#moonlight has no set design yet so like

[odyooles]

more of this au - anne and moonlight go for a flight

[your-local-simp-writers]

Laughter

Word Count: 682

Warnings: None

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The quest to elicit genuine laughter from Malleus Draconia had become more than a mere challenge; it had evolved into a journey of connection, a dance of two souls weaving through the tapestry of daily life at Night Raven College. Each day, you presented a new act in the comedy you hoped would crack the stoic exterior of the Dragon King.

Your attempts were many and varied. One day, you tried to tickle a chuckle out of him with a cleverly crafted joke that played on the words of an ancient Draconic spell. Another day, you staged a humorous play with the help of the drama club, complete with exaggerated costumes and over-the-top performances. You even were able to orchestrate a playful riddle, clever and intricate, designed to appeal to Malleus’s intellect. Another day, you enlisted the help of the mischievous students, setting up a harmless prank that left Malleus with a surprised chuckle, though not the laugh you sought.

As the week drew to a close, you found yourselves walking together in the moonlit gardens, a place where the hustle of the college seemed like a distant memory. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of roses and the distant sound of the nocturnal choir of crickets and frogs.

Each failed attempt was not a setback but a step closer to understanding the enigmatic Dragon King. But as the week progressed, so did the bond between you. Shared smiles, exchanged glances, moments where your hands brushed while walking down the corridor—all these tiny threads wove a connection that was palpable, a silent understanding that grew with each passing day.

It was on a night adorned with a velvet sky and a radiant moon that you found yourselves strolling through the enchanted gardens. The air was cool, carrying the scent of jasmine and moonflower, the garden bathed in a soft, ethereal light.

“You have been quite persistent,” Malleus remarked, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to blend with the rustling leaves. “I must confess, your dedication to this quest has been… quite endearing.”

You smiled, a plan forming in your mind. “Maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong,” you mused. “Maybe it’s not about the act, but the moment.”

You looked up at him, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. “Laughter is the melody of the soul, Malleus. I want to hear yours.”

He considered your words, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “And what makes you believe that you can draw it out?” he asked, his gaze meeting yours.

“Because,” you replied, your voice filled with conviction, “even the sternest of hearts can find joy in the unexpected.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the gravel crunching softly underfoot. You spoke of small things, inconsequential things, and yet, in those moments, they felt significant. The conversation flowed like a gentle stream, natural and unforced.

And then, as the song “Teitur - One and Only” played in your mind, you found the moment you had been waiting for. With a twinkle in your eye, you recounted a humorous anecdote, one that was personal, heartfelt, and unexpectedly funny.

Malleus listened, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. But as the punchline approached, you stumbled, not in your words, but quite literally over a wayward vine. The surprise on your face, the grace with which you regained your balance—it was a scene straight out of a play, and it was real.

The laughter that followed was rich and warm, echoing through the garden like a melody. Malleus’s laughter, unrestrained and joyful, filled the night air, mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

“I stand corrected,” he said, his laughter subsiding into a series of delighted chuckles. “You have indeed found the right moment, and it was… perfect.”

The two of you paused, the laughter still hanging in the air like a cherished melody. In that moment, under the watchful eye of the moon, you realized that laughter was not just a sound—it was a connection, a shared language that transcended words.

[angelique-isawineglass]

𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

(Alcina X Wife!FashionDesigner!Reader)

[Reader has been neglecting their health, ignoring people, and overworking... and so Alcina decides to deal with it herself.]

~Angst/Fluff/Under eating/Self neglect/Mental health talk/Overworking~

~Little use of Y/N, bad grammar, possible misspellings, Reader is over 30 (roughly 36-38)~

So like- I'm kind of projecting on this one :') I think you'll find that some of the angst fics that I write are sometimes me projecting some of the things I go through IRL. I find that writing what I'm going through tends to help calm my nerves, however because my hands are shaking there will probably be a few more spelling mistakes then usual, sorry about that :')

Anyways, enjoy my loves and please take care of yourself <3

~ ~

Work. Work, work, work, work, work. That's all that's on your mind lately. You've barely seen Alcina or the girls for a week, unless it's dinner. You've been sitting in your own workspace, working for hours on end. You've slept a total of maybe 8 hours this entire week. An entire week, of little sleep or just sleepless nights.

You hardly eat anything when you go down to the dining room, and you don't speak to anyone. You were frustrated, stressed and overworked. Some days you felt like you would just pass out and never wake up, but you knew that would be too good for you. And whenever Alcina or the girls tried to talk to you, you'd shut the conversation down before anyone can even think of asking you to take a break.

Currently, you're sitting in the room Alcina had renovated into a workspace for you to do your work. Sitting at your desk, head resting on your arm which was resting on your desk, staring at the papers scattered across the table and adorning your wall. It was well after 2am, yet you were in a dark room, the only light source being the moonlight and candle sitting next to you. You had countless designs that you wanted to finish, but no inspiration whatsoever. Not to mention, the constant shaking in your hands every time you picked up your pencil. There were a few mannequins with partially finished dresses and suits standing around the room. Some mannequins were big, some were smaller, your size, and others were somewhere in between that.

You let out a groan of frustration, burying your face in your hands. , , It's not that fucking hard, you're being dramatic just- just think!-" You mutter to yourself, and oddly enough, an idea comes to mind. You bring one of the papers towards you and pick up a pencil. However, when you go to add to your design, your hand starts to shake violently, causing you to cross a line over your drawing.

, , Christ sake!"

You stand up, throwing the pencil across the room, watching as it cracks from the force. You were beyond pissed with how incompetant your body was acting. Your gaze snaps down to your desk, and you quite harshly grab the paper sitting infront of you. You begin to tear it to pieces, crushing the pieces to a ball before chucking it into the bin beside your desk. You began to throw things, anything. You pushed over mannequins, brushed papers across the room from your desk, kicked rolls of materials across the floor. You needed to let out all this frustration on something, but you felt so lost.

You were about to push another mannequin over before your arms were pulled back behind you. You tried to pull away, writhing against the grip of whoever had taken ahold of your arms. You had a pretty good guess of who it was, considering you could smell expensive cigarettes and burned roses. You kept fighting against the tight grip, but gave up upon realising it was probably a useless attempt. All of a sudden, all the angry frustration you felt turned to tears, filling up behind a dam wall, bound to break at any moment.

You let out a choked sob when the grip on your arms loosens. Your knees collapse beneath you, causing you to fall to the ground. The wall breaks, and tears begin to fall into your lap. Realisation sets in after a few moments, and you quickly pull yourself towards the bin besides your desk.

, , No, no no- Fuck!"

You pick out the crumbled ball of paper and unroll it, watching as the pieces fall to your lap.

, , FUCK." You yell out in frustration, as you're lifted off the ground. You close your eyes, tight, crying uncontrollably. You try to control your breathing, but of course, nothing is ever easy. You're pulled into the chest of who you now knew was Alcina, not that it was easy to see her clearly, your vision was too clouded with blurry wet tears, and you could hardly keep them open for more then half a second.

, , Hush my love, it's alright."

As much as you wanted to believe that it was alright, the terrible week you had, had your mind believing that it was the end of the world. You tried your best to keep your sobbing quiet, but it was proving difficult. You were being held bridal style to your wife's chest while she carried you out of your study and most likely back to your private chambers.

By the time you had arrived at your chambers, of which was all the way on the other side of the Castle, you had stopped crying, just soft gentle sobs every few seconds. By now you had shut your eyes, and was trying to focus on just Alcina's heart beat. It felt like an eternity before you were able to focus, there was so little happening, yet so much, and it was extremely overwhelming. It felt like you were in a deep black pit, but yet, you knew you weren't.

You didn't snap out of your thoughts until you felt yourself being placed onto the soft comfortable embrace of your bed, you didn't realise how much you had missed the feeling of it. Being engulfed by the warm blankets, it calmed you down, but not too much. What really calmed you down, was the feeling of your wifes arms wrapping around you and pulling you into her chest, of which you immediately and unapologetically buried your face into, all your anxiety and frustrations started to slowly creep back to the shadows.

You noticed that she was in her nightgown, which you probably shouldn't be surprised about considering how late it was. You then looked down at your own attire, realising that you were also wearing a nightgown. Had you really gotten that consumed with your thoughts you hadn't realised that Alcina had changed you?

, , Sleep Dragă. I'll be here when you wake up."

You wanted to protest but you were unbareably tired, and you were already laying on a bed, and Alcina showed no sign of letting you go anytime soon, so really you had no choice. You tried to fight off the sleep that was slowly dragging you down as much as you could, but gave up when Alcina held you closer.

, , I'm sorry... I love you, Alcina."

Your voice was barely a whisper, so gentle and quiet. It made Alcina smile, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

That was the last thing you felt before being carried away into a dreamless, calm sleep. The best sleep you had gotten in the past week.

Yep okay, bye, it;s 5am im done, goodnight

im not gonna try to edt any misspelingns anymore im tired, this fic might make like 0 sense at all

[doshmanziari]

Shadow of the Erdtree: Some Reflections

Well, folks, since no one asked, here are some thoughts I've had while exploring Elden Ring's add-on, Shadow of the Erdtree.

The existence of an alternate shadow realm has solidified my conviction that what Elden Ring is depicting on micro and macro scales is the phenomenology of etheric bodies -- extending even to the moon, the double of which is visible from the Moonlight Altar plateau (this is reflected by Rellana's Twin Moons spell). Each of these bodies possess a regulating function. Although each might be generally described as doppelgänger, the occult scientist Rudolf Steiner wrote of the Doppelgänger proper as its own sort of body, responsible for the tension between aspiration and temptation. It's interesting to me that this is such a major preoccupation of the game, because it indicates a layer of esoteric involvement, on the part of Elden Ring's narrative conceptualizations, that I don't think anyone in the so-called lore community has picked up on yet. The shadow realm helps explicate the otherwise inexplicable Godefroy the Grafted, too.

Various details have also strengthened my impression that the revolt against Nature we see in Elden Ring is a revolt against motility -- motility being the ultimate enemy of utopia: a human conceptualization reliant upon infinite stasis. In the base game, I think we see this revolt most profoundly in the narrative of Ranni, who first abandons her own flesh and then strives towards the realization of an Age of Stars, that "thousand year voyage under the wisdom of the Moon." Although the Seedbed Curse represents its own revolt against Nature, it remains within the organic order. Ranni's vision is of the inorganic and remote. And I don't think it's unrelated that, in certain esoteric cosmological systems, the moon stands as most distant from the Absolute.

The colors of the landscapes and sky are amazing: vivid, autumnal, and strange. These palettes have only made me dislike the game's rain effect all the more, which does not deepen the arboreal colors (as it should) but drains all surfaces of color and sets them into a depressing, bland grayscale. To say that the rain is a part of why I consider Raya Lucaria to be Elden Ring's low-point in the realm of major level design could be seen as a trivial complaint, but visual drudgery will wreck even the best schemes; and Raya Lucaria is as far as you can get from that anyway. FromSoftware has done fine with types of snow (see, e.g., the Frigid Outskirts or Painted World of Ariandel), but I think they've yet to figure out rain, among some other graphical technicalities.

The forges are among my favorite instances of discrete level design, even if, or maybe because, they tend to contain only two or three enemy types, feature no bosses, and severely scale back the level of challenge. I happened upon one yesterday that I did find a little dull, but the other two were wonderful, brief, atmospheric knots, quiet sequences of colossal architecture, that sort of evoked shades of Stonefang Tunnel from Demon's Souls. On that note, I'd call special attention to the forges' theme music. The only other piece of music from the DLC that's gotten my attention is the theme for Belurat.

Plants are People, Too.

Torrent is just... a terrible inclusion for this game. It's maybe obvious enough to not warrant being said, but -- any design decision has to be evaluated on what it contributes to the system it's been set into, and Torrent adds nothing outside of the occasional, brainless convenience. I could maybe see an argument for Torrent's presence if he had some emotionally charged narrative integration, maybe like what Shadow of the Colossus did. Without this, Torrent is nothing but a tool which perpetually problematizes the overworld's scale (a bit too big, yet no fun to traverse at high speed) and trivializes all of its gauntlets on a potential and actual level far worse than anything the Spirit Ashes could ever do. Better to me would've been if the only way to use a mount were by defeating a mounted knight without killing their horse and then sneaking up to the runaway to gain ownership of it.

I'm finding the map much more engaging than that of the base game because of how it plays with abstractions and builds anticipation through that. One part of the map, for instance, shows a bunch of trees with red leaves. Reaching this place reveals these "trees" to be enormous red flowers. Another section shows pink, purple, and orange specks. What are these? And what are the gray, finger-like lumps erupting from the mass next to it? I've also found it tough to figure out how to progress from one plane to another because of how densely stacked and knobby the continent's features are, so consulting the map has been helpful in a way I rarely experienced with the base game's.

Love how much the Ancient Ruins of Rauh resemble The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, from the explosion of verdure, to the crude, architectural naivety defining the pseudo-Gothic structures.

With Shadow of the Erdtree, I keep coming up against an unresolvable simultaneity like the one mentioned above regarding the overworld. There's a lot of good level design to be found here among the dungeons, castles, and forts, yet the abundance and enormity of it all seems to have deprived the game of significant contrasts, and those special spatial moments, which I found much easier to locate and reflect upon with, say, Dark Souls or Bloodborne. Sure, the sky-piercing spiral of Enir-Ilim is a sight to behold; but soon enough the sequences of grand staircase upon grand staircase, great bridge upon great bridge, creates a perpetual climatic grandiosity that diminishes the very effect of a climax (and I'm not even sure that Enir-Ilim is the DLC's intended final location). Anor Londo or the Nightmare of Mensis could feel special because the qualities and features of their spaces stood apart from everything else. Elden Ring, I think, has gotten itself into a predicament by trying to one-up its internal material and all prior FromSoftware games through the enormity of its scale -- and challenge. More and more, I've been craving a new project from them that resets these terms of engagement, even while enjoying the consistency of the material at hand.

That's all for now! In time maybe I'll turn these thoughts to an essay for my Substack page, perhaps with a focus on the first two points.

[withonly-sweetheart]

Feathered Fiend

You unburden yourself on a creature that should have no burdens. You tell it of your unrequited love, but is all truly what it seems?

a/n: MINT ANON!!! IM SO HAPPY THAT I COULD WRITE THIS FOR U! PLEASE REACH OUT AND TELL ME IF U LIKE IT BC THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA!! AHH KISSING YA RN

also if you think there should be a part two...? with a war and everything... between the two... hahahaha lmk! <3 <- READ IT HERE !!

tw: angst, mentions of blood, i think the kiss scene is a bit like nsfw but not really so be ready!

wc: 4.8k

You feel horrendous. 

Your world is coming very close to tipping one side, like an uneven scale of glittering gold, blurring at the edges of your eyes as you press the rim of the champagne glass to your lips, swirling the sickly liquid around your tongue before it swims down your throat.

Almost immediately you recoil from the taste, setting it down where it stands proudly, precariously, against the high ledge of your balcony. One swipe and it would splinter the pillows of snow, turning them a shade of maroon you won’t dare to imagine.

You nudge the blueberries on the plate resting on the connecting area of the railing, where the ornate designs curve into a final smile, disappearing into the concrete. You fight to keep disdain from your expression as one of them passes your lips, staining your mouth with a honeyed juice. 

You roll your tongue and glance over your shoulder, at the threads of light and velvet weave the tapestry that is the gala down the hall, where everyone is draped in dramatic, auburn brushed chandeliers that bronze their flushed faces and carry their lively chatter across the room.

Suddenly you find yourself longing for the bitter wind misting your skin that you had cursed away, the icy daggers pinching your skin, crawling into your blood, turning you cold.

Out here, with only the moonlight for company, you could forget that somewhere in those halls roams your mother, arms linked with yet another noble, feline eyes slanted as she paws at his crisp suit, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. You know for a fact that eventually, you’ll be shaking his hand, forcing a smile and pushing responses past your gritted teeth as you bet with yourself how many days he’ll last.

But you’ve forgotten that, eyes trailing a bird that has joined you. It’s a peculiar looking thing, with dappled, sunny and sky blue feathers and an underbelly of soft white. You curl a finger, mouth quirking in amusement as it hops near, tilting its head curiously.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen such a little thing,” you murmur as it pecks at the cloying remains of fruit left on your fingertips. However gingerly, you pinch the remaining berries between your fingers and hold them out, as an offering to this free spirit.

You watch as it chirps sweetly. How long has it been since you’ve had birds resting on your hands, laying serenely in a patch of sunlight in the forest, when your father would shake his head at you, standing at the edge of your little area, with that small smile that only you could coax from him?

As all things do, the bird quickly finishes its meal and hops away, flexing its wings to take off, leaving you breathless in its absence. It seems to hesitate, looking back at you for but a moment before soaring back into the sky.

If only you could do the same.

<><><><>

Just as it was when you left, everyone entertains themselves with far too animated conversations and laughter, and you feel perfectly alone in the midst of it all. Claire nudges your shoulder gently before linking her arm with her date - an imposing, tall figure with striking brown hair and a stoic expression on his chiseled face. He nods at you in a formal and somewhat cold manner before turning away into the swirling crowd of dancers.

"You okay?" Claire whispers in your ear, her brow creasing with concern as she glances around to ensure her date doesn't abandon her.

"Of course," you reply, digging your fingernails into your palm to keep your voice steady. Claire’s eyes narrow as she studies your face, clearly not convinced by your attempt at seeming unconcerned. However, she decides to let it go for the moment and hands you a glass of shimmering purple wine.

"Come on," she drawls teasingly, perhaps on her seventh drink, when you hesitantly decline her offer. "It's a party, enjoy yourself!"

You absently turn your head to survey the room and find yourself fixating on Leon. He stands across the crowded ballroom floor, surrounded by his family and friends. You’re pondering his absence for the first phase of the gala when your heart clenches involuntarily at the sight of a woman you don’t recognize, a vision in white and baby pink, clutching his arm possessively as if she owns him entirely. Her eyes glitter in the chandelier's light above you while a wide smile adorns her face that refuses to fall.

"Ignore them," Claire tells you softly, sensing your growing discomfort as she squeezes your arm reassuringly before abandoning her somber expression for a warm smile. "Promise me you won't spend the entire evening torturing yourself by watching him."

"Promise," you lie quickly, intertwining your finger with hers to seal the falsehood that hangs between you. Claire seems to sense the insincerity behind your words, but refrains from pressing further. Instead, she gently pats you on the back in solidarity before departing towards another group of friends as her long black hair flows gracefully behind her like a dark river.

But your thoughts inevitably wander back to him, and with them come the revolting parasite that attaches herself to him at every waking moment. Her strawberry blond hair is perfectly styled into a neat bun, and her stunning gown billows around her in soft ruffles of white and pink that seem almost ethereal.

With the threat of loathing searing your skin, you choose to turn and focus on the colorful assortment of snacks meticulously arranged on the long, elegant table nearby. However, it soon becomes impossible for you to ignore the situation, as she attractively lifts up her slender fork and taps it against her delicate glass with incredible poise. The resulting light, tinkling sound resonates through the grand and spacious manor, effectively quieting the gathered guests down.

"Thank you all for being here," she gracefully begins, a sinister yet charming smile curving her full lips. "I would like to commence this lovely evening by expressing what an honor it is for me to be present here amongst such distinguished company." Her words ooze deceit, dripping like thick layers of sweet honey on poisonous thorns just waiting to ensnare any unsuspecting victims.

"I am equally thrilled," she continues with feigned enthusiasm, "that my close friend - someone whom I hold near and dear - Duke Leon Kensington, has graciously invited me to cut the ribbon at the grand opening of the prestigious Arklay Academy."

The room responds with a unanimously enthusiastic round of applause. Feeling compelled by the atmosphere, you too mechanically tap your palms together, not truly understanding the need to celebrate her undeserved moment of fame. An ugly surge of jealousy courses through you as an alternative explanation for your unwillingness to participate in the celebration presents itself - you find it incredibly disheartening that it is this strange woman’s hands tightly wrapped around Leon’s arm instead of yours.

All around you, glass chandeliers cast dazzling reflections on the polished marble floor as sophisticated conversations fill the air. Delicate strings of pearls and fine silks brush against one another as finely dressed men and women exchange pleasantries with glittering smiles. You gaze down for a moment, closely examining the intricate embroidery on your sleeves, while your lips form a tight purse.

Your mother catches your eye as she slips between the crack of the door. There is a man’s hand on her hip, cupping the dip of her body. Her gaze seems somewhat apologetic, but you turn on your heel and march the other way, hoping no one sees her eyes trailing you, trying to leave behind the lingering embarrassment that tugs you back. 

<><><><>

"Why have you dragged me here?" Leon’s smooth, unblemished voice sends shivers crawling up your spine. Curiosity takes hold of you as you muster enough courage to slightly peek around the corner of the door frame - only to find the same woman standing there in front of him.

"The king cannot stop me now," she asserts defiantly, as she grasps a fistful of his shirt collar and forcefully presses her lips against his. They don’t fit right.

You can't quite remember what it was that you choked out in response to the scene before you. What you do remember is the overwhelming sensation of feeling like your soul was akin to a fragile mirror that he had smashed unreservedly, leaving jagged shards that pierced your chest, drawing blood and suffocating you from within.

Leon eventually pulls away from the girl with a noticeable expression of uncertainty on his face; however, his eyes undeniably glint with intense desire. "Duchess Graham… what if we're discovered by someone?" he questions nervously.

Ashley Graham. You haven’t heard much of her, but you don’t truly care for the gossip that passes through the kingdom, over who is courting who, over who was found with one too many glasses of salt-rimmed wine.

"Let them see," Ashley speaks softly as she trails her delicate fingers down the sleek contours of his muscular form, asserting possessively, "I want everyone to know that you're mine." She pulls him closer and once again locks her lips against his.

And with one erratic swing, you aren't just sad anymore. You are angry as well. It is sickening to see the affection between her and this man who has so easily captured your heart with his stunning azure eyes, smooth tawny hair that seems effortlessly tousled, and his dazzling smile that makes you weak in the knees.

Pain pounds against your chest as you realize how easy it is for you to imagine yourself in Leyla's place. Your thoughts wander to a fantasy where his long, slender fingers are tangled in your own hair as he touches you with practiced expertise, knowing exactly where you crave his touch the most. He would lean in, planting kisses on areas you didn't even realize needed attention, the pool of desire widening through your body, drowning you both whole.

As you storm back through the room from where you emerged, still trembling with anger coursing through you, the only sound that seems to mock your pain is the relentless echo of their muted kisses.

<><><><>

As Ashley wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders, he can't help but suppress a gag reflex and force a bright smile onto his face. His body tenses as he scans the bustling room, spotting no one he wishes across the crowd, his deep blue eyes fixed intently on the floor. The sight of his defeated expression fills him with a sense of disgust that's hard to shake off.

He notices your eyes dragging across his body, leaving him flushed when you look elsewhere. But the girl at his side assumes it's her doing. 

Being led into the hallways by Ashley, she suddenly pushes him against the cool tiled wall. Her cold fingers trail slowly along the skin of his exposed arms while he offers no resistance. Instead, he reaches out to bury his fingers in her thick, flaxen hair, the strands feeling like delicate spider silk. As their bodies press together, he can't keep his gaze from wandering toward her enticingly exposed thighs.

Kissing her is like experiencing something that he never knew he was going to. He isn’t sure whether or not he likes it, whether or not he finds it pleasing.

But as all men do, he expects to be overwhelmed by seductive desire as he tugs on her soft hair and melts further into her. He’s always felt that their only interactions are either at such social gatherings or the results of his mother’s malicious manipulation; sending him storming down the kingdom roads, only to find respite in Ashley’s comforting embrace. Whenever he lands in her arms, his troubles seem to transfer themselves into the air of his muffled sobs into the ruffles of her dress.

This time, though, something feels different.

Opening his eyes as they remain locked in their intimate position, he can't help but notice the complete absence of emotion in her distant gaze - a void that mirrors his own feelings at that moment. The once alluring smile has vanished from her face as she tilts her head to one side, letting her dress slip seductively off her shoulder without bothering to adjust it.

With nonchalance in her voice, Ashley asks him, "What's wrong?" Unable to find any words to respond, all he can do is focus on her hollowed cheeks. Suddenly finding her much less attractive than before, he fights the urge to pull away. Desperately trying to forget his unease, he presses his right hand deeper into her hair while allowing his left hand to hang limp at his side.

However, no matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the vision of you cradled in his arms, hair weaving seamlessly through his fingers and eyes wide with innocence.

Had you been completely oblivious to what had happened mere minutes ago? The thought makes him smile faintly, which Ashley misinterprets as a signal of his enjoyment. Responding to that cue, she sensually guides his other hand onto her inner thigh, fixing him with a lustful gaze.

The sensation is overwhelming as every fiber of his being screams desperately for him to let go of Leyla, push her away, to reject her advances altogether. Panic rises within him like thick toxic smoke as she begins unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his vulnerable skin to the cold midnight air.

Suddenly, it strikes him that they are standing in the middle of nowhere, everywhere and existing in the plane of blank space all at one, his arm firmly pressed over her head, effectively trapping her against the row of cold metal lockers. The strands of her luscious caramel hair seem to capture the ethereal glow of the moonlight seeping in through the windows. Her plump lips, glistening with a layer of moisture, remain slightly parted and poised just inches away from his, patiently waiting for another taste.

And he’s always found her attractive, perhaps even more so than the other women who fall at his doorstep, with their silly, useless, profuse apologies that fall from their thin lips, with their meaningless gifts that end up stored in a closet somewhere in the castle.

But now, he struggles to find his voice, something that’s never happened with her. "I-I..." Something clicks inside his mind, and as if emerging from a trance, he swiftly pulls away from her. 

Leon’s eyes widen with confusion and shock as he tries to comprehend what has just happened. Leyla's expression is nothing like his own, fully aware of what is unfolding between them. She tugs at her dress to reposition it and then meets his gaze with a fierce glare.

“Bored already?” she asks quietly.

Leon cares, he truly does. However, he suspects that it has always been this way. The brief solace that she provides him whenever he’s fled from the thin definition of home that he has held close to his heart has always been the string connecting them.

And he’s just severed it.

<><><><>

The bird flutters back to you, after the moon and sun have exchanged greetings and said their farewells twice now, and you find yourself sighing in remorse.

“Did you know, little bird, that there is a boy?” You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head as amusement tints your expression. “No, not boy. He is a man now, yet I will always see him as the little boy who offered me lunch every day, back when we were all the same to each other.

“I will not tell you his name, for I fear you will utter a curse upon him to the gods, and then where would I be? More or less heartbroken, because if he is gone, no one else may love him.”

The bird stares back at you, beady eyes seeming to narrow in concern. You might as well entertain yourself with the idea he understands you, at least for the few hours you have before yet another gala your mother has requested your presence at.

Surprisingly enough, the woman in question waits quietly as you stroll back inside, shooing the bird from your balcony, wishing for it to not be burdened with your troubles. 

There’s a sheen of fabric splayed out on your neat bedsheets. There is a sense of guilt that hangs between you two, but you suppose, just for her pleasure, you could do this one small thing.

And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like the dress.

It fits perfectly. Waves of satin and gold shimmering together, like polished fish swimming in a clear ocean. They had arranged your hair in curls that fell over your shoulders and cascaded down your back like a waterfall. It felt prim and proper in a way that you had never experienced before - the feeling itself sent electric shivers running through your body. Perhaps you can treat yourself, just this once.

The looks are infinitely more worth it, especially when your presence renders even Leon speechless. You notice, with a small, smug smile, that Ashley is nowhere to be seen. You wonder what’s become of her. Perhaps her parents finally found the inevitable love child.

“You certainly know how to command a room,” he remarks, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you reply, your tone light yet teasing.

“Everywhere?” he suggests, voice dropping low as he shifts his weight to stand closer to you. If last night’s events had not transpired, you might’ve allowed it. But all you can think of is her skin under his, not yours, and suddenly you realize that must be such a normal occurrence.

“Watch your tongue,” you hiss, stepping back. With a small, knowing smile, you tilt your head slightly, a silent message that you are not easily swayed by mere words or charm. 

You hold your power, in your quick tongue, holding your ground, even as Leon’s face contorts with confusion, with hurt.

“Whatever happened to the curse of gods,” he mutters. 

“Are you referencing the required reading from the passage?” you drone. 

“Yes, no. Of course. That is what I meant.” He clears his throat yet his eyes cloud with an emotion you cannot identify. He glances past you, gives a little wave, dipping his head respectfully to you before stalking past.

You wait a moment, perhaps two, before twisting over your shoulder. He is standing alone at the wine table, cupping a glass carefully between his fingers, as if pondering the ripples that his lips send out through the crimson liquid.

You hope it will slip, staining the white of his linen shirt.

Perhaps that will show him your agony, how your heart had turned inside out and painted your chest red when he kissed her and not you, hidden in that hallway.

<><><><>

Bloody and broken is how the bird arrives, that same night, as you sigh your troubles away into a plate of cucumber, sprinkled with chili flakes you had stolen from the kitchen. It chirps in sorrow, pecking at the fabric of your dress.

You pull away, raising an eyebrow before finally noticing the red dripping down its wiry legs, pooling in small beads around the talons that scratch the concrete. When you reach to cup the feathery, suffering animal between your hands, the dust stirs and floats down to the dying snow.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you coo, ushering yourself back into your room. Where your mother has hidden the aid kits, you do not know, so you wrap its damaged wing in some gauze you find underneath the sink.

There doesn’t seem to be an infection, but perhaps you should call Duchess Chambers, plan for her expertise. But the moon has already swam up to its high perch in the sky, and you know she will be tending to the late night patients.

And, of course, when you wake, the bird is gone. Only the crimson splatters on your desk remain, staining the letter that had arrived the evening before.

Blood so perfectly covers the name of the man you are set to wed in a few weeks.

<><><><>

"What happened there?" you inquire casually. His gaze follows yours, and he prods at the bandage covering his right hand with a wince.

"I participated in a fight," he admits with a hint of amusement. Your eyes widen in horror, darting around to confirm no one else has arrived in the abandoned hallway where you once sought solace, now only fear.

"T-The peasants?" you stutter, taking a step back. He could be joking, yes, yet he seems unworried and advances toward you.

"No," he muses. "I… engaged in combat with a tree."

You pause. “A… tree?”

He nods solemnly, as if the problem was truly within his supposed ‘opponent’. “You need not inform me. I already know.”

You scoff, unable to stop the sarcastic response that climbs up your throat. “Of course you would fight with a tree. Who has upset you now, your mistress?”

He cocks his head to the side, confusion swimming in his distressed eyes, echoing, “My mistress?”

“Baroness Graham,” you seethe. “Do not fret, I suppose everyone has seen your bond.”

“We aren’t…” Leon flushes, staring back down, eyes glued to the carpet. “That has never been the case.”

“Perhaps look at your surroundings next time you exchange intimacy in a public area,” you mumble. “Just about anyone may have caught you both.”

If it were possible, you are sure he would’ve turned an even deeper shade of red, matching the burgundy curtains. You rub the bridge of your nose and turn away, unable to watch his flustered, regularly smart mouth open and shut.

“I even thought of courting you,” you say, slightly bemused. “That was how enamored I was with the idea of being yours. Of you being mine.”

This statement seems to spark something in him, because he rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, but there is nothing gentle about the way he whirls you around, forcing you to face him. You are mere inches from the wall, you think, and if he chose to corner you, your only option would be to throw your punches. Which hand, now, was the question.

“And why do you think I stopped?” he replies with just as much exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose before glaring down at you.

“Because I will always be a lesser priority to you.”

“You must be missing some pieces,” he grumbles. “Because never once in my life have I ever thought of you less than me.”

“Less than Ashley?”

“Never.”

“Then why did you stop pursuing her?”

“Because you told me!” he seethes. “Yes, I heard everything you said about me. Perhaps find better confidants than woodland creatures.”

His words leave you with broken sentences clumping in your mouth, your tongue feeling awkward and clumsy as you stammer, “T-The bird… you?”

“The bastard child of a nymph,” he admits with a dry chuckle. “Yet I will say that nothing you said was untrue, and that you are more glorious than a morning blossom. Still interested?”

“You… oh… dear.” You flush. “Your lineage matters… not to me.”

He arches a curious eyebrow, eyes glinting. “Our heirs will be of the forest. Does it bother you that your trusted little bird is truly me?”

A small part of you must’ve suspected this from the day in the gala, where he had alluded to your conversation, but it was a silly thought, no? A noble, a figure of society, a fluttering little thing that chose, of all maidens, to spend time with you?

You rest a hand on his chest, gazing up at him. 

“I would not have it any other way, little bird.”

<><><><>

It was your secret, meant to be between you. But the walls have ears, and behind the shades of violet and maroon are listeners, people waiting to break apart what must be the only good thing that’s ever happened to you.

His face is ashen, cheeks hollow when you finally gain the courage to visit him in the dungeons below the castle. You do not understand the cause for his punishment. Who is he harming if he is but two souls in two bodies, one of which is meant for your realm and the other, a wild, free spirit?

“My dear,” he rasps when you approach, clutching the bars like a madman. You stare blankly into his crazed eyes, unable to find the man you once loved.

It has not even been a full month, you remember. You were to be wed, to love one another for eternity, however his lifeline works. You had assumed he would die to join you in the haven past the clouds.

“Leon?” you whisper. 

“It is me, truly,” he chokes out. “Please, tell them.”

Your mother is standing beside you, touching your arm with those soft, slender fingers that always had the strange power to make you submit to her will. Perhaps she is also a creature of the woods, perhaps that is how she has managed to fancy all the eligible suitors even at her age.

But whatever she has done, she will always be your mother.

“Tell them what, Leon?” you ask softly. “Your kind has obviously caused us some harm, lest you be in this troubled, pitious situation.”

He looks up at you, confused, fingers slipping from their hold on the iron to reach out for you. As if on instinct, you and your mother step back, her face contorting in disgust.

“Do you see what happens if you keep secrets, dear?” she whispers, voice toxic in your ears. In some sick way, you realize that she must’ve manipulated some part of the puzzle, because how are you free from the consequences that both of you should be suffering?

“I have done no such thing,” Leon says, voice low since that seems to be all he can manage. In his disarray, in his mangled state, you find yourself unable to take any of his reasoning to heart.

“Pray tell,” you say quietly. “Is Baroness Graham also one of your kind?”

He draws back as if you have pinched him. “No. I thought my lineage did not matter to you.”

Your mother scoffs, cutting back in. “Lineage is everything, you deceiving traitor. You know that magic is forbidden in our kingdom, yet you sought to take my dear child away.”

What surprises you the most is that Leon offers no response. He purses his lips in a straight line and looks back down at his feet. You feel your own tremble.

“Is it true?”

“Would you have trusted a wolf at your door?” he mumbles. “I could’ve taken you at any moment, yet I resisted. I presented myself as the being you wished to be.”

“The beast admits to it, fooling you,” your mother seethes, and without another word, she turns and marches away.

"Mother, please," you cry, hurrying after her into the widening dusk. She stalks ahead, shoulders set in stony resolve.

You glance back at his silhouette, limned by flickering torchlight, and your heart strains near to breaking. But family has always come first. With a grimace, you tear your gaze away and redouble your pace to catch your mother.

"Why must you shun all who are different?" you ask as you fall into step beside her. "Leon has shown me only kindness." 

She cuts you a sharp look. "Do not be deceived. His motives are not as pure as they seem."

"And yet I went out of my way to save him," you insist. "He owes me his life - does that mean nothing?"

Your mother's eyes flash with some inner fire. "You should’ve let him die! You know not what evils his kind are capable of." 

Her strides lengthen, as if to outpace the doubts you sow. You match her pace, heartache weighing your every footfall. "Please, I beg you to give him a chance. Is peace not worth the risk?”

“You still do not understand,” she says, voice eerily calm.

“Then explain it!” You scuff the ground, stopping in your tracks. Your mother is not easily swayed, but her cloak billows around her, making her seem more intimidating than you know she is. “Explain why you hate such creatures-”

She raises a hand to silence you.

You do not foresee the tears that well in her eyes.

Her voice is broken.

Shattered glass once again pricks at your heart.

“Would you love a beast that has your father’s blood on his hands?"

[republicsglory]

the star dreamers are deities or at LEAST linked to moonlight. éclair's dream was a vision. —a theory

you know what time it is! the theory i ALWAYS ramble about.

some parts of this may be taking stretches, but let's not waste any time. more important factors are in bold for ease.

this is in sections.

- a summary of the story

- an observation of the costume set's descriptions and inspirations

- observation of the costume set's bond story

- why the nightfall butterfly was used by moonlight to induce éclair's dream as a vision

with that, allow me to begin.

a summary of the story :

the bond story is linked here if you'd like to read it for yourself. butttt, for those of you who can't be bothered :

éclair cookie falls asleep whilst writing a relic journal on nightfall butterflies. he dreams of three cosmic entities, constellation guardians. these being financier cookie, wildberry cookie and cream unicorn cookie. éclair wakes up, and there is assumption his dream was from the nightfall butterfly, tales say it can cause dreams of the night sky.

an observation of the costume set's descriptions and inspirations :

éclair cookie, stargazing scholar :

let's clear éclair up first, shall we? éclair is not as significant as of currently compared to the other three. he is an astronomer and the observer, serving as the gateway to what we see about the star guardians. he is based around the fantasy-astronomy aesthetic. he has no zodiac basis, yet for...some reason the fandom just appointed him as aquarius someday. he is the main character of the story.

financier cookie, brilliance of justice :

alright, to the deities here! financier cookie's brilliance of justice costume is based upon libra, as well as the greek titan-goddess themis (lady justice). the theming of lady justice is extremely blatant.

and as of the manner the costume is described in. it's pretty straight up.

the phrasing of so divine that you do nothing but revere to her is head on. that's a deity right there! these descriptors are...obviously deliberate.

wildberry cookie, hero blessed by the stars :

wildberry's costume is based off of heracles, the greek divine hero. there are also hintings of the leo and serpens constellations.

also pretty on the nose. the beginning of a new legend, plus this description is literally how you'd tell an epic tale or legend..... a hero protecting the peace of the night.

cream unicorn cookie, memories in the night sky :

cream unicorn's costume's basis is pegasus! the fandom also kind of collectively agrees there's virgo stuff LOL

a moment too magical to be true. this theory can also lean on cream unicorn a little more due to them being a mythical creature and powerful figure already.

yeah? yeah! the common theme here is that the three guardians are described like you'd think of a divine myth or something.

the theming is also very well picked out. the costumes could have easily been designed with the same midnight theme as éclair, but they chose great figures. verrry deliberate.

it's also established in stormbringer cookie's update that gods and deities appear to be a different matter in cookie run. deities are seemingly “lesser”. do what you will with that.

you probably think "this is just a dream this is going to happen", i can counter that

observation of the costume set's bond story :

hope you didn't forget the summary too fast! lets get into this next part where we apply more onto this.

as i said, the story begins with éclair adjusting himself for a night of stargazing.

the first constellation he falls onto is wildberry. wildberry knocks out the serpent and lion constellations via a punch, calming them. apparently things have been growing dangerous in the northern sky. his powers seem to include peace induction.

this isn't normal, no shit sherlock. oh but wildberry in the real world is something i'd like to discuss.

wildberry cookie's strength does not appear to be natural, or at least stronger than the average cookie. okay, gauntlet, sure, but he doesn't seem to have much problem fighting an ambush of white masks bare-fisted. he also can carry his gauntlet around without problem while crunchy chip (a strong WELL trained cacaoian warrior mind you, literal beast tamer) struggles with it. we can assume somethings going on here

wildberry is outshone by the dazzling light of financier cookie's sword. financier, as her description pretty obviously states, weighs out justice with her scales. the stars with "murky lights in their hearts" flee from her.

financier in the real world has a great sense of justice (see: cookie odyssey). it'd be a nice pointer to these things. a fair just paladin, the glass slipper of serving as lady justice would fit perfectly.

and finally, cream unicorn's mild light pacifies both stronger lights of wildberry and financier's. well, i'll use the dream excuse for them walking across the milky way because How™.

cream unicorn's case in the real world is interesting. they are already powerful, the role of a deity wouldn't be far off from them. at least i believe so? i'm not too caught up on their lore and i apologise for that.

and the story concludes with éclair awakening. he makes his way to the natural ecology wing to see a faint glow coming from the nightfall butterfly. as stated, tales say they can induce dreams of the night sky.

this actually gets into the next point.

the nightfall butterfly and why moonlight used it to induce éclair's dream :

for reference, here's the relic!

in the bond story it's actually called the nightlight butterfly, but we can pretty easily equate them to be the same thing. plus the butterfly is in the nature hall, no doubt the ecology wing.

the alternative name to the butterfly is the star jelly butterfly. the city of wizards has a motif of star jellies throughout, especially with say, milky way cookie. it even takes place on moonlights clock tower!

also wings like the night sky? providing dreams? that's the city of wizards for ya.

onto miss "night sky and dreams" herself — moonlight cookie!

moonlight's crescent guardian attire is on par with the guardian star dreamers costumes. right off the bat.

moonlight providing the dream makes sense. note this could have been ANY cookie as the observer, though they chose to play around with éclair's relics. moonlight can prooobably grant specific dreams.

this, is moreso a vision than a dream. the nightfall butterfly was in the reach of éclair. and listen, he's knowledgeable enough to hold such a revelation and to piece the puzzle. it'd make sense for him to be plucked out.

wouldn't it be nice to see some of the stars moonlight yearns for, those who she'd dance with upon twilight?

moonlight is awake when gaining her crescent guardian state. this is reality. it is achieved upon reuniting with stardust cookie (look. STARdust. the stars). stardust is essentially the key to this, and this perfectly falls in line if we assume this time period is when éclairs dream happened.

my point is also to say that the dreamers are in a state of dormancy of some sort.

a few extra points to this :

sea fairy blesses the gem mermaids with powers. why shouldn't a fellow legend be able to do the same?

the odds of the costumes having relevancy to lore is NOT impossible, contrary to belief. due to the setting being a dream, it could've actually happened and had no effects on the lore quite yet. also, white lily's costume was presumed to just be an "au" but became canon to the storyline. it's not impossible!

éclair doesn't know these cookies. or at least, he is never seen to interact with any of them. éclair DOES interact with financier in the crunchy spring picnic story, but wildberry and cream unicorn? debatable. why dream of cookies you don't know? the brain cannot make up faces.

this is a stretch but getting a whole bond story when easily able to have been lumped in with crunchy dreams?? goddamn!!

also.. face it. if devsisters can get money off of this for a beast yeast plot or something, why not go in for it? AND there is still room for a moonlight update. she will gain a crystal jam eventually, as well as other untouched city of wizards things that could be expanded on.

some of this might not make sense, i was extremely tired typing. butttt.. here's my whole input of it. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[waitmyturtles]

HYPERBOLIC SPOILERS FOR THE PHENOMENAL SECOND EPISODE OF OS2 x BBS x ATOTS

Can I feel so much in just one sitting?! Besides the UTTER giddiness of yesterday’s episode, at least for today, I think I have some actual, sensible, legible analysis to offer. I’m really moved, almost to tears.

I mean, as I blogged just a few minutes ago, part 4/4 of this second episode WILL go down in history in my heart as OBVIOUSLY some of the BEST, most STUNNING content in the HISTORY of anatomical and muscular analysis filmmaking. Yes. 

I’m seeing on Twitter some grumpiness for the comedy of this all (the girlies want more woop woop?! I mean?!), but I seriously think this whole crossover set up and the way it’s been written is brilliant. And I don’t think this is just for fun. 

But first, regarding the comedy and some other one-off points -- I mean, I knew that all four of these guys would be great, but their comedic TIMING, with the writing, is spectacular. They clearly had a FANTASTIC time filming this, and you can see it -- while they didn’t have much time to actually film it, it’s so well done.

I really want to call it, I really want to see it, I wanna see more subverting of the ships, and I wanna see these guys do more with each other separately -- I’m excited to see the implications of OhmEarth and NanonMix next week, and I think that Aof might be making a huge point by separating these guys, pairing them up together with others, and mixing shit up, because that’s what he does (especially while I have He’s Coming to Me on the mind soon on my OGMMTVC watchlist). 

Another one-off point: like I wrote yesterday, we’re getting a double-dose of nostalgia, and I also wrote that I haven’t had to wait NEARLY as long as most of y’all for the return of BBS and ATOTS. But that being said, even though I only watched ATOTS last fall, I actually literally nearly cried when I saw the ATOTS flashbacks and heard the music. Because the way that show was designed in 2021 (I got so much OGMMTVC on my mind) -- those motifs WERE designed to imprint themselves in our memories as remarkable for a kind of cinematic, bildungsroman BL that we weren’t used to seeing back then. That show was nostalgic not JUST for the damn ship, but for Pha Pun Dao, for Chiang Mai, for the Thailand that Aof celebrates vis à vis EarthMix in ATOTS and Moonlight Chicken. 

It’s gorgeous, and he knows what he’s doing by putting PatPran in that mix -- another couple at a different stage of their relationship, with a background and shared struggles that are different than TianPhupha’s, but that still offer both freshness AND nostalgia to the backbone story of ATOTS.

What’s moving me about these first two episodes reflects on what I just wrote -- this is no longer a story about Bad Buddy or ATOTS. This is a story about two couples going through their shit. Pat and Pran have ALWAYS been about going through their shit. We went through a A LOT of SHIT with them, including forward flashes after they graduated and seeing how they were faring in their long-distance relationship. 

Remember: we haven’t spent ANY time with Tian and Phupha in their relationship yet, ABSOLUTELY NONE. They smooched once on the hill, we saw them cuddle, and Oishii sent us off. So we’re JUST finding out, NOW, how they’re faring, and we get thrown in a fight.

A fight that’s similar to the kinds of struggles that Pat and Pran have already shown us and are showing us now. Tian wants Phupha to see a slice of HIS life in Bangkok. Tian wants Phupha to yield a little, to stop being so stubborn. 

Pat wants Pran to open up more. Pat KNOWS why Pran keeps everything so close to the chest. Pat is SO USED to being the balancing effect of their relationship, to push forward, to pull back, but to ALWAYS HOLD PRAN DOWN AND REMAIN AS PRAN’S ROCK, because Pran has not had the same kind of large family structure as Pat could rely on in his childhood and doesn’t know how to take emotional risks. Pat knows this and works hard on balancing it out.

But Pat can go overboard, right, and that’s partly why Pran drove away to Pha Pun Dao -- to prove to himself that he could complete this project on his own, but also, flirtingly, knowing that Pat would ultimately be by his side, and to play the competitive games that these guys always play with each other, because they’re still college dudes with bones to pick. 

What we’re seeing is BOTH COUPLES FINDING THEMSELVES IN THEIR MATURING GROWTH STAGES OF THEIR RELATIONSHIPS. 

Hello, mic check, there’s something happening here in Our Skyy 2. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE ECLIPSE EPISODES?

Same damn thing, the same damn thing that pissed the girlies off before. WE’RE SEEING AWLLLLLL THESE GUYS IN THE GROWTH STAGES OF THEIR RELATIONSHIPS. Akk was frustrated by all the expressions of care that Ayan is overabundant with. Ayan WANTS Akk to RECEIVE the care, because the RECEPTION OF CARE IS the signal, the trigger, the MEANING of the relationship for Ayan -- it tells Ayan, when I care for you, Akk, I AM SHOWING YOU MY LOVE FOR YOU, and that’s how *I* DEMONSTRATE IT.

Tian: Phupha, come with me to Bangkok.

Pran: Pat, let me do this by myself.

Akk: Ayan, I don’t need as much care as you’re giving me, it’s too much.

Phupha: You’re making only about me being madly in love with you.

Pat: I want to help you, my boyfriend.

Ayan: This is how I show my love for you, Akk. 

Y’all. Aof, Golf, these filmmakers. QUEER RELATIONSHIPS ARE RELATIONSHIPS THAT DESERVE THE INVESTMENT AND RESPECT OF EMOTION AND GROWTH IN ART. Not all queer art/BLs need to be about the thrills and frills of the first kiss, of the first sex, of the first whatever. We’re expecting these guys to live together forever in fiction, right? Aof and Golf and the other homies are saying -- kk, girlies, we’ll give you the fan service, alright, but we’re going to show you HOW WE, AS THE QUEER COMMUNITY, DURING PRIDE, GET THERE IN OUR OWN RELATIONSHIPS, TOO, messy details and all. Shit.

Here’s something from reality. I’m the youngest girl of my Indian family -- I was not equal to my older siblings at all, expected to fail, treated as if I didn’t know how to function in society. Y’all can predict what happened. Your gal got a great career, a great family, a husband, the whole thing.

So when I first met my husband, I’m riding my life on my own -- paying my own rent, my own bills, everything. I had already proved I didn’t need my birth family for anything.

But what I didn’t consider during those first years of the relationship was the following: my future husband’s love language was dependence. He was certainly IMPRESSED by dating a woman who had her shit together. BUT. He WANTED me to DEPEND on him, AT LEAST emotionally, if not for other things. I wasn’t going to like, quit my job for a relationship, but -- I was ALSO having REAL trouble DEPENDING on him emotionally.

Like Pran, maybe. I didn’t trust trusting anyone emotionally, because that was a paradigm already created by my family in my upbringing. I had TRAINED myself to NOT need emotional feedback from ANYONE romantically, because I learned to survive in other ways.

Of course, with great communication AND TIME (TIME), I came around and learned to lean on him and trust him.

Aof and Golf are giving their couples the benefits of growth and time to make the relationships better, and stronger, and working, and functioning, and I can’t emphasize enough how REAL THIS IS. 

That’s what these episodes are giving me. I WANT TO SEE MORE BLs with established relationships (@bengiyo, @lurkingshan, @wen-kexing-apologist: WHAT DID YOU EAT YESTERDAY FTW). I want to see contextual heartache. I want to see fights. I want to see tears. I want to see snottiness and shittiness and passive aggression, because all of that is worth examining in human emotional art. 

That’s real, that’s worth reflecting in art, and I see Aof and Golf doing this on purpose to give RESPECT to the emotional structures that they’ve created in their work. 

I’m having so much fucking fun with these episodes, but I should have expected this, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN, that Aof would already render me an emotional mess as well. It always happens. That it’s happening to our BELOVED COUPLES, AT THE START OF PRIDE, I’m just like. We’re just so blessed to have this art to enjoy.

[cryptidcorners]

Fire's Your Friend ~ — Billy Burn x GN!Reader

Description: You meet your boyfriend Billy after weeks of radio silence. Luckily, he's still the bastard you know and love.

# No Request

# A.N: I wrote this before I watched the film and it's been rotting in my notes LOL!!! enjoy

Media: Burn [ 2019 ]

Character: Billy Burn

Tags: Events Take After Burn, Established Relationship, Slightly Suggestive? If You Squint, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, Sweet Talk + Reader is !GN.

Warnings: Mentions of Blood/Injury, Smoking

TOS. Billy Burn Master List {TBW}

The sunset was red in the clouds and cold, ill air was sinking into the emptying lot, while a few silent pedestrians roamed to watch the light flee, it was still lonley in your eyes. 

Billy's lighter was busy in your hands, as you found mindless entertainment in flicking the steel trap and running your fingertips in it's maze-like design. Though, toying with a relic from a phantom wasn't widowing away your impatience.

You cupped your face reluncantly due to the ice trailing on your cheeks as nighttime brimmed into the silent square. The wild, warm colors from buzzing advertisements and wasping vehicles flickering like holiday lights on a street a few yards away (which were walled with barbed wire) hadn't even distracted you, since your cocky companion was fresh in your mind. 

You set the lighter ablaze, eyes fixed on the fire. It reminded you of your life, reminded you of the outside, reminded you of Billy. He was so dangerous, yet you found yourself on his porch every night enjoying his company. Though, you hadn't entirely gotten used to his trips. He'd pack nothing but a few dollars for gas, a firearm and some fake ID from God knows where. You prayed he'd come back in one piece, hopefully not with mobs on his tail. 

"Don't you know it's dangerous to put fire so close to your face?" A voice said with a wry chuckle. "Or, is it nothing you've felt before?" Billy, with a great sigh, sat next to you. He looked breathless, as if he had ran a marathon, twice. Relief filled your bones and you felt weak already, "Billy." 

Then, your eyes flickered wildly. 

He turned his head, revealing his scarlet soaked side glittering under the moonlight. 

"Oh, my God. Is that blood? Billy—" Your concern was icy. Billy immediately tensed and shook his head, 

"It's nothing. It doesn't hurt, it's just . . . there." He assured with a sloppy attempt to grap your shoulder. "It's been a while." 

You knew he had a short fuse, and he looked tired enough. You bit back another pester, "Yeah, it has." 

Billy's warm grasp shock your fingertips as he gently took his lighter back, purposely caressing your hand just to tease. To your annoyment (and his amusement), it had worked and you felt your face warm. Billy sighed and eyed a pack of cigarettes slipping out your pocket. He then shook his lighter in front of you, "Mind giving me a smoke?" 

You laughed softly. "Really? You want me to do it for you—again?" Billy groaned playfully, throwing his head back lightly with a low giggle. He then teased, "It's been a long night. And I'm just so tired, you can give me some hospitality, can't you?" Billy added. "I know you're soft for me." 

"Careful now." You ruffled his hair affectionately, "I'm just lighting a cigarette." You set the cigarette between his curved lips and you lightly pushed him upwards, nails trailing down blue jacket. He chuckled again, gaze softening. "Don't leave me waiting."

"You've left me waiting for a week." You remarked with a waving the lighter in circles. "I can go as slow as I want to, but I won't—at least not tonight anyway." and you began sparking flashes of firelight on the edge of the coffin nail. 

He held back another chuckle behind the smoke, already melting into your touch and leaning more foward than he needed to. Smoke filled the air, and after a long inhale, you pulled the cigarette back and let him flood his pent out exhaustion with the most fragile exhale you've ever heard in your life. You flared as he brought himself dangerously close, "I missed that. Smoking didn't feel worth it without you when I was away, I couldn't bring myself to do it." 

"Were you feeling sendamental or do you not know how to light a cig anymore?" You quizzed. His cheeks flushed with another cocky smile. You ran your fingers across his red face, which had earned a massive flinch. Your pressure eased and you reeled your fingertips down to his chin.

Billy sighed, speaking between the smoke as his eyes domesticated into something soft. "You know, fire isn't so bad. Hot, dangerous, pretty." 

"Are you seriously talking about yourself?" You couldn't help but giggle, tucking his slick locks between his ears as you melted into his gaze. 

"Am I wrong?" He teased and you felt his fingertips lightly trace across your cheek. Billy signaled you to take the cigarette back, and he blew a cloud into your face with a devious chuckle. You coughed, "Dick." 

He rubbed his neck, "Sorry, I couldn't resist. It's funny seeing your face get all sour like that." and he planted a sweet kiss on your forehead — delicate and short as it was, it still made you feel all fuzzy. Billy noticed, "I'm sorry I've been so absent. There's been so much on my ass and . . . God, I'm sorry." 

"Look, look it's okay." You hushed. "I'm just glad you came back in one piece," Then, you mumbled, "But, you seriously need to tell me what happened to you." 

He said slowly, "Gas station." 

"A gas station? Is that—all you're going to tell me." 

"If you light me another, I'll give you three more words for context." He offered. And you didn't even think about resisting.

[ghostwise]

WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :) for the kiss prompts … or maybe roll a dice and see which one you get 👀 whatever sounds fun ..

23. A kiss influenced by alcohol/other substances For Ziraheart, thank you Jay! cw: alcohol as stated on AO3 now!

Lady Shar extolls her faithful when they choose the ways of oblivion; a fact Shadowheart reminds herself of in her quiet and aching moments, in her self-imposed exile from memory, and now, as she pours herself a second cup of wine.

To be untethered from sentiment and obligation is the purest form of freedom. She takes great comfort in knowing that the uncertainty of her life is by design. That her suffering exists to hone her into something sharp and useful and wanted.

When she is a Dark Justiciar, enveloped in Shar’s unconditional embrace with her memories back and her mind complete, this will all make sense. For now she must be patient.

The rush of falling water drowns out the sounds of the party, enveloping her in a bubble of water and moonlight. She’d longed for this peace… longed to share it with someone, too, but she just feels all the lonelier for the absence of music and voices and laughter.

Which is why her heart skips a beat and her lips lift into an effortless smile when her fellow cleric comes into view.

“You made it,” Shadowheart calls out. “Come here. Sit with me.”

She has to speak up, to be heard over the water, and for a moment she second-guesses her choice. But then Zirahuén compensates by sitting right up close to her—closer than they’ve ever lingered in one another’s company—and any worry vanishes from Shadowheart’s mind.

She presses the goblet of wine into Zirahuén’s hands, relishing the brush of their fingers together.

“How thoughtful,” Zirahuén laughs. “I do hope I didn’t keep you waiting long?”

“Not very,” Shadowheart lies.

Zirahuén purses her lips, a convivial smile scrunching her face as she whispers, “Lae’zel and Rolan got into a rather heated argument. That man is braver than I gave him credit for.”

Shadowheart laughs. “This I have to hear.”

There will be time for penance later. For now she’s warmed by the thought that Zirahuén chose, above continuing the celebrations with anyone else, to come to her.

As they chat about their day, their companions, and everything, and nothing at all, Shadowheart feels the knot in her stomach unwind.

It’s odd. They’ve spent weeks in one each other’s company, yet she feels like she’s known Zirahuén much longer. They’ve spent hours deep in heated discussion over such grand topics as death, morality, worship, and the distinct qualities of the soul—yet the conversation tonight feels somehow more significant than all of these.

“A think a toast is in order,” Shadowheart proposes hours into the night. The bottle feels light in her hand as she pours. “Any suggestions?”

Zirahuén doesn’t miss a beat. “To Death,” she proclaims. “That most noble pursuit. The only task which every creature blessed of mortality is undertaking together. The great unifier.”

“To Death,” Shadowheart agrees readily. “May it evade us until just the right moment.”

Zirahuén looks deeply pleased with that. They drink, and she shoots her a look that warms her right to her ears, and sets her heart beating a little faster.

“Well said,” Zirahuén says.

Shadowheart wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I try,” she says with a little smile. “Your Death is not too unlike my Loss. We are a rare sort, you and I; we do not shy away from such things, but instead face them, head-on.”

“As you say. Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” Zirahuén says. “Shying away, I mean. These are weighty forces in our world, after all. People find them… intimidating.”

“I don’t,” Shadowheart quips. She shakes her head at the thought.

Zirahuén giggles. “No, you don’t.” Then, with a hint of a sigh, she muses further, “But Death has been with me for so long, it’s like an old friend. It does not frighten me—not anymore. What is considered frightening about Death is never Death itself, anyway. Just experiences adjacent to Death. I think that’s what scares people. Things like pain, illness, loneliness. These things are frightening. I know they frighten me.”

“Do they?” Shadowheart asks, watching her.

Zirahuén nods. “I am afraid, you know. Afraid of catastrophe and plague. Ceremorphosis. Afraid of being apart from the people I… care about. But of Death? Never. It is a comfort, if anything. It’s where the pain stops. It’s where the illness loses. It’s where love is reunited. I know this. I’ve seen it. I swear it.”

Her words are calm and soothing and twist something up in Shadowheart’s gut.

“Silly, isn’t it?” Shadowheart asks, after a moment. “I’m almost jealous.”

“Oh?” Zirahuén raises a brow.

“Of Death,” Shadowheart clarifies. “Oh, to be on your mind half as much.”

Her words falter. She’s missed the mark, imbuing them with a sigh of longing instead of humor—an amateur mistake, she realizes. But Zirahuén is staring at her now with a completely inscrutable look in her eyes.

Shadowheart stalls, feeling unsteady. “What-?”

Zirahuén leans in to kiss her.

Going from not-kissing-Zirahuén to kissing-Zirahuén is like going from cold blue shadows into warm golden sunlight. Shadowheart breaks away with a gasp. Then there’s a tenuous moment of silence.

Zirahuen lowers her head. “I- I’m sorry.”

Shadowheart’s hand spasms, the muscle screaming and twitching all the way up her forearm. She’s never ignored anything harder.

“Oh, hush,” she whispers.

Zirahuén’s surprised expression melts into one of joy and relief as Shadowheart loops her arms around her shoulders, and pulls her in for another kiss.

There’s a warning taste of wine with it. They’re both experienced enough to know; to ignore the trembling in the hips and the warmth pouring over their skin. To keep this very civil, even as Zirahuén’s exhale dances across Shadowheart’s cheek, and Shadowheart lingers on the softness of the contact between them.

No matter how much they’d like to carry on. This much wine makes for a headache in the morrow, and this is delicate as it is.

So Shadowheart breaks the kiss and, with a little groan, slides into the crook of the other woman’s neck.

They’re really such fragile things. Mortal and fleeting and prone to all sorts of pains and misfortunes, left reeling at the whims of gods and fortune alike. But if Zirahuén is okay with it, so is she.

She lets Zirahuén hold her.

They can talk about it later.

[aria0fgold]

A confession of wishes for a future without you.

Ren sat up from the bed, he couldn't sleep. He's been lying down for hours now, eyes closed even, and yet he still couldn't find his own sleep. Morgana laid beside him, sound asleep. He carefully got up, so as to not disturb him. Making sure to walk quietly in his room while looking for something, anything to help him sleep. A book, a distraction, whatever it is that he can find. So he began his search and not even a minute later, stumbled upon a box. One far too familiar that he froze when he saw it. How many months had it been since he had that box now? He doesn't know, didn't want to keep track of that time, didn't even want to think about anything in regards to it at all.

A small black box with intricate designs painted in red, it wasn't locked, in fact, it can easily be opened. But Ren never did open it. He didn't want to, he didn't want to know what's inside it, didn't want to face the reality that Kaito— that he— that his friend is… He wanted to bathe in the pool of lies he made for himself, that Kaito's sudden disappearance isn't too much of a big deal, that someday, maybe just maybe, he'll come back again. He continued to lie to himself like that, ever since Kaito disappeared.

Perhaps, it's time to face reality once more.

Ren took a deep breath, opening and closing his hand in an effort to steady its trembling, in an effort to gather enough courage to open the box he had been avoiding ever since he first saw it, days after he lost all contact with Kaito. It was hidden underneath the bed, Ren moved it somewhere else, farther from him yet in its own safe place. Just like what he wished and hoped for Kaito as well, far from him yet safe. So he kept wishing, over and over again.

Please be safe, please be safe, please be safe.

That's how wishes work, right? To think it three times, say it thrice, and believe with all your heart for it to be real. So he held onto that hope. No matter how small it was, he held onto it like a precious gem nestled within his palm, threatening to shatter at the slightest jolt.

Ren took a few more deep breaths, until finally, he reached for the box and lifted its lid. In it was a letter, white with a blue ribbon, and a monocle beside it. Ren can feel the gears in his brain coming to a halt, slowly… slowly… it'd freeze in time, but not now, not yet. Mechanically, Ren stood up and walked towards the bed, he sat by the edge, near the window to put an arm on, to lean his body on. For support maybe, for a hope perhaps, that once he's finished reading the letter. Kaito would appear in his white suit with his cape flowing in the wind, the magician in the moonlight.

That's what this is, isn't it? A confession of secrets. He had an idea about it, infamous internationally wanted criminal, Kaito KID was Kaito Kuroba's other identity. He had a feeling that was the case but never pursued the thought, it'd be unfair, won't it? For Ren to intrude into Kaito's secret when he has his own secrets to hide. So it'd just be fair, to not know. To pretend to not know anything. To pretend that the thief he saw on the rooftop that day isn't someone he knows even though he's so painfully aware of it. It's only fair that way.

Ren took another deep breath, swallowing hard as he prepared to open the letter, setting aside the box with the monocle still inside by the window sill.

His heart skips a beat at the sight of his name, written by Kaito's hand.

“Dear Renren,” it starts, “How are you? Knowing you, you probably didn't open this letter until months had passed, I bet! ”

Ren quietly chuckled at that, he was right. Kaito was always too good at reading people. “That's alright though, I won't blame you because I'm such a gentleman,” A small face was drawn there, it looked like Kaito smirking at him, how cute. “I'm sure you've already seen the other item in the box, it was right on top of the letter you're reading now after all! ” He drew a monocle then. Ren held his breath as he read through the next passage.

“What I'm about to tell you, is a confession of a secret! You can't tell anyone about this! This is our own little secret.” A winking Kaito was drawn there, adorable. Ren giggled as he whispered to the wind, to himself, and to the Kaito that wrote the letter.

I promise.

“I'm Kaito KID.” Party poppers were drawn on both sides of that phrase, confetti doodled around it, he really was adorable… “Although… I had a feeling you already knew about this.”

He really was good at reading people.

“It's so anti-climactic doing this on paper too. I wish I could tell you in person instead, I'd love to see your reaction.”

Ren's breath hitched then. His mind slowly drawing a blank, please be safe, please be safe, please be safe. He repeated in his head. Like a chant, a good luck charm, filled with the hope burning his chest, threatening to explode.

“Renren… I know this is kinda cliche but by the time you're reading this, I probably didn't make it after all.”

Ren gripped the paper tightly then, and immediately let go. He shouldn't… ruin Kaito's letter. There was… there was still more to read through… A prank, maybe, a mistake perhaps, please let this be a nightmare he can wake up from. Ren took a deep breath, gathering himself to continue reading once more.

“Hey, Renren, I may not be there while you're reading this but I can tell you're sad right now! Come on, turn that frown upside down! You know I don't like seeing you sad, right…?

…I'm sorry.”

Ren inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the urge to cry growing deep inside him, like a dam waiting to burst, a pipe waiting to break, a heart waiting to shatter. It took him a moment to continue reading it.

“I know, I know... there's a lot of questions you want to ask right? And I… I don't think I can answer any of it, after all...

Hey, Renren… How about a magic trick? It'd be hard to pull this off in a letter but here! ” In the next part, four cards were drawn face down, or rather, drawings of four small face down cards were partly glued to the paper, a small tape keeping it shut. “Pick one!”

Ren reached for the second card, carefully peeling off the tape, behind it revealed an 'Ace of Hearts'. Ren bit his lip then, to stop it from trembling.

“Hehehe, You chose the second card, didn't you? And no! Before you start thinking, 'it doesn't matter what card I pick, all of them is the same.' Well, then mister! You can open the other cards to double check it! I assure you that they aren't all the same! ”

And so Ren did. He carefully peeled off the tape from the rest of the cards.

The first card revealed an “I”

The third card revealed a “You”

The fourth card revealed a “Forever”

The last card, was stained with a droplet.

The droplet, was accompanied by another then.

Ren couldn't stop himself anymore. He put the letter on the window sill, slowly, carefully, with a trembling hand, he reached for the box, brought it on top the letter as weight. He reached inside it, for the monocle for him to hold, to steady his trembling hands. Ren sobbed, quietly, soundlessly, he cried in silence so as to not disturb anyone.

“…Ren?”

But that was all in vain at the sound of Morgana's voice.

“Are you… crying?! What happened?! What's wrong?!” Morgana shot upright at the realization, immediately running to Ren's side. Ren couldn't really answer him even if he wanted to, so Morgana looked around for answers. He didn't need to look far.

He stared at the box, at the letter, and at the monocle Ren was clutching. It was enough.

“…Oh.” Morgana's ears drooped and twitched, he didn't quite know what to do, Ren's cries makes his heart ache, he wanted to comfort him but how? Grief isn't so easily comforted. After thinking awhile, Morgana settled upon sitting beside Ren. “I'm… I'm here for you, okay?”

Ren couldn't answer still, but he was grateful for it. Grateful for Morgana, grateful that there's someone there for him while his world was breaking. Kaito was so unfair… selfish…

. . .

Seconds passed, and then minutes, Morgana had found where the tissue box is and moved it near Ren, he had found a water bottle nearby too, placing it just beside the tissue box. Minutes passed, and then hours. The empty trash can that Morgana moved near Ren as well now contained tissues, the water bottle that was once full was nearly empty. And the quiet cries that filled the room turned into quiet sobs.

Morgana rubbed Ren's back with his paw, in hopes of comforting him further. Until finally, Ren calmed down. Enough to take deep breaths to compose himself.

“…Thanks…” He whispered, voice hoarse.

“Mn… How are you feeling now?”

“…Tired.” Ren glanced at the letter.

“Why don't you wait until tomorrow to continue reading it?” Worry was evident in Morgana's voice.

He should, he really should just wait a bit before reading again, that fit of crying made him tired enough to want to sleep already but… He wanted to finish reading it tonight.

Ren gazed out the window, he stared at the sky, as dark as it was that faithful night. He stared at the stars flickering on and off, he remembered the split second he saw the stars reflected in the eyes of that magician as he turned to face them. He stared at the moon, peeking through the buildings, it was a full moon, much like that night. The view of the moon behind a mysterious magician donned in a white suit and top hat with a cape flowing behind him. It was a magical sight that Ren will remember no matter how much time has passed.

Ren took a shaky breath. He reached for the letter, the monocle in the other hand.

“I'm sorry…” Ren's eyes stung, “I deserved to be yelled at right now, you can call me unfair, and selfish, and stupid! You can shout it to the sky, I'll be sure to hear it. But Renren…

Ren. I wanted to tell you how I felt, because I doubt I'd have a chance to say it to you if not now. I'm sorry, maybe I should've told you about it before… this. But then I think, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for hurting you way more than how you're hurting now, all because of me. Just know that, I love you, and I want the best for you, even if I'm not around you anymore, even if I'm not there anymore. I'll always love you forever and ever! All the times we spent together were the most precious memories I have… Well, had.

Hey, Renren… Promise me you'll find someone else to make you happy, alright? Someone, something, anything! I want you to be happy. You better be looking up at the night sky with a smile! I'll be sure to see it.

I love you, Ren.”

[wisheevee]

Hi! Have any OCs that you love and would like to rant about??? I like reading stuff like that! :> hope you have an amazing day!

Yes! I have a few!

First up would probably be Mystery. She’s honestly one of the first Oc’s I came up with. She always been this strong, serious, Royal guard character that loves her friends. She probably really likes brownies or something. She has a ghost Fennikin friend that likes to follow her around but I forgot to draw him.

Secondly would probably be my oc! They don’t have as much of a set design, I have trouble with consistency both in art and writing, so I kinda just draw them how I want to; Different patterns, colors, etc. I like to draw them a tad bit different than most others, especially if they are near somebody else, just barely noticeable most of the time. It would be more apparent through their actions and words. Kind of very quiet until you get them talking about something they like. They are their own thing as well in the story plot as well. Also, I think they would ever so slightly glow, less noticeable in the day. They’ve probably been used as a night lamp on multiple occasions. They also like to collect plushies.

There are some old oc’s I’m taking to repurposing, those two are Rin and Moonlight, an Espeon and Glaceon couple. Moonlight is sweet and smart, and Rin is her grumpy “guide dog” who needs some coffee and to keep his loved ones safe. I’d like to think they would adopt Mystery after an incident of sorts. They are very old oc’s that are mine and my best friends from when we were younger.

There are three concept goobers I like to draw, I’m calling them Echo, Abyss, and the white one doesn’t have a name yet. Echo is a kind, calm creature who is just there to vibe. Abyss is very serious and rather harsh towards others, not out of anything mean-spirited of course. The last one doesn’t have much of a personality yet but I think would be very chill and interesting to be around.

I decided to do a few low quality doodles of all of them/some expression practice.

[katyspersonal]

2, 15, and 25 for Logarius!!

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

The bitter irony of him being glorified and admired as a martyr that "holds back the evil" with statue and fanatics like Alfred, whereas poor Ludwig got accursed and then forgotten, although Ludwig started the Church Hunters thing and Logarius just reposted it (credit to the original artist) 🤦‍♂️ MFer strategically fought the right enemies for the right amount of time and left the scene at the right moment.... What an asshole.

15. What is your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Hmmmm... I actually have been considering him and Ludwig for quite a while! They are both 💫radiant🌛 warriors of the Church! Logarius quite feels like "evil Ludwig" for me, too x) I think Logarius would be one of the very few people Ludwig could show the true form of his Moonlight Sword, whereas Logarius might reveal the true meaning of the vision that led to discovery of Radiance Rune. They might be a bit too "holy" to act openly horny and their bonding would be almost exclusively discussion about how much they love the Healing Church and Laurence, but they share that intimate trust. I also enjoy the idea that they could have compensated for each other's "flaws": Logarius could have helped Ludwig to stay more grounded and remember with mind and not simply faith who is good and who is evil, whereas Ludwig could help Logarius to connect more with his intuition and heart to break from dogmas (seeing that Maria is a good gal, for example). Logarius is too trapped in his own ideas, Ludwig is too trapped in the ideas of someone else (Moon Presence)...

What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Ohoh boy... I first saw him when my friend was streaming Bloodborne for me to get acquainted to (didn't have PS4 yet), and I was surprised by how he felt a bit...... not fitting in? What some average warlock-coded guy forgot in the setting about beasts and aliens in Victorian Czechia? I thought it had to be some sort of obligatory reference to other games from the studio xD

Well, now I am aware that his Pthumerian ass fits in the setting just fine! And apparently he had quite a history with Church and all... As cool as concept design of the King was, I think it was a way more interesting decision to replace the King boss battle with the religious fanatic that murdered him. And I sure think that Logarius using the "cursed" magic like skull wrathful spirits or canceling out blood vial healing was something he desperately wanted to avoid, but killing the King made him inherit his Blood Echoes, so... well, if anything, being perceived as a "martyr" has its merit, save for irony that blood rituals of Vilebloods and blood communion of Clerics are both risky garbage 🤦‍♂️

Thank you for an ask!

[halfmoonism]

all your golden words

prsk, akito/kohane || no spoilers, set during walk on and on

on moonlight talks, reminiscence, and shinonome akito, from kohane’s careful gaze.

from plantober day 8: cornflower (hope, love, uncertainty, hidden feelings)

Their session is a resounding success. Through the combined efforts of Aoyagi-kun and An-chan’s song designation and lyricism, it really feels like something they all share. It really feels like they can all go higher, just like this…!

I know, right?! Oh, does this mean we're all on the same wavelength?

She can’t help but smile as she pushes the door to Weekend Garage open. The four of them, reaching for their dreams together… it’s everything she’s ever wanted, and yet knowing they can still go higher doesn’t make her freeze up anymore. They told her she could stand beside them as equals, so she’ll do just that!

“Kohane,” Shinonome-kun says as the door falls shut behind him, quickening his pace to keep step with her, “about your part in the bridge, here’s what I was thinking…”

Ah, yes. Shinonome-kun had offered to walk with her since Aoyagi-kun had left early and An-chan was working the closing shift. She’s no longer surprised whenever he does something like this, and she likes it that way. It took a while, but all that intense determination, the feeling of always reaching for someone else’s back… she thinks she understands him, maybe more than the others at times.

So watching him discuss song distribution with her after two straight hours of the same thing, his mouth pulling into an unsuspecting grin as he tells her of some ways she could really surprise the audience as the moonlight falls around him, holding him gently—she can’t help but feel like this setting is just so fitting for someone like Shinonome-kun. Framed by a spotlight, shining with all the admiration he only ever really lets go of whenever he talks about the music festivals that changed his life…

She has to work harder. She knows he feels the same, that they all feel the same, but because they’re all working so hard, her own sampling has to go well. Enough to deserve the easy, proud smile on An-chan’s face and the fond look in Aoyagi-kun’s eyes she’s grown used to and that bright, fierce grin Shinonome-kun only ever wears when he means it.

“Hey, are you listening?” Shinonome-kun suddenly asks.

“Huh?!” The way she jolts isn’t anything to be proud of, but he really did startle her. “Um, sorry, Shinonome-kun. I was, but…”

“Nah, it’s okay.” He waves her off, a wry smile on his face. “I guess we did just talk about this. Be prepared when we meet up again, alright?”

Looking back, the first time Kohane really understood Shinonome-kun was when he protected her from the wind, all that time ago. His kindness is the sort that’s wrapped up in practicality, but he can’t hide the way he dotes on the others from her. It’s a little silly, if she’s being honest, and it’s sweet. She’s glad she got to know him. She’s glad she…

That she what…?

She has to focus. Kohane nods back, and gives him her best grin. “Okay!”

His eyes are curved when he smiles back. She thinks they’re on the same wavelength right now, too.

[liloinkoink]

hey what if i said i had more lamplight. we once again hop to somewhere random in the timeline and just run with it. you can consider this part one of… an actual plot event™

The catalyst is, of all things, a joke. Not even a particularly funny one, which really makes the whole thing all the more ridiculous. It goes something like this:

Night falls, and with it drops any of Martyn’s motivation to keep traveling. Sure, his lantern usually keeps the beasts at bay, but he can only do so much about the ones he wanders into when he walks by himself.

As such, as soon as his tired feet find a proper clearing, he’s settling down, leaning his lantern against a tree to begin collecting the supplies that will soon become the base of a campfire. Said lantern dims to a low red, his god already complaining about what has rapidly become his least favorite routine.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Martyn comments as darkness rushes into the clearing, “I’d think you want me to starve.”

There’s a loud pop inside the lantern. Martyn doesn’t look, instead walking off to find enough stones to set up the site of his campfire in the meager moonlight. His god’s refusal to cooperate and light the clearing makes this task significantly more difficult than it needs to be, but Martyn isn’t above complaining about it.

“I did say when we met that I wasn’t a pious man. I don’t know what you expected from me.” Martyn says, picking up a couple of stones. He doesn’t need that many, since his god is perfectly able to keep from burning out of control without a designated site, but he likes to think the offering of a decorated campfire mitigates the sin of using his god as a grill.

The clearing gets no brighter. He arranges a few smooth stones on a clear patch of grass, making the beginnings of a neat circle. The lantern sizzles.

“It’s just more efficient to have you help me out then to light a new fire. No need to collect kindling, significantly less smoke in my eyes…” Martyn looks up, pushing his bangs out of his face so he can level a stare across the dark clearing, “Would you be happier about it if I started praying before meals?”

His god’s light doesn’t get any brighter. A no, then.

“For the best. I don’t really know any prayers like that. I’d be rubbish at making one up,” Martyn says. He puts one hand to his chest, then raises another in the air, “‘O divine being of holy light, please help me cook my pork chops right.’ Or no, maybe… ‘Guide me to grill without mistake, so the perfect potato I might bake.’ Okay, no. I have to stop, I’m making myself hungry.”

The clearing lights up gradually to the sound of a crackling fire. He huffs, turning his attention back to the ground, a fond smile on his face.

“You know, m’lord, if you really didn’t want to help me cook, you could always say so,” Martyn says, “I get it if you don’t want to be the repeat subject of sacrilege. I’m not going to hold it against you that long if you decide to, I don’t know, vaporize my dinner.”

The lantern splutters, but the clearing doesn’t get any dimmer. Martyn knows his god would never—they’ve made too many meals together for Martyn think his god anything other than offended at the notion he wouldn’t help him with anything, no matter how far below his station.

Martyn can’t imagine most gods he’s heard of being willing to put up with half the things his does, or spending their time doing menial chores. He’s heard of other gods wiling to smite even their most devout for less than the sort of thing Martyn pulls every day, and yet.

Martyn smiles to himself. He arranges the last stone, then pushes up from his knees and onto his feet.

“You’re not a usual god,” Martyn muses, dusting off his pant legs, “but I’m not a usual paladin.” He turns toward the lantern, “So I’d say that works out for us.”

His god doesn’t make a sound, but the light from the lantern burns into a soft, hazy gold. His god’s smiles may not be traditional, but Martyn’s learned to recognize them when he sees them.

Martyn walks over to his god’s side, stopping to tap the glass with his knuckles. The flames inside bend toward the point of contact, and Martyn draws his hand back to see the brief appearance of a handprint inside.

Ever since the tavern fire, his god’s been appearing more like this—a hand, an eye, a smile. The fire’s rarely big enough to fit all of him, but Martyn relishes the glimpses when he gets them.

“You’re a bit of a sap, you know?” Martyn says, instead of any of that, though the fondness in his voice betrays him. He unhooks the lantern from its staff, holding it in both hands. Even the metal is colder than it should be—hot, sure, but never enough to burn him.

“And that,” Martyn stage-whispers, lifting the lantern up to his face, “is how you get away with using a god to make dinner.”

The lantern sizzles, rattling the latch. Snickering under his breath, Martyn walks back and sets the lantern down by his ring of stones.

He unhooks the latch and reaches in with both hands, scooping up the fire inside. Despite his god’s complaining, the flames are only as warm as a hand held in Martyn’s own.

“Besides, I know you like the excuse to come out of your lantern,” Martyn says, raising the fire up to once again be level with his own face. His god doesn’t respond to that, which Martyn takes to mean that he’s right. He laughs, and the light runs gold. “Too bad. If only you weren’t fire, then I could never use you to cook again.”

The fire in Martyn’s hands explodes. His god is fireworks, large and loud and bright and sudden, detonating in Martyn’s face.

Martyn jerks back, holding his god away from himself in a too-late attempt to spare his eyes from the flash. The fire in his hands sparks wildly, and the ribbons of buffeted flame writhe as if Martyn were sitting in a wind storm.

“What on Earth was that for?!” Martyn yelps, blinking in an attempt to clear the stars burnt into his retinas, “Dude, ow. I know I said you could say something, but I didn’t mean you should blind me in the process!”

His god has shrunk back down to a normal size, but he’s still white-bright and sparking. Martyn’s never seen him agitated like this before.

He snaps to his feet, casting his eyes around over his shoulder, his god held close to his chest. It’s easy to see the edges of the clearing with the fire in his hands so bright, but there’s not a thing around. It’s not alarm, then…

“Are you… excited about something?” Martyn asks, looking back to his hands. The fire brightens further, and Martyn turns back the last few moments in his head. “Because I said… you didn’t have to cook anymore if you weren’t fire?”

Rapid crackling. Frantic sparks. Martyn can hardly see his own hands for the blinding light held within.

“I didn’t think you would be so excited about the idea you wouldn’t have to cook anymore,” Martyn mutters, “But unless you know how to—… Wait.”

His god blazes so bright, Martyn may as well be holding a star. For the first time since they met, the heat against his skin starts to feel a little too intense, but Martyn doesn’t dare put him down.

“You’re joking,” Martyn says. More frantic sparks and flailing movements. His god is starting to look a lot like a very angry cat trying to desperately tear through a sealed bag.

Suddenly Martyn understands the explosion, because he feels like he could scream. If he had to guess, he’d say that his god’s probably trying to.

“Oh my god,” Martyn whispers. He slides down to ground, a graceless decent that’s more falling than it is sitting. “Is that— Could you— What do—…” Martyn trails off, “Have you just been waiting for me to say something like that this whole time?”

A starburst of sparks. Martyn laughs, a note higher than normal.

“That’s not something you can just do, is it?” Martyn asks. The fire gets dimmer. “Right, of course not, because why else would you let me carry you around in a box all the time if you… ” Martyn trails off, moving the fire to one hand so that he can run the other through his hair. He has so many questions, but there’s only one that matters. “Is… How do I help?”

[magicalgirlmascot]

it didnt win but do you have magical girl webcomic recommendations anyway? 👀

I was planning on going out to find more if that was the one picked, but just of the ones I know already:

If you haven't read Sleepless Domain yet, that's the one I kind of think of as like the most popular one? And it's popular for a reason, it's so good. It's about a world where magical girls are just a known quantity in everyday life. Their society is built around them since they protect ordinary people from the monsters that come out at night, so for example there's a special school just for them that starts later in the day to make up for the fact that they're up all night fighting evil by moonlight, they're basically celebrities, there are branches of government specifically dedicated to them, it's just fascinating to see a world where stuff like this is taken to its logical conclusion. The story has set up some spooky and compelling mysteries, the characters are fun and relatable and gay as shit, the art and character design is super cute, I mean what can be said about Sleepless Domain that hasn't been said. It's literally so good. CONTENT WARNING: there is an early plot point involving major character death, and it becomes the driving force for a lot of the series.

ALSO THE LITTLE DANCE TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCE IN CHAPTER 21 AAAAAAHHHHH MY LIL GAY HEARTCATCH FAN HEART I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

There's also XII, which I found by accident at a con last year. It's about a group of girls at a boarding school who accidentally start awakening magic powers in themselves and then others. As more people start gaining powers, the people in charge at the school start taking notice and trying to crack down on things. There's a lot going on behind the scenes, and part 1 sets up some great mysteries. Part 1 (Of Magic and Muses) is fully completed, with three volumes out, and Part 2 (Of Rogues and Remnants) just has the one chapter out for now and has gone on hiatus recently, but I'd still definitely recommend giving it a read! I have all three volumes (I bought the first volume at Pretty Heroes last year, read it in one night, then went back and bought the next two volumes the next day) and a standee of Georgia because we stan a shitty delinquent bully character who becomes less shitty but still a delinquent. CONTENT WARNING: (taken directly from the website) part 1 contains bullying, strangulation, drowning, blood, general violence, partial nudity, and language, while part 2 contains animal harm, police violence, disassociation, blood, sexual situations, general violence, partial nudity, and language. I swear it's not like full Madoka or anything but it is a darker magical girl series. It's really good I promise.

There's also Elements of the Round on Webtoon, which I actually found via Art Fight of all places lol. I'm not caught up with it at all (I stopped using Webtoon around when its first chapter ended) but it's a neat story based around Arthurian myth! I love Nina, she's great. It's a bit simpler than the other two but quite good! CONTENT WARNING: familial death early on.

And another Webtoon: Let's Celebrate! is a globe-trotting magical girl story about magical girls based around holidays! When I quit using Webtoon it had three, based on Christmas, St. Patrick's Day, and New Year's. The way the monsters work is so interesting, and I love the art!! Also it's super cute and hella gay and I definitely should catch up. No content warnings from my memory.

Hopefully there are a couple here that are new to others!

[grokebaby]

Hell yeah, OC questions time >:)

How does Pesticinger feel about how people perceive her? How correct are people's assumptions about her?

Oh this is interesting hmm. I'm sure it can depend for some people but I think most would perceive her as this, kind of, horrifying creature tbh, despite her vaguely angelic appearance. She looks great in moonlight! Oh oh this is the perfect time to talk about her color scheme bc it relates to this topic so hard!!!

See, in the setting where she comes from, white is The Bad Color. It has the same kind of vibes and connotations as black does for us. It represents death most strongly and prominently, along with things like starvation, withering, a lack of things, deprivation and so on. That, along with like, a desaturated fleshy purple are The Danger colors but she doesn't have purple so I'll carry on. Sooo.. To us, her appearance is a bit creepily contradictory: Pearly white and golden feathers, yet it has a skull for a head and those icky lung sacks. It definitely looks eerie and does communicate a sense of wariness and danger to us, however, if I'd have designed her with the color conventions of like, regular color theory as it's understood in our corner of the world, she'd look something more like this

At least, if I'd use color symbolism to communicate things about her. But to the people of her world, she, in her white feathered glory, looks the same as That^ would look to us. Death on wings. There's even a saying back there, that goes "Beware of white wings", which she definitely fits into!

Anyhow, all that to say, she may be perceived differently based on culture. But I wanted to babble about how I made her white on purpose :3

I doubt that even with having white feathers, she'd look very friendly to us either, though.

I think she takes pride in being feared tbh! So for the most part, it's very favorable to the way people perceive it! However as I mentioned in it's original intro post, she also tends to sort of lure people in, like a siren's call, to come along and follow it and join her little nightmare parade of pillaging animals. Pesticinger is quite a social entity, I mean Hello it's a bird, a songbird no less, this gal needs playmates! In fact, the song that she sings whenever coming to pillage, is an invite! It's lyrics repeatedly encourage the listener to come along and join in. So to that extent I'd also say, maybe she might also wish to be perceived as more approachable. Beautiful, even u_u obviously she sings for a wide variety of reasons but maybe, just sometimes, she wishes to be heard by an adoring audience, who can't get enough of her song. So while yes it's happy to scare humans, sometimes Pesticinger wishes to be able to draw people in without the need for a hypnotizing song. I will say, she's a bit attention hungry..

I feel like a good amount of the time people's assumptions about her are.. Vaguely in the right direction but not necessarily accurate. If she's not being thought of as a sadistic menace (fair), she's perceived as an idiot (Maybe understandable but c'mon..) no, she's a smart bird, and extremely self aware, however humans see her engage in silly play and repeat playground rhymes ad nauseum and think "Ah, I can outsmart that, it's just a creature!", which, usually doesn't end well. If you don't get to know her beyond her raids, you'd probably just remember her as a terrifying monster. However people who've seen that, tend to be surprised to learn how playful and goofy she is, and that's usually when they'll start thinking "Oh it's just a big bird." which isn't incorrect but it's very reductive, as she's on the same level as a person, in intellect. And the intellectual part is what most people miss, see even among her peers she's thought of as the playful goofy one, but you can't be a singer without at least a little emotional baggage amirite!? :D

Unfortunately in order to be taken a bit more seriously she tends to be a bit of a playground bully, or some form of nuisance, as we see with characters like Margaretta Wormer. She does like goofing around and being her obnoxious nuisance self but she also has great memory, is poetic, good at reading people (at least their emotions) and an insatiable learner.

I'm also sad to report that she has gotten captured by humans a few times, and been kept in very cruel ways due to a combination of being seen as a monster and also just some creature rather than a person. If there's one thing she's scared of, it's nooses.. But I won't elaborate on that here, this reply got way more substantial than I expected haha whoops. Enjoy! Thank you for the ask :3