#never done a fall themed drawing so decided to do one

[shadowaj]

Pumpkin Spice Lysithea

[number-onekidqueen]

Hey!!!

Could you please do Luke x Goth!fem!reader where they are dating secretly, and Luke finds out she’s getting bullied for how she dresses he decides to confront the bullies and put them in their place 

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Luke Castellan x goth!Hades!reader

apologies for the awkward spacing, my laptop is going through some glitch 😭

angsty fluff

warnings: bullying, verbal abuse ig, a few swear words, necrophilia mentioned (NOT A THEME), Stacey is a cliche warning, mentions sexual themes

summary: even if goth isn't his style, luke is happy to put a few haters in their place, if it means making you feel better.

"You don’t like it, do you?”

He shook his head insistently. You laughed.

“No, I think it’s cool, I just don’t listen to this kind of stuff. It’s new to me.”

You and Luke were sat on your bed in Hades cabin, listening to a cassette you had snuck in this summer.

It was actually how your mum had bonded with Hades. She always told the story of how she had been walking home from a shift, listening to her favourite album on her Walkman, completely lost in the bass and cacophony of drums, unaware of her surroundings. Too late she had noticed a drunk driver swerving towards her. And then a man had come out of the gloom, drawing her safely away by clutching her cassette tape and headphone wires. She’d been at a loss for words, and he’d simply walked away.

He’d met her the next night, returning her Walkman with praise for her music choice. And every night later he’d appear somewhere along their journey, and they’d converse about music and fall in love.

That very album was what you were listening to at the moment. And from the look in his face, it certainly wouldn’t be making its way onto Luke's playlist very soon.

“I know it’s loud, I get it,” you reassured, “I guess I just love the…. Passion.” You didn’t see while you were rambling, but the look Luke gave you then could only be described as adoring. He loved when you ranted like this. “These artists, they’re pouring their heart and soul into everything. Every word they scream, and string they play, they’re giving their best performance to do so. I find it so amazing.”

The sad thing was, not many people shared your view on that, which led to the predicament you were in.

Well, it wasn’t just the music. It was probably the way you dressed too.

Regardless of your explanations, people were always going to stare at your black shorts, choker and smoky eyes. They would always whisper ‘goth girl’ as if it was a swear word.

But you never thought they would be quite so mean. Come on, you were one of them, right?

Wrong, apparently.

"Hey, emo, anyone die lately, or just your style sense?"

This particular jab came from Stacey, an Aphrodite girl who just seemed to loathe you, and was your polar opposite with her glowy make up, tight camp tee and cropped shorts.

Usually you ignored them. Sure, some of their comments were mean, and sometimes you could hear them when you looked in the mirror, when you applied your mascara, when you lay in bed in the darkness. But today, you were done. You were so sick of Stacey sniping and sneering at you. You were going to bite back.

"I didn't realise dressing for men was considered style, but if so, then sure."

There was silence as she gasped at your comment, looking at her friends in shock and for support. She scowled then, and chewed her gum obnoxiously in what you guessed to be an excuse to think of a comeback.

"I'm sorry I get a reaction from men. Kinda sad that black and death doesn't turn anyone on, huh y/n? But I'm sure you don't care. Probably have some relationship with a dead body, right?"

There were muffled giggles as all the Aphrodite girls covered their mouths at her retort. She began to smirk at you as you blinked at her in shock, genuinely hurt.

"I don't get you, Stacey. Why would my style have anything to do with that? How do smoky eyes have anything to do with-with necrophilia or whatever you're suggesting? What the fuck?" You spat, and you walked away from her, hating that you had been defeated, that that stupid girl's words made your eyes feel heavy with tears.

Because to her, you'd always be weird. That one goth girl who always wore black no matter the occasion. Who barely got a first glance from boys.

It was then you wanted to scream to them how much you knew Luke cared about you. You wondered how much their opinions would change, if they knew camp's golden boy was sweet about you. But you never did, because you knew they wouldn't believe you, and so it led to tears and frustration, locking yourself inside your cabin and crying until your face was a runny, smudged mess.

You'd settled yourself against the wall for around half an hour, your hands in your hair as you bathed in misery and insecurity when you heard the first round of insistent knocks and urgent calling of your name. It was him.

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you got to your feet and let him in, praying you looked better than you felt. His face fell as the door opened and he spotted your saddened features, so you guessed you didn't. Luke stepped in, shutting the door behind him, and immediately brushing the tears from your face with his thumbs, his eyes sad.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, as he drew you into a hug.

"It was just some-some girls, don't worry, they always do it, I'm just-y'know, being dramatic," you let out a broken laugh into his shoulder and more tears fell, "I guess I should expect it."

"No you shouldn't. They shouldn't torment you regularly just because you dress different to them." He pulled away, his eyes furious now, the cocoa centres dangerously dark, "What the hell is wrong with them?! Tell me their names, y/n, their names."

"No, it's fine, you-you don't need to talk to them, it's-"

"Well, I'm going to either way, so you can tell me, or I'll just find it out."

"I-I-" you stuttered, your body shuddering as a wave of tears swept through you once again, "it was that group of Aphrodite girls, with like Stacey and-"

You buried yourself in his arms, and he squeezed you tight, fingers brushing gently through your hair. "You know you're so much better than them, right?" he murmured warmly, "you're smarter, you're prettier-"

"No, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are, and you should know it, because you are, y/n. You're worth a million of them." Luke's words were firm, and the way he looked at you then, resolute and as if he believed his phrase with every particle of his being made you soften. Made you almost believe him.

"I'm gonna come back with some soda, and we can chill out and listen to your tape, yeah? How's that sound?"

"Amazing," you said, with a watery smile.

"Great, well I'll go now, so I can be back soon," and he sent you a faint-inducing grin as he inched out of your arms that made you lose track of a few sentences.

"Luke," you protested, when you finally got your tongue under control, "no, you-you don't have to this, right? You realise you don't have to do this? It's ok, it's-"

"Yeah, of course," he responded calmly, that same grin on his face as he reached for the door, "I don't know where you think I'm going. I'm just off to get some soda."

And do some other things along the way.

He stormed over to the Aphrodite cabin, knocking rapidly before throwing the door open. Stacey was there, sat on the bed humming a pop song and fixing her hair in her hand mirror, frozen in place as she watched him barge in and shut the door. Her surprise smoothly transitioned into seduction, as was typical with a lot of Aphrodite girls.

"Someone wanted to see me," she cooed, sending him a flirty smile.

Oh yes he did indeed.

"So, I heard about some things with you and y/n,"

"Oh, yeah, that," Stacey waved the words away as if they were a pesky fly, resting on her elbows as she looked up at him with doe eyes, "she looked like a horror movie, Luke. Like, you know how much I care about the kids! They might get scared."

"Yeah, yeah sure, Stacey, I'm sure those were your intentions."

She frowned at that, her glossy lips and thin brows crinkled.

"Why are you even standing up for her anyway? It's not like she's nice, and she's so weird, like she's probably not even straight, like I've heard she has relationships with bats and graves and shit."

"And where did you hear that, Stacey?" He asked coldly, anger rising through him.

She quickly noted the negative emotions surfacing in his tone, and cocked her head. "I don't know, like just around the place. Look, I don't know why you care about this so much? I doubt she has a soul."

"Oh, she does, Stacey. And her soul is much more beautiful and amazing than yours will ever be," he sucked a breath in, trying to restrain his utter rage, "and I want you to never talk to my girlfriend like that again."

"Y-your-your girlfriend?" She spluttered, absolutely shell-shocked.

"Yeah, my girlfriend."

"But-what-?"

"She's the best girl at camp, so I don't know why you say all that stupid stuff about her. Anyway, I need to go now, Stacey, but I think you got the message, yeah?"

She nodded dumbly, her eyes still wide, and Luke smirked as he left the suffocatingly rose-smelling cabin and went into the open air.

With that done, he needed two ice-cold cans of soda.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Bonds

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Trans Masc Autistic Reader

Hello! A bit of an authors note. This particular series will be dealing with transphobia, all of which stems from personal experience. Be advised when reading!

Warning: This is a yandere work, and as such, has themes of obsession , violence, stalking, conditioning and manipulation. Trigger warning for this particular one include the above warnings. They’re all pretty mild tbh.

Looking back on it, you knew there was nothing you could have done. That Dad Bruce had planned and pre-planned every meeting since your first interaction to draw you in, to learn more, before he had finally just taken you to the Manor. That there was absolutely nothing you could of done to outsmart the World’s Greatest Detective, who had become inexplicably obsessed with you, alongside all of his kids.

That didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t get rid of the guilt, or the frustration, or the fact you had been so close to doing what you wanted to do with your life. It didn’t help the ugly knot in your chest that would well up, tight and complex and full of emotion, and it didn’t help the bitter rage that would sit heavy in your belly some days.

You sigh, gently scratching behind Titus’ ear, and his tail thumps against the hardwood as he wiggles closer, nose snuffling for any treats. Finding none, he continues to preen under your petting and you laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead with a smile.

“I had wondered where Titus had gone.” Damian comments, sitting next to you. Out of all of your “siblings”, Damian never really.. set of that anger in your chest. He was younger than you, still a child, and even though it sucked it made sense that he would follow in the behaviors others had set out for him. It made you sad, sometimes, but not angry.

“Me and him are just chilling. Isn’t that right, Titus?” He woofs softly at the sound of his name, and you laugh, scratching behind his ear again.

“You are going to spoil him, one of these days. I hope you know that.” Damian scolds, like he had a leg to stand on. You had seen him sneak the dog treats and snacks every now and then, something you were all explicitly banned from doing to prevent the dog from trying to get into the trash or on the countertops. “Are you watching Star Wars again?”

He sounded far too judgmental for your tastes, and you frown, reaching for the remote.

“I didn’t say to change it. Todd had simple remarked the other day that you watched it often.” He interjects, and you feel your shoulders unwind. You were.. defensive, of your interests, and it always upset you when someone mocked you for having them, no matter how much you wished it didn’t.

“Jason hardly knows how to mind his business half the time.” You grumble, then stretch. Damian slots into the seat beside you like he had been planning to all along, and you sigh tiredly. Despite the fact that you heavily suspected Damian was touch-starved to all hell, he would never outright ask for a hug, or go for one, instead slotting himself into a position where it would be very easy for you to hug or cuddle him.

Sometimes, it made you too sad not to. This time was one of those times.

You wrap an arm around your little brother Damian, letting him decide whether or not he actually wanted the affection. He sinks into your side easily, and you shift, eyes fixated on the screen.

You try not to wonder how much of his hesitance came from genuine trauma and how much came from the careful calculation he inherited from his father. It would only upset you.

You watch as the characters on the screen argue, the lines familiar enough that you mouth along, and the sky darkens outside, time passing in that strange, crawling way it did when you were totally relaxed and falling asleep. Part of you is glad Damian sought you out, the soft sounds of his breathing lulling you to sleep. Your eyes droop, and you sigh, letting your head fall back against the cushions.

“Awww.” The sound of a quiet coo makes you nearly jump up, arms tightening around Damian, and you only stiffen further when you see Dick leaning against the door, a broad grin on his features. He watches the two of you, Damian, who was no doubt awake, and yourself, and his eyes are sharp and piercing enough that your stomach turns.

“No one told me you’d come out of your room, baby bat.” He huffs, and moves toward you both on silent feet.

“Perhaps they simply wanted to spend time alone, Grayson.” Damian sniffs, but does nothing to prevent Dick from clambering onto the couch, wrapping an arm around you and Damian both. Despite not being even close to the youngest, Dick always treated you as a younger sibling, something that drove you insane and made rage bubble up whenever you thought of it too much.

“Nah. They’ll typically sneak off to the library if they want time alone.” He wasn’t wrong, per se, but the flippant way he says it makes you send him a tired glare. “What’re you watching?”

“Star Wars. The fifth one.”

“That’s the one with the Vader reveal, right? When he’s like “I am your father” and all that?” He questions, and you send him a tired glare.

“You’re older than me, how are you not more familiar with Star Wars.” You complain, and he laughs, settling further into the seat next to you. There was no escaping it now, unfortunately. You were stuck in the cuddle pile until he either let you go, the movie ended, or Alfred came to your rescue. Given that there was nearly an hour of movie left, you really hoped the third option would happen.

“Hey! I spent most of my childhood running around fighting crime, you don’t really get super into sci-fi after meeting actual aliens!” He defends, grinning.

“I feel like that would only increase the interest more, but okay.” You snort, and he laughs.

For the most part, the three of you are silent. Dick has a running commentary throughout the movie that you ignore, only pausing to correct him when he is simply just outright wrong, and Damian doesn’t say anything at all except to remark on how stupid the two of you were.

Then the scene on Cloud City comes on. The reveal.

It makes you.. uncomfortable, seeing how desperate Luke is to get away. It makes something tighten in your chest as you watch the screen, and Dick must realize because his eyes cut to you and suddenly the remote is in his hands, turning off the show.

“Not in the mood for all the dramatics.” He lies with an easy grin, even though you know that the reason he changed it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. “Let’s just sit and watch this, yeah?”

You weren’t even sure what show he had put on, and so you shake your head, pushing yourself up.

A strong arm pushes you back. Your heart starts hammering in your throat, an awful mix of anxiety and something else, and you glance over at Dick, trying not to think about the way Damian had eased back with a frown and how your fingers were wrapped tightly around Dick’s arm in alarm.

“Dick. Let me up, I have to use the restroom.” You lie, even as you hear your heartbeat thundering away in your ears. Dick was in a mood today, and you had no clue why or who had put him in that mood. Either way, it had your stomach churning and the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

“Yeah, no problem.” He lets you go easily, at that, and you slip away, trying to make it look like you weren’t running.

The door to your room shuts quietly behind you. The hinges are well-oiled and silent, another precaution they had taken when they had moved you in, so that you couldn’t hear them coming and going. For once, you’re grateful for their never ending paranoia. Now that you had picked up their silent hair, it made it easier for you to slip in and out of your room without detection.

You curl up on the bedspread, not bothering to go under the covers. You felt.. unwell. Hurt and angry and anxious. You felt confused and upset and a million other emotions you couldn’t name.

You had been bickering with Dick before the scene. Acting like siblings, behaving like a family. It was a harsh dose of reality in that no matter how much you cling to your anger, they were steadily working their way into your life, casting you in a role you had never wanted to play.

Or, actually, you had. You had wanted to be a part of their family, but not like this. You had wanted all of it, the loving father, the siblings, the unwavering support. But not at the cost of your freedom.

There’s a soft knock on your door, and you swallow. You hope it’s not Dick, because you didn’t feel like being yelled at and you didn’t feel like being guilt-tripped.

“Come in.” You croak, and the door opens with a whisper of air. Jason or Bruce, maybe? They were always careful to announce their presence when they were upset, although Cass also showed that same level of care when she comforted you.

The bed dips under their weight, and your body slides toward them, even when you don’t turn your head. Not Cass, she was too light. Bruce or Jason, then.

“Dick said you got upset, earlier.” A warm hand buries itself in your hair gently, and your lip trembles, even though you refuse to look at your Dad Bruce. He doesn’t demand that you do, thankfully. “Wanna tell me what you set you off?”

“What do you think?” You snap, teeth bared at nothing, and he continues stroking your hair, gently detangling the strands the best he can.

“I won’t know unless you tell me.” He comments neutrally, and you know that he’s playing you for a fool and it makes you so mad that you push yourself up, twisting around to face him.

“Really?! What have all of our conflicts been about so far, Bruce?” Your shoulders are hiked up. Angry. Defensive. You know you’re mad and you don’t care.

“(Y/N), I know you don’t understand just yet but it was for the best-“

“For you!! I didn’t get a choice, you didn’t give me a choice, and that’s the worst part!!” You shriek, and the bubbling anger that had been locked up and hidden away is finally escaping, in hot tears running down your face and your enraged shrieking. “I never had a choice! I just wanted- I wanted-!”

Sobs tear themselves from your throat, ugly and raw, and when his hand lands on your shoulder you shrug it off, pushing yourself away from him to stand on your own to feet.

The worst part is expression. Guilt and sympathy and sadness make an awful combination, and you grip the desk, rage pulsing in your veins. How dare he be sad when he did this. How dare he be sad when you were the one who had been ripped from your life.

“You wanted someone to take care of you, (Y/N). You needed help.” He says slowly, standing up. His posture is open, gentle, a non-threat. You aren’t fooled, and shuffle back.

“I had it under control! I was fine!” You snarl back, and he shakes his head, his face gentle.

“You didn’t. You weren’t sleeping, barely eating, you were constantly stressed because of your family… that’s not under control. It’s unhealthy.”

“And this is?! Ripping someone from their home, their family, because what-?! You wanted to? You’re awful! You’re selfish! I want to go home, take me home, let me go-!”

Warm arms wrap around you, pressing you into a broad chest, and you shriek against the fabric, trying your best to thrash. Despite being entirely human, his arms are like warm steel around you, unmoving, and eventually, your struggles cease, and you go still.

“I know what I did was selfish. I know it was cruel, (Y/N). But I just… I couldn’t bear losing another son. Your siblings, they can defend themselves. They have the training, the skills. But you were a civilian, struggling to stay alive and get through school, and I could only do so much to help you.”

His voice is thick, and you refuse to look up at him. He had the annoying habit of being painfully genuine when he knew it would rip your heart out.

He leans back, and begins to gently wipe your face, brushing the tears of your cheeks. Despite the screaming, he don’t look angry, but there’s a heavy, awful sorrow in his shoulders that makes you want to cry. Which makes more angry tears spill down your cheeks because how dare he make you feel guilty for upsetting him.

“I can’t lose another son.” He admits, voice cracking, and you swallow. Hearing him call you his son was.. it was a mixed bag. Old hurts and new ones creating something new. “And I knew, if I let it continue on, something terrible would have happened.”

“You could have asked me.” You croak, and he shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t have said yes. You had put everyone’s needs above your own, you would’ve self-destructed if I had left you there.”

The worst part was, he was right. You had been feeling so small and trapped that even if he had offered, you wouldn’t have accepted. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

“I know this isn’t fair. But you’ll get through this. And we’ll help you, every step of the way.” A gentle kiss to your forehead, as he smoothed back your hair, and he smiles down at you.

“Dinner is going to be in thirty minutes. Would you like to join me downstairs or stay up here until then?”

Your mouth is dry. Your face is red and teary and upset. Your eyes are puffy from crying.

You don’t want to be alone, either.

“I’ll come downstairs.” You whisper, and he smiles, kneeling to grab your weighted blanket. When you both sit on the couch, he ticks it around your shoulder, sits next to you, and puts on some show or another you don’t recognize.

He is warm and solid against you, and eventually you fall asleep, exhausted.

[asha-mage]

Cyberpunk Meta: The Power of Sticking to Your (Narrative and Thematic) Guns

I've been struggling to articulate why exactly I find Cyberpunk 2077 so damn compelling, given how far it is out of my usual wheel house in terms of genre, tone, and even ideology. And I think after beatng Phantom Liberty it finally clicked-

What enthralls me about this game is it's complete commitment to it's underlying themes and ideas.

Most video games struggle to challenge the player on a story level. Some of this is the capitalism of it all: the idea that video games that aren't trying to make every moment exciting and engaging and wish fulling aren't going to sell well, and so video games should try and maximize player satisfaction above all else. But it's not just that- video games have an inherent limitation of medium in that, since they ask for so much time from the player, they have to be hooky, to draw you in, and keep you there. You don't loose a video game when you die and have to start over. You loose a video game when you put it down and decide to stop picking it up again. And that means that the ways a video game can or will push it's audience are sharply limited- it curtails their ability to make the player uncomfortable, to deprive them, to push them into things like no-win scenarios, and bad endings, to force the player to reflect. And that limit is a hurdle to making art inherent to video games as a medium.

What I admire about Cyberpunk 2077 is it's willingness to find away around, over, and through those limits, while still sticking to it's narrative and thematic guns. Cyberpunk could so easily fall into the trap of making the torment nexus look cool and rad. But it doesn't. Night City is a suffocating capitalist hellscape plastered with advertisements, where the right of way belongs to the person with the car running you over, the only way to get an ambulance is to have a good enough insurance policy, and dodging bullets on your way to work is just a part of every day. The game is unafraid to hammer it home repeatedly that this world is broken, sick, lost, and their isn't really anything you can do to save it. One of the main themes of the game is that sometimes, their are no good choices: just ones you can live with.

And nothing hits this home harder then Phantom Liberty's King of Wands ending. The game hammers you during it's final stretch, again and again- how much are you willing to help Songbird, someone who is, at the end of the day, no different then you- a young kid way in over their head, dying from betrayal and loss, with only a razor thin margin of hope. Helping her is the right thing, but what are you willing to do for that? The game slowly strips away your other motivations and reasons, until you are sitting on that train left with just one reality: do you call Reed and betray Songbird because that's the only way to get the cure you need? Or do you preform an act of true altruism and charity, in a world tormented by greed and selfishness? Do you put her on that rocket, and send her away knowing you'll get nothing for your trouble but the knowledge you stuck to what you believed was right? Or do you choose to give her up to the FIA, to Reed, to Myers, knowing what that will mean, knowing that all she's done to win her freedom?

And like, the sheer audacity, to add an ending via DLC, and it's not a good ending. Their is no magical reward, no last minute silver bullet, or dues ex machina. Virtue is it's own reward. The extra ending you get, for compromising, for betraying, for choosing the same selfishness and greed as everyone else in Night City- it's a bad ending. You loose all your personal relationships, you loose our chance to be a legend, you even loose Johnny in the end. And for what? To most likely end up like Reed one day- on the leash of the NUSA, used up until their is nothing left but regret. I've never seen a game quite do that, because it runs against that central idea of video games- it's anti power fantasy. Your extra time, extra missions, extra choices- their not rewarded, not repaid. The story doesn't let V find a third door just because they have been moral and true. It's unjust. It's cruel. It's unfair.

Just like the world Cyberpunk 2077 is warning against.

And that, is a brilliant bit of art.

[pokemon-card-of-the-day]

Okay here's round 2 of cards I like, now for more recent sets (yes, to me BW is modern, help I'm old)

Eelektrik was a very useful way to accelerate... But really it's here because they decided to make an evolving Stage 1 good on its own. It's not like this never happens (recently we had Flaaffy and now, to an extent, there's Metang) but Eelektrik being chosen was a cool moment at the time.

The best fluff. At a time where big Legendary Pokemon-EX did most of the work, this thing could actually hold its own. It was also fun because you kept discarding things and ran like 25 Pokemon at a time where 10 or fewer was very normal.

They went with evolution line theme art here. Probably one of the coolest things they've done with card art.

The idea here was of a Stadium that worked differently for each player, and whoever had the card got to pick which side went where. A fun idea for sure, though one they didn't keep for long.

Look at this thing. It has 60 HP and 10 base damage. Oh, right, its damage scaled up quickly... So basically we had a good, competitive deck with a 60 HP attacker that damaged itself on purpose when a lot of other things were over 250. And it worked.

I once took this to a local tournament and had a winning record. I might be biased because Castform but it was fun as hell to play. You got to use whatever Stadium you wanted to mess with the opponent and discard all over the place. Lost to a turn 1 Cramorant there, though.

I like the Supporters that let you choose what to do, and this was cool in the V era as drawing or forcing a V into play. Much less cool now. And yes, it went well in Castform.

Welcome to modern funny gimmick! Pair this with Forretress ex. Blow up a ton, fall way behind. Your second Brambleghast will have 350 HP and a ton of Energy, and you flip your way to a win. Or probably not, but if you're playing this you really don't care much about the result. It's just hilarious. Add Hero's Cape for even funnier results.

I could most likely find more but I think this will do, there's so many interesting cards out there I probably missed.

[yanderecrazysie]

what would some of the haikyuu yanderes do if their darling has severe trauma from being verbally abused when she was 13 and she saw the three people who would abuse them (i definitely didnt just go running to hide from them while bawling my eyes out and shaking-)

I hope you’re doing better! I unfortunately can relate ): Seeing abusers again is so stressful and it feels like it’s happening all over again. I hope you can avoid them for the rest of your life, my precious anon.

I wasn’t sure which characters to use so I did a ton of them. The more the merrier, and I hope at least one is comforting for you!

Pairings: Lots of Haikyuu characters x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, referenced past abuse, violence (fighting), murder, threats, panic attacks, abusers should go to jail for life imho

Summary: When you come face-to-face with your abusers from years prior, how will your yanderes react when they see you fall apart?

KARASUNO

Daichi

Daichi’s level-headed but angry. His voice is booming when he tells them to back off. He puts an arm around your waist possessively and doesn’t let go until your abusers are out of sight.

Sugawara

Sugawara focuses a lot on trying to make you feel safe. He’s whispering comforting words as he leads you away from those awful people and he only touches you if you are okay with it, since he knows that can be triggering to some people. He’ll defend you if necessary, but he’s more worried than threatened.

Asahi

Asahi may be a little bit of a coward, but he’s aware that he’s “scary-looking” and uses that to his advantage. Your abusers wouldn’t dare go after you when a guy like Asahi stands between you and them. He’s happy to see them leave without having to fight, but a part of him wishes he could punch them in their evil faces.

Tanaka

Tanaka is not afraid to fight at all. He’ll pull off his shirt and whirl it around his head like a lasso while he yells things like “Want a piece of me?” and “That’s right, you better run!” While a fight might not break out, it’s possible. And Tanaka will leave them bloody and bruised if needed.

Nishinoya

Nishinoya would instigate a fight, furious that they would dare hurt someone as precious as you. The moment they say something scathing, he’s on them like a small hurricane. He’s not the best fighter, so he might come out on the losing side, but he’s not going to give up.

Tsukishima

He’s taunting them the moment you show fear. He does his best to draw their attention away from you and onto the mocking, button-pushing jerk who seems to know just what to say to piss them off. When they’re finally slunk away, he’s gentler and buys you ice cream or your favorite treat, even though he doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better.

Yamaguchi

Yamaguchi is trembling like a leaf when he tells them to “g-go away!” He’s better at comforting you later on, fretting over you and helping you take deep breaths if you’ve gone into a panic attack. He’ll squeeze your hand tightly and tell you that he’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.

Hinata

Hinata might feel a little afraid, but he’s still claiming to know karate and giving your abusers a death glare. He doesn’t care if he gets beat up, as long as it gives you time to run away and hide yourself from them. He’s glad when they back off because it means he can now focus on making you feel better.

Kageyama

Kageyama is intimidating even when he’s not angry. And right now? He’s angry. It takes him a little while to catch on that you’re afraid (he’s a little dense), but when he does, he’s frightening the abusers away with threats of serious violence.

FUKURODANI

Akaashi

Akaashi’s quiet in his rage and decides to pull you away so you don’t have to be around them anymore. If they follow, he’ll be sure to call the police, but most likely, he’ll just focus on trying to keep you calm and keep you away from those monsters.

Bokuto

Bokuto’s normally such a happy guy, so seeing him upset is a little scary. When he’s done scaring your abusers away, he’s all over you like an excited puppy, doing everything he can to cheer you up. He’ll find your abusers again later, if he can, and make sure they never come anywhere near you ever again.

AOBA JOHSAI

Oikawa

His threats come out sounding almost charming, even if his words are anything but. He can be intimidating when he wants to be and it sends shivers down everyone’s spine. Once they’ve left, he’s spoiling you like nobody’s business to get your mind off of it.

Iwaizumi

He throws the first punch, no doubt about it. He already knows what they look like because you’d shown him pictures when he demanded to see who hurt you, but this is the first time he’s seen them in person. He may go so far as to “accidentally” kill them if he beats them up too much.

Kyoutani

Kyoutani, on the other hand, will kill them outright. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, not when it’s for you. He’s not good at comforting you, so he’ll just get rid of the threat once and for all.

NEKOMA

Kuroo

Kuroo knows what’s happened to you, so when you begin to have a panic attack, he immediately knows what’s going on. He’s quick to stand between you and them, speed walking you away or even scooping you up into his arms and carrying you away. A part of him wishes they’d start a fight, but he doesn’t want to upset you more than they have.

Kenma

Kenma is not a fighter and he wants to avoid it as much as possible. But he still cannot forgive your abusers and is sure to give them a nasty stare. He’ll try to distract you from your fear by leading you away and having you play his handheld video games until you’ve nearly forgotten about the incident.

Lev

Lev is an oblivious guy, so he doesn’t see that they have upset you for a little while. When he does, he’s confused and whispers with you to figure out what’s going on. When it finally dawns on him, he picks you up and carries you away, speed walking with those long legs of his until you’re far, far away from those awful people.

Yamamoto

Pretty much the same as Tanaka, he’s raring for a fight and intimidating your abusers away with a borderline laughable attitude. His antics might cheer you up a little, especially when he’s chased them away.

DATEKO

Aone

He’s so big and frightening, I doubt your abusers will come anywhere near you. You can hide behind his back and cling to his shirt while he gives your abusers a pants-peeing-worthy glare.

Koganegawa

Similarly to Lev, it takes him a long time to figure out what’s going on, but he misunderstands the situation. He’ll walk right up to them and demand to know why they’re staring at his girlfriend and tells them that he doesn’t like it. This man is tall so they probably don’t want to have anything to do with him, squeaking out an apology and scurrying away.

SHIRATORIZAWA

Ushijima

He’s also intimidating without trying and will also march right up to your abusers. He asks them in a rumbling voice if they want to leave or get hurt, and they choose the former. He’s not a man of many words, so he kind of strokes your head and gives you all the affection you want afterwards.

Tendou

Similar to Tsukishima, Tendou is calling out mocking things with half-lidded eyes. He makes sure to hammer in the point that you’re his girlfriend and he’s not happy with what they’ve done. He’ll put an arm around you or hug you close out of both possessiveness and care.

Semi

Semi’s a death glare kind of person, putting an arm around your waist to lead you away. Seriously, if looks could kill, your abusers would be 6 feet under. He complains loudly about how stupid they are and how much he wishes he could kill them, hoping that will cheer you up and frighten them away.

Reon

He’s a laid-back guy and looks to solve the situation peacefully, even if he’s furious deep-down. He informs them that he’ll call the police if they harass you, and that’s not an idle threat. He’ll pull out his phone the minute they start anything, and he’ll defend you if it comes down to it. Most likely, he’ll focus on helping you calm down and feel safe.

Goshiki

Goshiki’s eager to prove what a great boyfriend he is, so he’s putting on a tough guy attitude as soon as he realizes what’s going on. He’s a bit dorky while doing it, so it might end up being more humorous to you than scary, but it does its job and he’s cuddling you close in no time.

Shirabu

Scathing remarks towards them, just utterly cruel jeers that hit them right where it hurts. He’s not going to fight them, probably, but he’ll definitely piss them off while leading you away. He’s not great at comforting you, but he’ll probably be extra affectionate when you’re away from them, if you’re okay with that.

INARIZAKI

Osamu

The more rational of the twins, he’s quick to pull you away and work on calming you down. He reminds you that you’re safe with him, that they can’t hurt you anymore, and that he’ll always be there for you. Inside, he’s seething mad at just the sight of them.

Atsumu

The less rational of the twins, he’s a mixture of rude remarks and threats towards them, acting possessively while showing that he’s ready to fight if needed. He’s kind of boastful in his taunting, if that makes sense, and he does a great job at showing off what they can no longer have- you.

Kita

Kita is pretty quiet and tries to pretend like nothing’s happening while he brings you away. He quietly asks if you’re okay and will drive you home to make sure you’re as far away from them as possible. You might not be sure that he really cares until the next day, when he’s brought you a basket of all your favorite things (treats, a plushie of your favorite animal, etc.) to cheer you up. 

Aran

Aran is normally a calm, level-headed, mature person… but when he sees you panicking, backing up and breathing hard at the sight of those that hurt you? Well, he loses it a little.

He’s yelling at them to back away, puffing himself up to look as tough as possible. He’s not a small guy, so whoever’s coming at you is going to be hesitant to go any further. Aran stands between you and the abusers to make sure they don’t try anything and stays that way until they slink away, tails between their legs.

Suna

 Death glares and makes remarks to you that are just loud enough for your abusers to hear and be offended by. He also films them to have evidence of their harassment, in case they try anything stupid. He makes fun of them to help cheer you up and makes sure you know that they can’t hurt you ever again.

[howlonomy]

Here it is:

Alright, the Lore Shit: After killing Zenith Martlet and absorbing Asgore's SOUL, Clover decided to kill literally everyone in the Underground (minus the Ruins since they can't get back there) to make sure that any humans to fall in the future can't be killed by them (their ass was NOT listening to Flowey about how the Barrier works). So the constant release of ambient magic from the killed monsters plus them having Asgore's SOUL started to, slowly but surely, turn them into a Monster (and because of how slow it was, they didn't have any balance issues with the tail). Unknown to them, Asgore's SOUL had been collecting that magic, which is what caused them to change. They don't even realize that they've transformed since, as Sans states, they have distanced themself so much by having a LOVE of 20 that they don't even really seem to be there (also they have not looked in a mirror, no "It's you"s to be seen here)

For some reason I thought of this too, but their theme would either be straight up Enemy Retreating or a remixed All's Fair (which I have decided to call "Is It Fair?")

Stats: Same as always for the same reason, it just makes sense here.

Check: DOUBLE MEANING ALERT! DOUBLE MEANING ALERT! WEEWOO WEEWOO!

Sorry, but yeah. Traitor in the sense of "You killed everyone who cares for me" and "You killed all* the monsters while also being a monster" (a "You have become the very thing you swore to destroy" moment if ever there were). And "Justice" because killing people is never justice (unless it's the death penalty and ruled by a court of law but eh, semantics)

FLAVOR TEXT BECAUSE I HAVE THOUGHT THIS OUT WAY TOO MUCH:

Clover seems hesitant.

Clover can't seem to attack!

Are they... crying?

Because this fight is from the POV of a Pacifist Ending Clover (most likely in between exploring Ceroba's house and meeting up with Martlet on top off UG Apartments, again I have thought this out way too much) that means that nmm!Clover is fighting a human, which they really don't want to do, especially since that human is themself, so they hesitate and sometimes just straight up don't attack (I thought about including Familiarity again, but decided against it just so that I could have new material, it would absolutely fit, though)

Also, fun little fact I guess, but this is a complete inversion of the dt!Clover vs. nm!Clover fight! A murderous monster Clover fighting a pacifistic human Clover, and BOTH don't want to fight this time!

I realize that this may be a bit much considering this IS your au, but I can't help it when my brain starts thinking of this stuff, and it's so cool that I can't NOT draw it and share it.

ANYWAYS now I only have like one idea left. I am so close, but I will probably gain like seven others as soon as it's done, oh well. Enjoy!

WHAAAAATTT ALL OF THIS IS SO FUN???? the concept of slowly turning into the thing you swore to destroy is SOOO EVERYTHING…. and the play on alls fair??!??!? literally insane i am obsessed with it being called is it fair. because its not but i imagine nmm!clover being so distraught about being turned into a creature they hate and having to fight themselves. but its almost like penance for what they did.

AND THE INVERSE IS SO FUNNNN so many interesting new dynamics there; like if this fight took place before the final ceroba fight, clover wouldnt be nearly as close with everyone. sure, theyre angry at nmm!clover but also. they get it. im sure they would understand where they were coming from.

AARUGHHH THIS IS SO FUN I LOVE THIS LITTLE IDEA!!! ITS SO RICH IN CHARACTER AND LITTLE FLAVOR TEXTS

[mary-queen-of-longbeach]

DO YOU THINK SALVATION WAITS FOR YOU?

My cyanide in paradise

That someone's always you

I will never see another sundown in your eyes

I’ve been thinking a lot about Bremen since I visited her wreck (especially the significantly-less-chaotic second visit), and it’s really hit me how tragic her story is both in my lore and in real life. Sadder still is Europa’s side of things: she watched her sister burn, and then sat beside her burnt-out hulk as she was scrapped. Anyway, with all that in mind, and me being an absolute sucker for angst and all, here’s Bremen being consumed by flame, all her haughtiness and sadism replaced by terror and desperation and scorching hot agony.

Artist’s Notes:

This actually took only two days to make; my total drawing time was 19 hours and 18 minutes. Inspiration is truly an incredible thing!

I researched how different fabrics burn in order to make this as accurate as possible, which meant a lot of fabric burn test videos (side note: don’t do burn tests in your house. My mom did one inside once and the whole living room smelled awful for the next half hour). It turns out that while different materials have different burning properties, those different properties are hard to represent accurately in a drawing of this type. Someday I’ll get better at drawing burning fabric though and then I’ll be able to do it better! Accuracy aside, though, this did force me to put thought into what Bremen’s clothes are made of: her scarf and skirt are a wool/silk blend, and while I didn’t decide on a specific material for her coat I’m thinking it’s probably also wool, or maybe cotton or a blend of some sort.

This is the first time I’ve drawn her hair in a style other than her normal one, and it was quite the challenge! Here, her perfectly-arranged hairdo is coming undone as the sheer amount of hair gel required to maintain it burns away (and makes her hair extra flammable).

Her tears are turning into steam. I’m really proud of myself for thinking of that.

In hindsight, perhaps the lighting should be more intense (more orange maybe?). I’m proud of it as is, especially considering my lack of experience with fire-related shading, but realistically I feel like the whole image should be warmer, or the contrast between the light and shadows should be more intense.

I am so unbelievably proud of how the fire turned out! I’m still inexperienced with drawing fire and I haven’t done so in a while, but it turned out excellent and I’m really proud of myself!

The hand in the corner is, of course, Europa’s.

The title and the lyrics at the top come from Falling Like the Fahrenheit by Kamelot. It reminds me of Bremen and Europa for some reason, and in any case I’ve been obsessed with that song lately, so that’s sort of the theme song of this piece. Never mind that the phrase “falling like the Fahrenheit” implies that the temperature is getting colder rather than hotter…

[liknws]

[ 001 ] Brand Spankin' New.

⎯⎯ PAIRING: lee minho x reader/oc ⎯⎯ TAGS: enemies with serious tension, childhood friends to enemies, revenge eras, college au, angst, bad humor bc i'm not as funny as i think i am, misunderstandings, unrequited feelings ⎯⎯ RATING: 18+, mature ⎯⎯ WARNINGS: drug use (weed), excessive cursing, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of sex and sexual themes (non explicit) ⎯⎯ WORD COUNT: 4k (4.972)

⎯⎯ SUMMARY: karma (kar·ma) defined as "(in hinduism and buddhism) the sum of a person's actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences". you've always been a big believer in karma and the universe, knowing that eventually all energy is returned. so when your life is ruined by someone you used to call your best friend, you wonder why karma is taking it's sweet time in retaliating against him. what hurts more is your university won't punish something based on hearsay and so it's up to you to find the proof that lee minho is an evil mastermind and get his ass removed from school for good.

[ masterlist ]

“Did you guys see her newest tweet?” There’s a voice off to the right but you’re not paying much attention. The smoke curls around you in a comforting way that has you leaning back on the beanbag and letting out a content groan. You know exactly what they’re talking about, you’re the one who posted the tweet after all. Not that they know that, no one knows that. Not even your best friends, the people that you’ve shared every embarrassing detail of your life with.

“How do you know the account is a woman?” One of those aforementioned best friends speaking up. Mae, the calm to your storm, the one you find yourself relying on more and more these last few weeks. She never left your side, even supported your idea to take that much needed leave of absence from school after he ruined your life.

But the new year is here, the fall semester officially starts in one week and it’s the first day of rush. The weather is cooling off from the blistering summer, the leaves are changing, and you decided to take their lead and change with them. No more wallowing, no more hiding in your apartment while everyone else has a life without you. Your break is done, you kept up your end of the deal with the dean to take your finals when it came time. You passed, thankfully, and that meant you could start your third year of university with a clean slate.

The discussion draws you back in, hearing the argument about who the mysterious twitter account holder could be. The voice, belonging to the boy Mae had invited, continues. “The way they hate him, it has to be an ex.” You want to snort but instead you just shift in the beanbag, wondering if you laid here long enough if it would just swallow you slowly like quicksand. “You had to admit, he’s dated some questionable people in the past. I wouldn’t put it past a few of them to do this.”

You remain silent, best to not say anything in case you come off a little too smug or a little too prideful of that last tweet. Really you’re not the one coming up with most of the tweets, people are sending so many messages to the anonymous twitter account that you’re having a hard time working through them all. Some are good ones, things you schedule to post through the day. Some messages, you can attest, are from some of his more unstable exes. Those you just delete when you get them, deciding not to entertain the possible storm that could create.

“Who’s dated questionable people?” A new voice, one familiar that raises the imaginary hackles on your back. Really if you were a cat you’d be puffed up and hissing at the newcomer, claws swiping at him to leave.

“Your best friend.” The words taste like venom dripping from your tongue as you open your eyes, settling them on Jisung with a sneer. He at least has the decency to shrink away from your glare. He looks startled, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be there at all. Maybe he’s terrified because of the vitriolic tone you used in addressing him. You don’t care, you don’t want him in your safe circle, sucking up the smoke that’s keeping you calm.

“You’re- I-” He stammers, rubbing the back of his neck while looking away from you. “I didn’t know you were going- that you’re here.” So he didn’t expect you to return after his mentioned best friend had broken you so deeply, left you with scars that lingered and barely healed. Some days they were fresh wounds, some days they were scabs that you couldn’t stop picking at. Today it’s a bright pink scar, tender and the slightest brush makes you wince in pain.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost, Han Jisung.” You level him with your gaze again, watching with a satisfied smirk as he shrinks further away from you. You say his name like a curse, as if it’s the most horrific sounds your lips have shaped.

“Stop.” The singular word draws your look from Jisung to your best friend, catching her eyes and you calm down a little. She presses a hand to your thigh, fingers gripping into your thigh in warning. “Hi, Jisung. Are the other’s here?” She glances around, looking past him in search of those other six familiar faces. You wonder the same thing but she’s always been the softer of you two, the quiet breeze compared to your tempest winds.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re, um, around.” He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. The others in the circle, the few people you were just talking to and passing the blunt around with have gone silent as they watched the exchange. They all know why you glare at the chipmunk cheeked boy, why you spit venom at him every time you open your mouth. It’s the worst kept secret on campus, how Lee Minho had all but sold out your body as a prank. You don’t like thinking about it but it’s hard not to be reminded when strangers stare at you in pity, or you’re reminded when his friends are around.

“Tell them I say hi,” you say to him, shifting to sit up a little in the beanbag. He takes a step back like he expects you to pounce on him, teeth bared and claws extended. Instead you just smile at him, tight lipped before reaching for the joint that’s passed your way. You turn attention back to your circle of people, clear that your words were meant as dismal. You almost feel bad for the dejected look in Jisung’s face as he walks away.

“Hey.” Mae’s grip on your thigh tightens just slightly, a gesture to grab your attention. She’s looking at you with too inquisitive eyes. “Do you want to go home?” Truthfully, yes, you do; leaving now means that he wins again and you refuse to give that satisfaction. No doubt Jisung has already run back to his group to tell them he saw you. Your suspicions are confirmed when two familiar faces poke around the corner. It reminds you of a cartoon, just the sight of two heads extended past the wall, one on top of the other.

When they spot you, the shorter of the two bolts out from behind the cover of the wall and all but runs to you. Your name is slurred a bit in greeting, his lanky arms wrapping around you before you can protest. You have just enough forethought to pass the joint to Mae before he’s on you.The awkwardness of the beanbag you’ve chosen for the night means he either can crouch to greet you but it wouldn’t be Felix if he did things the normal way. Instead he lays on top of you, face buried into your neck as he hugs you tightly. He might be Minho’s friend but he’s been your sunshine since you met last year.

So you allow his crushing hug. “Nice to see you too, Lix.” You’d hug him back if you could but he’s got your arms in the vice grip he’s calling a hug and they’re trapped at your sides. You resign to your fate, even letting out a soft laugh as he clings to you. You catch a little of what he’s mumbling into your neck, though you do catch how happy he is to see you and that he missed you while you were gone.

The second of the two walks over with his hands shoved into his pockets. You can tell by the way he’s holding back a smile he’s just as happy to see you but his affection is far less physical than Felix. You catch his eyes, giving the best wave you can while still trapped under your sunshine “Hyunjin, hey.” As much as you had wanted to hate them for their association with Minho, it was impossible and you were quick to forgive them for their unfortunate choice in friends. They at least respected you enough not to mention him around you and effectively let you carve out a small part of the dance department that wasn’t tainted by him.

“Ji said he saw you so Felix had to come find you.” Hyunjin offers as a greeting and explanation, reaching down to grab his best friend by the collar of his leather jacket and hoist him off you. “Are you coming back?” He’s never been one to beat around the bush with you, something you respect. “We’ve missed you around the department.”

You feel a warmth in your chest that’s been gone since you left last year. While the leave of absence had given you time to heal, it had also left an emptiness in you that you know was because you were missing such a huge piece of yourself. Dance had always been your safe place, always been your home whenever you needed it. The idea of leaving your apartment had put such a crippling fear into you that you thought you would never be able to return. It had taken months of hard work but you felt okay enough to return, to fall back into the warmth of a dance studio again.

“Mhm,” you offer as confirmation, nodding as well. Their smiles are infectious, eyes crinkling and lifting a dark cloud you hadn’t realized was lingering. In the most dignified way that you could, you stood from the beanbag. “I’ll see you guys later, I need some air.” You looked to Mae who rose with you but gestured at her to stay, you really only intended to slip out the front door for a quick breath of fresh air before coming back.

You part from the circle, patting both Hyunjin and Felix on the arm as you pass, before walking out the front door. It’s a lot more quiet outside on the front lawn. The party wasn’t a rager by any means, more of a too large gathering with slightly loud music and drinks to share. Tame in comparison to some parties you knew would be going on across campus. You had purposely avoided Greek Row, knowing those parties would be exactly that. You hadn’t counted that the people you were also looking to avoid wouldn’t be throwing their own party on the Row.

A handful of people are mingling outside, not one person paying attention to you as you take a seat on the steps. The concrete is chilly underneath you, coupled with the cooler night air and it sends a shiver through your body. The calm out here has done exactly what you wanted, cooled down your temper and brought your beating anxiety to a manageable level. Seeing Jisung had done more than you wanted to openly admit to yourself, knowing that behind the producer lurks the reason for your anxiety. You needed to flee before you caught eyes with the rest of the group.

You’re unsure how long you’ve been sitting out here, you’re only vaguely aware of people coming and going from their own breaks of the party. The cold metal of the railing pressed into your forehead is comfortable, eyes closing a bit as you relax into the iron banister. The music from the house raises in volume and then quiets again, your assumption being that when someone opens the door and closes it again. You assume you haven’t been out here long because Mae has not come to find you but you wonder if that’s wrong too as a jacket settles over your shoulders.

The smell is familiar and warm, woodsy and deep and full of memories that you can’t seem to bring to the surface no matter how hard you try. You know the smell, you can’t figure out why you do, but it brings a sort of comfort nonetheless that has you pulling the jacket tighter around your shoulders and burying your nose into the collar. The music is loud and then muffled once again and you’re left alone outside with your new jacket and your fuzzy thoughts.

Only when your mouth feels a little too dry and your ass has gone numb from sitting on the cold steps, you finally wander back into the party. Mae’s moved from the spot you left her in and you’ve got enough sense to text her to check on her. A quick exchange, making sure she’s okay. Confirmation from your roommate tells you that she’s alright and you don’t need to wait for her if you want to go home. A simple thumbs up emoji on the message and a thanks for the jacket are sent before closing your phone. You don’t see her confused reply, asking what jacket since she didn’t give you anything.

A red cup pulled from the stack and run under the tap for a drink of water is your destination. The slightly earthy taste from the water is a comfort, reminding you of warm weather back home and spending sweltering days in ponds and lakes to cool off.

Your arms slide through the sleeves of the jacket, settling into the warmth of its soft fabric. The sleeves extend just a little past your fingers, you realize. Mae must have grabbed it from her date, you think, raising the cuff to your nose to practically nuzzle into the hem. It’s a soft jacket and you don’t want to give it back and you wonder if you can convince her to let you keep it as a roommate tax for letting her invite a date to what was meant to be a girl’s night out. Not that you can really blame her, you guess. You’ve spent nearly every waking minute together and most nights cuddled in her bed instead of your own. The nights are the worst, that’s when the anxiety and the fears settle in like they’re meant to call your chest home.

Without your roommate to wait on, you don’t see the point in staying at the party much longer. The place is still as lively as it was before but your social battery is nearing zero quickly and the call of your bed is strong. You won’t admit that the sight of that group has ruined your night, the good mood you were clinging to so desperately has gone with it. Your phone is back in your hand, a quick text to the house chat to let them know you’re headed home and don’t worry about being quiet when they all arrive at their own times.

Lucy is the first to reply, sending a simple blue heart emoji. It makes you smile and you’re shoving your phone back into your pocket while using your other hand to pat down for the key to your apartment.

“Giving yourself a feel because no one else will?”

The voice makes your blood boil immediately, smiling slipping from your face as you turn to look at Minho. He leans against the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. Silently cursing your luck, you just roll your eyes and go to walk away but a tug on the hood of your jacket halts your steps. An extremely undignified sound escapes at the yank of the hood and you’re flailing backwards for a second until a hand presses to the middle of your back to halt your fall.

“Falling for me?” He grins at you when you turn to face him.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snap at him while shoving his hand off you roughly. You should have guessed Minho would show up once Jisung had spotted you, you should have made your escape then and never come back into the house. Now you’re living with the consequence of your decision to stay instead of just running then, all because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that even the idea of him sends you in the opposite direction.

His hands come up and make a gesture intended to placate the anger thrown his way. “Sorry.” Somehow you doubt his apology given that it’s coupled with that stupid, ugly smirk of his. “Heard you were back.” There’s a slightly awkward pause when you choose not to reply, arms crossing over your chest. A facial expression meant to tell him to go on or shut up settles over your face. “Can’t wait to see your introduction performance this year. Break a leg.” You choose to believe he’s mocking you, in no way do you trust his words to be sincere at all. It’s Lee Minho, he doesn’t know how to be sincere.

Eyes narrow as your stare levels on him, mouth opening to say something nasty in retort. The words die in your throat when a gentle hand clamps over your lips and pulls you backwards by your wrist. You watch as Minho is swallowed by the crowd as you’re dragged out of the kitchen and back into the cool air. Outside smells fresh and you wonder if there might be a storm tonight. Part of you hopes there might be, as a way to wash away everything tonight.

“Go home.” The words are barked at you. Oh right, someone dragged you here. Yanking your arm from their grip, rounding to look at them with the insult that was primed for Minho now ready to be flung toward your captor. His glare makes you stop, shrinking back just a little before remembering you’re not afraid of Christopher Bahng.

“I don’t remember you being in charge of my life.” Shoulders square, taking a step to stand toe to toe with him. Damn, did he get wider? You don’t remember him being quite so filled out. “And the bastard approached me first.” You note how his jaw twitches as he clenches his teeth when you argue with him, when you step closer and won’t back down from him. There’s that stupid voice in the back of your head to swing, that you could take him easily.

“Be the bigger person and go home, Cherry.” His voice is much softer but the look on his face doesn’t change. Your lips purse however at the nickname, sucking on your teeth in annoyance of his casual use of that name. He was the one who came up with it after all, him and Minho had adopted that name for you when you were much younger. A way to tease you for always wanting cherry flavored everything- popsicles to hard candies and everything in between. The name tugs at your heart just a little. Traitorous organ.

“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” Your refusal to back down doesn’t seem to bring a surprise, in fact he seems to have expected it. Once again he grabs you with that large hand, wrapping around your bicep and dragging you away from the house into the street.

“Still live at the same place? I’ll walk you home.”

“I don’t need a fucking escort, Chris.” You shrug his hold off. “Touch me again and I’ll break your hand. Make it hard to perform your live introduction piece with a shattered hand I bet.” There was once a time these threats would never have passed your lips in his direction, never at him. Only ever in his defense, only ever to protect those you cared about. Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away. Some bullshit like that.

“I’ll make sure Mae gets home safe but you need to go, okay? Just- please.” He almost seems.. desperate? You two are standing in the dark of the street, the street lights too spaced out to illuminate your faces. You can only assume his tone, unable to see the look on his face. If it was light you would see that his eyes are soft, pleading with you to just once listen to him. To take his warning and to go home.

“Awa’ an bile yer heid,” you mutter as you turn away from him and start walking to the bus in order to get back to your apartment. His concern leaves you lost for words, lost for a better retort so you just drop the first dismal you can come up with.

“Speak fucking English!” Chan shouts after you, laughing a bit. You don’t risk looking back, knowing you’d find him watching you with that smile. That smile and those stupidly adorable dimples of his. You raise a hand, sending him a single finger salute without looking back at him. Now that you’re truly alone out here, it feels colder as you walk to the bus stop. Pulling the jacket tighter around your middle, pulling the sleeves down further to hide your fingers from the chilled wind.

Just as you near the bus stop the first raindrop of the autumn season hits your cheek.

・❥・

  The morning is crisp after last night’s storm but the clouds have parted for the time. By the time you’re holding your second cup of coffee that morning, your other roommates have joined you out on the back patio in varying degrees of wakefulness. Lucy grumbles something and pulls the mug from your hands, much to your protest, and curls back in her lawnchair with your stolen mug.

“You came home early last night.” She breaks the settled silence, looking over at you.

“Aye, I was wanting to go to bed so my best friend could steal my coffee in the morning.” You’re attempting to reach for your coffee but she bounds out of the chair far faster than someone half awake should be able to. “Chris basically kicked me out.”

“Wait, kicked you out? I thought you weren’t going to Greek parties?” Elsie turns from where she was smoking and smushes the half smoked cigarette under her boot. “You know, to avoid him and his satanic best friend.”

“We didn’t go to the Row.” Mae comes to defense quickly, poking her head up from your lap, eyes opening for the first time since settling in on top of you. “They were there, not our fault. Jisung saw us first and then ran away to spread the news as quickly as he could.”

“That tiny chipmunk bastard can’t keep a single thing to himself, can he?” Elsie rolls her eyes, dropping into Lucy’s now abandoned chair. “Has to play Minho’s ever loyal bitch- ow.” Lucy’s fist remains on top of Elsie’s head where she’d knocked her knuckles into her sister’s head in warning. “Sorry. Loyal pet- fucking ow.” Elsie reaches up to swat at the other’s hand.

“Basically Minho was being Minho, trying to start something and Chris came to the rescue as always. He dragged me out of the house and told me to go home. Basically ordered me, the fucking bastard.”

“I love when you get angry and your accent is so thick I can barely understand you. Really love the mental workout this morning.” Mae loves to tease the three of you for your accents, according to her they make you almost unable to be understood when speaking English around the house. She often jokes that learning to speak Scots is now her third language.

“Lap privileges revoked.” You shift so her head is no longer in your lap, using the opportunity to stand as well. “I need to head to the studio anyway, finish working on this routine for the introductory performance next week.”

“Lu already packed you lunch. It’s in the fridge and your favorite water bottle is in the freezer to take with you too.” Elsie is quick to inform you with a grin. Lucy beams from where she’s sitting, eyes still closed as she drinks (your) her coffee.

“I’ll come with I need to finish mine,” Mae says between struggling yawns before heading to your shared room to get ready. When you tell her you’ll meet her outside she sends you a thumbs up over her head in acknowledgement.

・❥・

  “So whose jacket did you take home last night? I’ve never seen that one.” That same jacket that is thrown over one of the chairs in the corner with your bag. Your head lifts to follow her accusatory finger before dropping back down, the dull thud of your head hitting hardwood sounding a lot louder in the empty studio space than reality.

“I thought you gave it to me last night. When I went out to get air.”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ on the word. “Did you just steal a jacket?”

“Yah! I don’t just steal things. It was given to me, thank you very much.”

A contemplative hum through closed lips but she doesn’t say anything more. You can almost see the cogs turning in her mind and you want to ask what she’s thinking but the subject is changed quickly.

“How are you feeling about the dance?” She watches you in the ceiling to floor mirrors before turning to actually face you. Your head rolls to the side, looking at her now instead of staring up at the ceiling.

“Nervous. Director Yun gave me some really great advice and feedback after looking at my taped final. I don’t know, I’m really outside of my comfort zone here- but that’s the whole point right? I’m not here to perfect what I already know, I want to learn where I’m weak. How else can I be a big time choreographer if all I can do is a pirouette and a chassé.”

“You’re not doing ballet this year?” A new voice chimes into the conversation and you swear your eyes might just roll hard enough to fall out of your head. It would be far more preferable than this conversation. “So the old dog does know more than one trick.”

“We’re the same fucking age, Minho.” You're propped up on your elbows now, eyes narrowed as he stands in the doorway. He’s not alone of course, you note. He’s never alone. You wonder if he’s still holding the fear of being alone, that at the end of everything he’ll just be as lonely as he was before.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“And I’m not going to.” Moving to sit up, you reach for the discarded canvas pirouette slips. “Leave so I can practice.”

“No.” You don’t even need to look at him to know that stupid smirk is there.

“No? The fuck do you mean no?” He ignores your question and walks in, Chan following behind. You watch the both of them with hands on hips before glancing back at Mae. The confusion and fury is written all over your face but the two newcomers are either choosing to ignore it or just don’t see it. You’d bet your life savings that it’s the former.

“You’re not the only person needing to practice for the introduction performance.” As if that is meant to explain why he’s trying to kick you out of the room you’ve been using. His dance bag drops on top of yours. “I’ll help you and then you can leave so I can use the room.”

“I don’t need your help.” You hate how it comes out more like a question. Stomping over, you grab his bag and shove it back at him. “The fuck do you have in there? Bricks? The fuck it’s so heavy for.” You attempt to shove him and his bag out the door but the canvas on your feet means you just end up sliding a little. Real dignified.

“You said you weren’t doing ballet this year for your dance. Seriously, let me help.” Wow, he almost sounds genuine. Which only makes you far more suspicious. Eyes narrow as he watches you, standing in silence that’s too heavy and too tense. The other two in the room don’t say anything, afraid of leaving with bite marks should they get between the two fighting cats.

“Fine,” you snap, dropping his bag and watching with pride as he fumbles it a little as he wasn’t really holding it. You toss a look to Mae that says more than you could voice right now. Surprisingly she’s already grabbed a couple chairs off the stack, presumably with Chan’s help, and sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. A cheerful thumbs up from her settles the butterflies you didn’t notice had taken up residence in your gut.

Minho is at your side in a beat, his stuff placed back on top of yours. A very are-you-for-real? look in his direction that he just gives you a smile, bunny teeth and all. Mae’s been in charge of the music and you give her a look through the mirror to start it again. On the count you step out into your first move and get lost again in the feeling of your body moving to the music. All you see is yourself in the mirror, critical of every single twitch of muscle and wrinkle of skin. You catch Minho’s eyes in the mirror and you can’t look away.

The intensity in his eyes is captivating, watching every small step and maneuver you put your body through. You’ve seen that look on his face before, years ago, when he would watch you practice your ballet routines or when he was helping with taekwondo. It’s somehow comforting to see him tracking your hands, your feet, watching how you throw your body through the air as if you’re made of a feather instead of a human body.

You can’t take your eyes off him watching you. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. All you can see is him. All he can pay attention to is you.

What you two don’t see is Chan and Mae shaking hands over a friendly bet and sharing knowing smiles.

taglist! comment or fill out the form to be added!

@pearbunny, @smhlino, @5stxrstay, @borahae-reads, @bettybeako, @ana-marais98, @katsukis1wife, @kpopsstuffs, @chaotic-world-of-the-j, @pinkskzs, @ylixbok, @eternitywaveshello

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Stories about you | {KaiGyu}

Theme: Fluffy I think

Note: This ship is a little tricky because of their silly deaths but imma jus roll w/ it. Gyutaro and Daki did die same time, same place, Kaigaku became demon same time as well, not changing that shit which is going to make this tricky but yk-

Also THERE IS SO LITTLE KAIGYU ART 😭 atp i should just draw the less popular ships bc there's barely any art of them </3 

This is short, sorry, bit hard to write Kaigyu when there's so little to work on both of them being from diff times as demons.....

Kokushibo would tell Kaigaku about the Uppermoons sometimes, including the deceased ones. He would tell him all sorts of things and Kaigaku would hang onto every word in fascination. He never realized there was so much to know about demons besides that they killed. Like, how often the Uppermoon two and three often argued and how Upper five was constantly obsessed over his pots—though Upper four and five had recently died. He learned all about Uppermoon four's clones and how long each Upperranked demon had been in the 12 Kizuki. But most of all, he love hearing about Upper 6 and the two siblings. Specifically Gyutaro. Kokushibo had showed Kaigaku pictures of each Uppermoon and, for some reason, Kaigaku found himself rather attached to Gyutaro whom he took an interest on through Kokushibo's stories.

So, everytime after Kokushibo decided that their training sessions were done, Kaigaku would go up to him and ask for another story as if he was a child. They would sit down and Kokushibo would tell him another fact about the Uppermoons.

Eventually, Kaigaku grew more comfortable asking about Gyutaro. He was careful, of course, asking about the other Uppermoons as well. But he grew bored of them and started focusing more on Gyutaro to the point Kokushibo noticed and pointed it out.

"No! I'm just curious because he was the same rank as me and... uh... you know!" Kaigaku insisted, whining. 

Kokushibo cocked an eyebrow, giving him a sort of teasing look. "Could you be so invested in Gyutaro, though he's dead?" he asked. 

Kaigaku shook his head. "No, I'm not, I swear-!"

Kokushibo laughed. "Alright then. Let me tell you about the first time he and Daki were introduced into the Upperranks."

~~~

This continued ceaselessly and Kaigaku learned more than he ever would if the Uppermoons were alive about Gyutaro. It was so interesting and captivating and he found himself dreaming what it would be like if he'd been a demon at the same time Gyutaro had lived.

It was so wonderful to love someone—though the constant reminder that Gyutaro was dead was sad. Kaigaku couldn't help making up a sort of world in which Gyutaro and he could be together. There was no saying that Gyutaro would actually like me, rather Kaigaku almost appreciated the fact that the Uppermoon had died because he was pretty sure nobody would fall for a demon like Kaigaku. Nevertheless, Kaigaku fell into a daze, sometimes, and Kokushibo had caught him several times as he thought about Gyutaro.

"You're blushing again!" Kokushibo said, pointing to Kaigaku's flushed cheeks. 

"I'm... cold!" Kaigaku lied. 

"Demons aren't affected by the cold in the same way humans are, Kaigaku," Kokushibo said, sighing. "Do you like someone?"

Kaigaku shook his head rapidly. "Nope! No! Never!" 

Kokushibo shook his head. "Fine. But don't let me catch you unfocused again or I'm going to lock you out into the sun!"

Kaigaku crossed his arms. Well, if he died he'd be with Gyutaro, no? "Fine! I'll stop!" 

Needless to say, he was more careful. He mostly thought about the deceased demon during his free time instead of during his training. Which was for the better anyways. 

~~~

Kaigaku had been looking around in Kokushibo's house—a small one-story place in which Kokushibo lived in solidarity during the day time. There was one room Kokushibo had, where he'd said there were pictures of the Uppermoons. Kaigaku had been interested so he'd been permitted to go there.

In the room, he found the box Kokushibo had spoken of. There were a lot of pictures, a third of them being of Muzan, and the other two thirds of the Uppermoons. Including past ones, such as the ones that were before even Akaza had become a demon. Kaigaku even found one of himself in the box.

The ones of Gyutaro and Daki were cute, both siblings being so close to each other. Kaigaku traced Gyutaro's face, marveling at the way his hair framed him perfectly. 

"He's so pretty," he whispered.

Kokushibo entered the room. "Who is?"

"What?! Nothing!" Kaigaku quickly stuffed the picture into the box.

Kokushibo raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

"So, uhm... Why's there so many pictures of Master here?" Kaigaku asked, trying to change the subject.

"Oh! Uhm! You know! I've known him longest than anyone else," Kokushibo said, a bit too quickly to be the full truth. 

Kaigaku smirked. "Do you like him?"

"No! Well! Yes, but not the way you mean!" Kokushibo exclaimed. He snatched the box and closed it tightly. "Let's... let's go train now."

Kaigaku laughed. "Alright then."

~~~

(this is so sudden, I'm sorry-)

Kaigaku was dying. Fuck Zenitsu and his stupid new form. Fuck thunder breathing and the world!! Why the hell was he going to die?! Bet he was the first Uppermoon to die tonight. Stupid. Useless. Weak. 

And then he was gone.

It was black. 

Was this hell?

He looked around.

Light. 

Step towards the light.

No, he didn't belong there.

Heaven was for people who did good. Kaigaku didn't belong amongst the good.

He turned away from it, though he ached with curiousity to see through.

He went further into the darkness. It seemed to grow darker with each second that past by.

And then he was there.

Hell.

Was this hell?

He saw demons there too.

And then one.

His eyes focused on two demons. Previously Uppermoons. Upper 6.

Kaigaku stumbled forwards, a smile growing on his face.

Gyutaro. It was Gyutaro and Daki.

They turned to him.

Gyutaro smiled and Daki grinned.

Kaigaku moved forward, closer, until he was right in front of the two.

"Kaigaku..." Gyutaro murmured. "Nice to meet you, Kaigaku."

Hell... was going to be wonderful. 

{Word count: 1009}

WAHH THESE TWO ARE SO CUTE BUT THE TIMESTAMPS OF THE ACTUAL MANGA MAKE IT IMPOSSIBLE TO PUT THEM TOGETHER.

also the second to last sentence I must explain :33

Gyutaro had seen Kaigaku from above, watching him, because Kaigaku had been wanting so badly to meet Gyutaro that he'd sensed it. So, he'd said "Kaigaku" because he already knew of him, and "nice to meet you" sort of a "I met you yet I know you already" kind of line?

i love writing sm

[shapeshiftersvt]

The Cryptid Collection

NO, THIS IS NOT AN APRIL FOOL'S JOKE! THE TIMING JUST WORKED OUT THAT WAY BECAUSE OUR ANNIVERSARY IS TDOV, WHICH WAS MARCH 31ST THIS YEAR. (￣y▽,￣)╭

In case you missed, it, yesterday, we officially launched The Cryptid Collection!

Since it was the weekend and a major holiday, we decided to put off talking much about it outside of our website. But now it's Monday, so it's time to talk cryptids (even though we everyone is distracted by boops).

The Cryptid Collection is a collaborative design project created by co-owners Eli and Krista (hi, it's us, we're the main contributors to this Tumblr) exclusively for Shapeshifters. The collection has four main components: binders and sports bras made with fabrics of our own design, the fabrics which you can purchase for your own projects through Spoonflower, the vintage style travel posters, and the couture fashion looks which you can see in person at fashion shows across New England this year which will be listed on our Events Page as we confirm them.

While the collection was inspired by cryptids in general, we decided to spotlight six in particular: Mothman, Champ, the Jackalope, the Squonk, the Jersey Devil, and the Fresno Nightcrawler.

We'll talk more about them and why we chose those cryptids in particular later in the week. Today, we want to talk about the who, what, where, when, why, and how of The Cryptid Collection and cryptids in general.

You may be asking: Why a fashion collection?

It was originally Eli's idea. It had been something they'd been fantasizing about for a few years now, almost as long as Shapeshifters has been in business. The realization that it was something we could potentially really do didn't come until Fall of 2023, though, when we started talking about how to celebrate our 10th anniversary. We wanted to do something special, something that we'd never done before, and Eli decided it was time for both of us to finally admit that, after ten years of making and designing clothing and and graphic art, we might actually be qualified to call ourselves and present ourselves as Designers.

"It’s wild. I decided this year that I was going to commit to being the person I’ve fantasized about becoming. Terrifying." —Eli

So, a themed fashion collection.

But while it was their first and only answer when Krista asked what they wanted the theme to be, Eli didn't come up with the cryptid idea entirely on their own. Anyone who's been following Krista's artblr, @3ofpents, has probably seen the vintage travel posters she's been designing since Summer of 2023. Originally inspired by a book of color palettes from print media through the 20th century, the posters started out as a personal challenge to get Krista drawing more often.

The very first poster she designed was for the New Jersey Pine Barrens and the Jersey Devil, inspired by the state she grew up in. But the one that Eli cites as the one that really got them thinking was for our home state: Burlington, VT's own Champ.

"The tagline for that one was You’ll never swim alone. The friendly, ominous, terrible, wonderful mystery embedded in those four words is a vibe I think about a lot." —Eli

Krista's choice of cryptids as a subject for her posters, and the well of inspiration she drew from in designing her parts of this collection, stemmed from her childhood in New Jersey. While the Jersey Devil isn't as popular and well-known as some other regional cryptids like Mothman and the Loch Ness Monster, it is a huge part of New Jersey culture. Every kid in the state grows up learning some version of the Jersey Devil's origin story; and the local indie, alt, underground, punk cultures slap Jersey Devil imagery on their posters, logos, and products the way some states use their state shapes.

"In New Jersey, the story of the Jersey Devil holds a similar kind of legendary local pride as the story of George Washington crossing the Delaware River on Christmas Eve to take the British soldiers camping on the other side by surprise." —Krista

Eli's inspiration is coming in a separate post; cryptids can't be anything but queer, as far as they're concerned.

In the coming days we've got much more to say about various individual cryptids! Stay tuned.

[auraee]

 - ℍ𝕖𝕣. -

ꕤ 𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖 - Well, this is another little something that I came up with today. I've been having trouble working on my main pieces because perfectionism, but I've talked myself out of making myself feel bad for not getting what I originally wanted to done. Sometimes I wish I could get rid of that little voice in my head judging every word I write, or every sentence I make, but I've found it's more a process, you know? Also in this one I decided to take on the perspective of our lovely suitor. I'd like to work on that because I'd like to write the experience of falling in love from Kyojuro's perspective, so I think this is a good start.

Recommend theme ~ Kairi's theme - Mree

Tagging - @potofstewie @kyojurosfirelilyy @mitsuris-big-boobies @comatosebunny09

ꕤ 𝖧𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀!

- ꕤ -

…There she is. 

When did she become so breath-taking? 

The sun tended to her skin, streaks of powdered gold brushed her brown skin, lighting her soft brown eyes to almost resemble a sweet honeydew, drawing me in like a heart-stirring book. While others disliked the sun, fearing that it would alter their status, she willingly embraced it and the sun held her. The sun tended to her hair, soft as clouds, delicate rays of light outlined her curls, adding a vivid contrast to her predominantly dark hair. 

It tended to her smile— there was nothing brighter. 

My instinct was to take my feelings for her as admiration, that I was just in awe of her capabilities as a swordswoman. Developing her own breathing style alongside Uzui, she was able to face down many demons. She moves as though she was dancing, elegant and nimble and able to fool many with her technique.

Being shy by nature, it took her a moment to warm up to me. I understood that I could be overwhelming at times and thought to adjust while I was with her.

Only, she noticed.

“Why are you being so quiet Rengoku-san?” She asked. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong.” I smiled. “I just don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable with what?”

“Well, with my voice!”

In that moment _____ frowned, furrowing her thick eyebrows to form a cautionary bridge under her fluffy bangs. “Why do you think your voice would make me uncomfortable?”

An instinctive hum slipped from my lips, my answer resting on my tongue.  “Because I thought that being loud would make you uncomfortable.”

_____ blinked at me before averting her gaze.

Did… I say something wrong? Could I have phrased that better? Why did she look upset? Well, she asked. I couldn’t give her any answer other than what I believed to be true.

“Don’t do that…” 

“_____-san?”

“I like listening to you talk.” She mumbled, awarding me a small, soft smile. “So please, talk as loudly as you’d like.”

I peered into _____’s eyes and _____ seemed to do the same. That tender smile never left her features and somehow wove itself to the depths of my heart. I’ve known the feeling of excitement, when I’m amidst a battle with a demon, or even when I’m given a chance to visit my home and see my brother and father, but this… this was different. 

When… did my heart start beating like this for her? 

- ꕤ -

ꕤ Like what you read? Consider reblogging and commenting! It supports me as a writer and gets my work further out there.

If you’re just going to like this post— don’t. Likes don’t do anything for me. They don’t help in any way shape or form. So please don’t like this if you’re not willing to reblog the post as well.

Or you could leave a tip! - 𝕂𝕠-𝕗𝕚

- 𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕘𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 -

❀ 𝔸𝕟 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 ⚘ ꕤ 𝕀𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 ⚘ ❁ 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 3.5.2024

So, Polynya, did you finish the fanfic? Well...sort of? No. No, I guess the answer is actually no.

Last week, I said I had two and a half scenes left, one of which was the epilogue, and one scene I wanted to rewrite. I wrote the scene and a half that were not the epilogue, and then I tried to do that scene re-write. It came out better than it was, but I still didn't love it. I figured I would just go ahead and write the epilogue and then maybe come back and try again. 3/4 of the epilogue went great, and then I just couldn't manage to end it, and got stuck for three days. I went back and tried to re-write that scene I didn't like *again*, and barely got into before realizing that the way I was hoping to make it better did not, in fact. Yesterday, after Much Struggle, I managed to pull together an end to epilogue with is...okay...but I don't love it. So the current state of things is: 107,408 words, and it is strictly speaking, A Whole-ass Fanfic, but with two half-scenes that I hate.

It's really frustrating, because I had a bunch of productive weeks in a row, and my brain has just utterly collapsed on me in the eleventh hour. I've been trying so hard to push it over the finish line, but it's one of those things where I can't just brute force it, I need to somehow have a good idea. I am also so so tired this week. I know, logically, that probably I just need to relax and rest up for a few days and this will be easy to fix when I am feeling better, but it's hard to relax when I have this stupid almost-but-not-quite-done fanfic hanging over my head.

Here are some other stupid facts:

The scenes in question are important and I want them to be good, but they aren't exactly load-bearing, in the sense that nothing else depends on them

I don't even *need* the epilogue, and in fact, after I realized that I end all my Heart is a Muscle fics with people drinking (not on purpose, I'm just unoriginal), it made me want to drop the whole thing on principle (except that I also don't because it's sort of a thematic lead-in to the next story in the series and also Ukitake is there)

The two problem scenes are way at the end of the fanfic. When I do start posting this thing, I plan to post one chapter per week like I often do, meaning that I have literal months to fix these

Chapter 1 is beta'd and ready to go and literally nothing is stopping me from posting it this very second

BUT I don't want to post Chapter 1 until my beta has seen the whole fic because what if she notices something in Chapter 12 that needs to be fixed back in Chapter 1

AND literally nothing is stopping me from just sending my beta the last few chapters with a little note on the scenes I'm not happy with. It's highly possible she might have some ideas! Or just be like "you are insane these are fine"!

EXCEPT I don't want her to see my bad writing that I am embarrassed about

And so, here we are. I am probably going to give it another day or two, and if I can't manage to fix those two scenes, I'll just suck it up and send the rest to her.

I guess I also should re-do the banner, except I don't feel like re-doing the banner. It's....okay. I don't know. I just kind of slapped it together based on a thing we were doing at Art Club. Maybe I don't even want a banner.

Speaking of Art Club, it's March now, which meant there was a new theme at Art Club (nature) and I decided to try to get back into my daily drawing. I think this is possibly what killed my momentum on my fanfic. I am just literally only capable of having one priority at a time, even if it's a little tiny one, otherwise my brain just plays tug of war with my priorities and it's hard to manage either of them.

Anyway, I've been in kinda rough shape for the last few days, but I am sure it will pass. It's got some good bits, but I think I just never really managed to fall in love with this one, and I'm really worried about it getting a cooler reception than I'm used to, since the fandom seems to have quieted down significantly since the last time I posted one of these. On the other hand, I've worked too hard on this to not post it. Also, it's got some stuff in it that had to happen for the series to progress. And maybe other people will like it! Who knows! Not me!!

I had hoped to be able to start posting it this week, but that's not looking likely at this point, so I guess you can have another preview.

--- from Ch 3

"You really didn't have to go to all this trouble," Rukia pointed out, as she methodically piled her bowl with a heaping serving of everything on offer.

Renji grabbed a big pinch of the shirasu before passing it over to her. "It's fine. I'm not sure when I'll be up for cooking again, so I'm trying to clean out my fridge."

"Oh, so I'm helping?"

Renji grinned. "Sure."

"I love helping! If you need me to take this pickled ginger with me, I could take it off your hands."

"I think the pickles will probably keep for a bit."

"Hmmph," Rukia replied skeptically, and scooped some more into her bowl.

It was always difficult not to just sit and watch Rukia eat, in part because she truly did have an extraordinary talent for shoveling food into her mouth, but mostly because it reminded Renji of why they had come to the Seireitei in the first place, of how lucky he was these days. You have to go to work, too, this morning, he reminded himself, and dug in.

"You know, speaking of helping…" Rukia said a few minutes later, once she'd managed to eat enough to shave the edge of her morning ravenousness. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

The pleasant feelings in Renji's chest abruptly turned cold and gloppy. He frowned, and raised one eyebrow skeptically. “Yeah?”

Rukia looked up at him with her big, stupidly blue eyes. “Do you remember when we talked about how important it was for you to have a comfortable and peaceful recovery from your surgery?”

“I do. I distinctly remember asking you to drop it and not bring it up, again, actually.”

“Right, well, I never actually agreed to that. I think that you should come stay at my house.”

Renji gave her an incredulous look. “Your house? Kuchiki Manor, you mean? Your house that is actually my captain’s house?”

“It’s very nice there, as you know. The food really is very good and we have a million servants with nothing better to do--”

“I am sure they have better things to do, Rukia.”

“--and you can sit in a sunny spot in the garden and I’ll read you books and it will be so much nicer than staying in the Coordinated Relief Station!”

Renji heaved a huge, exasperated sigh. “It’s a nice idea, Rukia, but think about the look on Captain’s face if you even--”

“He said it was okay.”

Renji felt all the blood run out of his face, possibly out of his body entirely. “You asked him?”

“I know you’re only getting it done because he ordered you to. He obviously wants you to do your best to heal up well. He cares about you, too, you know, in his own way.” 

Renji stiffened, his fingers tightening on his chopsticks. “You probably told him the whole story, then? How I broke my arm in the first place?” His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away.

“Not the whole thing!" Rukia shook her head vehemently. "He knows you broke it saving me, that's the only important part.”

Renji drew in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. All he could focus on was the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears. “Why do you always have to do this?” he finally managed through gritted teeth. “I asked you to just leave it, but you never can.”

Rukia shoved out her lower lip. “Maybe if you took care of yourself half as well as you take care of everyone else, I would!” she protested. “Just let me spoil you for a few days, would it be so terrible?”

“Yes.”

[authortango]

Book Review - How to Win a Wager &  Bite Your Neighbor by D. N. Bryn

I recently finished reading How to win a Wager & Bite Your Neighbor by D. N. Bryn ( @brynwrites ), and I wanted to write a review to show my support and share my thoughts about this fantastic book.

Though my review touches on key themes and plot points from the book, there are no big spoilers in it. I’ve still put it under the cut though in case you’d like to read the book before reading this. Review TL;DR - 5/5, I can’t wait for the next one. You can purchase a copy off Amazon or through one of the other options on @brynwrites website here.

How to Bite Your Neighbor & Win a Wager is a slow-burn romance novel by D.N. Bryn, that also happens to include side-plots regarding vampire rights and committing espionage against an evil pharmaceutical company.

“Wesley didn’t tell his legs to move, but neither did he tell his lungs to breathe or his heart to beat. They did so because they were born to, and he was born to run into Vincent’s arms.”

This quote occurs very late in the book, but I feel it perfectly describes the dynamic chemistry and slow burn relationship Wesley has with Vincent. Also, I didn’t think it was possible for two characters to be so horny and yet so wildly oblivious.

This book was fantastic. I got the horny, vampire fantasy that I bought the book for, but I also received the gradual build to a true, romantic relationship between Wesley and Vincent, as well as an enthralling mystery about the shady pharmaceutical company, Vitalis-Barron, that pretty much owns the town. 

Without spoiling anything, I want to touch on some key things I really liked about the book. For example, I really liked how morally grey Wesley’s character is, as Kendall, his best friend, describes it. His whole character arc as well is very satisfying as he comes to terms with a lot of his trauma and learns to redeem himself. 

I liked all of the meta/self-referential moments in the book in the form of comics and video games, and how it was made a part of the world-building instead of being too jokey or fourth wall breaking. The same thing about the true villains, Vitalis-Barron - it wasn’t too jokey, no “dur-hur evil pharmaceuticals” - no man these people are evil and have a deep rooted history in being evil, as most corporations do. 

The world-building and the politics about being a vampire in general and how vampires live on thin, marginalized lines on the edge of society was also incredibly well done. I love books that take classic vampire myths and decide what to keep and kill from them, as well as recontextualizing them with what it may look like today in a more modern society. Vincent’s experience being a vampire and a semi-closeted gay man explores a lot of what that would look like, but also draws an excellent parallel that gives poignant insight on what it is like to be disabled and LGBTQIA+ in today’s society. I’m sure this was an on-purpose parallel done by the author, and it was incredibly well done.

One more excellent thing D. N. Bryn does with the storytelling is how the miscommunication as a romance trope is executed in a way that is believable and moves the story along. Each character has an incredibly valid, albeit dubiously ethical reason to not tell each other what they really want to. I never once felt taken out of the romance, the intrigue, or the suspense of the plot by the miscommunication issues. It was so well done, I had to put the book down and calm down at the blowup/reveal point, because of how stressed out I was about it.

Overall this was a fantastic book! I give it 5/5, and I can’t wait to read D.N. Bryn’s sequel to this, How to Sell Your Blood and Fall In Love, when it comes out. You can purchase a copy of How to Bite Your Neighbor and Win a Wager from Amazon, or you can check out their website at www.dnbryn.com to find more places to purchase their book.

[mamashenanigans]

Is a all for one backstory even necessary? I don't think every villain needs some sad backstory, we already got that with the rest of the lov. We don't need to have one for him. Let the reader assume he was born evil and be done with it.

I think the backstory is necessary BECAUSE there are already hints at it that have been left purposefully vague for an important reveal. Sure, you don’t have to have a “sad” backstory for every villain, but when one of the most important themes of your story is “why people end up becoming evil” then typically you aren’t going to have your Big Bad and overarching villain a mustache-twirling dastardly man next to the damsel in distress on the train tracks.

There would be absolutely no reason to show AFO crying(and draw it in such a manner as to highlight it) when he killed 2nd if he’s just born evil. Especially considering the only logical explanation is he was crying over his brother dying. There would be absolutely no reason to have a born evil villain tell his brother “I still love you” then keep him alive and try to break him to join his operation when it’s just so much easier to kill him and get on with his life. There would be absolutely no reason to raise a kid for the sole purpose of taking the power back(this would be prior to All Might grievously wounding him) when it would be far more reasonable, of a born evil villain, to do everything to just “kill” the power and no longer have it as a threat, which ties into the whole allowing each user to pass on the power before killing them. But the “soul” of his brother is in it and that’s why he wants it back(which Hawks apparently confirmed). There would be no reason for A LOT of dialogue, hints, purpose, and plans if he was just born evil. Because a character born evil and just there to be the cackling bad guy with no rhyme or reason for how he ended up the way he is wouldn’t EVER have said he loves anyone. Would NEVER cry over a family member dying. He’s evil. He wouldn’t care. And there would be NO PURPOSE in showing it to the reader in the first place if that’s all he’d end up being.

Seriously, AFO could have continued to be perceived as that “he’s just evil” villain if Horikoshi didn’t decide to give us a quick flashback to the brothers’ tumultuous relationship as adults and how OFA came to be. There would have been absolutely no reason to have the Big Bad say “I love you” and “you’re so dear to me”. Why even throw it in there? It would be incredibly stupid for a writer to include these little emotional moments in short flashbacks without following through. I’d also ask what the point is of having him rewind and continue to be fighting if the only villain we should care about at this point is Tomura, who has a vestige of AFO within him. It’s obvious that he’s meant to eventually get to the battle with Izuku and Tomura and I don’t think it’s necessarily just to see him die. There’s going to be an important emotional moment there and I’m looking forward to it.

For christsakes, even Toriyama, when he planned on just killing off Vegeta permanently at the end of the Frieza saga, still went out of his way to give him a backstory that explained in part why he ended up the character he was at the time. And Toriyama wasn’t even a fan of the character!

I’ll give you this: I’d be incredibly disappointed if there isn’t a backstory—flashback or monologue—for the brothers. I’d consider it poor writing because of the set up. BUT it wouldn’t surprise me. Because shonen has a tendency to fall a part near the end of a story or just not follow through with plot points the writer introduced. They sometimes end up being rushed, especially because the writer is just done.

However….brothers’ backstory>>>>>>DFO at this point. So, who knows?

But this is all just my biased opinion since I’m a villain lover.

And I’m used to disappointed. We’ll see what happens! 🙃

[aptericia]

TIME CHILD: RGU FANART & ANALYSIS

OMG I’m finally done with this! I hope you guys enjoy this duelist-style Tokiko, I had a lot of fun drawing her :)))

Below the cut is my attempt at an essay that explores her character through the characters and ideas she represents. I’ve never done one of these analysis thingies before (it’s been hard to convince myself that it’s neither 100% obvious boring stuff nor completely incomprehensible ramblings with no foundation) so it might not be great, but I feel really satisfied being able to put all my vague thoughts down on paper, and I hope someone finds it interesting :)

MAJOR SPOILERS for the entirety of Revolutionary Girl Utena!!

In the Black Rose Saga, the parallels between Utena & Anthy’s relationship and Mikage & Mamiya’s are quite obvious. But both of them have another, equally important figure in their relationship—the bride’s older sibling. If Mikage represents Utena, and Mamiya represents Anthy, then Tokiko logically represents Akio. She was also the one who pulled Nemuro out of his purgatory of apathy and loneliness, and gave him something to care about: Mamiya’s unpleasant fate. And just like the two of them, she has a relationship with her counterpart: where Mikage and Utena are rivals, and Anthy impersonates Mamiya, Tokiko is Akio’s lover and a (likely unknowing) perpetrator in his plans.

(This is a bit of a tangent, but Akio’s manipulation of Nemuro in episode 22 is strikingly similar to Touga’s manipulation of Miki back in episode 5. Just like Miki, Nemuro has largely given up on his task by Akio (in his case it’s research, rather than dueling) because he realizes it’s not truly what his bride wants or needs. But Nemuro is in love with Tokiko. He probably doesn’t even realize this, given his lack of social skills, but when he sees her with Akio he suddenly becomes scared of what he has to lose (just like when Miki sees Kozue with Touga). Combine this with Mamiya stating out of the blue that he does, in fact, want “eternity” (just as Anthy suggests that her engagement to Utena could end her piano playing), and Nemuro is now willing to take the offer he’d been so repulsed by earlier.)

Anyway, if Tokiko is a counterpart to Akio, why does Mikage see her in Utena of all people? It’s because the Tokiko he remembers is the version of her that’s still naïve, idealistic, and fundamentally childish—that is, the Tokiko from Nemuro’s time is Mikage’s Dios. Notably, when Mikage comes across present-day Tokiko in the hall, he ignores her—he doesn’t recognize the person, the adult, she has become. His entire reality is built on his memories, therefore, he can’t imagine that Tokiko couldn’t have changed from the young prince she was to him. Instead, he finds those “innocent” qualities in Utena and decides she must be the woman herself, desperate for an outlet for all his unresolved love and hatred towards her.

Tokiko, of course, did change—and her “fall from grace” that turned her from Dios to Akio was the fire at Nemuro Memorial Hall. Her brother is dead, which is bad enough, but something she might have been able to accept. However, Nemuro—possibly her only other friend at the academy—can’t accept it. He deludes himself and denies reality until he ends up taking the lives of a hundred students. At this point, Tokiko has failed to save anyone, and her innocence has been shattered. Therefore, she does the only thing she can: give up, abandon Nemuro at Ohtori, and become an adult.

There’s not enough information to say if she becomes “evil” exactly (indeed, the line is very fuzzy in Utena anyway), but when she returns as an adult she seems to have no interest in helping the people trapped in Akio’s garden, apart from a vague understanding that “there’s something wrong” about what he’s doing. Good or bad, she chose to save herself, and she’s no longer the prince she once was.

What’s really sneaky about Nemuro’s storyline really is that is doesn’t actually use the term “prince”, or any other fairytale themes. It has a much more “mundane” or “modern” feel to it, with science & medicine replacing the swordfights and castles. But ultimately, it’s still the same story, and it’s a warning to Utena (and the viewer) of what would happen should she fail to break out of her coffin. Nemuro stayed too long—after the failed revolution, after his bride was dead—and continued to cling to his memories, becoming a cruel manipulator in his own right, still convinced he was doing it for someone else. In their own ways, Tokiko and Mikage both foreshadow how easy it is for the noble prince to become selfish and cold-hearted. Although it’s hard to imagine Utena ever becoming as bad as Akio (plus she’s mortal, so she probably doesn’t physically have enough time), she has a real risk of becoming Tokiko or Mikage. If she allows herself to realize she can’t save Anthy, she’ll close herself off and leave Ohtori on her own, taking with her only a mountain of regret and a lingering sense that she can only ever look out for herself. If she convinces herself she can still save Anthy, she’ll go to increasingly far (and immoral) lengths to do so and drift further away from reality, and the one she loves. There’s no way out…except, maybe, to convince Anthy to save herself instead.

(There’s one more small, largely unrelated point I’d like to make about Tokiko. Perhaps, instead of Dios or Akio, her true counterpart is actually Touga. There are some cosmetic similarities—her violet eyes, her dark pink hair color that is really closer to Touga’s than Akio’s—and her name sounds almost like a combination of the two (this could absolutely be a coincidence, but we have Mamiya and Himemiya after all). Also, her relationship with Mikage is telling. Where Utena sees Dios/Akio as an inspiration, and idol, and a duty, Mikage sees Tokiko as an actual friend (possibly a lover) that he lost but imagines to come back to him. Does that sound like Utena & Touga’s relationship from the movie? Anywayyy I’m probably seeing things, but if not, this may support my pet theory about Touga…)