#that’s why I tried to do the rest in monochrome

[badartxd]

Ended up changing up Niya quite a bit, especially hairstyle wise, so I’m reposting this pic cuz I like it a lot more 🥰

[miguelhugger2099]

Hello sweetie, hoping you're doing well! What about bully punk Miguel and nerd pastel girl reader at college? (Miguel with 23 and reader with 21) Like reader was ugly and will have a glow up thanks to MJ and now Miguel tries to have her attention, they have a date and sweet and fluff smut!! (reader is virgin uwu) I'll let to you the creativity

Impurities

hello sweetheart you absolute DARLING i genuinely could be better but i hope ur doing great. i want to apologize for taking so long but i want u to know when i saw this i just about melted bc punk miguel is one of my guilty pleasures i adore him so much. this ask made me want to evolve it into a series i had like several different ways to make this but ahhhh i hope it's alright

Punk!Miguel x Pastel!Reader, Fluff and Smut, Word Count: 8,875 Art by: beawoodward on artstation !

You knew you weren’t the most appealing girl out there. You weren’t about to delude yourself otherwise. You knew what people said about you, how they looked at you. Your face could’ve been worse. Maybe some bushy eyebrows? You dressed…maybe a little different than most people. While the world was covered in grays and black, you opted out by showering yourself in the cutest pastel colors. You didn’t keep up with the trends and instead followed whatever you thought looked alright. It often led to some mismatching and awkward outfits but you didn’t think so! You entered campus with a light blue and pink striped pants with a pink belt and a baby blue sweater. Two low braids tied with white ribbons at the end and your white framed glasses on the bridge of your nose. Skincare was confusing to you so all you really did was wash your face with a harsh cleanser and hoped for the best which gave you some acne instead–making you pop them and leave some scars. You tried makeup but it just looked cakey so you settled with a messy and often uneven eyeliner. Regardless of your outfit, whether in a skirt or in pants, you were always decked out in some bright pastel colors and hair done in the same two braids. You held yourself close while walking around the halls, already used to people staring and calling you names from high school. College was a little more merciful, the whispers being just as loud but at least they’d never bully you to your face. You win some, you lose some. Your self-esteem had been damaged to the point of no return anyway, so any attempts of trying to prove you’re worth something would just be a pipe dream in your eyes. That’s why you push your glasses up and cling to your shoulder bag tightly in your fist as you pass by the usual group of boys to get to the front seat of your class. Your human biology class door was opened at the back so you’d have to pass the back seats to sit at the front. As usual, the group of boys were basically monochrome except for the little specks of red or blue if they ever decided to add color. But what was most noticeable about them was the so-called leader of said group. Unofficial–official– leader Miguel O’Hara, the senior who decided to take general education classes in his last year before graduating. His usual confident and toothy grin was on display, silver spider bites that his, also pierced, tongue would often play with. His big and heavy platform boots would rest on the chair beside him while his left elbow rested on the table, his hand combing through his long brown hair–shaved at the sides, mind you. He made sure to push his fringe back so everyone could see his double eyebrow and nostril piercing. Miguel’s hands were decorated with rings, big and small and his nails were short and painted black with some of it chipping off. His usual leather jacket with pins and patches, stretched and tight from his muscular build, was accompanied by a low red tank top with a spider symbol on the front. Black skinny jeans and a spiked belt that did little to actually keep his pants in place since the black and red band of his boxers were showing.

He listened mindlessly to his group of friends as they talked with each other, his fingers switching between playing with the dangling earring on his earlobe to his industrial bar. His crimson eyes glanced up when he saw you in your uncomfortably bright and awkward fashion sense. His friend tapped his shoulder and jutted his chin out to you before whispering something in Miguel’s ear that made him shove him away with a smile. Then they both laughed as quietly as possible, chuckling at what you decided to wear today: light blue overall shorts and a pastel yellow undershirt with white knee high stockings and white sneakers, your usual white ribbons at the end of your braids.

You usually sat alone at the front, placing your earbuds in to listen to music while you waited for the professor. Despite being at the front, you could still hear some faint chuckling and words being whispered from Miguel's group.

Still, you held your head up, taking out your notebook and expensive textbook. Clicking your pen, you began some light note taking before class started.

You sighed as you entered back in your dorm, dumping your bag at the door and kicking off your shoes. You faceplated down onto your bed while your roommate MJ looked over at you sympathetically.

You turn your head, cheek squished against the mattress. “I know that beauty is subjective and I'm not supposed to earn validation from anybody else but…” You sit up and rest on your legs, hands wringing in your hands with furrowed eyebrows.

“But…I want to feel pretty.” You admit softly, ashamed since you felt like you were betraying yourself.

MJ's smile grows and she eagerly jumps from her bed to kneel at your bedside. She takes your hands in hers and squeezes them reassuringly.

“You are pretty,” She insists. “But if you really want help, I can.” MJ tilts your head to look at her, a soft smile on her face.

You nod. “I do. I just want to know how to look like you.”

MJ shakes her head. “No. No, you already have your own beauty.” She places a hand on her chest. “I meant that I can help enhance it. No change to your core is necessary.” She pokes at your chest playfully and you both giggle together.

“You sure?”

“Positive.” 

You take a moment to look at her. MJ really was perfect–shiny straight red hair, clear skin that was painted with freckles and a winning white smile. You hoped she could work some magic on you.

“Okay.”

Your transformation didn't happen overnight. It took at least a few weeks for it all to come together.

MJ had dragged you to salons to get your hair properly taken care of. Gotten your eyebrows plucked, eyelashes lifted, an effective skincare routine–that you struggled to drill into your regular schedule–and a new wardrobe that still held your pastel look, just a little more flattering. She even helped you get some contact lenses so you wouldn’t need your glasses all the time! To tie it all together, you two spent nights practicing how to do your makeup that wouldn't look so wobbly and uneven. Each day, you improved yourself. Your tacky overalls changed into fitted jeans or flowy skirts. Your baggy shirts were now cute tops that hugged each curve. Tennis shoes into heels or cute sneakers and your hair came to life with a beautiful shine; your white ribbon still in your hair.

One day, you entered class like normal. Except there were very few whispers this time, almost nonexistent. Still, you don’t let it get to you and continue like normal–walking to the front of the class and sitting in your usual spot. What wasn’t normal was a figure coming up beside you and pulling out the chair next to you. Miguel slipped beside you in front of the class, tilting his head as he stared at your side profile. You tried not to react but you subconsciously glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

“Hey.” He smirked, his eyebrow raising and his lips curling.

“Hello.” You murmured back, opening your notebook to the next blank page.

“New look?” He asked, using his hand to brush your hair back off your shoulder and you stiffened. He noticed you still had the white ribbon at the back of your head. Miguel’s eyes glanced back down at your body. Nicely fitted flare baby blue jeans, a cute pastel green heart belt with a crop top white sweater.

“Looks good.” He purred. You held your blue bunny pen in your hand tightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t understand why he was speaking to you. He hadn’t before–other than laugh at you–so what gives?

“Thanks.” You say curtly. Miguel places a hand over her heart in feign hurt.

“Don’t be like that, nena. You look so cute, I didn’t expect you to be so cold.” He teased. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them to look up at you while you wrote the rest of your notes down before class started. Miguel watched as your false eyelashes fluttered, making your eyes look bigger. The subtle blush on your cheeks and the concealer that hid most of your past acne. He could still see some of the scars which makes him huff a small laugh at how cute it kinda looks. Your lips were more plump than he remembered–a soft pink to them. He lifts his arm up to rest his cheek on his fist, his eyes still on you. “How about I take you out?” Your pen slips and leaves a slash right down your notes. “What?” “A date. Does that sound good?” You don’t look up, instead focusing on your task at hand. “No. Can you please just leave me alone?” Miguel doesn’t say anything else but you hear the chair he sat on scrape across the floor as he gets up abruptly. You hear the laughter of his friends behind you and Miguel snapping at them. Your shoulders hunch over–the natural instinct to hide from embarrassment overcoming you again.

Every week, in the same class, Miguel would try again and again and again to ask you out. Each time, you would decline. It had gotten bad enough where he changed his seat to move beside you, offering his help when he saw you were confused and overall just trying to get on your good side. You wanted to be strong, truly you did, but it was becoming too much. When Miguel had asked again, you sighed loudly and faced him. “If I say yes will you leave me alone?” Miguel broke into a wide smile. Once you finally agreed to a date with him, you truly weren’t expecting anything good. So you stood by the place Miguel wanted you to meet him at: a local diner that was pleasantly pretty looking from the outside. Still, due to your past experiences of being ghosted and stood up, you watched the time on your phone. You decided that you wouldn’t wait more than fifteen minutes max.

To your surprise, you didn’t have to wait at all. You heard Miguel call your name from your left, his lips curled into a confident smile. Subconsciously, you eyed him up and down. He had baggy black cargo pants, accompanied with chains on his right side. A DIY-ed t-shirt that was sprayed painted over many many times. Of course, his iconic leather jacket was littered with various pins and patches. When he was close enough, you saw just a bit of eyeliner surrounding his eyes; and a new septum piercing. For the people passing by, it was quite a sight to see. Compared to Miguel’s dark but proud aura, you emanated a more sweet and bright vibe. MJ had helped you pick out an outfit, excited that you approached her with the dilemma of going on a date. You wore a sheer baby blue crop top cardigan with a simple white tank top underneath. A slightly darker blue pleated skirt with white thigh high stockings and ankle strap baby blue platform pumps. You held a small purse in your hands and looked up at him through your  lashes. Your hair was pinned in a half up and half down hairstyle; your white ribbon at the back of your head. You thought it was a bit much, but MJ assured you that it was just enough. “Te ves muy hermosa.” Miguel speaks up, a grin on his lips. “All for me?” He teases with a tilt of his head. A piece of his fringe falling over his forehead. “Oh, please.” You look off to the side, ignoring the flutter in your chest when called beautiful. Miguel doesn’t take it to heart, instead going past you to open the door of the diner. He dramatically takes a bow, his arm ushering you inside. The theatrics make the corner of your lips quirk up and you enter inside, nodding to Miguel. You turn your head around to see the inside, wooden chairs and tables, a jukebox at the back with a shiny bar. “This way.” You stiffen when you feel Miguel’s breath by your ear. Before you could turn, he places his hand on your lower back and leads you to a booth by the window. He sits across from you, menus at the ready on the table. “You know, I used to come to this place all the time.” Miguel says, his eyes scanning the different options. “Used to be a hangout spot for me and the others in high school. College took up my time so it’s a pain in the ass not being able to visit more.” You glance up at him, shuffling in your seat. It felt a little weird to have him speak to you like this, as if he wasn’t teasing you a few months ago.

Luckily, a waitress comes up before you two with a notepad in hand. “Oh! A pretty girl! Didn’t know you were back in the dating scene.” She cackles to herself and pushes her glasses up. Miguel groans and rolls his eyes. “I thought you didn’t work Fridays, Lyla.” “Margo couldn’t make it, I needed extra hours–and now a bonus– I get to embarrass you. Everybody wins! Except you maybe. Waddaya want?” Lyla rests on one foot, her grin plastered on her face. Miguel’s smile was long gone, now snapping his order at his friend. You watched with an amused smile. They bantered like siblings. But what she said piqued your interest. He hadn’t gone around dating? You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Miguel call your name. His eyes were uncharacteristically soft. “Do you need another minute?” He asks. You stumble over your words and feel your cheeks burn. “No-no, uhm…” You look down at your menu and pick the first thing you see. “The, uh, chicken fajitas, please?” Lyla meets you with a smile and collects your menu. “Of course, darling.” She turns to take Miguel’s menu. “Couldn’t you have taken her to a nicer place? She’s all dolled up.” Lyla sticks her tongue out at him and walks away while Miguel’s cheeks burn red. Instead of facing you, he looks down at his hands and he picks at his black nail polish.

For once, Miguel had stayed silent. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he looked a little ashamed? Embarrassed? You could see him moving his spider bites nervously as he stares at anything besides you, his cheeks still tinged red. You pat your skirt awkwardly and clear your throat. “The…I like the diner. It’s got one of those retro vibes to it. It’s cool.” You give a small encouraging smile. For some strange reason, you thought his quietness didn’t suit him. Miguel’s eyes dart to yours and then at the window. “You think?” His hand reaches up to play with his dangling earring. It was almost cute. Just a bit. You chuckle softly. “Yeah, I mean. It’s like being in one of those time machines.” Miguel smiles. “Time machines? I think a time machine would look cooler than this dump.” You playfully smack his hand across the table. “Didn’t you say you used to come here years ago? Don’t call it a dump.” You fold your arms on your chest. You didn’t know this, but Miguel in that moment felt the tension he didn’t realize he had fell off his shoulders. “Eh, it’s a little bit of a dump.” He leans back and stretches his arm on the backseat. “But it’s like you said: a little retro.” Lyla returns with two glasses of water. “One for the cutie,” she places one on your side, giving you a wink. “And then Miguel.” She unenthusiastically hands Miguel the cup.

Miguel frowns at Lyla, a familiar bubble of jealousy brewing in his chest. “Lyla.” He warns. “What?” She stretches out the word. “Just being a good hostess.” She huffs with a pout and walks away. You giggle to yourself and Miguel notices. He’s quick to speak. “Ignore her. She’s always trying to be annoying.” He didn’t like the way Lyla was buttering you up, even if it was just a joke. He wanted you to smile at him like that. “It’s funny. I never thought I’d see you looking so bothered. How do you know her?” You smile and take a sip from your water. Miguel scratches the back of his head. “Middle school. We were in the robotics club.” You blink. “Robotics club? Really?” “Why’re you so surprised? What? A guy like me can’t be into things like that?” He smirks, placing his arms on the table and his pins rattle as he moves. “Well…kind of?” You smile weakly and laugh when Miguel pretends to be hit. “No, but seriously, robotics isn’t what I expected from you.” “Well, it was middle school. I’ve grown up into a man. This time I’ve taken an interest in being a geneticist.” He rests his head on his hand. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, nena.” He teases but you pause. That phrase is a little ironic for him to say, you thought to yourself. Shaking off that feeling, you continued to chat with Miguel. Talking about your interests, past, future and current studies. All while Miguel would try to sneak little touches, whether it be his boot tapping your heel or his hand brushing against yours when handing you a bottle of ketchup. After spending enough time at the diner, the sun was beginning to set. Before you left, Lyla convinced you to convince Miguel to give her a big tip and told you she hopes to see you again in different circumstances. Miguel holds the door open for you again and the bell dings your departure from the diner. His fingertips gently brush against yours, catching your attention.

“There’s…there’s this other place I wanna show you.” He bites his lip, peeling off the skin. His index finger loosely wraps around your pinky. “Sure…” You say hesitantly. He notices your hesitance. “It’s nearby. Just for a little bit and I’ll take you home.” The wind breezes through, giving you a glimpse of the cool air that will befall once nighttime arrives. You shiver and tuck into yourself to hide from the wind. Miguel takes off his jacket and slips it around you. Feeling the heavy material on your shoulders, you look up at him and feel the warmth go around your torso. Miguel’s eyes are focused on making sure it’s snug as it can be. It’s so large that it ends around your midthigh. He takes your little purse and pops the collar of his jacket up. “Put your arms through the sleeves so it doesn’t fall.” You blink and do as he says with a flustered expression. While shuffling your arms through the holes, you try not to glance over at him. His t-shirt was cut at the sleeves that showed off his toned arms. Despite the cold approaching, he seemed to be relaxed as he watched you, making sure you stayed warm. “Good?” He asked. Your fingers barely poked out, his jacket covering most of your outfit. And it was warm. It smelled like him.

With a satisfied smile, he slyly takes your hand in his and leads you away. You try not to focus too hard on the way his hand engulfs yours. After following Miguel in twists and turns, you eventually walk up a hill and at the very top stood a single bench with a view of the entirety of Nueva York. Your eyes widened and you let go of his hand to approach near the ledge, placing your hands on the railing. The lights of the city illuminated the night sky and acted as stars. You saw them twinkle along with hover cars that zoomed past you. “This is…” “Where I planned to take you another day. But Lyla pissed me off and I wanted to prove that I could take you somewhere nice.” He comes behind you and slings an arm around your waist. You look up at him with an amused smile. “Did you really take that to heart?” Miguel pouts his lips, his eyes looking off to the side. “I couldn’t let her make me look stupid in front of you.” You laugh, using the sleeves of his jacket to cover your smile. Miguel sees and he has a faint smile of his own on his face. He leads you back to the bench where you two sit in quiet comfortable silence after an afternoon of learning about one another. As you look over at the city with him, you couldn’t help but notice the nagging feeling in your chest. This was a date. A date that only happened because you changed yourself. A date with the person who laughed at you.

“Hey, Miguel?” You speak up quietly. He hums and looks over at you. “I…I don’t want you to be nice to me just because I got a little…prettier.” Miguel looks down at you with a frown. He stuffs his hands in his pockets while he looks back at the skyline. He says your name softly to grab your attention. “I’m not being nice just because you’re pretty.” You scrunch your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure all those times you laughed at me was just you being a charmer.” “Laugh at you?” He raises his eyebrows and you look away. “Nena, I wasn’t laughing at you.” “Don’t lie to me, Miguel. I’m used to it. No use in sparing my feelings.” You sigh. “But I wasn’t,” He insists. He wants to reach for your hand, to touch you but he stops himself. “Really, I was…admiring you.” You roll your eyes. “Now you’re really being a jerk. There was nothing to admire when I looked…stupid and ugly.” “You did not.” He turned you to face him by turning your chin softly. “So you’re saying the way I looked before wasn’t stupid?” You glare at him but Miguel can’t find it in him to take it badly. “You were cute. The way you dressed and looked, it was awkward–sure–but it was adorable.” He chuckles but your frown deepens, feeling the tears bubble up in your eyes as you turn away from him. Miguel calls your name again. “I’m the last person to judge anyone for how they dress. Look at me.” Miguel flicks his multiple ear piercings, pulls on his snake bites, stretches his tattered and ruined t-shirt and slams his dirty platform boots to the ground. “A freak. You were just a cuter version.” “Then why did you talk to me now?” You murmur.

“Because you suddenly changed. I wanted to know what was up.” “And…the sudden date?” “Your transformation gave me the courage to speak to you. It was my chance–an excuse to talk to you.” Miguel says softly. “Though you did reject me twelve times. I was starting to lose hope.” “It was not twelve times.” “It felt like twelve times.” “...You have to admit that I’m…much more appealing now than I was before.” Miguel sighs. “Nena, the only thing different about you is clear skin and some clothes. Everything else is still you. You were pretty underneath, you just enhanced it. At your core, you’re still you. Bright and colorful.” He bumps your shoulder. You smile shyly and look in your lap. “MJ said something similar.” “MJ?” “My roommate. She helped me with, y’know, everything.” It was still hard to believe. Over two decades of being told otherwise was not going to go away by a single conversation but it still warmed your heart to hear something positive about you for once. You don’t say anything else and Miguel takes his chance to wrap his arm around you, bringing you to his chest. With flushed cheeks, you look out into the open where the skyline is feeling at peace and just a little pretty.

You two had arrived at your dorm and you faced Miguel shyly. Your eyes looked at the ground as you felt your cheeks heat up. “This is my place.” You state and Miguel chuckles, the sound of it sending your heart pumping. “I see that.” He says, taking a step toward you which makes you take a step back. “I had fun.” You whisper softly, your eyes landing on his chest. You see Miguel’s hand lift up to your chin and make you look into his eyes. Your cheeks burn since he keeps his hand on your chin to make sure you wouldn’t look away. “Me too.” He murmured, his red eyes looking like they turned a darker shade when he glanced at your lips. He takes another step towards you and you take another step back. You feel your head hit the door and realize you’re now trapped between it and him.

You hold your breath and can only feel the pounding of your heart in your chest and Miguel’s calloused fingers holding you still. Miguel then uses his other hand to hold your hip, his thumb trying to slide under your tank top. Your hands raise up to hold onto his biceps, shivering when your skin meets his. He was warm. “I…kind of don’t want this to end.” You admit softly. Miguel’s grin grows wider, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek which makes you weak in the knees. “Then it doesn’t have to, muñequita.” His hand leaves your chin to cup your cheek. He glances up above your head. “Your roommate home?” He asks. Your eyes never leave his face, your pupils dilating and a weird feeling starting to brew in your stomach. “No,” You squeak out and he looks back down at you. “She’s–She’s, um, out with her boyfriend.” Miguel hums, another glance to your lips. “Then…will you invite me inside?” He asks, leaning down so his lips just barely graze yours. Not quite a kiss yet. Your breath hitches and you nod a few times before speaking. “Mhm, okay.” You reach your hand behind you to grab the doorknob and twist it open. You stumble backwards but Miguel quickly wraps his arm that was on your hip around your waist. He then makes you walk backwards while he could shut the door behind him. You had your arms around his neck and looked up with wide eyes and a fast paced heartbeat. Miguel huffs out a chuckle. “You okay?” “Mhm!” You squeak. He squints down at you in playful suspicion but brushes it off. He bends down to where his lips brush yours again and finally dips low enough to kiss you. Your first shared kiss. You stumble with how to kiss, especially when the other person has piercings, but with someone like Miguel, you quickly learn and get the hang of it. Soft kissing noises sound between the small space of you two and he gradually moves from your lips to your cheek and down your neck. His arms around your waist tug you closer, bending you back and he moves you further back to where your calves hit the mattress of your bed. One hand rises up to pull his leather jacket off your shoulder, gently nibbling across your skin before reverting back to your throat. With his lips on your neck, Miguel could feel your pulse going wild, heartbeat going crazy each second. He decides to check in. “You okay?” he murmurs with a smile, his lips finding yours again for quick kisses. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve just–” kiss “Just–” kiss “Y’know, never–” kiss, kiss “Done this before.” He pauses, stiffening before he pulls back. “Wait. Are you saying this would be your first time…having sex?” Your heart sinks. That was bad wasn’t it? “No, it’s not bad.” Miguel shakes his head. You didn’t realize you voiced your concerns. “I’m just surprised, is all. Usually people have done it already.” You look away from him, visibly uncomfortable that he’s lowkey making fun of you. Miguel realizes the damage and quickly tries to fix it. “But there’s nothing wrong with it, nena! I didn’t mean–” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. He looks around your dorm room. Your side is filled with cute things like plushies and fluffy blankets–a strawberry duvet all in the same hue of pastels.

“Look. We don’t have to do anything. I don’t…want to make it seem like I’m only here for that.” He shrugs his leather jacket back on your shoulder. “Because I do like you, nena. I’m willing to wait or if you never want it then it’s whatever. I just would really like a second date at least. Maybe at a nicer place like what Lyla said. Maybe I could clean myself up.” He gives you a weary smile. You stare at his hands that hold onto the zipper part of his leather jacket. For a while, you don’t say anything. “What if I don’t want to wait.” You mumble. You look up with some determination on your face. “I…I want to. With you.” Miguel takes his hands off you. “Wh–Are…are you sure?” You slip his jacket off you and let it fall to the side, stripping off the first piece of clothing from yourself. Your mouth is tight, heart hammering in your chest and cheeks feeling that familiar prick of heat up your neck but you’re sure of yourself. You want this. Miguel rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand before him. “Alright.” He breathes out, undeniably attracted to you at this moment. “But this will all be at your pace, okay? I’ll make you feel good.” He purrs resting his hands at your hips and your facade crumbles slowly and you get shy again. He sits you down on your bed and he kneels before you, his hands on your thighs. He takes your right foot in his hands and carefully unbuckles the ankle strap of your pumps and slides it off. You cover your mouth, heart pounding at the intimate yet innocent act of him taking off your heels. He does the same with your other heel and sets it to the side.

Miguel then looks up at you from his lashes, his confident ones meeting your bashful ones. Taking your right leg again, he slips your thigh high stocking off you and does the same for your other leg. He places his hands on your knees and slowly spreads your legs apart to give you time to stop him. You don’t. “Come closer, mami.” He murmurs, sliding his hands up to grip the flesh of your thighs. You let out a weak mewl and scoot closer to the edge of your bed. Miguel bunches your skirt up, groaning and feeling his cock twitch in his pants when his eyes land on your pastel pink panties, a sweet little bow in the middle like you were a present for him. “Tan bella,” He murmurs, unable to hide the utter desire he has for you. You cover your face in embarrassment as he spreads your legs wider. His lips graze over your thighs, pressing kisses as he makes his way up. You feel your heart skip a beat everytime you feel his warm breath. Your hands clutch your strawberry sheets and he notices.

“You can hold onto me, mami.” He purrs and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Wha…how do I..?” You feel stupid, your hands raising up and unsure of where exactly to put them. Miguel takes your hands and places him in his hair. His fingers curl around yours so you could grip onto his strands.

Feeling your face burn, the sight of you holding onto him while his eyes bore into yours. You instinctively clench your fists, his hair being tugged on in the process which makes him groan and close in his eyes. He likes a bit of pain, it seems

Miguel's hands return to your thighs, wrapping his arms underneath to tug you closer to his awaiting mouth and to keep your legs apart. “Hips up, mama.” He purrs and you do as he says, making him slip your panties off.

He discards them off to the side and delves between your thighs. His nose nudges your nub and you gasp, pursing your lips and gripping tighter on his hair.

“Miguel!” You whimper and he hums in response. You feel the metal ball of his tongue piercing curl inside you–it was strangely pleasurable. You didn’t expect it to feel so good. You rest on one hand behind you, the other still planted in his hair as you bucked forward on his tongue. Miguel the munch that he is, grins against your folds and licks a long stripe up before spitting and devouring your sweet nectar again. You felt the sudden slimy wetness hit your nerves and you yelped in surprise. Just as quick, you fall into submission when his skilled tongue swirled in little number eights. Your eyes were closed shut, your hand pulling Miguel closer to which he obliged. He then surprises you by sticking one of his thick fingers inside you. “Oh my…god.” You moan, your body growing hot and sweaty underneath all your clothing. “Miguel…” Miguel’s mouth moves in rhythm, his lips kissing your pussy as he drinks whatever your sweet cunt offers him. He could stay like this forever, cleaning your mess up and licking you for all eternity. His rings nudge your folds, the metal a stark contrast from his rough fingers. He pumps a second finger inside and it’s a bit of a stretch that feels good enough for you to thrust harder. “Mmm, yes…oh, I’m so close…” You mumble to yourself, chest heaving as you come closer and closer to climax. Unexpectedly, Miguel pulls away from between your legs. The pleasure being ripped from you and you struggle to lift your head as he pulls off you. The look in his eyes is different. More lustful, more hungry.

“If you’re gonna cum, I want you cumming around my cock.” He groans and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Miguel stands up and gets into bed with you, shoving his platform shoes and pants off. While he gets on top, you rest back into your bed and your eyes become big and wide–darting between his face and between his legs. “Is it–will it hurt?” You bring your hands to your chest, clutching the fabric of your tank top. Miguel lifts your chin up to him. His eyes are kind and soft. “It’s not supposed to. I’ll make sure it won’t.” He grabs the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your legs, throwing it with the other forgotten clothes. His hands make his way up your body, helping you remove the sheer cardigan and sliding your tank top up and over your head. Miguel chuckles at the heart patterned bra you wore. He leans over to kiss your neck and you sigh. The feeling of his lips sucking and tongue licking you was surprisingly pleasurable. Instinctively, your reach around his shoulders to hold onto him, your back arching to be chest to chest with him. Miguel’s hands go under your back, holding you up while he quickly unclasps the bra. Feeling the loss of your support, you whine but Miguel kisses you before you become louder. He places you back down on your back and finally removes the last piece of clothing. Miguel admires you from above, his hands at your waist, rubbing up and down your sides as he feels your curves. “Perfecta. Eres mucha mujer.” He whispers while trailing his lips along your collarbone. You whimper, feeling your cheeks burn and grow hot to the touch. His breath ghosts over your breasts and he stares up at you maintaining eye contact. Miguel notices something in your hair; your white ribbon, still tied in your messy hair. His heart swells and smiles, reaching up to brush your hair away.

He kisses down the valley of your breasts and around your nipple. He glances up at you every so often to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of discomfort. He can feel your heart pounding underneath his palm. Miguel wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks softly. You gasp and hold your breath for a moment while his cold tongue piercing swirled around your nipple, his spider bites and nose piercing pressed against the softness of your tits. You stare up at the ceiling as the warmth in your body flooded down to your core. “Oh! M..Miguel…” You whined, your hands curling in his hair where you felt most comfortable. Miguel flicks his finger around your other nipple, pulling and bullying it until it becomes erect and perky. Even then, he twists it and gropes your tit in time with his sucking and biting. Your hips buck up, feeling your pussy throbbing uncomfortably. When you hit his bulge, Miguel moaned and grinded himself to your soaked pussy in soft circles. Your juices left a stain on his boxers in your desperate attempts at relief. He lets go of your tits–leaving a small bite mark– and continues to kiss down your body. “Gracias a Dios por mandarme esta belleza.” He murmurs, digging his hands into the plush of your hips when he raises your thighs up. Suddenly, he stops and lets go of you. “Shit, shit, fuck–hold on.” He mumbles and gets off you. You feel cold and watch as he gets off the bed and picks up his pants from the floor and searches through his pockets. “Did I…do something?” You ask, worried you might’ve done something that made Miguel regret touching you. He shakes his head. “No, no–just–ah, there it is…” He chuckles to himself after finding his wallet and pulling out a small square packet. He pushes his fringe back with one hand as he gets back into bed. Miguel shuffles down his boxers after putting the packet between his teeth. “I’ll get you pregnant some other time.” “What?” “What?” You close your mouth and hear ringing in your ears. You were sure that steam would be coming out of your head at this point–your mind felt like mush with how easily flustered he made you. Miguel looks down at you and huffs a small laugh, letting you know he was joking. Maybe. Hopefully.

His cock springs free once his boxers are off and he groans when it slaps his stomach, leaving a bead of his precum on his tip. Your eyes shamelessly stare at him. You were by no means an expert when it came to sex but you grew both worried and aroused at how massive he was. “There is…no way it’s gonna fit.” Miguel rips the plastic with his teeth and rolls the condom on his dick to the base. For a moment, you’re disappointed that he added protection. Just for a moment, though. He breathes out and gives soft strokes to his shaft while looking at you from beneath him. He feels his cock pulse and throb, growing harder by the second just by the sight of your perfectly sculpted naked body. He thought you were divine. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he leans down to kiss you as if trying to ease your worries. “It’ll fit, I promise. It’ll feel so good, too.” He whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “I’ll go slow.” He takes one hand to lift your thigh up just enough to give him space to rub his cock between your wet folds. “Miguel…!” You gasp while you feel just how hard he was. He shushes you. “I know, nena. Look what you do to me. Feel what you did to me.” He buries himself in your neck, nipping at your skin and you tilt your head back. More of your arousal soaks his cock, creating wet sounds while you grind on each other and Miguel shudders. He bites into your shoulder and fights against his instinct to shove his cock inside and fuck you into your own mattress. Miguel kisses the spot he bit, his breathing labored and heavy. “Tell me if it hurts, mama, okay?” You nod, your eyes screwed shut. “Uh-huh…” Slowly, Miguel looks down and makes sure his tip splits your folds apart as he enters inside you. Your breath hitches and you tighten your arms around his neck. “Miguel!” You whine while he penetrates you. He kisses your temple and stops when only his tip is inside you.

“You’re doing great, nena. No te preocupes, lo estás haciendo bien.” He reassures you with a shaky voice. It’s clear he’s holding back. You whimper apologies and Miguel kisses across your cheeks to try and return your focus on him instead of the new stretch you’re feeling. He praises you in a mix of Spanish and English–ones you can barely hear. He moves his hand down between your legs and gently rubs your clit with your thumb in hopes of loosening you up. With the added stimulation, you moan and hide in his neck with your eyes shut. You weakly thrust up, feeling a bit of relief and allowing Miguel to push further in. “Good, good,” He purrs. “Just like that, mama. Just let me in.” He groans and hisses when you clench around him. Miguel’s thumb switches between a fast and slow pace, sliding in his cock easily until you cry out and dig your nails into his skin, leaving small crescent shapes. “Stop, stop–” You whimper. “I’ll pull out–It’s okay–” “No!” You keep him close to you. “No, I just–I need a minute.” You sniffle, your body slowly adjusting around his girth. Miguel nods and pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you need. At your pace, remember?” He rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to see his cheeks flushed, a bit of sweat running down his temple and he shakes with every breath. Despite his current state of desire, he’s putting you first–he’s putting your comfort first. “Thank you.” You whine softly. Miguel huffs, leaning down to kiss the corner of your eyes. “Don’t thank me for that, nena. Never.” Miguel continues to pamper you with kisses, murmuring about how beautiful you are, how well you’re taking him, how he can’t get enough of you. He nuzzles into your neck, rolling lazily over your clit and does gentle thrusts of whatever you were able to handle. After a few moments, you grab his attention by running your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching over his shaved parts. “Okay…more, please.” He lifts himself up and holds your hips with both his hands. His thumbs caress your hip bones as he pushes himself deeper. You moan and tilt your head back, biting your lip as the combination of pain and pleasure hits your stomach and through every nerve in your body. It felt like forever until he reached the hilt, the light smack of his balls hitting your pussy. Miguel smiles. “Good girl,” he licks his lips. “Mirame.” Your head tilts back down to see both of you finally connected. “Holy shit…” You whisper, the sight making you clench. Miguel moans and grips your hips tighter, his head falling forward as he takes a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t tighten around me like that.” “Sorry!” You squeak and he chuckles. He raises his head back up, hair falling in front of his face and a lazy smile on his face that shows his fangs–his piercings glinting in the dim moonlight. “Don’t be. It’s just, you feel so fucking good–you’ll make me cum.”

You cover your face and resist the urge to scream. The heat emanating from your face made you sweaty. Miguel takes your wrists and pins them to the side of your head. He cocks a pierced eyebrow up with a smirk. It softens when he sees just how flushed your expression is. “‘m gonna move, okay?” You gulp and give him the green light. Miguel looks down and slowly pulls out, watching your slick drench his condom covered cock. “Jesus…” He groans under his breath. He looks back up to see if there’s any sign of discomfort on your end but he’s met with your eyes glued between your legs as well. Your eyebrows are scrunched up in pleasure, mouth agape with shallow breaths while you watch him slowly ease out of you. Miguel’s eyes darken with lust and he pushes back in once his tip was kissing your heat. He watches as you roll your head back, your eyes rolling behind your skull when you felt his cock filling you up again. “Oh my God…” You moan. “Miguel…” Miguel’s heart jumps and his hands tighten around your wrists. Still, he’s careful. For a few minutes, Miguel continues his slow thrusting. He pulls out sweet moans and whimpers from you, getting you used to his massive size and stretching your cunt out to the shape of him. His tip nudges against your cervix and you jump which makes him grin. After those few minutes, you began writhing underneath him. The pain had subsided and now this soft stroking was sweet but it wasn’t doing anything for you anymore. Your hands clenched and unclenched into fists.

“Miguel, Mig–more,” You begged. “Faster.” “You sure?” He slows to a stop and you furrow your eyebrows in annoyance which he doesn’t notice. He’s about to ask again after your lack of response when you lock your ankles around his waist, shoving him back inside you. You and Miguel moan in unison, Miguel nearly falling on top of you if he didn’t catch himself by resting on his elbows by your head. His breath fanned your face and he looked down into your eyes with a heavy blush. “More.” You moan and Miguel quickly goes to work. He leans on one elbow and places his other hand down to your hip to start picking up his pace. Miguel attaches his lips to your chest, biting the plump flesh of your tits before taking your nipple in his mouth once again. Your hands go around his back, your nails raking down his spine that leave red streaks. He pushes himself further against you, folding you in half while he increases his speed, abusing your pussy by slamming his cock in and out of you. Your squealing and moaning becomes music to Miguel’s ears. He groans and licks his tongue around your nipple, lapping it back in his mouth to suck on it. His nails dig into your waist while the sound of skin slapping signaling just how desperate he is to fill you with his cock. “Atta girl,” He moans after moving up to your neck with wet open mouthed kisses. “Knew you could take all of me. Knew you would sound so pretty crying all over my cock.” He smirks, looking up to see your eyes rolled back, tears brimming your eyes in ecstasy instead of pain this time. Your pussy spasms around him as you whimper. 

“Mig–Mig–” You babble mindlessly. The only thing on your mind is Miguel, Miguel and Miguel. “So–so good…” You slur, vision going hazy while the lust clouded your mind. Miguel’s ego inflates, his dick twitching inside you. Even with a condom he could still feel your pussy contract around him, your warm walls sucking him in deeper. Your hips wiggle and buck weakly to match his thrusts but ultimately Miguel does all the work, sending your mind spinning while he practically fucks all your thoughts, fears, and insecurities from your brain—turning you into a dumb cock-drunk mess. Through the haze, you can hear your juices sloppily smacking between you and Miguel–an erotic sound of wet plaps, his balls becoming slick and sticky with your arousal. “God, you feel so good,” He moans, hips stuttering. “It’s like your cunt is just begging for my cum. You want it? Huh? This tight little pussy gonna milk me dry?” He quickened his pace, humping against you in fast short thrusts. You scratch his back, multiple lines of red marking his skin while your toes curl. “Yes, please, please, please–I wanna,” You babble through gasps. “It’s so good–I wanna cum–Don’t stop…!” Your voice becomes high pitched, your hips lifting to grind yourself on him. The both of you fucking one another exactly like horny college kids. Miguel growls, nipping at your neck to add more hickeys to your body. “Never. Holy shit–you’re so fucking sexy,” He cuts himself off with a groan, his sweaty forehead falling to your shoulder while he humps you. “Never letting you go. This pussy is mine.” His thumb finds your clit again, his fingers slowly being drenched with your messy juices that had spread all around your labia, smearing around your pussy with the help of Miguel’s unstable thrusting. His cold rings bumped against your hot skin, the difference in temperature becoming another factor in your raw lust.  Your screams of pleasure bounced off the walls. “C’mon pretty girl. Cum for me. I know you’re close.” He pants in your ear.

“Mig–gy!” You choke out, eyes squinted in ecstasy as Miguel helps you reach your climax. It wasn’t anything you’ve experienced before. White hot numbing pleasure waving through your body as you spasmed. Your orgasm shook your entire body and you clutched onto him tightly, your legs keeping him near, nails finding purchase in his back and arching your breasts up to his chest, nipples sensitive to the touch. Miguel followed right after: rubbing your clit faster and his balls ached with a tightness before releasing his seed into the condom, his cock twitching as it spurts out his cum. He moans loudly, his body shivering and shaking along with you but he still helps you come down from the high, pumping weakly as he empties himself. Your body falls limp, head lolled back while Miguel breaths heavily. He pulls out as gently as you can but your virgin cunt wasn’t used to such stimulation, each inch back caressed your sensitive nerves up until he finally left with a pop. Miguel’s hands shook as he took off the condom, body now covered in cold sweat now that the heat of the momentum was gone. He stumbled off your bed and tied the condom shut then dumped it in the small bin in your dorm room. He slipped back in your bed beside you, smiling to himself when you took deep breaths with your eyes closed. “Hey, you alright?” He asks with a soft wheeze. “Huh?” You barely heard him over the heartbeat pounding in your head. The blood flow goes through your body normally once again. “Hm? Oh. Mhm. Yeah.” Miguel chuckles, resting on one elbow with his cheek in his palm and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. “Yeah? You were amazing.”

“Really?” You try to look up at him through the exhaustion in your eyes. Who knew sex could take all your energy? Miguel grabs your folded fuzzy blanket and unravels it to drape it on top of you two. “Really. I’m honored to be your first.” You blush at the reminder that you hadn’t had sex before and the reminder that you were no longer a virgin. You stare at his face while his hands caress your cheeks, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck right under your jawline. “Do you really like me?” You find yourself asking him. Miguel’s hand stops moving and he looks surprised. “Yeah,” He confirms gently. “I wouldn’t fuck you if I didn’t. I don’t have sex with just anyone.” He pulls your cheek. You frown and pout at him. “I'm serious!” Miguel chuckles. “I know, I know.” He tilts your chin up with his index finger and leans down to kiss you sweetly for a quick peck. He knows what’s really on your mind. “My pretty girl.” He hums as he stares down at you to admire the afterglow of your orgasm. “All mine. My pretty girl.” He dunks his head down to your chest, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in his embrace and snuggles you.

Your heart flutters. Pretty. It hits you then that Miguel really does think you’re pretty. You feel his ear piercings against your chest and the rings on his fingers running up and down the curve of your spine. His fingers find your white ribbon, crumpled under you and he twirls it around his ring finger. You struggle to hold back your smile as you hug him back, nuzzling your nose in his hair and falling asleep with the comfort of knowing someone genuinely finds you beautiful, inside and out.

a/n: im sorry i wasnt normal i just love a good trope and punk miguel i cant help but make him cute

[ellzilla]

Laughing Jack Headcanons!

I have so many things about this rewritten clown in my brain n' I don't think I've ever like Listed ALL the headcanons in one spot? individual posts but never a hoard of them, soo. Here's all on my mind rn but i've probably forgotten some! - He can't feel pain or temperature and struggles with texture. The best way to explain it is imagine wearing super thick work gloves all the time and trying to touch a cactus and then a fur pillow, only difference you're gonna feel is that you can push into the pillow. - He also can't sleep or smell, but he still yawns when he's exhausted and sneezes when there's visibly a lot of dust or whatever in the air. -Also he can't eat food or taste. If he tries, he'll throw it up along with black sludge after an hour or so. He can drink and feel the effects of alcohol, but it makes him fucking reek because he doesn't have any organs and it just kinda absorbs into his stuffing. - He's a huge kleptomaniac! He has entire tents in his carnival dedicated to shit he's stolen from people he's killed, but he keeps his favourite items in his trailer. -His skin is a combination of plastic and rubber, despite initially being made with fabric. There's a few parts on his body where left over seems are still visible. -The only part of his body that's white is his head and most of his torso, the rest has been stained black with a faint branch pattern connecting the colours together. -His makeup isn't makeup, it's just how he looks! And he hates it! -If he wears coloured clothes they'll eventually turn monochrome and won't regain colour. -Huge egomaniac! Part of his kelptomania fuels this as he hoards things that are rare/thought to not exist anymore -Only thing close to a friend he's ever had is his relationship with Zalgo and Will. -Doesn't remember how he came to be or why he loves violence. He sometimes dwells on it but not for too long or else he gets upset. -Holy items can tranquilize him/subdue him on prolonged physical and can send him into a state akin to sleep but with none of the benefits. Having a holy item nearby simply makes him mildly less agitated and a lot more tired. -He can turn into smoke and do mild shapeshifting, mainly changing sizes or stretching things by an impossible amount. -Extremely quick to anger -Loses track of the year a lot -Has no clue why he has such a familial bond with Will and struggles with it as all he's done for hundreds of years is be either an asshole or kill people, so his nice gestures and affection sometimes comes with implied threats

-Extremely overprotective and controlling of Will to the point Will doesn't feel like he has a life of his own [Will used to love it as a kid, but now he's in his mid 20's/early 30's? Not so much] -Can use his pullstring as another limb, being able to grab things or life himself up with it. -Sometimes literally hangs around by cradling/hammocking himself with his pullstring

[thescarletnargacuga]

DREAMING IN MONOCHROME

A DREAMLAND AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT W/ SHADOW!CAINE

Dreamland AU credit: @00belle00lovely00

WARNING: seductive manipulation, S!Caine being a creep

~~~

The mad god Eclipse stood gazing into the black fire that was centered his court. He reaches in, pulling a wisp of flame free from the blaze. The wisp swirls in his palm as he focuses his energy into it. "Bring her to me."

The wisp of shadow fire took shape, resembling the minor god Caine. A form of all black, with white teeth and silver irises stood in the palm of it's creator. Shadow Caine took a knee. "It will be done."

~

Pomni had a rare moment of solitude in Dreamland. She expressed to Caine that she needed some alone time and he respected her wishes. She laid on a soft grassy hill perring up at the clouds as they lazily cross the sky.

A large cloud drifted over the sun, casting a light shadow over her. Pomni closed her eyes, enjoying the cooling break from the direct sunlight. The light in front of her eyelids dimmed further. Then further still. She opened them only to see darkness.

She sat bolt upright. The sky was gone. The sun was gone. She couldn't see beyond a few feet around her. "What-? Hello?" Too fearful to move, she curled in on herself as she looked around. A familiar figure emerged from the engulfing shroud.

"Caine! Wh- what's happening??"

Shadow Caine materialized a cane of dark wood with a purple stone topper. He rested his hands on it with a smirk, enjoying the fear and confusion in Pomni's eyes. "Hello, my dear."

"...Caine?" Pomni's heart double timed in her chest.

"Not quite." He chuckled darkly and snapped his fingers. Pomni was lifted to her feet. "I am his shadow. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." He took her hand to kiss.

"His what..? How are you..? I don't understand." Pomni tried taking her hand back. The shadow's grip tightened.

"You will." His silver eyes shined up at her from her hand. "But first...would you have this dance?" He didn't give her a choice. He planted his cane into the ground and gripped her waist, pulling her in.

Pomni flushed with embarrassment and confusion and fear. She was too stunned to speak.

"What's the matter, darling?" He leaned in, his silver eyes locked on hers. "Afraid of the dark?" He got even closer, the side of his head to her ear. "You should be." He whispered.

Pomni lost all sight. She could still feel Shadow Caine holding on to her as her feet left the ground. She had no choice but to hold on to him, suspended in the dark. "Why are you doing this?" She squeaked out.

"He gets you all to himself. It's simply my turn to have your attention."

Pomni felt herself being twirled out into open space and pulled back in against his chest. She was completely disoriented. The only thing she could barely see was his eyes.

"I could treat you better, you know. No pressure for wishes. No constant annoying colors." He dipped her. Leaning his teeth close to her exposed neck.

Pomni shivered, feeling his icey breath against her skin. "No..." She gulped.

Shadow Caine grinned. "Perhaps you need more...persuading." He lifted her up, spun her and held her back against his chest. One arm and around her waist, holding her against him. His other hand held her chin. He made he look at the shadows that surrounded them. They shifted and twisted, making shapes that Pomni could see. "You always say you want to leave. I can take you away from here. You'll never have to deal with him again."

Pomni saw the shadow silhouette of herself running away from Caine, and leaping into the arms of another. She grabbed at the arm around her waist, trying to remove it. It was as strong an iron. "No...no! I can't..."

"You will." Shadow Caine growled, then softened his tone. "You'll come to me sooner or later. You'll finally see what Caine truly is and beg me to take you." He kissed her below her ear. "...I would love nothing more."

Pomni shuddered involuntarily. "I said, NO!" Pomni swung her elbow up to hit Shadow Caine but whiffed through nothing. She felt no hands on her, no sight of him. Shadow Caine's cold cackle came from all around her.

"One thing Caine and I do share is the admiration of your fighting spirit. Though, for me..." He suddenly appeared directly in front of her, a finger under her chin. "....It'll make it all the more satisfying when you break."

Pomni's eyes widened. Her whole body quivered under his dangerous gaze. Fearful tears welled up in her eyes. "Please...please..." She whimpered.

The silver light in Shadow Caine's eyes blazed with excitement. "Begging will get you everywhere with me, my dear." His voice a low, sultry tone.

"Please...let me go." Pomni knew she couldn't fight him. If he was even half as powerful as the real Caine, all she could do was beg for her life.

Shadow Caine chuckled, caressing her chin with his thumb. "Not until you scream for me." He released her chin.

Pomni fell like a stone. Not knowing how far away the ground was, she screamed at the top of her lungs as she tumbled through the air. She fell for what felt like an eternity, awaiting a sudden stop to take her life. Cold, dark laughter rang in her ears as she plummeted.

Pomni jumped upright with a deep gasp. She was sitting on the ground. Grass gripped in her fingers. The sun came out from behind the clouds, shining down on her. She was panting and sweating from panic.

"Pomni!" Caine appeared from nowhere, looking around hurriedly. "Pomni!? I heard you calling for me! What's wrong??"

Pomni trembled where she sat, tears fell from her eyes. "Caine..?"

Caine kneeled on the grass next to her, his face contorted with worry. He gently took her hand. "My dear, what happened? You're shaking..."

"Bad...dream..." She rationalized and threw herself at him. She embraced Caine tightly, hiding her face against his shoulder.

Caine held her back comfortingly. He gently ran his hand through her hair. "It's alright...I'm here..."

Pomni sniffed, slowly calming down as she felt safe again. She wiped her eyes and saw something that wasn't there before. A narrow hole in the ground....where the shadow's cane had been.

[dailymarshmallows]

I FINALLY FULFILLED MY GOAL!!

Second half of Genderbend Tristan platoon (Tristan and Jade) as promised!!!

The second I realized I would post Tristan and Jade’s designs together I realized I had to redraw this scene from the anime. I did really change their height difference, Tristan’s really just taller though (thank you Elizabeth) for all those curious Chion’s height is like somewhat between them and Isolde is just… jack up the really insane height difference.

For the rest of Genderbend 4kota designs here’s what I’ve done so far: Isolde + Chion and post-timeskip Chion (not a lot but hopefully there will be more)

If I continue with this next update is probably gonna be either more Jade or Chion art, Aged up versions of platoon, or Donny and Edlin

I haven’t put this anywhere but if anyone wants to ask about the Genderbend characters and stuff my ask box is open. If you want to request a specific sds/4kota character’s Genderbend design I might do it, just expect it to probably take a while and it will probably be done in traditional art.

Design rambles about the art as well as some Genderbend Tristan Platoon (emphasis on Tristan) lore below the cut

Jade’s hair was a pain to design yall don’t even kno T-T I like the design better in traditional art but I wanted to post the digital version of the design for consistency.

What made Jade’s design so hard was that how to give her wing like hair to kinda come through, og she was going to have a middle part, then I thought maybe something like Arlecchino’s design from Genshin but I thought Jade would have short hair so I ditched that. So she ended up with this and I tried to keep the wing design there with the shape of her hair.

Tristan’s design was not what I initially had in mind but here’s kinda my thought process behind it: her hair looks more like what I imagine fem Meliodas would look like, and she’s wearing a full suit of armor cuz… do u really think Mel and Elizabeth are letting their daughter go out WITHOUT A SUIT OF ARMOR?! I don’t think so.

Neither of their clothes were what I initially imagined, Tristan was either gonna wear gold or silver and red, but then I put her in dark blue and I got a thought:

Since Jade, Chion, and Tristan tend to match I put them all in various shades of cyan/blue. Chion has light cyan, Tristan has dark blue, and Jade has both for Monochrome reasons.

Also when Jade dies her jewelry is then worn by each member of the Tristan Platoon. Tristan gets the choker and Isolde and Chion get the hair clips.

Also Jade’s hair clips and choker are made of actual jade (gifts from Chion and Tristan respectively)

Quick Fun Facts about them:

They are both tomboys

At some point Tristan had a crush on Jade (she was going through her romance phase yall and Lance was off on missions and stuff what’s a girl gonna do?)

Tristan really likes holding sleepovers (she has tried to do a full Tristan Platoon one but Mel and Elizabeth won’t allow it for Isolde)

My personal hc is that Tristan always wanted a younger sibling when she was younger and kinda projects that fantasy onto Chion. So from her perspective they kinda have an idealized older/younger sister dynamic.

To elaborate further: Tristan kinda sees Chion as this girl that she takes under her wing and dotes on and what not. This leaves her with a pretty wrong overall interpretation of Chion. She very much just sees the “Tristan (platoon)-exclusive part” which is very kind, very helpful, and someone that she needs to protect/look out for.

I love Chion but u see the problem with that interpretation of her

It’s also the reason why I’m on the fence if Chion’s hair is still getting burned off by Gawain if only cuz Tristan and Isolde 100% would throw hands (and I don’t wanna give Chion a hair cut pre timeskip too much work)

Additionally Tristan really likes Chion’s long hair and likes to braid it and play dress up with her at the sleepovers

Tristan gets a lot of flack for how she presents herself, lots of people think that a princess shouldn’t act that way and stuff

Tristan and Jade have a very similar dynamic to canon. Tristan sees Jade as her best friend. And Jade sees Tristan as… a girl she secretly hates… you’ve read her death scene

Tristan was the one who gave the hair bow to Isolde still, but after seeing how much he liked it Jade gave him some of her old girly things she wasn’t really into, and Chion “just happened” to pick up some new accessories and gave them to him.

Idk why I wanted to do this but here’s all there types(romantic)

Tristan - she’s into more masc women or more feminine men (there you go Trislance and Trisolde shippers)

Chion - says she’s into masc women but it’s not really a factor for her. Wants someone bold, and kinda like a knight in shining armor, prob reads Isolde’s romance novels

Isolde - wants cheesy romance, does not care if he is romancer or romancee he wants cheesy rom com romance

Jade - wants someone who needs her/relies on her since she struggles with feeling unwanted

Another random romantic thingy there are so many romcom hijinks with this platoon there are so many misunderstandings with who is and isn’t a couple:

People of Liones think that Chion and Isolde are a couple. Isolde was heavily convinced that Tristan had a crush on Jade (right conclusion but at the wrong time). Tristan was convinced that Jade and Chion were dating at one point. Tristan was convinced Chion had a crush on Lancelot at one point (I may actually write a fanfic on that for comedy reasons).

As for actual crushes: Chion likes Jade. Jade likes Isolde. Isolde likes Tristan. Tristan likes Lancelot

[iscopeee]

wrote a thing for the first time in years because wreck it ralph randomly implanted itself in my brain big time and i had to get it out or ill explode so i feverishly wrote this in one night YIPPEE

1997.

That was the year printed on the garishly coloured calendar hung proudly on the arcade’s wall. Litwak had hung it there mere hours ago before shutting down the arcade early to run off and go enjoy the New Year’s festivities, leaving the inhabitants plenty of time for celebrations of their own. Turbo could hear their cheerful voices now, echoing through the arcade - they were probably all gathered at Tapper’s or wherever, not that it mattered. Turbo had no interest in joining even if he were able - celebrating the passage of time felt pointless to him with how long he had spent in this purgatory of his own making.

It had been 10 years since his perfect life had been ruined. A whole decade since everything he had worked for had been ripped away. Now he was little more than a ghost with no game to call home, hiding in the shadows to avoid detection. He knew no one would forgive him for what he had done, and some of them would probably try to kill him if they found him. It was easier to lie low.

Turbo gripped the cloak and pulled it tighter around his shoulders. His cloak - black and white checkered, fashioned from the finishing flag from his home game. It wasn’t much for a disguise, but it at least bought him a few seconds to slip away without being recognised whenever he was spotted. He couldn’t help but smirk whenever he overheard talk of the “checkered spectre” when hiding behind the vending machines in game central station. It felt good to have his name on people’s minds, even under a false identity - though not as good as it felt to hear them whisper his true name under hushed tones. 

Turbo ran the flag’s fabric between his thumb and forefinger. Aside from himself, it was the only physical reminder he had of his glory days in TurboTime. The rest was destroyed, gone forever - not that he missed it. He didn’t miss his scowling opponents - those obnoxious twins, the only thing standing between him and his trophy. He didn’t miss the mind-numbing monotony of the circular track, the gravelly ear-splitting growl of his kart’s engine, not a thing - all he missed was the glory of winning, the warm glow of admiration, the beauty of the spotlight. Nothing else mattered. 

So then why did he feel such a pang in his chest as he stared down at the monochrome fabric?

Turbo scoffed and shook his head, looking back up at the calendar. He was perched on one of the girders in the Donkey Kong cabinet, his legs dangling off the side into the void below. This was one of the only vantage points he could use to see outside without being spotted by the others. Donkey Kong only had three inhabitants - Mario, Pauline, and of course the ape himself - meaning Turbo was often lucky enough to find the place completely deserted at closing time as the trio left to go do whatever the hell it is they do with their time.

On the calendar, the 7th of January was circled in red marker, with the words “new games!” barely visible written inside. Turbo squinted and leaned forward a little, looking for more information. A small poster hung next to the calendar, advertising the new games Litwak had ordered. Turbo’s eyes were instantly drawn to one particular listing. Sugar Rush. A racing game. Turbo’s lifecode. The gears in his mind instantly began to turn. 

Of course, multiple times in the past 10 years he had already considered jumping into someone else’s game long-term. It would certainly be preferable to creeping around in the background alone, with no one around to admire his talent. But that was the thing - his talent was racing. If he tried to blend in to any other type of game, he’d stick out like a sore thumb - and the other characters in the game would know he didn’t belong there. After TurboTime and Roadblasters were pulled, Mr. Litwak was oddly hesitant to order in any new racing games - the arcade had been completely devoid of them for 10 years now. He had always been a superstitious guy; maybe two racing games breaking at once drove him away from them. Until now.

A grin uncontrollably crawled across Turbo’s face, his hands balling into fists as he clenched his cloak. Yes. Yes, this had to work. It must work. Sugar Rush was a brand new game - it would be switched on for the very first time when it arrived at Litwak’s. The game’s denizens would be completely clueless, and would believe anything he told them - after all, they were quite literally born yesterday. It would be so easy to just make himself at home - make himself the star. It wouldn’t be hard to do at all. He had a trick for that.

In his time hiding in the background, Turbo had taught himself to manipulate a game’s code. It was shockingly simple. Each and every game had a control room hidden away somewhere, which could be used to edit the very code that makes up the game’s reality. All Turbo had to do was find the control room as soon as possible after the game was plugged in, and it would be all too easy to slot himself in as though he had been there all along. He could change his appearance, his name, his voice, everything to make him fit right in. But he wouldn’t be just any racer - of course not. That wouldn’t be good enough. He had to make himself the most important character in the game. A king.

Turbo was uncontrollably shaking at this point, bent over, manic chuckles escaping him and echoing through the empty game. One week. One more blasted week.

All he had to do was wait.

[violetlunette]

A little SilYuu from my MadYuu series.

“I don’t want to be your friend.” The words were like an icy dagger. Pain flashed across Silver’s otherwise stoic face, his brow furrowing over iridescent eyes as he dropped his head.

“I… see…” Silver tried to push down the awful feeling that erupted in his chest. “I apologize--”

“I don’t want to be your friend, because I like you.”

Yuu stepped forward, his face patterned with dark bruises drawn in an unfamiliar seriousness. Silver's heart always clenched in worry when he saw Yuu.

At first, he worried that Yuu’s battered form had been the result of bullying and fights. However, aside from Lilia’s playful bouts, no one seemed to be interested in fighting with the boy. (Ruggie mentioned that all the saws he playfully swung around had something to do with that.) Eventually, Silver learned from Ace and Deuce that the results of his injuries came from his reckless disregard of safety when dealing with his rather creative—and extremely explosive—inventions.

Yet despite what must have been rather painful injuries, Yuu never paid any mind to them. In fact, he rarely seemed to notice them. And never once did he lose his wide, bright smile, filled with childish glee.

So when Silver saw the grin drop from the cracked, slightly swollen lips, the teen felt his body tense. He barely processed Yuu’s words as he spoke.

“I like you. A lot. Not as a friend but as—a mate? No, someone I would like to date—I like you romantically,” the other babbled. It was odd whenever Yuu stumbled to find words, as the other was always so sure of himself and confident. Now he fidgeted, fingers twitching at his side, till he ran them through his messy black waves. He rocked on his heels, as if he were unsure what he was supposed to do with himself.

“I like you,” he repeated, as if that was the only thing he was sure of. The gray skin that wasn't painted with wounds flushed bright pink, a strange color on the other. (Yuu's palette was usually monochrome.) “I like you. I know I shouldn’t. I mean, it’s like Mother always said, ‘Falling head over heels for someone is the best way to loose your head,’ or something like that. But I can’t help it.

“I’ve not only fallen over heels, but down the stars, out the window, in an open grave. Now all I can do is wait for my feelings to be laid to rest.” He hesitated, but reached out his gloved hand to take Silver’s. Silver was too shocked to react, but then felt his heart jump to his throat as the rubber rubbed against his skin.

“Sorry, I—this might be too forward, and this is probably the wrong way to do this,” the gray teen murmured. “But Rook’s way didn’t work, the ghosts’ way failed, and I don’t have the hips for Crowley’s body language. So, I have to be straight—even though if I like you, I’m gay—and hope for the best. I like you. I like you. I--” I love you.

Silver could feel his face change color as his head heated up and his mind went blank.

“Do...Do you understand?” Silver blinked a couple of times before the question registered.

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I—ahem! I—I understand,” Silver said, stammering in a way that was completely unlike him.

Yuu liked him. Not liked him, but like-liked him.

As he thought about this, Silver’s insides became light and fluttery in a way he couldn’t describe. After all, it was the first time he felt anything like this. He felt giggly, like bubbles were tickling him. And...

“And...is that okay?” Yuu asked slowly, bringing him out of his thoughts. “I mean, does it make you...feel weird? Uncomfortable?” Silver shook his head quickly, his movements surprisingly jittery.

“Ah, no. Not—not at all,” he assured the other. He lifted his hand to the back of his neck, which felt just as hot as the rest of him. “I’m just surprised.” And he was. Why would Yuu like him of all people?

Silver wasn’t exciting at all. In fact, he was the most boring person on campus. And on top of that, he troubled everyone around him with his awful snooze spells. Which, he was convinced, were in part because the teen was so dull, so he put himself to sleep. He wasn’t like Yuu, who was full of life and energy and was always up to something exciting.

Yuu chuckled, and Silver’s heart beat a touch louder.

“Well, I have been subtle about it,” he said, amused. He was smiling, but it was different than usual. This smile was small and shy, filled with emotions the other had never expressed before. Both their gazes fell to their joined hands. The sight caused Silver’s blood to race like horses on a track. They stared for a minute, unsure of what to say, when—to Silver’s disappointment—the other released him.

“I don’t expect an answer right away,” he said, forcing his smile to return. “I mean, this is all—weird, right? And really befuddling. I don’t get it myself. I don’t—I’m not trying to... I just wanted to be clear on things.” Yuu looked away as he rubbed his arm through the patched-up lab coat he liked to wear. “I like you. And if—if you, um, like—like-like me, then I would like to date. But there’s no rush! I can wait. I mean, I won’t wait forever, but for now, I’ll wait. Patience isn’t my virtue, but for you? I’ll practice.” Silver lips parted, but no words came, as he was unsure of how to respond.

“Um, thank you?” He finally stuttered, his voice reaching a higher pitch. He pressed a hand to his chin and coughed, embarrassed as he attempted to continue. “I—I don’t… I mean…” What was wrong with him? Silver may not have talked much, but he was never at a loss for words. “Forgive me. As I said, this is all so surprising…”

“It’s cool. Like I said, I’m not expecting an answer. I just wanted you to understand—to know how I feel. You—understand, right?” Yuu said, apparently forgetting he already said this.

“I—I do.” Or at least, Silver understood part of it.

Yuu liked him; he understood that, even though he didn’t understand why.

An awkward moment fell, both wanting to say something but neither knowing what that was. Silver felt very warm, his skin tingling as butterflies went mad inside his chest and stomach.

He wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not when Ace and Carter interrupted them. The two were screaming about how Floyd broke something in the lab, and now it was trying to eat him and Trey. Yuu quickly took hold of the excuse, filling Silver with disappointment.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Moonshine,” he said, using the affectionate nickname for the other. “There’s no timeline on this.” Yuu tried to walk away, but apparently his knees gave out from under him, and the other two students had to carry him.

Silver watched them till they were out of sight, a heavy weight suddenly in his chest. He closed his eyes and placed a fist over his heart, which was reacting like a frightened rabbit.

“Like…” Yuu liked Silver. As for Silver…

[blindradiant]

ask game: 20 with rlainarin? （╹◡╹）♡

I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this, but I finally wrote something tonight!

Rlainarin, on a scar. Rated Teen, 650 words. This has a couple references to grief in regards to lost family members and entire cultural groups.



Rlain hovered his finger over Renarin’s arm, tracing it near his skin without actually making contact. He hummed quietly to the Rhythm of Peace, noting each of Renarin’s small arm hairs. They were black speckled with yellow, just like the longer strands on his head. Rlain also admired the constellation of freckles scattered across the parts of Renarin’s body that weren’t hidden by his clothing. Each time Rlain thought he’d learned as much as he could about Renarin, he always found more to discover. Tonight, that discovery was Renarin’s individual beauty.

When Rlain had first met and interacted with humans, he’d thought that their monochrome skin and lack of marbling made them indistinguishable from one another. Now that he’d taken the time to look closer, he realized how wrong he had been. It was true that humans had no marbling, but the blending colors of Renarin’s head and arm hair were almost like marbling of his own. Humans weren’t monochrome, but were covered in small variations, like Renarin’s freckles.

Rlain’s finger encountered a mark much larger than the rest of Renarin’s freckles. It was near the heel of his left hand, and ran in a short, jagged line between the bass of his thumb and his wrist bone. Rlain kept his finger there, but still didn’t touch Renarin. “What is this?” he asked to Curiosity.

Renarin glanced down. “It’s a scar I’ve had since I was a child,” he said. His words were faintly spoken to the Rhythm of Consideration. He was getting very good at that.

Rlain hummed a few notes of Curiosity. “How did you get it?”

Renarin looked away, tapping the fingers of his right hand against his knee. “It isn’t interesting. I was out with mother one day. We were walking through the gardens in my uncle’s palace, when I had a fit. I think I tried to catch myself before I hit the ground. One hand landed on a rock that had been broken in a storm, and I was left with that scar.”

Rlain pulled his hand back from Renarin’s arm, resting it on his own knee. “Do you think your Stormlight didn’t heal it because you’ve had it for so long?”

Renarin pulled his box from a pocket and rolled it in his fingers. “I think...I think I still have it because it’s a physical reminder of my mother. Even when I can’t remember specific things about her, I look down and see that scar, and know that she was real.”

Rlain attuned Mourning. He knew how deeply the hurt of a loved one’s death could run. He’d once believed that he was the only surviving member of his entire species. Yes, he intimately knew the type of pain Renarin spoke of.

He nearly let the conversation die, but a sudden thought occurred to him. He attuned Confidence to give himself courage. “Can I kiss your scar?”

Renarin looked up, his eyes widening in clear surprise. “Why do you want to do that?” Another human might have asked the question with judgment, but Renarin only seemed curious and slightly baffled.

“You said the scar reminds you of your mother,” Rlain said to Remembrance. “I want it to make you think of me also.”

Renarin’s breath audibly caught. “I... It’s that important to you?”

“It is,” Rlain said to Resolve.

Renarin swallowed, tightly wrapping the fingers of his right hand around his box. “Just a short kiss,” he said. His voice came out weak, and attuned to no Rhythm at all. “And, um, no licking.”

Rlain hummed to Appreciation, then leaned down and brushed his lips against the scar. He sat up, and Renarin stared down at the spot, as if he could see some change Rlain couldn’t.

Renarin finally looked up. “I don’t remember her well,” he said to Remembrance, “but I think she’d approve. Of us.”

Rlain matched his Rhythm to Renarin’s, bolstering and strengthening his song. “Thank you.”

[ombrathefurry]

how do you generally design characters/choose color pallets?

whenever I try and create a good color pallet they always end up clashing and looking absolutely awful

i've tried using websites but they always end up being very bland, so i'm turning to the expert lol

the only character i've created that I actually. like. is the one that's just a black freaking tiger with rainbow glowing stripes, but that's because monochrome with color pops just always is flawless </3

Expert what expert

I'm by no means any expert, but I'm really happy you think my designs are appealing enough for you to ask me this!!

I ALWAYS try to come up with a character concept or idea for who they are before I start designing. Because of this, you see a lot of my designs turning out to be designed very strategically, with their features actually having proper functions and reasons to be there

This is why I have such a hard time with gifted designs. I don't know how to make them work without a background or concept I can really connect to properly.

For specific character designs, I usually think of and flesh out a basic idea in my head. Depending on how lucky I end up being, I can imagine every detail right off the bat. Other times, I have to put some work into it and experiment a little.

Here's an example of me working out a character design WIP right now

Development of Mr. V

Some characters just pop into my head exactly the way they are, like how Samuel did

Cogsworth too

Some of my characters come from dreams, too, and I just immediately sketch out my interpretation of the idea I'd had

Peter came from a dream about a white rabbit with a weird face killing a nuclear family's father leaving the mother and child alone with no idea what happened (it was disturbing, (there are more disturbing details,) which is why I made peter very unsettling)

Butch came from a dream that had something to do with fake peppino from pizza tower running around the It Steals maze area throwing cleavers at whoever he ran into

Dreams are a GREAT place to come up with character concepts

They give you a very solid ground before you start designing

One of my guidelines for creating characters is that they should be instantly recognizable as their own character. What are their special features? What defines them? What features would I keep if I were to draw them at the bare minimum detail? What parts of the design would make the character unrecognizable without them?

For example, Reena without her yellow.

Queen without her shadows.

You see this rule pop up a lot online, though mostly focusing on the idea of the silhouette of a character standing out from the others.

While I think it's a good option for when it comes to developing designs, I don't like worrying about it too much. I try to create the individual features of the character rather than immediately think about the silhouette.

All things considered, you're also totally allowed to break the rules to achieve something else. For example, Saleem and Minnow have identical silhouettes because I wanted them to give an uncannily similar vibe. Some characters who were derived off of others through dreams I might have had have very similar silhouettes as a nod to their origins, though have very differentiated individual features.

I look to various other artists and designers I like for feature ideas when I'm super stuck (usually when my ideas are more abstract)

for example, scrawl came from a very abstract dream and literally didn't have a face (they were just a bunch of hands and looked a little bit like a black void worm from Rainworld)

I took inspiration from Fooffle's Space AU Warren for his face, Sir Needle's sona's ears for his hair, and gave him this sweater from a random thing I found on Pinterest that I liked

Bennet (and the rest of the caravan gang) came from a dream about various different individuals riding on a wagon - Bennet specifically in the dream was Uncle Ben who runs The Urban Rescue Ranch. I ended up giving him the name Bennet in reference to this, as well as Uncle Ben's broad shoulders, muscular build and curly hair.

Queen's entire existence is inspired off of the protagonist from Bendy and the Dark Revival. As a nod to this, I gave her a partially monochrome color scheme with some accents. Queen's shadow face was inspired off of this specific fanart of Caesar from The Mandela catalogues.

(I can't find the source for the life of me sobs)

Mr. V was inspired off of Itward from Fran Bow, as well as Pastra's sona Clyde the veldigun. I gave him Itward's large hat and formal attire, and Clyde's long limbs and striped patterns. I also gave him deep halloween colors as a nod to both inspiration's aesthetics.

My biggest thing about features is there has to be a REASON why they have these features, but that's just personal preference (and there doesn't have to be a good reason, or even a reason at all every single time)

okay now for the main part of the ask (I've been stalling)

Sorry if this is disappointing, I don't have a process for picking colors that work together

It's a lot of trial and error, and some characters I've even stalled making profile pictures for because I don't know what to color them as.

to me, you can pick any color you want. It's actually very impressive to think about how many colors you could use.

I'll try to explain what I do know about the placement of colors, though. It doesn't matter what colors you use, but in my opinion, the placement of these colors is what really matters in designs.

Depending on how many colors I'm planning on giving the design, I like to split them up into parts. Primary coloration (1,) which takes up most of the design, secondary coloration (2,) which takes up less of the design but still a good amount, (Sometimes I have more, tertiary, quaternary, whatever, that take up about an equivalent ratio of the design as secondary,) and accent colors (3.)

Similar colors can also be grouped together in these sectors. For example, all the purple in this character would be primary, the greys secondary, and the oranges the accents.

For Chakra, his purples would be primary, all the bright colors of the wounds secondary, and his outstanding eyes accents.

Each sector should be different and differentiable from one another!

Divide your character up into sectors for coloration. Decide what colors go where. Sometimes it takes a bit of shuffling to find what works for you. Adding inbetween colors to branch the gaps between your selected colors can help tie things together, too.

To me, instead of WHAT colors you use, it all comes down to how you USE those colors.

Cordis is mainly dark colored, primary, with their secondary rainbow colors and their accented white features. Even with rather bright colors in their palette, they still come off as a dark gloomy character because of the placement/ratio of those colors.

Monarch has very clashing colors, though when separated and balanced out, they appear harmonious and work together.

Anyways that turned further into a rant about character design than anything else

I hope this helped :D

[unofficialadamtaurus]

Monochrome fight with Adam, how do you think it went in Give me Death

Many things would have to change to get Weiss and Blake together for that, which is why I made zero effort to write it out, but if you skip the how and get straight to the fight:

You'd still have Weiss showing up after Blake's gotten more or less beat, probably riding in on a summoned Grimm for speed. Ramming Adam with that Grimm and then using her summons/glyphs to try to stay out of his reach without feeding his semblance. There would be a lot of taunting/banter (largely from Adam).

Adam would eventually wear her down because he massively outstrips her in terms of aura capacity. Weiss would make one last desperate play to catch him in a gravity glyph layered under several feints, at which point she uses that white-rune ultimate attack from her trailer to destroy the last of his aura at the cost of the rest of hers. He tries to defend against it with Wilt and Blush but they get ripped out of his hands.

In the aftermath, he's barely standing, Weiss is on her knees, Blake appeals to Adam one last time. But all Adam sees is the Schnee vulnerable in front of him, so he goes for the broken bit of Gambol shroud between them (which is closer to Weiss). Blake goes for the piece next to her. Weiss goes for the blade too. You end up with Weiss stabbing Adam in the front and Blake stabbing him in the back.

[problematic-alters-unsilenced]

Hi Avioa, venting and asking for advice if possible. [Anger holder near front so we apologize if any of this sounds rude.]

We have an alter who appears to be a shapeshifter [monochrome clown style] and has a 1920s announcer voice. Not really sure how relevant this is but I wanted to share.

He's from another subsystem so he doesn't come near front very often, but when he does, it's never for a good reason. He doesn't want to front, instead he chooses to break into our headspace house and mess up front. He makes things blurry and cuts off all communication, sometimes even making it so whoever is in front can't see the headspace at all. Usually he locks the front and the room gets tangled with red string. Sometimes he tries to bring children to front or primarily targets and tries to harm them. Sometimes he just comes near front to "watch" but he's very good at going undetected.

It's hard to describe and makes our experience with him feel incredibly invalidating, as most people say to us, "Have you tried communicating? You know evil alters don't exist, right? He's probably not out to hurt you, just misguided. Don't demonize him!! I feel so bad for him based on how you describe him, you're hurting him." etc. But he knows what he's doing, I don't know what his goal is but its fucking horrible because he's like, the "ring master" of most persecutors so when things don't go his way, he makes things worse. We literally have alters who have split specifically for jobs dedicated to keeping him away, cleaning up the strings after a situation, etc. He's never bodily harmed us but he has in our headspace and he's purposefully angered our "leaders."

I don't know why he does what he does, I wish I knew, and I wish people understood that he isn't just a fucking "misguided protector." I don't know how to make it better or fix it or what.

Fortunately this hasn't happened in at least 6 months (afaik? but sys has been very quiet it does strike some concern). I have low-to-no communication with many though so things could've happened that I just don't know about. I don't know. Sometimes just thinking about or saying something "bad" about him manages to catch his attention. I hate trying to ignore he doesn't exist in order to keep us safe. I wish things were better.

Even if you aren't sure what to say, thank you for listening. I just want my voice to be acknowledged at least once, even if its anonymously.

Hey, we don't have any alters that could be like that. But we have a similar situation. We have an alter who is able to lock up front to EVERYBODY (we can all do it, nobody knew though and the rest of us are all chill with eachother so we dont have a reason to mostly) until he wants the lock up to end. He's used this to his advantage. My advice may not be the best but it's from our experience.

I say if you can, lock him up. Whether that be with chains, or in a jail, or whatever. He's obviously harmful and he isnt going to stop.

IF it is possible, and you all are ready for it, you can try communicating with him and try to get him to stop. I know that sometimes alters will never stop what they do, and in that case you all will need to take the next steps to keep the system safe.

[pxppet]

Year of Whump January 15 Prompt!

experimental injection / threatening loved ones / warehouse / warm bubble bath / “I promise this won’t hurt”

Posting early because I was very inspired! An AU that includes IRIS for once. This is a glimpse into some ideas I've had for a while now, enjoy!

CW: kidnapping, inhumane science experiments, dehumanization, captivity, muzzles, restraint, autistic character being overstimulated, manipulative caretaker, nightmares, human weapon trope & mention

▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸

The doctors- if you can even call them that - surround Jackie, they stink of gauze and chemicals and death, death, death. The whole of the IRIS building stinks of it. Jackie could smell it even before they'd begun to inject him with this pale, glowing green liquid.

"Hold him still," someone commands. Useless, Jackie has been stronger, and stronger still, with each passing day. "You are safe, Mr. Reid." He lets out a scream, like a big cat's roar, as the needle presses into his stretch-marked false muscles. He's sobbing, biting, thrashing. The metal restraints are bending and bowing with his strength.

The doctors just watch, stare, eyes behind goggles observing him like a prized cut of steak; like a natural disaster. Jackie gnashes at a hand coming near him, but the IRIS doctors have had him muzzled since he bit one scientists hand off entirely. Jackie doesn't know why he chewed, why he swallowed, and why it felt fantastic.

He bangs his head back against the metal table over, and over, as green liquid shines through his skin in every vein inside his contorted body. He screams out at them, at god, at anyone. He's begging for his mother, he's threatening them with death. Nothing he says will matter, he is an animal to them. He grinds his teeth so hard on the bit of the muzzle it snaps in half. He swallows the plastic without hesitation, choking it down just to be rid of it.

His metal table is wheeled through monochrome hallways as his cries turn to begging and whimpering, the medicine slowing and settling.

---

"The date is September 12th, 2017. State your name for the record."

"J-jackson Reid," he trembles out into the muzzle.

"Mr. Reid, may you state the reason for being at this facility."

"Test- testing. I v-volunteered." His muscles strain, too big and powerful for him, he used to be so lean and fit, now he looks like a freak. He knows he must.

"What drug are you here to test, Mr. Reid." The scientist's eyebrow raises observing, watching, like any other eye or camera shoved at him.

"I don't know."

"Subject has forgotten name of experiment, refer to psychiatrist for evaluation-"

"I don't want another fucking shrink!" Jackie feels the rage but distant, not him, him but not him.

"Calm down Mr. Reid. You are safe in the care of our psychiatrists I assure you."

"Can we just do this another time?" Something is surging in him, but it always is these days. "Please just let me sleep."

The scientist stares hard at him. "For now, fine. But you must complete the questionnaire at least once weekly, as you know. It will not hurt you."

"I know," he says, small.

She leaves, and he tries to find any comfort in the metal prison of a bed.

--

Jackie is awoken suddenly. A light is shining in his room. Great, what's this fucking place doing now, is his groaned thought.

Until a figure steps out of the light. They look around, and glowing eyes land on him. Jackie tenses, the metal groaning. Adrenaline pumps into him, and its painful. He cries out. A hand falls over his mouth. He gasps into it, staring up.

"Looks painful. Get some rest, love." The strangers voice is echoing, resonating, surrounding him. Yes… Yes he would like some sleep. Rest would be good. Yeah.

He sleeps.

--

Jackie slips into the waking world in a slow, climbing jump into awareness. He feels warm, tired, slippery. He raises his hands, and through a fog he sees… bubbles.

He jolts up, gasping. His hand lightly cracks the blue-green bathtub below him. He winces and pulls it away, gritting his teeth in preemptive apology. But no one is around. Jackie can hear them though. In the house next door, in the street outside, and… in the next room over. He sits up, water sloshing around him.

"Hello?" he calls. The sound of someone saying "shit", followed by rustling, and someone moving to just outside the door. It opens upon someone in a black robe with a black mask over the top half of their face.

"Hi," they speak. Their voice is rough, worn out, and distinctly a northern English accent. They smell like they've just rolled in freshly mowed grass then dumped river water on themself. "Before anything- You're safe. Don't use your muscles too much, they're all torn, literally all. You've been strained for so long I can't even guess."

"Who… Am I still in IRIS? Are- Will you-" Jackie backs against the wall behind the bath slowly, trying to seem compliant and small. The indented scar along his cheeks and nose grimly keep his mind on pain, pain, pain. "Don't hurt me."

The masked person sighs. "Like I said, you're safe. Jackson Reid?"

"Jackie," he corrects too quickly. "P-please just- just Jackie."

The person smiles, warm and friendly. "Jackie. I can't tell you my name yet. But you can call me The Cat, if you want."

"The… That is so fucking formal. Where am I?"

"I can't tell you, but you're-"

""Stop! Don't- don't say that a-anymore, please don't." Jackie holds his own head, trembling.

"Okay," the person agrees quickly. They move to sit beside the tub. Jackie blinks at them, arms curled near his chest like a tyrannosaurus. "I can tell you a thing or two, but just that. You're in my boss' apartment. I'm taking care of you. The bubble bath is a spell of mine, it helps the healing of tissue."

"Magic. M-may as fucking well exist after the shit I've s-seen."

"Have you always had a stutter?"

"What does- does it matter?"

"We're worried the experimental shit they tricked you into damaged your brain. One of us- there's an 'us' by the way- can work with heads and hearts. She took a look and there's… weird shit, let's just say."

This makes Jackie snort, despite it all. "Weird shit? That's the b-best you got huh?"

The stranger sends him a wry smile. "When it comes to the fuckers at IRIs, it could be anything. I'm… sorry. You were just a citizen. You didn't deserve this. Not that those- those asswipes fucking care."

Jackie hums, and lays back into the water. He hasn't stopped shaking since he's woken up. The masked person tsks and reaches out, holding Jackie's arm. Jackie jolts, but he was trained to not pull away. He sits still for the examination, letting himself be bathed. He doesn't even want to know the punishments a magical person would give. IRIS's were enough.

---

Hours later, Jackie has been laid to sleep in the guest room of the house. The mask finally comes off. Long hair tumbles down as the hood is removed.

Marvin scratches long nails through their hair, shaking it out and sighing. Unnatural, inhuman blue eyes scan the coffee table. They pick up their burner phone and pull up the photo gallery. Plopping onto their boss' sofa, they scroll through photos of several dark haired chilren and teens with their mum. A cruel joke compared to the muzzle-scarred man with over-stretched, bulking muscle on a too small frame. They've been stalking Jackson for their boss for months. He's an asset, one who will become a great soldier for them. IRIS will be expecting him, sure, but expectations mean nothing in the face of the beast they've created.

Marvin's eyes downcast, then close. The death threats they were ordered to send Jackson Reid's family still disturb them. But they had to make sure; Jackson has to have connections to no one but their team from here on. They puff out a stressed breath, and pull the blanket and pillows from the back of the sofa to form a bed. Their boss will be home to de-brief Jacks- Jackie tomorrow, then they can begin training him properly. For now the healing bath and a good rest should help him begin to see the coven as safe.

Marvin curls up, and sleeps.

Jackie tosses an turns in his sleep, nightmaring of a metal muzzle digging through his flesh until his teeth fall out. He will wake to a new life - well, a new, new life - tomorrow. A mattress and blankets will soothe out the knots made by the metal and medication. He is no longer a prisoner. Things can only go up from here, Jackie is sure.

[brendathedoodler]

*raises hand timidly* about that Hero Mr L AU, in your last answer you mentionned s post game part of that AU, so does Mr L ever regain his memories ?

(Haven't actually played SPM yet, so I don't know much about actual plot events outside of "Luigi gets brainwashed and adopted by the bad guys, Mr L happens and is a riot, and he almost causes the end of the world when he actually regains his memories')

Wonderful question!

I have two versions of the au’s postgame, and in one of them he absolutely does.

The end of the world is avoided, Count Bleck and Tippi have vanished but are living happily ever after, Dimentio is dead (supposedly), and the rest of the villains aren’t trying to destroy all worlds anymore.

However, Mr L is still Mr L. Just as the villains go to leave, Mario reaches out and grabs Nastasia by the arm.

“You were the one who brainwashed my brother. Can you fix him?”

Nastasia confirms that she can. It would be quite easy for her, in fact. She turns towards the heroes and her glasses meet Mr L’s white eyes.

He freezes in place. He’s always been afraid of her, though he’s never had a specific reason why. Staring her down, though, it doesn’t matter why. He can’t let her get rid of him.

Mr L has heard Mario talk about how different Luigi was. Bringing Luigi back would mean getting rid of Mr L.

He tries to flee with his rocket boosters, but Bowser saw it coming. He snatches Mr L right out of the air and holds him down.

Nastasia approaches and Mr L panics. He shouts, he cries out, and he calls for Mario specifically. Mario had said that even if he couldn’t be Luigi again, he’d still love him like his brother, right? Surely he’s not getting to just let her destroy him? Right?

Mario does one of the most difficult things he’s had to do this entire adventure.

He turns away.

In that momentary distraction, Nastasia hits Mr L with her abilities. Bowser lets go, and Mr L falls to his knees. He’s struggling against it at first, but then slumps over. The magic disperses, and he slowly opens his eyes.

They’re blue again, no longer Mr L’s unnatural white.

Mario rushes over, elated to see that little difference. He stops in his tracks when Luigi flinches back.

Luigi doesn’t remember a goddamn thing that happened while Mr L was active. Some leftover feelings still remain, though, and tensions were high in the moments before Luigi was returned.

Peach kneels down next to him, gently rubbing his back and assuring him that he doesn’t need to worry, he’s safe now. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Luigi mentions crashing Bowser and Peach’s forced wedding (which Bowser mutters something about). He admits that he remembers ending up in some weird monochrome castle, but he doesn’t remember what happened there or how he ended up here.

It’s then that he realizes just how he looks. Weird clothes, weird bandana, weird mask- wait, when was the last time he shaved!?

Mario laughs at Luigi’s bewilderment. Yup, classic Luigi. He goes over to help him up, and he he’s almost lightheaded with relief when Luigi doesn’t hesitate to accept his help. He’s also relieved that Luigi doesn’t mind him taking the mask off (Mr L would’ve slaughtered him for it).

“So… What just happened? Something obviously happened,” Luigi asked, and he notices Mario and Peach both freeze in place. Oh boy, it’s something serious then.

Luigi decides that now is not the time. “Actually, I changed my mind. I don’t want to deal with this right now. I’m going to shovel a huge bowl of pasta in my face and take a nap, then I’ll deal with it,” he decides.

Mario takes his hand and leads him to the tower’s elevator, a relieved smile on his face and tears welling up in his eyes. He tells Luigi about this place that makes incredible pasta, and an inn with beds so soft you’d think they were meant for royalty.

Luigi is fine, and everything goes back to normal. The world is saved, and all is well.

(They explain what happened to him after. Luigi doesn’t remember any of it, but it is a little scary to think about the fact that he did all that. Mario does his best to assure him that it wasn’t him doing that, it was Mr L. Luigi appreciates it, but he doesn’t mention the strange remnants. He doesn’t talk about knowing things he shouldn’t (the names of Count Bleck’s minions, their habits, their likes and dislikes), he doesn’t talk about the strange dreams he’s been having (of being trapped in a monochrome fortress, of being flooded with indescribable power, of Mario turning his back on him). Perhaps it’s best if everything Mr L was is simply… Buried.)

[forgottenvice]

Vibrant

Newest chapter of my prompt fic Who serves Whom going to try and be good about posting here and there Shang Qinghua couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it started, but once he noticed it he couldn't stop noticing it.

Originally all of Mobei Jun's robes were duller blues, greys and blacks. In his brain he considered them quiet colours, very monochrome and stoic. Just like MBJ.

The change was subtle at first, the blues became richer the contrast more apparent, originally SQH thought the demon was just starting to grow into his role as future king. Nothing out of place, King's were supposed to dress opulently to display their power and prestige.

At least that's what he'd assumed until the demon showed up on An Ding wearing a hot pink under robe. It took Shang Qinghua some time to notice as Mobei Jun had materialized on his bed while he was busy finishing work on his desk.

That wasn't unusual, Mobei Jun seemed to enjoy lounging around Shang Qinghuas meagre disciple quarters. When he finally had time to look at the demon he had to do a double take.

He almost thought it was  a trick of the light, or maybe the system glitching. If this was a digital world maybe the shaders got corrupted or something. The vibrant fabric barely peeked out from beneath the rich blue overrobe, but it had been meticulously arranged.

It was clearly intentional and Shang Qinghua was baffled as to why.

It didn't help that the strips of pink were perfectly framing pale sculpted pectoral muscles that Shang Qinghua already had a hard time looking away from.

His eyes trailed up the demon’s form only to freeze when their eyes met. Mobei Jun was watching him intently and sweat began to bead at his temples. Shit did he notice Shang Qinghua staring?

He immediately jumped into grovelling mode.

"My King, what brings you to see this servant?"

"Can I not visit?" There seemed to be a hit of a smirk in Mobei jun's voice though it didn't appear on his face. Shang Qinghua was starting to feel dizzy with how his eyes kept darting back to that damn pink strip of cloth.

He'd thought he'd started to get the hang of handling Mobei Jun, but then the demon always turned around and did something to throw him off. How was he supposed to avoid death flags when Mobei Jun was so fickle?

He was pretty sure he spent the rest of the night unable to look the demon in the eye, mostly because his cleavage was RIGHT THERE!

He'd thought it might have been an anomaly, because the next time he was in the north Mobei Jun was back to blues and greys. He hoped it was an anomaly, Mobei Jun's father was still alive and if he drew too much attention to himself it could mean trouble. He already had enough to deal with regarding his uncle and any change could be perceived as a play for power.

Hell Shang Qinghua still had to hide most of the time he spent in the underground palace.

It wasn't until the end of the night when Mobei Jun was due to return Shang Qinghua to An Ding when it happened again. Mobei Jun unwound the bracers holding his sleeves tight. The loose fabric revealed a bright yellow lining that would have put most of Huan Hua to shame.

When Mobei Jun held his hand out for the cultivator, Shang Qinghua couldn't help but stare. He tilted his head wondering if Mobei's robes had always been lined, but no that wasn't right, he'd done laundry for the king often enough to no he'd never seen this particular robe.

"Qinghua?" RIGHT! Mobei Jun is waiting for him. He jumps immediately smacking his hand into Mobei Jun's and hoped he wasn't blushing. With how cool the breeze across it felt during teleportation he was probably wrong.

Thankfully Mobei Jun didn't mention it but when they reached An Ding. Shang Qinghua was ready to bolt to relieve his embarrassment but when he tried to dart away he felt stress on his shoulder causing him to fall back.

Mobei Jun hadn't let go of his hand.

"M-my King?" Predatory eyes bored into him, both of them standing deadly still. For a moment Shang Qinghua thought. this is it, he's finally going to kill me. reflexively he tensed.

Then, Mobei let go.

His heart was beating in his throat but before he could react the demon was gone in a swirl of shadow and ice. Seconds later his knees gave way and he slumped to the floor wondering why a change in demonic fashion had him so worked up.

But it kept happening, A splash of teal beneath a pleat, bright red boots, orange cuffs, a vibrant green ribbon. But he'd only ever spotted the colours when there was no one else around.

Which to be fair was most of their meetings; one didn't conduct espionage in front of the sect you might be betraying BUT every vibrant colour remained hidden until it was just the two of them and Shang Qinghua was getting dizzy trying to imagine what colour was going to pop up next and where.

He didn't ask though, Mobei Jun already had such a low opinion of him, he didn't want the demon to think he was stupid, or worse what if Mobei Jun was insulted by the question?

So instead he tortured himself trying (and failing) to not think about each pop of colour and what part of Mobei Jun it highlighted.

Until the day he was declared Peak lord.

It was a long day full of pomp and ceremony and frankly having planned most of it he spent half the time paranoid something might go wrong. Which it did, but he'd planned for that so in the end it had appeared pretty seamless.

Still Shang Qinghua was exhausted, so stepping into his new home as An Ding's peak lord, his only thought was of flopping down on the ridiculously comfortable bed. Even with everything working out, the ceremony and following celebration had gone late into the night, he was cold, tired and ready to sleep for a week.

Which was why he didn't see the seven foot demon lounging in his new bedroom until it was too late.

When he did notice he had to do a double take.

Mobei Jun was underdressed, MORE than usual and Shang Qinghua could only yelp. His entire torso was exposed revealing muscles that Shang Qinghua was certain did not actually exist in real life, but fuck real life, hot demon!

What Mobei Jun was wearing was brightly colored and ostentatious, draping blue and green fabrics attached to cuffs around bulging biceps, pants that had cut-outs r-rated movies would second guess and an oversized headdress that he couldn't help but compare to a peacock.

That's when it hit him. All of these brightly colored bits of fabric and the way Mobei Jun had been strutting around was EXACTLY like a peacock.

Something he may have mentioned once upon a time when PIDWs peacock analog interrupted one of their night time liaisons, then proceeded to ramble about the mating dances and colours of different species, and... and Mobei Jun had listened to him the whole time, and now was acting just like the courting birds.

But he couldn't be, could he?

"My... My King? Are you.... courting me?" Shang Qinghua tensed ready for the blow instead a cool hand cupped his face before curling around the back of his neck.

"Took you long enough, this king was worried he might have to learn how to dance."

[vacantgodling]

so about alizath...

tl;dr alizath is a northern country in the same world as paramour (paramour & all the gunn sibling stories just take place in galeré which is a country to the southeast, and map will exist sooner or later) but takes place AFTER all the events of empire, which is the last book in the fall of galeré (which is what the entire quad of books is gonna be called. in order it’s: paramour, requiem for the monochrome, prim & provocative, then empire). unlike paramour’s steampunk and modern wealth vibes, alizath is a colder region based more around magic and witches and the like but like paramour it’s still a scramble of messy families and nobility nonsense.

alizath is also heavily based on the app game helix waltz (with my own spin of course, rest in peace bc the game is no longer around tm) and a loose usage of the whole fae seasonal-court structure.

there are 4 prominent families that each rule a court of seasons, and other smaller noble families and peasants pledge allegiance to whichever family is heading that court in that region. over all of the families however and to instill a sense of “fairness” is the parliament of the people, which is made up of elected representatives that is supposed to keep these power hungry nobles in check. do it work tho? do it? (it don't tbh LMAO)

so, to simplify the plot/how we get here:

30 years ago, the Sunniva family's patriarch, Lord Biand Sunniva was abdicated from his position as lord of The Brass Autumn court. This was because he was determined to be responsible for the slaying of the Prime Minister of Alizath, and he accepted banishment instead of being tried for this crime. However, Lord Sunniva insists that he was framed by Lord Dominiq Ekber Atherton, the patriarch of The Iron Spring, who is well known for his bloodlust, political aggression, and determination to turn Alizath into a singular monarchy. Lord Sunniva goes to a Witch of the Wilds and receives a prophecy on how he can return to Alizath and get revenge on his rival.

His plan starts with receiving aid from the new lord of The Brass Autumn, Lord St. Jora, who has left his main position of power in Alizath in the hands of his eldest son Viscount Juven St. Jora (the main love interest) while he travels the world. He promises to help Lord Sunniva, however, he does not specify why he is willing to do so.

In accordance with this prophecy, Lord Sunniva adopts a young half-witch girl, naming her Kirsi Sunniva (our mc) and places her in the care of his sister Lady Jeanna Sunniva. Lady Jeanna teaches Kirsi everything she needs to know about how to navigate the social scene of Alizath to restore the good will to the Sunniva family name. She is kept in the dark about the nature of her birth (Kirsi assumes that she is Lord Sunniva's blood daughter) and what she is (Kirsi has no knowledge that she is a half-witch) and the true reasons behind what she's doing.

Kirsi and Lady Jeanna return to Alizath, with Lady Jeanna using the pseudonym Miss Annaje Ivannus and taking the role of Kirsi's governness, and Kirsi begins to slowly enter the social scene, with strict instructions to stay as far away from The Atherton's as possible. Her connections, friends, and potential suitors, and exposure to the underbelly of Alizath's political corruption, will teach her more than what any of them were prepared for.

so yeah das it. i have a full character list i can post in a few but i figured the overall plot should have its own lil space.

[why-raven]

character associations — yiuno.

Tagged by @miqojak. Combined from 5 Things, and Character Features.

emotions & feelings.

apathy. / bloodlust. / cynical. / inquisitive. / melancholic.

greetings.

curt nod. / offhand wave. / raised eyebrows. / sideways glance. / tight-lipped smile.

body language.

crossed arms or legs. / finger on lips. / hands in pockets. / pinch nose. / rest chin on hands.

clothing.

as yiuno — high necks. / hoodies. / three-piece suits. / trench coats.

as yiune — far eastern. / high-cut silt dresses. / over-the-knee boots. / stockings.

colors.

monochrome. / neutral palette. / dark and cool themes.

objects.

a curious deck of tarot cards. Can be used both defensively (as shields) and offensively (as throwing blades).

flip cards with binder ring. For summoning familiars (in the form of black owls) to do scout work for him.

leather-bound necklace with a wind-aspected crystal. Used as a voice changer for some of his disguises.

scents.

freshly-brewed coffee or tea.

rain-scented air after a drizzle or shower.

smell of battlefield; of blood and gunpowder.

vices.

chaotic alignment. Only motivated by his own goals and agendas, he has no qualms to switch allegiance or betray people according to his own needs and wants.

manipulative liar. He’s highly mistrustful towards people and fairly unwilling to open up to others, preferring to conceal his real self behind multiple layers of deception. He also charms or tricks them into getting his own way or to do his bidding.

mercenary. If you want his assistance, he expects reasonable payments for his troubles. He doesn’t operate on benevolence.

sadistic. He enjoys watching people being punished; occasionally he may take a more active role and torment others instead.

aesthetics.

blood splatters on snow-covered fields.

dusty tomes and abandoned libraries.

heavy fog over mountainous landscapes.

secret hallways and hidden alleys.

whiskey on the rock, served in lowball.

songs.

over the clouds — alan.

The moon that quietly soaked in sadness Paints the land red and disappears Can you hear my voice? In this bloodthirsty era Can I continue to be myself?

rapport — tatsuya kitani.

In the tranquil solitude I wished for a quiet end I felt sad for something inside me that was slowly going cold But it didn’t matter To love someone and to want to be loved It means that there is an equal amount of pain involved That’s why I kept my heart closed But now you have entered deep into it

song of lamentation — kokia.

Every time I tried to protect something Someone was sacrificed Wondering what we’ve been fighting for My heart lamented in silence

I thought that as long as I live, I’d be fine Until something I treasure was taken away from me I felt like I could hear the sound of my heart breaking Is it okay to go on like this?

truth — arashi.

I can’t return (after the tears that fell) Memories swirling (the colors of freezing tears) At the end of this world where everything was taken away

No matter what kind of ending I create, my heart remains a mystery Like the darkness that approaches the truth No matter what kind of world I create, I can’t see tomorrow Like a lily, pure and untainted My wishes remain transparent

weight of the world (japanese) — keiichi okabe ft. marina kawano.

This is my curse The depth of the sins I’ve committed Even with my corrupted soul I’ll still redeem your wish

This is my curse The pain of killing a promise With the final dream I threw away I’ll still atone for your wish

All lyrics translations (except “rapport”) are by @why-raven. Please credit if use. Do not claim as your own.