue as he takes it in that is much more attractive than it ought to be.

“Would you like to…” Caleb’s brow furrows in thought, and to finish the question, he takes the end of his scarf in one hand and dangles it between them. “If you like?”

Essek wipes the look of wide-eyed, touched surprise from his face as fast as he can, but he’s sure from the way a small smile tugs at Caleb’s lips that it hasn’t gone unnoticed. His gaze drops down to his ruined neckline. The damage is high enough that it’s possible the scarf could cover it, if properly arranged.

“That would…” He takes a breath. “I would be… grateful.”

With an encouraging smile, Caleb ducks out from the middle of the scarf and pools it in his arms, offering it to Essek. When he takes it, the warmth and weight of the fabric reminds him of Caleb’s cats. He tries to keep his breathing steady as he turns it in his hands - and realizes only when he attempts to duck through the center that he has no idea how to properly wrap something like this.

He’s slighter than Caleb, so the loops that circle Caleb perfectly slip awkwardly off his shoulders; besides that, the elegant coil has been tangled in the handing off. He tries to wind it around his own neck from the beginning, but finds it frustratingly difficult to get it to sit the way he’d like it to, and is entirely uncertain of what to do with the ends.

“I… am afraid I am rather at a loss,” Essek admits begrudgingly.

Caleb cocks his head to one side in curious surprise, but instead of questioning, he holds out his hands. “Would you allow me?”

He takes the scarf back when Essek nods mutely in response, and suddenly he is very, very close. Caleb gives him a reassuring smile, as though he knows - and of course he knows, he always knows - that he needs a moment to adjust to the proximity. The care in those eyes almost knocks Essek’s gaze away, but instead holds it locked in place.

“Is, ah…” Caleb begins, and his voice sounds thicker than before, “is this alright?”

Essek hopes the somewhat dazed half-nod he manages gets the point across.

He’s had Caleb’s arms around him before, but for some reason the feeling of them bracketing his neck as Caleb drapes the scarf around and around him is so achingly intimate that it stops his breath. 

His gaze breaks from Caleb’s for just long enough to notice the v of bare skin now visible at the neck of his shirt, and he snaps his attention back to Caleb’s eyes as his face burns. Caleb’s smile quirks upwards on one side at the sight. He gives the scarf a few gentle tugs to place it just right.

As his hand draws away, he lets it rest cupped against Essek’s cheek for just a moment. The night is cold, but the space between them feels warmer than a fireside. The fireside, as well, would have fewer sparks.

Caleb clears his throat as he pulls away and stands, and the spell is broken as both of them turn to studiously examine their surroundings. Essek shifts the weight of the scarf experimentally. Sometimes, one of Caleb’s cats will climb the man and wind itself around his neck in a thoroughly endearing display of affection. Caleb has always thought of it as the highest compliment, to be chosen in such a way, and Essek imagines it must feel something like this. And never, not even covered in four layers and his old mantle, has he ever felt so protected from the outside world.

“Thank you,” he manages after a moment.

“Ja, of course.” It’s a minor relief that Caleb sounds about as breathless as Essek feels.

As he stands, letting his levitation spell carry him gently off his feet, the hem of his sleeve catches his eye. Caleb’s gaze falls that way, too, then flicks back up to his with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Well,” he says, and holds out his arm, “that is a shame.”

Essek looks from Caleb’s face to his arm and back, heat creeping up his neck. Caleb knows him well enough to understand this is no small request. He knows Caleb well enough, in return, to understand that he will take no offense if he refuses.

Carefully, holding his breath, Essek tucks his hand under Caleb’s arm. The billowing cloth of his sleeve falls down to cover the ragged end of Essek’s, and Essek finds himself wondering for a moment if the loose style was intended to mimic his own.

The smile on Caleb’s face is so fond that Essek can’t help but return it.

“Well,” Caleb says, leaning in conspiratorially, “shall we?”

They’re not the last of the Mighty Nein to return to the party - Essek suspects Beauregard and Yasha have found their own pursuits in the garden, judging by the looks they had been exchanging after the battle - but they’re not the first, either. Jester and Fjord have found the Ruby and joined her in polite conversation. Caleb steers him dutifully in the other direction; they both know well what will happen if Jester sees them like this, and perhaps Caleb is as loath to break the moment as he is. They make the rounds together, and Essek thinks that they must look for all the world like a real couple. The thought brings a strange lightness to his chest, and he finds himself absently curling his hand around Caleb’s arm where it rests.

“My nefarious plot has gone off without a hitch,” Caleb murmurs with a grin. “Now, you are stuck with me for the rest of the evening.”

Essek doesn’t bother holding back the smirk. With a covert flick of magic in his free hand, he draws away from Caleb’s arm to politely retrieve a glass from the tray of a passing waiter. Caleb watches him with incredulous surprise, eyes trained on the end of his sleeve - perfectly intact through a Seeming spell.

“I think I can manage without, if I must,” Essek says mildly.

He passes the drink to his off hand as Caleb flushes a bit.

“Well,” Caleb says sheepishly, “that is one way to do it.”

Essek raises his eyebrows at him teasingly, and before he can talk himself out of it, slips his hand back into the crook of Caleb’s arm.

To his credit, Caleb doesn’t tease. The surprised little smile he gives Essek instead gives him more warmth than the scarf does, and Essek lets himself smile back as Caleb’s hand comes up to rest over his. Not enough to hold him in place, just enough for a little more contact.

“You know, you could have done that before,” Caleb murmurs. “At Astrid’s party, when you lent me your cloak.”

Essek takes a sip of his drink to hide the blush. “I realize,” he replies. He could admit that the way those people had treated Caleb lit his anger in a way few things have since he left court. He could admit that he knows, from experience, that it’s more of a comfort to have something real between you and the rest of the world. He could admit that giving his own cloak as such a barrier for Caleb had felt like a more personal kind of protection.

He could even point out that Caleb could have used the spell himself, if he had wanted to; but he finds he likes the quiet implication given by the fact that he took Essek's cloak instead.

"It suited you,” is what he settles on.

Caleb gives him a hum of acknowledgement in response. “Ja, well,” he adds with a soft, knowing smile, “the scarf suits you.”

Of course, Caleb always understands. And as they move about the party for the rest of the night, arm in arm, Essek thinks that he doesn’t mind parties quite so much with Caleb by his side.