#starry attempts to art

[starryalpacasstuff]

Ahhh these turned out so well!!

@anixknowsnothin if anything happens to them you're dead to me

[theyokaiwatchblogever]

aw yeahhh more art time!!! :) these are some OCs that, if i go thru with it, will be featured in a comic that i mentioned in the pinned post. goobers. Say hello to team "Oof! Not Again!"

[starry-bi-sky]

Danyal Phantom Doodles uhhh i’ve got a handful of Danyal Al Ghul drawings that I like enough to share.

[cry-4b0ut-1t]

doing a notes thing

i saw tarax do one so now I will too! (Ig)

20 notes - continue writing an unfinished fic

40 notes - clean my room/try on all the clothes that my mom wants me to try

60 notes - attempt to stop my addiction to starry

80 notes - ask my sister to continue watching lmk with me

100 notes - draw proper reference arts of my ocs

250 notes - ask my parents for a bsd plushie or figure for my bday which was a month ago (I didn’t get anything, not a cake, no gifts, we didn’t go anywhere either)

500 notes - start writing my ocs story

-

750 notes - play slime rancher

900 notes - play slime rancher 2

1000 notes - ask my parents if I can get some copper for flame painting

1500 notes - play portal 1

2000 notes - play portal 2

2500 notes - ask my parents for ouji clothing

3000 notes - play the stanley parable

new notes goals are welcome!

remember only 5 notes per person!!

[mad-girlslove-song]

the shittiest human art will always be leagues better than the best ai "art". a child's finger paintings and macaroni crafts will always be better than a computer's subpar attempt at recreating the starry night. your stick figures and smiley faces will always surpass an algorithm's bastardized boticelli painting. the most mediocre hallmark movie will always be better than whatever bullshit sora churns out. the most cringeworthy "i'm 14 and this is deep" notes app poetry will always be better than whatever chatgpt can come up with. always

[vixstarria]

"Where my nice, simple plan fell apart"

This is my take on how Astarion’s romance might have progressed with a silly, chaotic energy bard Tav, who doesn’t really fall for his initial manipulation but rather humours it, throughout Act 1.  

There will be more – I want to flesh this out and write more ‘behind the scenes’ moments, and continue this into Acts 2 and 3 (I’m still only at the beginning of Act 2 as I write this!) 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav  

Comfort, fluff, budding love, cuddling, humour, no spoilers, non-explicit, light angst 

Approximately 2,000 words. 

AO3

~~~~~

“Let’s find our own little piece of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness.” 

“Astarion, you insufferable trollop, what piece of cheap pulp did you fish that line from?!” you squeezed your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, wait, let me guess... Madame Scarlett?” 

You watched his face turn from indignation to irritation, to finally settle in a resigned amusement, in a rapid succession.  

“My, a fellow connoisseur of the vulgar arts? The Madame’s been dead and out of print for over a century. But yes.” 

“A professional interest – a bard must be able to entertain all kinds of audiences, with all kinds of material” 

“And would you indulge me with your expertise tonight? But I do much prefer show to tell...”.  

This was the beginning. You did end up sleeping with him that night, despite his initial soppy attempt at seduction. And then it happened again another night. And then it kept happening... 

You tried to be discreet about it at first, but of course it wasn’t long before the other members of your party noticed your nightly disappearances, and there was no point trying to conceal it.  

You were vexed by their reactions – just about everyone found it necessary to at one point pull you aside and express their concerns about the vampire, asking you to be careful. This was, perhaps, justifiable – Astarion was admittedly quite stab-happy and had an inclination for bloodthirst (literally and figuratively). But he was on your side! And damned if you needed anyone’s approval for your choices in whom to bed! 

By that point you and Astarion had turned the cliched language of poorly written erotica novels into an inside joke. Casually addressing each other in increasingly mawkish and over-elaborate terms had turned into a game. Once the secret of your escapades was out, you weaponised this game, turning it to deliberately exasperate everyone around you with your antics. 

With your shared penchant for dramatic flair the two of you became utterly insufferable.  

You would shout corny names at each other across camp: 

“Oh precious, it’s your turn to set up the campfire! And no, I don’t care that you won’t be eating with us” you called out as the group stopped for the day to set up camp, but no answer followed. “My silver lynx..? Starry?? Snickerdoodle??” 

“Your snickerdoodle wandered off to slaughter another bear!” came an exasperated shout from Wyll. 

Strangers weren’t safe from your hijinks either:  

“My sun, my beating heart, flame of my loins, ache of my head. All my riches, at your feet”, he declaimed to you in front of a confused and embarrassed vendor, as he rummaged through and shook out his pockets and sleeves, spilling an assortment of semi-precious gems, silver cutlery and somehow even an entire silver tray, pilfered from an abandoned manor you came across earlier. 

Just to make the others uncomfortable, you would unceremoniously plop into Astarion’s lap at any given opportunity, including in your morning meetings to establish your itinerary for the day.  

One evening, as you all sat around the campfire to enjoy a shared meal, Astarion (who would ordinarily stay away during this time, or sit nearby with a book) sank down next to you, lifted your hand towards his mouth, and nonchalantly sank his fangs into your wrist and began to suck, slurping.  

“Oh, so I can’t enjoy a nice meal with everyone else, and have to be excluded? Bigots, the lot of you!” he chided, your blood dripping from his lips, to the sound of everyone’s shouts of shocked revulsion. Surprisingly, this was the closest you’d ever seen Lae’zel come to laughing.  

(You and Astarion had arranged this prior, of course. Ever the gentleman, he always asked before he bit.) 

Another night, as you were having a quiet chat with Shadowheart at her tent, while everyone else lounged at the fire, she asked: “So what is it like with him, really..? How is he?” 

Suddenly finding yourself abashed by this genuinely intimate question, you covered it up with pomp and bravado. Winking at Shadowheart, you stood up, threw your head back and began to orate, making sure your thundering voice would be heard by the fire, which you had been separated from by a distance and some bushes: 

“HIS MAGESTIC MANHOOD, WHEN UNSHEATHED, IS AN OBELISC OF MASCULINITY AND GLORY. IT IS A WONDER BIRDS DON’T CRASH INTO IT WHEN IT IS FULLY E- Ow! Who threw that?!” 

A projectile salami from your camp supplies came flying from behind the bushes, and slammed into the side of your face.  

All hell was breaking loose back at the campfire, as Wyll, Gale and a smug Astarion convulsed and shouted through poorly concealed laughter, blaming each other for the missile, as Karlach shook in hysterics and Lae’zel complimented the mystery thrower’s accuracy.  

Gale did look more sheepish than the rest once you started to develop a black eye from the impact, promptly healed by Shadowheart.  

What was it like with him? 

Despite the flowery epithets and exaggerated displays of affection you awarded each other in public, in private you had a mutual understanding that it was all frivolous, no strings play. You had a parasite that could turn you into a mind flayer at any given moment, twisting in your brain. Every day bore violent encounters. Since the nautiloid crash, you hadn’t gone a single day without something trying to murder you. You didn’t want to have to worry about anything other than survival, and you took life day by day. Distractions were welcome, but actual romantic attachment would be a burden, you told yourself. 

You thought of it as being friends with extended benefits.  

You let him feed (well, snack, really) on you, of course. It wasn’t sexual, not since the first night. He used your wrist, so as not to be overwhelmed by the blood flow. He ended the sessions by healing you himself, assisted by a magical trinket he’d picked up somewhere on your journey. You made sure not to let Gale get his hands on that one.  

In battles his arrows always picked off foes in your immediate vicinity, before they were directed to other targets. You’ve yelled at him for this, saying you were more than capable of holding your own, whilst you’d lost count of the revivify scrolls you’ve spent on Gale.  

“Yes, well, the way the man goes on about his ‘natural talents’ and ‘mastery of the weave’, you’d think he’d put that big wise brain of his to developing a strategy for not getting stabbed so often” - Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m just encouraging him to improve, really. And besides”, his eyes narrowed, “only I’m allowed to spill your blood, darling”. You frowned at that last bit, as he flashed you a sweet and almost innocent smile, and stalked off.   

As for the other ‘benefits’ - the sex was intricate, if somewhat mechanic, almost too skillful on his behalf. Wanting more passion than efficiency, you eventually asked him to talk dirty to you. That made it nearly too intense for you to handle, and seemed to keep him more... personally engaged. During daytime you had to force yourself not to get caught up in flashbacks of his red eyes watching you writhe as he described what he was doing to you, what he was going to do to you, or how you looked while he worked your body. 

The night that you, wanting to reciprocate, asked him exactly how he wanted to be pleasured and what he liked was a fiasco. You didn’t understand why. First he said something about being able to please you being his greatest reward and satisfaction (which you immediately shut down). Then he grew flustered and irritated, becoming uncharacteristically at a loss for words. You tried to divert the conversation, but the mood was unsalvageably ruined.  

There was one takeaway from that debacle, however. After abandoning the idea of sex for the night, you laid next to each other, talking about nothing in particular: Baldur’s Gate, places you were both familiar with, comforts you were looking forward to having again. At one point he looked at his jacket, which you’d been lying on, and lamented that he couldn’t find any gold thread to fix the embroidery. You laughed and rolled over to give him a hug, and simply never let go. He wordlessly pulled you closer once it was clear you had no intention of leaving. That was the first time that you fell asleep and slept through the night in his arms. 

This became somewhat of a ritual, or another game with unspoken rules. Once you were done with each other, you’d pretend to quickly fall asleep with your face nested in the crook of his neck, or to otherwise be too exhausted to get up and make way to your own tent or bedroll. He pretended not to notice the regularity with which this was happening. You pretended not to notice the soft kisses he started leaving on your neck or forehead once he thought you were really asleep. It seemed... important, somehow, that you both pointedly refused to acknowledge any of it. You sensed that otherwise a certain line would be crossed. 

Last night, you were too exhausted to even think of anything but sleep by the time everyone started turning in for the night. Yet rest wasn’t even on the horizon for you – you remembered that you’d neglected to clean your weapons and carry out the well overdue maintenance on your equipment, which you did not allow anyone else to touch even when offered. You were planning to venture into the shadow-cursed lands the following day. You couldn’t afford to be sloppy. You begrudgingly set about your tasks. Astarion was as tired as everyone else, you figured it was needless to say you’d spend the night apart. And yet...  

“I guess I finally get my bedroll all to myself tonight, how delightful” you heard behind you. “No one to wrap themselves around me, no one nuzzling into my neck... Only free, undisturbed personal space” You heard a hint of dejection beneath the sarcasm, and something in your stomach flipped, giving you pause.  

“I’ll come back for a cuddle if you say please” you murmured over your shoulder. 

“Never!” he rasped in a perfect imitation of Lae’zel when you asked the same of her before freeing her from a tiefling cage, and disappeared into his tent. 

Over an hour later, as you collapsed into your own bedroll, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from across the camp, tent flap ajar. You held Astarion’s gaze.  

“Please”, he mouthed soundlessly, smiling as he lifted the edge of his blanket.  

Within moments, you slipped into his embrace, pressing your lips against his. But his kisses were gentle and feather light, lacking the usual persistent neediness.  

You pulled away from him, locking eyes as he softly ran his hand down your cheek, brushing your lower lip with his thumb. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful” he breathed. 

That night he fell asleep with his head against your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.  

Your breath caught in a silent sob as you were overwhelmed by a bittersweet realization of how much you really stood to lose if you failed in the journey still ahead of you. You didn’t think you’d ever felt happier or more miserable before in your life, as you hugged him tighter. 

~~~~~

Next in series

AO3

[starryglitterdreams]

𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 ✮⋆˙

it is done.

you won't be looking for it

you are not trying to get anything

you won't be attempting methods

feeling too comfortable?

living in my imagination is so fun!

epiphany

self-concept & confidence vaunt

my manifestation routine

stop asking how

gentle reminder

all you need to manifest

only two possibilities

my understanding of "the state of the wish fulfilled"

you don't have to visualise to manifest

you can't want something you already have

tough love

fav edward art quote

the internal shift

there is no time crunch

okay, and so?

starry's rambles

starry's soapbox

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ✮⋆˙

the imaginary duplicate

[candiiee]

ᴅᴇᴋᴜᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: ᴠɪʟʟɪᴀɴ

summary: yandere Villain Izuku thinking about you and reader giving yandere vibes as well

warnings: yandere themes, smut if you squint

an: first time writing yandere-

Drabble

art by starry: find here

You trusted him so much. He could easily kill you. But he would never.

Truth was, Izuku Midoriya was in love with you. Maybe borderline obsessed.

You were just so pretty, sweet, and overall perfect in his eyes. He kept telling himself that no one deserved you. Except him.

And it angered him, seeing you cry when your no good dick boyfriends hurt you.

But, surely you must appreciate him. After all, it was no accident your ex ended up dead, seemingly exploded to death.

But he waited. Waited for you to return his love. And gosh, he was impatient.

You two were close. Practically lovers. Always snuggled up together, and you always scratched his scalp just right.

You bandaged his wounds with your delicate hands, not minding getting his blood or someone else’s blood on yours.

He loved those moments.

You always told him that no matter what he did, you would never leave him. You didn’t care he was a villain.

And he loved you for it. If anyone hurt you, he would rip their vocal cords out.

Long nights spent talking, listening in pure adoration.

You were just as loopy as him. He could see it in your eyes.

That slightly unhinged look when a fellow villain tried to flirt with him.

But you never stepped out of line, never socked that woman in the face for attempting something. (That frankly, was never going to happen. He only had eyes for you)

And finally, finally, you returned his love. Or perhaps you had simply waited till you were sure that he wanted you.

When he finally had you under him, under his control, (or did you have him under control?) sinking his length bit by bit inside your inviting cunt, he knew that he would never let you go.

You were his.

And he was yours.

@candiiee 2024

Dekutober prompts by @getstarried

Taglist: @dokidokidraft @mo0nforme

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Silver - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Silver: The National Art Museum of the Land of Dawning is much larger than I had expected…

Silver: I would like to properly peruse every single work of art here. It would be nice if I do not drowse off…

???: This is a painting of a prince and princess dancing hand-in-hand in the castle hall… What a beautiful sight. I can certainly see why it would be a well-known painting.

Silver: I know this painting well. This same scene was depicted in a book I used to read all the time when I was a child.

Azul: Oh, hello, Silver-san. Are you partial to this particular tale?

Silver: That's correct. Among the piles of picture books my father would bring home to me from his travels, there was one that held this story.

Silver: I had grown to admire the prince, who would fend off his foes with his sword, that I had read it countless times.

Silver: There was a time I thought that perhaps I could develop a training regimen off of this scene, so I attempted to dance as he did.

Azul: Hmhm, so you looked to emulate the prince from the story.

Silver: Yeah, at the time, I believed that in order to grow even stronger, I would also need to learn how to dance.

Silver: I would prepare a dressed log as my partner and spin around in circles…

Silver: I would practice tirelessly while some forest critters would look on.

Azul: You used a log as your partner…? Well, I suppose that would train up your muscles.

Silver: True, it may have resulted in some actual muscle training. And well, it did provide me with an opportunity to improve my dancing.

Azul: Eh!? Dancing with the log did?

Silver: Ah, no. My father saw I was trying to dance, and asked a certain person to teach me properly…

Silver: That person said, "A fine opportunity for you both to learn to dance." My father and I ended up both receiving instruction.

Silver: It was only for one day, but it was a fantastic lesson.

Azul: I wouldn't think that only a single day of practice would allow you to increase your dancing ability…

Silver: Do you think so? I always believed that I had improved much thanks to that single day.

Silver: I ended up having a wonderful time while dancing, and during the middle of it all, all of us couldn't help but laugh and enjoy ourselves.

Silver: Before I had realized it, we were standing beneath a starry night sky. We were having such a good time that none of us had noticed how much time had flown by.

Azul: Hm. Well, they do say that enjoying something is the quickest way to improve yours skillset, so perhaps that is why.

Silver: Yeah. Toward the end, my father started to dance some moves I had never seen before, so we tried practicing that as well.

Silver: But it was a rather difficult dance, with footwork and headbanging too quick for the eyes to follow. We did our best to follow but to no avail.

Azul: Footwork and… headbanging? I feel as though that has drifted further and further away from the prince's dance you were initially studying.

Silver: Not at all. I am sure that training also contributed to improving my dance ability.

Silver: I truly did feel thankful that I had received the lessons that I did, when I attended the party on campus.

Silver: If there is ever another opportunity in the future, I would like to be able to dance with everyone.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Silver: This is a painting of the Sea Witch. I heard that she would help merpeople in need… However...

Azul: It is also said that she would grow to enormous size in order to reprimand any merfolk who broke their contracts.

Azul: That she would strictly admonish dishonest people in order to better them just shows yet another aspect of her overwhelming compassion.

Silver: The strictness is to help them improve… Ah, I understand now.

Silver: Azul… I would like to ask you one thing, but are you any good at alchemy?

Azul: Alchemy? Yes, I would say it is one of my best subjects. What about it?

Silver: To tell you the truth… I do not do well in alchemy.

Silver: I have a hard time staying awake, not only in the lecture portions of the class, but also during practical applications…

Silver: I've over-heated ingredients, burnt cauldrons, and caused numerous other concoction failures.

Silver: If this were to continue, it could result in a terrible accident one day.

Silver: That is why I try to take more care in this class than I do in others… But I only continue to fail.

Azul: …I see? Well, that sounds like quite a predicament! If you'd like, I would happily listen to your woes!

Silver: So you'll hear me out? This is about what happened in alchemy class last week.

Silver: That day, I was able to weigh out the ingredients, adjust the heat properly, and even concocted the potion to the textbook specifications.

Silver: The final result was exactly what was asked of me.

Silver: I was even proud of myself for receiving a "Good Boy" from Crewel-sensei… Or so I thought.

Azul: Hmm…? But that's not the whole story, I presume?

Silver: Right. When I opened my eyes, there was no potion in my hands.

Silver: Instead, Crewel-sensei was standing before me with a furious look. "I see the little mongrel has finally awoken." He said.

Azul: Ah. I think I see where this is going.

Silver: I had fallen asleep again. My successful potion was all a dream.

Silver: In actuality, it seems I had almost fallen head-first into the cauldron as soon as we were to begin concocting the potion.

Silver: Crewel-sensei had decided that it would be dangerous to allow me to continue and carried me back to my seat…

Silver: And I was sound asleep until class ended.

Azul: It seems your drowsiness is a much more formidable foe than I had understood it to be…

Azul: I will gladly see if I can find any way for me to help!

Silver: It's enough for me that you were hear to listen. This is all due to my own shortcomings.

Silver: I'll have to take better care in the future so I may repay Crewel-sensei for his sincere admonishment.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Azul: Oh, my. There's a painting of the Lord of the Underworld on display here.

Silver: If I recall correctly, he would often use a board game map to plan and explain his strategies to his forces.

Silver: I wonder if board games are truly a useful way to share information?

Azul: Perhaps he, like myself, would use those board games to inspire new ideas.

Silver: Inspire new ideas…?

Azul: Board games can quickly change situations from turn to turn, which in turn allows one to cultivate their adaptability.

Azul: Not only is that a useful skill for everyday troubles, but also for business management.

Silver: I see… So it is a type of training in its own right. I can understand why the Lord of the Underworld used it as well, now.

Azul: If it piques your interest, why not come and visit the Board Game Club sometime? You would always be welcome.

Silver: Is that so…? True, there are often times that I've had to make snap decisions while performing my guard duties. It may be wise to stop by for a visit.

Silver: I don't really have much experience with it, but are a majority of games played with two people like chess?

Azul: There are such games, yes, but… There are also many that allow for a larger group to enjoy themselves.

Azul: There are 3D puzzle games, in which you try to fit the pieces into a frame, or real estate trading games, in which you try to increase your assets...

Azul: I suppose an easy game that anyone could pick up would be one where you would roll a die and do whatever task given on the space you land on.

Silver: What sort of tasks would those be?

Azul: It could require them to imitate the person beside them, or drink horrible-tasting juice… My clubmates do seem to enjoy that sort of thing.

Silver: I see, so those sorts of board games exist.

Silver: That could be a viable method…

Azul: A method? For what?

Silver: I just thought that if we were to change the theme of those games, it could also be used for training purposes.

Silver: For example, if we were to have the player's tasks be "20 finger push-ups" or "100 squats."

Azul: …Are you serious?

Silver: Yeah. I often hear people say that they find it difficult to train individually.

Silver: However, if many people were to work together, I am sure they could enjoy their workout.

Silver: Whenever it rains, we in the Equestrian Club are limited in what activities we can perform.

Silver: On those days, we often resort to training individually.

Silver: So I thought that if we all played a board game together, we could enjoy that exercise together.

Azul: You've come up with such a harsh training regimen while keeping such a virtuous mindset… I find you're as cunning as they come, Silver-san.

Silver: Oh, right, when I finish the prototype, would you like to join…

Azul: Ah, pardon me. Look at the time…. I should be on my way!

Silver: I appreciate you staying to talk with me. Now, I think I'll head to the next exhibit… Ah!

Silver: This is a painting of the Thorn Which after she transformed into a dragon… I've always wanted to see this artwork.

Silver: …This wasn't part of a dream, this really happened.

Silver: What overwhelming power… I must be diligent in my training so as to not falter before a foe that could be as mighty as her.

Requested by @dida-books.

[manikas-whims]

Xavier’s representative flower is Forget-me-not. Not wavyleaf sea lavender.

bringing this directly from a community of Xavier Stans on twitter, they've urged us all to come together and mass email Infold and Papergames on their customer support as well as emails about this mistranslation.

This mistranslation not only spoils the overall consistency of Xavier's character and story but also hinders the players' immersion to a point where Xavier girls would rather not see his flower being mentioned at all.

Please COPY the template provided below, attach all the 9 images as is posted in this post, and send emails to the following ids as well as their in-game customer support.

Template to be sent to their email at:

advice@papegames.net

lyskkf@papegames.net for devz

Subject: Change Xavier’s flower in English to forget-me-not

We as the players of Love and Deepspace are once again reaching out to you due to a pressing mistranslation issue in the English version of Love and Deepspace.

(In the following, please view the pictures below for reference.)

In Xavier‘s recent birthday event (Timeless Days, My Fridge, dialogue for ingredient Starry Blossoms: „Wavyleaf Sea Lavender‘s Meaning“) the flower associated with him is once again mistranslated as wavyleaf sea lavender when it is clear that his representative flower is supposed to be forget-me-not as displayed in official art (picture 1), the ingame love timeline (pictures 2-4) and on his birthday cake (picture 5).

In the Timeless Days event the Chinese version mentions the forget-me-not flower (星辰花) and thus, also correctly refers to its meaning: eternal love (永恒的爱) (picture 6).

However, the English version states instead that wavyleaf sea lavender symbolizes eternal love which is simply wrong (picture 7). This once again proves that forget-me-not is the intended flower during this event and therefore, has been mistranslated the entire time.

Forget-me-not was even officially used by your team as the translation for 星辰花 before it got changed to the wrong one! (picture 8)

We believe the mistranslation is caused due to the fact that the Chinese word 星辰花 can refer to both wavyleaf sea lavender as well as forget-me-not (picture 9). But by now, it should be evident that the more suitable translation for Xavier‘s flower is forget-me-not because it is constantly visualized as such.

We have already tried to make you aware of this translation issue for an absurdly long time and are tired of seeing the same mistake over and over again. Now we‘ve gotten to a point where we only feel frustration and annoyance every time we see Xavier‘s representative flower mentioned. This should not be the experience for us players who should feel happy about the beautiful meaning of his flower.

So now we must ask you:

Are you still not aware of the mistranslation issue regarding Xavier‘s representative flower despite all the desperate attempts on our part to get your attention?

Do you still insist on wavyleaf sea lavender being the correct translation despite all the evidence shown to you?

Or do you simply not care?

We hope that you will finally correct this mistake and that we no longer have to fight for something as simple as this.

Best regards,

the players of Love and Deepspace

For Customer Support, open the game, then head to the settings and follow the steps as shown in pics below:

Then COPY AND PASTE this template for customer support in-game: (add the same 9 images for email and send)

In the recent event (Timeless Days) Xavier‘s flower is once again mistranslated as wavyleaf sea lavender when it is clear that his representative flower is supposed to be forget-me-not as displayed in official art (pic 1), the love timeline (pic 2-4) and on his birthday cake (pic 5).

In the new event, the Chinese version mentions forget-me-not and thus, also correctly refers to its meaning: eternal love (pic 6). However, the English version conveys an incorrect message due to the translation error (pic 7).

Forget-me-not was even officially used by your team as the translation before! (pic 8)

The mistranslation is caused due to the fact that 星辰花 can refer to both wavyleaf sea lavender and forget-me-not (pic 9).

We‘ve tried to make you aware of this issue for a long time. Now we‘ve gotten to a point where we only feel frustrated each time we see Xavier‘s flower mentioned.

We hope that you will finally correct this mistake and that we no longer have to fight for such a simple matter.

[tmnt-ocxcanon-comp]

TMNT OCxCanon Comp Round 3

Learn more under the cut!

Hassan Singh

@morning-sun-brah

In a relationship with Michelangelo (romantic). Rise!Mikey. 

Description; Hassan is a criminal defense attorney who met Mikey in the back alley of his law firm. Thinking that Michelangelo was illegally tagging (graffiti), a small argument ensued- in where Michelangelo explained that he’d been hired to add a mural to the side of the building. After that they bumped into one another at a City Event (Mikey and his brothers were being awarded for stopping a villain), and Hassan began to send Mikey gifts (hair care products and other expensive things), and eventually they began texting. They fall into the enemies to lovers troupe. Eventually they both fall and love and express their feeling to one another.

art created by Sha-Biest

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Catarina Hamato and (Head Over Boots) Donatello Hamato

HOB Donnie belongs to @starry-eyed-adam Cat belongs to @catarina-hamato

CATATELLO (aka Lavender Lemonade)

Catarina comes from a world ravaged by Kraang, where she spent her entire life fighting alongside and for her family. Despite the constant struggle for her own life, she’d managed to stay hopeful. That is, until a misstep with Prime left her spirit roaming, detached from her world.

Donatello’s lived in Montana since eighteen, having relocated for his twin’s mental safety. In forty five years of life, he’s learned that the world is unkind, full of monsters. He’ll protect what matters to him if it’s the last thing he does.

In a startlingly sudden multidimensional convergence, Cat (suddenly alive again) and Donnie found themselves in each other’s company caring for a group of unsupervised children. Many adventures, attempts on their lives (some having succeeded), and the rare calm, quiet moment together have found the formerly self-guarded protectors drawn to each other. Cat’s unrelenting kindness, patience, and her own fierceness, and Donnie’s intellect, endless support, and immovable purpose to protect are what they adore about each other, along with much more.

The wedding is coming up!

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[cottonlemonade]

When You’re On Your Period

word count: 575 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: Komori x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

You had no idea how to position yourself. Laying flat hurt, on your side hurt, on your tummy hurt, fetal position, upside down, somewhat diagonally, nothing helped. You rolled out of bed and waddled over to the window, opening the blinds to watch the twinkling city lights. Your boyfriend snored softly and mumbled something behind you, his arm reaching out to your side of the bed, undoubtedly attempting to squish your soft tummy for comfort like he always did but when he didn‘t find you, he sleepily sat up.

Spotting your silhouette dark against the moonlight he let out a yelp - with your hair down and in an oversized shirt you looked like a ghost.

Komori cleared his throat and lowered his voice an octave and a half to regain some manliness. “Babe?“

“Hm?“, you hummed miserably and turned to him.

“Gorgeous, why are just standing there? Come back to bed.“ To underline his point he patted your pillow.

“Can‘t sleep.“, you pouted.

“Demons?“

You nodded.

He sighed and scooched out of bed to join you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. You leaned back against him, covering his hand on your cursed stomach with yours.

“What can I get you? Hot bath? - Heating pad? - A massage? - Medicine? - Snacks?“

You shook your head each time but hesitated at the last one.

“You want snacks?“

“… Maybe? But it‘s already midnight. It‘s way too late for food.“

“Says who? Did you learn nothing from Lord of The Rings, babe? Do we have to watch it again to remind you? There is breakfast, yes -“, he changed his voice to get into character, “but what about second breakfast?“

You giggled as he went on, “What about elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Din-“

“One of these days I will lock you out of every single one of our streaming services. Your obsession is going too far.“, you chuckled. He gasped dramatically and hugged you tighter, muttering into your neck, “You wouldn‘t dare!“ and gave you a kiss.

You looked out into the night together for a moment, before he gave you a gentle quizzical squeeze, “So, snacks?“

“I‘m feeling… chicken wings…“, you said, squinting thoughtfully.

“Then chicken wings we shall have. Go put on some shoes, babe.“ He pressed another kiss to your cheek and let you go, walking over to your dresser where he had his own drawer, and pulled out some socks.

You added a comfortable sports bra to your ensemble and grabbed a pair of slippers, following him excitedly.

He had his fingers entwined with yours on the middle console of the car, raising your hand to his lips every so often as he drove.

Starry eyed you fought back tears as he listed your order perfectly, from memory, to the bored worker at the drive-through.

You pulled into the almost empty parking lot, the paper bags smelling heavenly of greasiness and salt, ready to appease the demons causing the cramps.

As you divided the food amongst you he was busy fumbling with the phone holder on the dashboard. It was customary that you would watch a show or a movie while eating in the car. He sat back eventually, looking really satisfied when the title card appeared and an all too familiar soft spoken monologue began. He grinned and winked, “What? You haven‘t locked me out of the streaming services yet.“

art: @s-dotte on Twitter

[theomniplayer]

A Ghost, A Lil Guy, A Warrior of Light and a Hyjacked Boss - Player Prophecy 3

Continuing my series of player fan arts in the style of the Deltarune prophecy.

This time featuring from left to right: @starry-waffles007 , @ithinkishouldchooseabettername , @justyourcasualundertalefan and @dustykether

I plan on doing a few of the ones from my last big fanart in this style and possibly my sona again when I get a redesign for her sorted out (plus the few I wasn’t happy with my first attempt at drawing

Part 1 - A Demon, A God, A Guardian Spirit and a The Sad Player

Part 2 - A Hero, An Angel, A Vessel and a Lightner Princess

[irkimatsu]

I love your Husk works! Could you please write one where fem!reader gets along with everyone and Husk doesn't even realize that he's catching feelings, but maybe on a night out with everyone, someone comes up and starts heavily flirting with her. Ends with confessions and sugary sweet tooth rotting fluff please. 😍

God damn, anon, do you have any idea how hard it is to wring a confession out of this man? I was going along at a steady pace and then I got stuck for hours! I genuinely hope you like slowburn, because Husk doesn't go from zero-to-love easily. I think he's gotten a nice start here, though. It's definitely fluffy!

Husk/Fem!Reader starting a relationship. Mentions of drinking and attempted sexual assault that Husk interrupts before things get too heavy. SFW, 2.8k words. Enjoy! I hope this is what you had in mind, anon! Thank you so much for reading my works!

Your first few months staying at the Hazbin Hotel have gone quite smoothly; as smoothly as anything there can ever go, anyway. Charlie took an instant liking to you - she takes an instant liking to everyone, so it’s nothing special, but still. She can be a bit overbearing, but you know she means well, and she’s grateful to have someone who doesn’t immediately write off her trust exercises from the start.

Still, after all the sharing circles and art therapy, you occasionally find yourself craving more “adult” fun, and that’s where Angel and Cherri come in. It’s not that you don’t want to be redeemed, but what could be so sinful about enjoying yourself a little? You’re not doing anything dangerous or drastic, no drugs and no getting involved with the wrong people; you’re just having fun drinking, dancing, maybe smashing up some abandoned property if the opportunity strikes. Charlie can’t get mad at destruction if no one cares about the thing you just blew up, right?

The bartender, Husk, isn’t nearly as keen on those nights on the town, but you’ve still managed to bond with him on nights where you prefer to stay in. He’s a surprisingly good listener underneath his gruff exterior. (Perhaps too good of a listener; you hope he keeps ignoring whatever bullshit you might have spouted off after one too many of his cocktails.) He also has plenty of stories of his own, mostly from the time he spent alive. When you could get him talking, he’d weave incredible tales of nightlife, both from his home city in Las Vegas and all the other places he’d visited in his life. He seemed especially wistful when talking about a woman he knew back then. He could talk for hours about all the famous sites he was able to take her to, all the songs he would sing for her, and all the starry skies he’d dance with her under.

“It’s not like I blame her for leaving. I’m the one who screwed it up. But being in love… it was nice while it lasted.”

You try to encourage him with the hope that he could fall in love again, but he shakes his head with a bitter smile.

“I lost the ability to love years ago.”

—-

Your friendship with Angel and Cherri is so different compared to your friendship with Husk, so it took a few months before you could have a night out with all three of them. Charlie is once again less enthused about the idea of you four going out to party, but you promise to be relatively well behaved.

You promise, anyway. You can’t make promises for Angel’s sake, and as much as you love her, you know better than to have any faith in Cherri.

You’re surprised Husk agreed to come to a sex club at all. He never seemed like the type to be into that sort of thing. You’re less surprised to see that he has no intention of flirting with anyone and is instead perfectly happy to sit by the wall and knock back shots as quickly as the bartender can pour them.

Couldn’t he drink himself stupid back at the hotel, though? Why did he even come?

Is it just you, or has he been watching you the whole night?

The hours tick by, and you, Angel, and Cherri become progressively more wasted. Angel is currently hanging off of a muscular bull demon - damn, good for him - while Cherri tells you about another resident who used to stay at the hotel before he tragically lost his life during the last extermination.

“He was such a fucking idiot that it was charming, ya know? God damn I should have gotten to know him better when he was still around! I heard this rumor about him and never even got to find out if it was true!”

As she speaks, Cherri catches sight of a cobra demon who is currently chatting up a cluster of punk girls.

“Well, damn… maybe I’ll get to find out tonight. Don’t wait around for me, I’ll find my way back!”

With that announcement, Cherri is gone, leaving only you and Husk with about a dozen bar stools between you. He’s definitely keeping an eye on you; there’s still liquid in his glass, and  he’s watching you instead of guzzling it.

What’s his deal? If he wants to spend the night with you, why doesn’t he just come over here? You decide not to go over there yourself; no sense in rewarding him if he’s playing mind games.

You instead turn your attention to a handsome wolf demon who has taken Cherri’s seat. “Drinking all alone, love?” he says, his deep voice smooth as butter. Right away this man gives you the air of a natural-born charmer who can win anyone’s trust within seconds, only to break their hearts within hours.

He’s hot, and you’re drunk. You’ll let him break your heart a little.

Your conversation starts normally enough, with low stakes topics like the music and the drink selection in the bar. You’re in no hurry to tell this man anything personal or leave this spot with him, but you’re enjoying looking at him and hearing him enough that you don’t mind being a bit of entertainment.

He bumps your knee with his at one point, but you pull your own knee away. At first he seems to take the hint, and time passes without any more advances.

Soon, however, he grows more bold.

“Why don’t we go somewhere else, baby?” he asks as he lightly squeezes your thigh. “Somewhere more private?”

“No thanks,” you say as you jerk your leg away, though the motion doesn’t make him let go. “I’m fine talking here.”

“You know this is a sex club, don’t you?” he says. His smile and voice haven’t changed, but somehow he seems much slimier than he did five minutes ago, and the strong paw gripping your leg that seemed so enticing in your head feels suffocating in reality.

“I’m not here for that, I’m just hanging out with friends-” You try to leave the stool, but the man throws his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in.

“Come on, babe! What did you think I was after by chatting you up like this? You’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?” He’s holding you closely enough that his hot breath is hitting your face, and the stench of his cologne is making you gag. “C’mon, baby, I’ll show you a good time. You won’t regret this-”

“She said no.” Husk had somehow snuck his way to your side without you noticing, and was now glaring daggers at your pursuer. “Back off.”

“Who are you, her grandpa?” the wolf laughs, refusing to unhand you. “Or just a nasty old man who likes ‘em young?”

Your captor’s laughter is quickly interrupted by a high-pitched howl. His face is now adorned with four jagged, bleeding lines.

“What the fuck, old man?” he yells as he unhands you. Just as quickly as you’re unhanded, you’re grabbed again, this time by Husk grabbing your waist and pulling you away.

“I knew I fucking hated this place,” he growls. “Where are Cherri and Angel?”

You have no idea, but your first guess has you looking toward the sex rooms in the back of the club.

“Jesus Christ… they’ll find their own way home. Come on, we’re going back to the hotel.”

You don’t appreciate being dragged out of the club like a misbehaving child, but as the alcohol clouds your thinking, you can’t quite formulate a protest.

Considering how pissed off your admirer must be right now, maybe it’s for the best that you don’t stay.

—

The walk back to the hotel is blurry; if Husk had anything to say to you besides pissed off obscenities muttered beneath his breath, you don’t remember it. Your next memory finds you laying on the couch in the lobby, your head aching from a combination of a hangover and the time spent laying on the couch’s arm with your neck at a weird angle.

“What time is it…?” you murmur as your eyes try to adjust.

“About noon,” answers Husk from the bar. 

As you continue to look around the lobby, he appears to be the only one here. “Where is everyone?” you ask through a yawn.

“Angel and Cherri still aren’t back, but I’m sure they’re fine. Charlie and Vaggie left to give you some quiet. Alastor and Niffty…” Husk shrugs after their names, then falls silent.

You groan as you push yourself into a sitting position, one that has you facing Husk. He doesn’t appear to have anything to do, and is instead standing with his chin resting on his crossed arms atop the bar. An awkward silence falls between the two of you, giving you plenty of time to observe Husk’s body language, particularly the way his tail is lashing behind him while his ear gives the occasional twitch.

He is not in a good mood.

“Are you okay?” you ask. Your well-meaning question only seems to piss him off further; he answers not with a word, but with a growl. “Is this about last night?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists.

“I’m sorry I caused you trouble…”

“Wasn’t your fault.” His tail lashes even harder. “Just don’t worry about it, all right?”

You’re going to keep worrying about it until he stops looking so on edge.

“Thanks for getting me away from that guy last night,” you say, just in case you didn’t thank him in your drunken haze.

“Hey, it’s what a good bartender does. When you see someone starting shit with another patron, even if it’s not your bar, you take care of the problem. That fucker had no right to put his hands on you after you told him to cut it out.”

He may be gruff, but at least he has standards.

“Can’t believe Cherri and Angel left you alone in there… those two better not take you to anymore fucking sex clubs, you don’t need to be around shit like that…”

“I’m a grown adult,” you protest. “I didn’t want to sleep with that guy, but if I did want to get with someone at that club, that’s my business.”

Husk’s eyes widen for a moment, before he returns to his original dour expression. “Yeah… guess you’re right.”

“And what about you? You didn’t look interested in picking up anyone last night. Why’d you even come?”

“How do you know I wasn’t interested?” he shoots back. “Maybe I was interested in someone! Maybe I just… didn’t have the balls to go for it.” He stands up straight and shakes his head. “Look, can we drop this? Hang out in sex clubs if you want, I don’t fuckin’ care.”

He’s speaking with the tone of voice of someone who very much cares.

“I’m done with ‘em, though. You’re right, you’re an adult, you don’t need me hanging around like some fuckin’ guardian angel.” He pours a glass of clear liquid, and you expect him to down it himself, but he instead steps out from behind the bar still holding the full glass. “I overreacted last night. Shouldn’t have made it your fuckin’ problem.” He approaches the couch, takes a seat, and offers you the glass. “Here, one last favor. Drink this and I’ll get off your ass.”

You take the cup, wondering if for some ungodly reason he’s trying to get you to down straight vodka.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s water. That headache’s only gonna get worse if you’re dehydrated.”

You take a sip of the water, and after only a few swallows you’re already regaining a bit of your desire to live. “Thanks,” you say before taking another large gulp.

“No problem,” he responds. You expect him to return to the bar, but he remains next to you on the couch. His body language has gotten no less agitated. What is going on with him?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you doting on Angel or Cherri like this,” you observe before finishing the glass.

“They’re used to it, and they’ve got each other,” he says as he takes the glass from you. “You want some more?”

You shake your head, and he remains seated with the glass.

“You, though… I don’t know, something about that guy just pissed me off,” he says. “Even before he started touching you I didn’t like him. Bartender’s intuition, maybe? I’m still not over the awful feeling he gave me.” He sighs heavily. “I just… hate the idea of seeing you get hurt in a place like that. I know Angel and Cherri can take care of themselves, but you’ve never seemed as wild as they do, so I wasn’t sure…”

“Is that why you were watching me the whole night?” you asked.

Husk’s body jolts. “Shit, you noticed?”

“I kept looking over there wondering if you’d ever move from that spot, and if you weren’t actively drinking you were staring at me,” you said. “You weren’t subtle.”

Husk groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I know you’re capable. I was just…”

“You weren’t there because you were interested in someone at all, were you?”

“I never said I wasn’t. I mean it when I said I just didn’t have the balls to say anything to ‘em. Instead, I just wondered… what I’d do if someone else asked ‘em. Knowing it’d be my own damn fault for not speaking up sooner. Trying to tell myself it wasn’t that big a deal if they went with someone else… until someone started flirting with ‘em, and touchin’ ‘em, and-” His body tenses as he growls, but relaxes after a moment. “Damn it, I haven’t had to do this in years...”

“Done what?”

“You know what I said about losing my ability to love years ago?” He turns his head and looks directly at you for the first time since he sat down. “...I think I’m remembering how to do it again.”

Things are starting to fall into place. “And the person who helped you remember is…?”

The slightest of smiles crosses his face. “Who do you think?”

You wouldn’t have guessed it before today, but it all seems so obvious in retrospect. He’d spent so many nights with you when he could have been in bed, just chatting with you or comforting you after a bad day. You’d really grown so fond of his smile, and Angel had told you before that he used to never smile.

But surely, you thought, he couldn’t have been smiling because of you…

“What am I even saying?” he asks as he turns away from you. “You died in the prime of your life, and down here you can have that prime forever. You could do so much better than a washed up old drunk.”

“You’re not washed up,” you assure him as you place your hand over his. “I think it’s great that you got to live such a full life! You have so many stories to tell, and so many talents… I bet there’s so much you haven’t told me yet.” You try to reassure him with a smile and a light squeeze to his hand. “So much you haven’t shown me, either. You talk a lot about when you were in a band, but I’ve never gotten to hear you play…”

“I haven’t touched an instrument in years,” he says. “I bet I don’t even remember how to play anymore.”

“Well, you don’t know if you don’t try, right?”

You don’t think you’re just saying that about instruments.

“It’s been such a long time… what if I screw up?”

You don’t think he’s just talking about instruments either.

“It can’t hurt to try. Maybe… maybe you’ll enjoy it even more than you remember.”

“Hmm…” He doesn’t seem fully at ease, but he hasn’t taken his hand back yet. “If I can get my hands on a saxophone, and I really haven’t forgotten how… sure. I’ll play for you.

…you just have to give me some time, okay? I’m not used to it anymore… especially with another person…”

“Take all the time you need,” you assure him.

He turns his hand around so he can hold yours back, and his smile seems to grow slightly. “Just gotta start slow… get used to things again…”

“You’ll be fine, I know you will,” you assure him. He seems content to leave the conversation there, but there’s one more thing you need to say. “Husk?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’ll be going back to that club. No point when I’m not interested in picking up dates anymore.”

He squeezes your hand. “Glad to hear it.”

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Protection of the Abyss

Synopsis: When Childe's too injured to think, Foul Legacy soothes him to sleep in search of you.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Injuries, mentions of crying, near-death experience, pain, mentions of medical supplies

Requested by Cottagecore Anon 💐: hihi! so uhm i have a FL scenario brainrot rn and i might forget about it cause there's so much im doing rn in college (AAA—) so imma immediately send this. 💐 what if foul legacy takes over childe, like, not to transform into his foul legacy form but like, takes over childe's consciousness and body and tries to find reader as childe and reader just doesn't know its FL. its okay if you dont wanna do this request btw!! (since it is a bit uncomfortable for a being to take over —) - cottagecore anon 💐

~ * ~ Childe is used to injuries. As the Eleventh Harbinger, he holds an unprecedented position of power over the endless troops of the Fatui, and as such it seems only natural for others to be against him, to fear his control and desire to put an end to it. The Fatui are distrusted in all other nations- that much he knows- but very few are courageous or foolish enough to attempt to confront the infamous Tartaglia, the Fatuus renowned across Teyvat for his battle prowess, and the ones that are quickly find themselves left for dead with a warning to never approach again. They would return home, terrified, whispering to their companions that yes, Tartaglia is truly unmatched amongst the common folk of the world. Childe has heard the rumors, and allows them to grow and flourish. He sees them as true- of course he’s unbeatable by simpletons like treasure hoarders and hilichurls- with the power he wields, how could he not be? He keeps his Foul Legacy, the art of the Abyss, grasped tightly in his hand; powerful, deadly, controlled; ready to unleash at a moment’s notice, and together he and the Abyss could even tear down the heavens from the sky. How foolish. Trembles run through Childe’s body as he limps away from a pile of dead bodies, slumping against a rocky cliffside and letting out a slow exhale. The twin blades in his hands lose their shape before dissipating into mist, the effort of using his Vision too taxing on his weakened body, and Childe curses himself and his idiotic hubris. He got sloppy- thought he wouldn’t be attacked so far from civilization- although he won, his opponents were smart with how they used their own blades. He squeezes his eyes shut as another wave of pain washes over him, awful and nauseating. His Foul Legacy whines in the back of his head, echoing faintly, distressed at Childe’s wounds and attempting to soothe his rapid, delirious thoughts, a moment of calm in the turbulent ocean of memories. He grasps and clings to a bright piece of the past amidst the Harbinger’s flickering consciousness- the first time he met you, at Bubu Pharmacy, and how you had held his heart and treasured it like it wasn’t corrupted by the Abyss and the starry sea. Childe hears Foul Legacy growl determinedly, once, twice, before everything fades to darkness. Foul Legacy blinks, squinting at the sun and sitting up. Everything is numb, a thin blanket spread over the searing pain of their shared body, and he glances down at his- Childe’s- hands, tentatively flexing them. They’re human enough, minus the way his skin is stained night-color from his forearms down, even fitting inside the bloodstained gloves Childe always wears as part of his uniform. The monster shivers- everything feels smaller in this form, squishier, more vulnerable- he hates it. Briefly he considers slipping the mask on the side of his head over his face, for some semblance of protection, but ignores it in favor of rising to his feet, the pain of Childe’s injuries just barely masked by Abyssal power. You- he needs to find you. You’ll help him and Childe, with your gentle hands, and erase the fear that lingers so steadily in his being. The sun is setting as you write up another prescription, clicking your tongue. What a horrible cold going around! The number of people falling ill only rises by the day, and you’re simply grateful that neither you nor Baizhu have gotten sick yet, with seemingly the entire city needing the Pharmacy’s services. With a flick of your wrist you sign the paper, stamping and rolling it into a scroll to take to work the next day. At least Qiqi can’t catch any bugs going around, you’re not sure what you’d do without your best herb collector, and you toss the scroll into your open bag where at least ten others of the same type are waiting. There’s a knock at your door, and the lateness of the hour makes you tilt your head in slight surprise as you set down your empty mug and venture out of your office. Idly humming a tune, you unlatch and open your front door, your little song dying away in an instant when you’re greeted by the sight of Childe, blood splattered across his clothes. Immediately you panic, brain going into overdrive as your eyes jump from injury to injury, only stopping to wonder how in the world he’s still standing upright. “Wh- Childe?! What happened?!” You pull him inside, sitting him on the couch and turning to run for your medical supplies when a hand catches your wrist. Childe tugs gently on your arm, and slowly you lower yourself and sit beside him, worried at his silence. His fingers brush your chin, urging you to look up into his shining blue eyes. Shining. Your own eyes widen as you stare, the sparkle in Childe’s eyes unnatural yet beautiful all at once. You begin noticing other unusual features, from the staining on his hands to his pointed ears to his hair, now fading from ginger to white at the tips, and your next words are hushed, whispered. “You’re not Childe… are you?” A head shake, and the sensation of a face buried in the crook of your neck prompts you to wrap your arms around Foul Legacy, running your fingers up and down the back of an Abyssal creature in a human body. You can feel him shaking- partially out of fear, partially from adrenaline- and your heart almost shatters right there and then. Without another word you slip away and climb the stairs, Foul Legacy following right behind you, to retrieve your medical kit. The next moments are filled with comfortable silence as you tend to the injuries peppering Childe’s body, cleaning the dried blood with a delicate touch. Foul Legacy merely watches, eyes glimmering and flicking from your face to your hands and back again, fascinated by the process and how the veil over the pain grows stronger and stronger. A few times you catch him mumbling quietly in Childe’s voice, then hastily covering his mouth, blinking in confusion as you attempt to hide your laughter before hunching over the bandages once more. Finally, finally, Childe’s body is wrapped and treated, the snow-white gauze stained deep red in several places, and you let out a tired sigh and lean against the wall, Foul Legacy slotting himself in place beside you. There’s a tentative brush of his hand against your wrist, the deep purple-charcoal color strange but familiar, and without thinking you lace your fingers with his and hold tight. Foul Legacy squeaks in surprise, the sound coming out as more of a yelp in Childe’s voice, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, pointed ears twitching in embarrassment. You smile, raising a hand to ruffle his copper locks, and suddenly there’s a cheek smushed against your palm, Legacy closing his eyes and pouting. His sulky expression, adorable as it is, quickly fades as you begin rubbing your thumb against his cheekbone, turning into one of awe and contentment. This- This is what Childe feels when you cup his face in the morning, at times when Foul Legacy is securely locked away. Everything is soft and gentle, his blackened hands holding yours as you trace across all of Childe’s freckles, making little galaxies and constellations out of them, and Foul Legacy wishes he could stay forever even if he feels his strength waning. He shifts slightly, attempting to curl around your body like he usually does, but settles for resting his weary head in your lap, consciousness faltering as Childe’s body begins to heal. Just barely does Legacy feel your hand stroking his hair, and involuntarily he lets out a whimper, not wanting to leave just yet. There’s a slight pressure on his forehead, your voice whispering something he can’t quite place, and Foul Legacy’s eyes drift closed into slumber. Childe wakes up aching, pain humming constantly in his bones, but not unbearably. Golden rays of sun splash across the blanket tucked over his body, the scent of food wafting from the kitchen- your kitchen- a tasty-smelling broth simmering while you read at the table. Your head jerks up when Childe peeks around the doorway, a broad smile gracing your features as you leave whatever novel you were skimming behind in favor of pulling the Harbinger into a gentle hug. He doesn’t even bother to wipe his tears as he mumbles out “thank you”s and “I’m sorry”s, merely leaning into your touch with a hum of relief. He’s alive. He’s alive, and he’s here with you, where he can heal safely unlike all the times before, accepting the soft blanket and warm broth you bring as he nestles back down onto the couch. The tips of your fingers dance from freckle to freckle, and with a quiet laugh Childe asks you what exactly you’re doing. There’s a little gleam in your eyes as you chuckle. “Oh, I just thought I’d give you some attention, too.” In the back of Childe’s mind, Foul Legacy purrs sleepily, treasuring the memory of your gentle hands ghosting over his face.

[hungry-hungry-reader]

Little Nulla adoration snippet to celebrate Halloween with :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…Beautiful.”

“Sorry?” Nulla’s void form started to shift before your eyes as he recalled his old face.

“You are beautiful, Nulla.”

You spoke with the reverence he had only heard in prayers — none of which were directed at him before. Your gaze followed the swirling patterns the void drew out in the air like smoke which was picked up by a gust of air. Nulla froze in place as you took a couple of steps, closing the short stretch between the two of you.

If he needed to breathe, he would have forgotten how to.

If you had to describe your lover now, you would recall Van Gogh’s Starry Night or Rembrandt’s Night Watch.

And then you would throw all these comparisons away because no work of art could truly encapsulate the vision of picturesque idyll himself who stood right before you. You watched with trepidation as his darker than night itself features shifted, changed hue, giving way to the opaline blues and purples. You watched the dance colors on the canvas of his flustered face as Nulla found himself not simply lost for words, but utterly stunned by your display of adoration towards the form he perceived less desirable.

You reached out your hand in an attempt to grasp at the ethereal form of the one whom you love most dearly.

He didn’t dare move, afraid of scaring you away.

Yet, when the tips of your fingers finally reached featureless void, Nulla grabbed your wrist and leaned into your touch. The crushing weight of this wretched world felt like nothing more than a tiny spec of dust on the shoulder pad of his vest. Your sincere smile took away the years of torment. Your loving gaze made him forget the hatred he felt towards those who wronged him. Your warmth melted away the ice within the gazes he threw at this universe.

Your love gave him the point for existing.

“Thank you.”