#this is what i get for not looking at references for my own characters

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 1 | masterlist

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“I’m not looking for a babysitter that can only come by every now and then,” he says sternly and pauses for emphasis, brows furrowing to convey the seriousness of the situation. “I’ve got a busy schedule and his mom isn’t in the picture. I need a real commitment.”

You sit across from him wringing your hands under the kitchen table, wondering again what it is you’re doing here. Babysitting has never been your schtick; you’re somewhere in between too old to do it as a casual gig for extra cash and too young and inexperienced to be considered for a full-time position. 

Yet, it seems like that’s what he’s looking for, based on the information he’s told you and your general impression from having been in his house for less than twenty minutes. The house is a mess—toys strewn across the baby’s bedroom and the living room, dishes crusted with day old food sitting in the sink, the bookshelf in his study covered in a fine layer of dust that tells you that this man spends so little time in his own house that it’s become something of a requiem to single fatherhood. 

“So, a nanny?” you ask.

He hems and haws over that for a bit. “Bit too fancy for my tastes, but that’s more like it. It won’t just be watching the baby—I need someone who can help out around the house as well. ‘Used to run a tight ship before him, but cleaning’s not been my highest priority these days. Sure you’ve picked up on that.” He says the last part wryly, lips curling up into a crooked grin under his mustache. 

“Well…” You trail off while glancing at the mess in the living room out of the corner of your eye, toys and blocks scattered over the playmat. Your own smile is sheepish. 

“I work odd hours, so I’ll be gone a lot; you’ll probably have a few late nights here, but I pay well. Think that’s something you can handle?”

A polite refusal sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it back, suddenly conscious again of the dwindling funds in your bank account. It’s not that you don’t think you could handle the job. You’ve babysat before (only preteens, you correct yourself internally, but surely there are some transferable skills there). And, eclipsing all of your arguments in favour of walking out the door right now, is the very salient and pressing need for an actual income. 

“You’re military, you said?” you croak out instead.

He nods, hums. “Bit of a glorified desk job these days. They don’t put the old timers out in the field. Still, keeps me busy.”

You frown at that. “You’re not that old.”

That gets him to cock an eyebrow. “Love, I’m over twice your age, easy. I’m plenty old for a first time father on top of that; should’ve already been an old hand at this, but I’ve been married to the job for too long.”

You don’t ask if the baby was an accident or how it came to be that he chose to raise the baby on his own rather than try to work something out with the mother or give him up altogether. It seems uncouth. Rude. It’s none of your business and, more to the point, hardly relevant to the job. It’s just your own insatiable need to pry and know every little detail raising its head to sniff the air. 

“Well, I think—” You chew on your words and then backtrack. “—I can handle the job. I live nearby, so I can be here whenever you need me. If you need references, I can—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, waving a hand in front of him. “I’m a good judge of character. If you wanna help put the baby to bed, we can talk salary and I’ll go over my schedule this week with you.”

The chair scrapes against the tile floor when he stands up, pushing it out from under him. Standing, he towers over you, a big, fit man despite his protests to the contrary. Hardly out of his prime. You’d put him at forty-five at the latest, and still a work horse of a man at that; broad like a draft horse, like he flips tires and runs marathons for fun. When you push out your chair and stand as well, you’re still forced to look up at him. 

“Sure can, Mister…—?” You realize with a slight start that you only remember his first name, though it hardly feels appropriate to call him by that given the fact that he’s about to become your boss. Already is your boss. 

“Price. But John works just fine,” he corrects, his smile warm, almost paternalistic. 

You ignore the flash of heat up your spine and the way your belly constricts when he reaches across the table to shake your hand. His big, calloused palm dwarfs yours, fingers easily overlapping. You might as well be shaking a mitt. 

“Well, thanks for the job, John,” you say with a smile of your own, ignoring the way yours strains at the end, anxiety already gnawing a hole through the lining of your stomach that your stomach acid will now most certainly leak through. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

His words seem like a bellwether for something that you can’t yet articulate or even anticipate. Regardless, they make you swallow reflexively when you start salivating out of nowhere. You should probably quit on the spot actually, just out of principle alone, but again you remember the gut-churning sensation of checking your bank balance in the middle of the grocery store the other day before putting half of the contents of your cart back onto the shelf beside you. 

You follow him into the playroom instead, where a fuzzy headed infant gasps up at his daddy, blinking big lovestruck eyes up at him. Your own heart feels like a melted caramel in your chest when John picks his son up, eyes crinkling with affection. The baby is so tiny in his arms.

Any thought of being a good person evaporates from your mind. As if you ever had a chance. 

You don’t know how he found you. Through a friend of a friend of a friend’s dad’s coworker, maybe. Word of mouth. Watercooler conversation and a heaping cup of gossip.

“Did you hear the Captain’s looking for a babysitter?”

“For what? To bang?”

“No, dipshit. He knocked some broad up and she left him with the baby.”

“No kidding. The Captain?”

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ say that?”

“Price, you mean? Captain Price?”

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? Yeah—Price.”

“Christ. Godspeed to him. A baby. Goddamn.”

“Give it a rest, it happens all the time. That’s why you always wrap it up. Anyway, you know of anyone that’d be up for it?”

And then somehow, your name gets mentioned. Much to your relief. Job opportunities don’t knock on your door all that often, and when John finally gets around to telling you your hourly rate, you almost burst into hysterical giggles in front of him. It’s more than you expected. More than you deserve, if you’re being honest. You’re retroactively grateful that he didn’t ask you to name your rate because you wouldn’t have dared propose something anywhere close to what he offers.

It’s a straightforward gig. John doesn’t work the typical nine-to-five, so you show up at the times he made you write down on that first day in his living room after your interview and you leave whenever he comes home. The first week is fairly true to the schedule he laid out for you. He’s only late by around half an hour one evening, but that was another condition that he made you well aware of prior to giving you the job. 

You know better than to put up a fuss. You’re already learning on the job as it is; with your anxiety at a ten at all times, you appreciate the extra half hour to keep googling baby-specific information. What to do during tummy time. The benefits of baby massage. How to change a diaper. You’re learning all sorts of things these days.

To your credit, he could’ve done worse. The day after John hires you, you sign up for an intensive babysitting course over the weekend and read the online manual front to back. Your CPR certificate is still valid, but you book a refresher course as well just to be on the safe side. It’s a bit unbearable to watch the funds drain out of your account before you’ve even had a chance to earn your first paycheck, but it’s worth it for the burgeoning confidence that you bring on your first day.

Babies are fun to be around, you realize, much to your own delight. Babysitting—or rather, nannying, but John still introduces you to the neighbours as his babysitter, plus nannying requires a host of additional accreditations that you simply just do not have—might not have been a job that you ever expected yourself to like, but you find yourself kind of morose at the end of each day when you have to say goodbye to baby, and even going so far as to turn in early when you get home so you’ll be ready bright and early the next morning.

Babies also smell better than anything you’ve ever smelt in your life. You could huff the top of this little guy’s head morning, noon, and night. Milky and clean; it barely takes a few days to become addicted to the smell of his little head. When he’s cradled in your arms, you can’t help but press your nose to the top of his head and take a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. It’s some good shit. 

You keep a journal filled with notes to relay to John when he comes home at the end of the night and keep your phone close to you during babytime to film any important moments that John might’ve otherwise missed. 

“He started babbling today,” you tell John the second he walks through the door, the video already pulled up on your phone. You haven’t felt this excited in ages. “Look.” 

He’s still in his fatigues and everything, but he humours you and takes the baby when you pass him over, cooing and tickling his belly until the baby squeals and babbles again for him. 

“See?” you gush, mooning over him. You don’t have the presence of mind to be self-conscious in the moment. 

“Yeah,” John remarks, lifting his son up to blow a raspberry into his belly and grinning at his ensuing peals of laughter. “Ain’t that something.”

If the smile in his voice has anything to do with you, you don’t pick up on it.

On top of everything, John turns out to be a really good boss. Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior, he’s remarkably kind and patient with you. He doesn’t nag you for missing a spot when cleaning the bathroom. He doesn’t scold you the day your car breaks down and you’re forced to take the nearest bus to his place, tacking on an extra twenty minutes to your commute, even though that means that he’s invariably late for work. When you accidentally use scouring powder on the inside of his Le Creuset Dutch oven and scratch off the enamel, he gently talks you out of a sobbing fit, seemingly unbothered by the state of his scratched up crockery.

He shrugs when you bring it up. “It’s got a lifetime warranty anyway. I’ll bring it into the shop over the weekend. No use getting upset about it.”

Unflappable. That’s the word for it. It’s like as long as he’s able to come home to the baby and you in one piece, nothing else matters, and that sense of calm permeates the whole house; for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to walk on eggshells around someone. 

Your only qualm—and it’s hardly even a qualm, to be honest, more of just an observation—is that John is more of a physical person than you are. 

When he wants to move you, he does—two big hands clamped around your waist and only a fraction of his strength to move you away from the stove so he can take over cooking while you check on the baby, your mouth hanging open, aghast. Fuming at his nerve. The gall of him to manhandle you. 

You don’t hold it against him though. You haven’t spent much time around groups of men, but you’ve seen military movies before and it seems like the status quo for men to grab and push each other around. If anything, he’s gentle with you. 

It’s just that—and again, John’s the first adult man you’ve spent any one-on-one time with, what with it just being the two of you and the baby in his house, so your frame of reference is microscopic—you’re not completely sure whether it’s appropriate for your boss to be so touchy. 

You don���t mean to insinuate that he’s being inappropriate. It’s just that—and again you have to catch yourself before you go making assertions about people because John is honestly such a nice man and he’s done nothing but treat you fairly and made you feel safe and welcome, but…—sometimes he insists on you staying over for dinner after he comes home from work and doesn’t take no for an answer.

You’re never in any rush to leave. There’s not exactly anything waiting for you in your dingy little apartment. So when he asks you to stay, you have no good reason to refuse. It’s nice to get a free meal as well. With the way John gives you unfettered access to the fridge and pantry, you hardly need to buy groceries at all these days. You feel a little guilty about that, but you know what it’s like to go hungry.

Maybe that’s why you stay for supper the first time he asks a couple weeks into you working for him. You’re subconsciously mortified that you’ll eat his food when he’s not gone but not when he offers it to you.

At least dinner feels like something you’ve been given rather than just taking, taking, taking. 

Not to mention you’ve developed something of a rapport. There’s always something to talk about with John: the baby, his work, a show you watched on TV after putting the baby down for a nap, the new big Tesco four blocks from your place, his late teens before joining the military (“back when you weren’t even a thought in your mum’s head,” he jokes, cutting into his steak and something in your brain pops and fritzes out like the static between radio stations). 

The first few suppers are sporadic and never long enough to make you feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. In all honesty, they’re the few bright spots in an otherwise dull life. Outside of your job and the infrequent dinners, you’re estranged from your family and you’ve only got a few close friends in town that you see maybe once or twice a month. Nothing to write home about. Some Friday nights, the yoga studio near your flat has a five pound community class that you pop in for, but those are infrequent too. 

Then there’s the odd night where he shoos you into the living room to put on a movie while he cleans up after dinner. You stare absentmindedly at his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves and then jump when you find him staring at you expectantly over his shoulder.

“Go put something on,” John tells you, a warning look in his eye. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Sorry,” you whisper before slipping off into the living room.

You can’t relax on the couch while you wait. You flinch when he finally joins you, sitting down on the other side of the couch suddenly. You hadn’t even heard him coming; he’s light on his feet for such a big man. 

The buddy cop comedy you picked barely distracts you from the fact that your boss is sitting on the other side of the couch. You spend the whole two hour run time so nervous that you’re afraid you’ll buzz right out of your skin. 

For absolutely no reason, of course, because all John does is make light conversation with you throughout the movie. Conversation that you respond to in curt, choked whispers. When he walks you to the door after the movie, all you can focus on is how utterly embarrassed you are for being so weird.

Your dreams that night come frantic and heady. Humid under the blanket. The phantom feeling of a body heavier than yours weighing down one side of the couch and you sliding towards it gradually, unable to even cling onto the arm of the couch to keep from falling into his lap. 

Then hands on your belly, cupping and holding. Thick fingers with hairy knuckles. A warm, tobacco smell wafting under your nose, sweet like tonka bean and smoke. Nothing you can do to keep them from travelling down your stomach and thighs and spreading your legs wide, big hands curving around your inner thighs until—

You wake up panting, fingers pressed against your clit in your sleep. It takes nothing to bring yourself over the edge, dark blue eyes swimming on the precipice of your conscious mind. 

“Sleep well?” John asks you the next morning when you show up on his doorstep, handing you the baby before you’ve even said so much as a word. You hold the baby to your chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to put some distance between you and the man who has now taken to starring in your dreams. 

“Not bad,” you squeak. 

You flinch when he guides you in with a hand on your back and shuts the door behind you. Your cunt pulses when his fingers press firm against the small of your back, hand bigger than you remembered from your dream.

As if you were ever going to end up anywhere but here.

[pinterestsucksnow2024]

I had surgery right before rebloging that and am just now checking the activity on my blog and man... this was a trip.

I stand by my statment that Amnesia Guy With Confusing Phone is a good character as evident of how long it too me to figure out what someones response ment post anesthesia.

To answer the question, and for anyone who needs Ideas...

My phone has some of these from like... 2012 and I still barely remeber who goes with what:

That Guy (with a picture of Chrona from Soul Eater because That Guy was an entity who confused and frustrated me despite being one of my best friends) - jokes on us... I somehow assigned a nonbinary character to my friend who did not yet know she was trans. It took 10 years and its still hilarious.

Jonathan Frakes

John (and its just a picture of the band The Police) - I THINK this was a sound guy I did a gig with and I have way too many Johns in my phone.

Jeff - but I know it's my friend Stewart. I dont even get the joke anymore.

Kaylee - I THINK is a girl named Marie who I grew up. Idk who else would have earned that vibe. (Firefly reference)

Koala

Mal Reynalds - My cousin with a very proffessional picture

Naruto, Goku

My own FATHER is in my phone as a Terminator Reference:

Reese, Tech-Com

I have a scam call(?) Marked as "Who is calling and why are they calling?" With a stormtrooper for the icon. That alone would be fantastic for a story about amnesia if you had like... a secret agent plot with a normal guy.

So... to give an example of realism: I still get very confused by Jeff. That is NOT remotely that guys name. I know the other references in my phone but I obviously did not name Jeff. I only know it's Stewart because I know what our conversations look like.

I have no clue which of the 6 Jonathan's in my life got assigned a star trek reference. I probably need to clean that one out of my phone because IDK who that is. Same with John. I have a VAUGE memory of doing the Police as the picture because Sound Guy but even that is a weird association because there is no guy named John in that band.

Imagine not remebering things and having a situation requiring you to contact some rando in a phone and trying to figure out where Stewart is and it be under a guy named Jeff.

Another very real example is if someone else has to use said phone. I used to have BOTH parents under goofy names. My mom was something like "Zordon" from power rangers. Then I added her to my emergecy list so it was ICE Zordon.

Imagine someone having an emergency on the street and having to figure out who the heck ICE Zordon is and praying you have the right emergency contact and not some weird hotline.

Feel like I should add that this was on the list of "dumb shit I did from ages 13-18 that still haunts me" as a warning to anyone who would otherwise have a Skibidi Toliet where my phone at one point definitely had garys mod references. It wasn't until I had to sort out the Too Many Johns that I realized basic naming is actually worth it.

As for organization... yesnt. My phone is kind of a precarious record of eras and phases. My friends were named based on whichever character they were assigned when we went through a phase together. Kaylee, for example- Marie was a bubbly creative person who reminded me of the character from Firefly. I didnt anticipate adulthood pushing away that whimsy once I had work contacts and business dealings. I thought I would change it eventually, but over a decade later I still squint and try to jar the memory loose. That Guy brings back an instant memory of the smell of the courtyard on the first day of school when we were highschoolers playing Ninja and reading whatever successor to Warrior Cats.

I dont remeber or organize. Its all association. Method of Loci locked away in natural memory as senses and smells and visions of events.

Even with names, some of them dont mean anything. I think Zera was the name of someone who's phone was scammed and the scammer kept callin me. I remeber that because it was a scary lesson for me as a young college intern. Two Tori's and different last names - vauge familiarity but from where I dont know.

I know Goku belongs to a friend who may as well be my younger brother, though we don't talk since he went to med school.

Naruto automatically summons memories of long days in the study room on campus in college. High school lunch breaks discussing computer science.

The point is, believe it or not it was a strategy. I stopped doing it when I grew up but only after a bit of bullying and some misadventures. It was a survival trait adopted by a young naive teenager who was moving from a world of early online culture into a real world of people and connections.

It was never really about the organization or structure... it was about giving context to the interaction.

But if I were to lose those connections, that context... I would certainly have some questions about who That Guy is and why He /It/ [really just she] was in my favorites.

new character idea: dude who wakes up with amnesia for whatever reason and tries to go through their phone to figure out "ok who do i allegedly know well enough to get their help" except pre-amnesia!dude had all their contact names like this:

[parasolladyansy]

hello! i've liked ansy's adventure for a while, and i noticed how you play on japanese names for the pokemon, especially for mizumi's and sasmu's. what do you think of the languages in the pokemon world? i can guess hisuian equals japanese, but does sinnohan/kantonese also translate into japanese? or the four japanese-based regions are adapted into english ( or unovan?) i don't know if i'm explaining myself, but how do you view the pkmn languages and their equivalents in our world?

こんばんは! Good evening! Thank you for following along ^o^/

Class is in session lol! Professor Laventon seems to be most comfortable writing in his native Galarian, though he also has various notes in traditional “Japanese”, written vertically & read right to left.

So, language is a very interesting thing in fiction, & the Pokeverse is no exception! Through the games (& especially the latest ones, Scarlet / Violet) we’ve had a number of characters who spoke in different languages. I remember a couple of NPC’s in BW Unova, there’s Fantina in Sinnoh who peppers her speech with Kalosian (French), & a Hiker on Galar’s Route 6 who spoke what I’m guessing was Paldean (Spanish) rather than Galarian (English). Then in SV, we have Mr. Salvatore who teaches (& uses) many languages (off the top of my head, I remember him teaching how to say “thank you” in Spanish, French, Chinese, & German).

It does get tricky when it comes to the “Japanese” regions of Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh / Hisui, & Kitakami, as those regions otherwise make up one country in our world, but this has yet to have been canonically established (which is why I always put “Japan” / “Japanese” in quotes, as there currently isn’t a name for that one country, same with “America”). I do believe they share the same language - at the very least Hisui & Kitakami have the same written script, & I feel pretty confident that if they were to retcon it, they would have the other “Japanese” regions use it, too (before Legends Arceus, they just used random shapes that didn’t seem to spell anything, which I interpreted to just be placeholder characters).

If there is a common language in their world (& I think is, from characters from different regions being able to talk to each other no problem), I personally would guess it to be “Japanese” - as we look at the other regions, we can see a sort of Japanese flavor that would otherwise not be there (though they clearly did their homework on the various parts of the world these regions reflect!). Of course, Pokémon is from Japan, so it would make sense that they would add some of their own culture to this world they created. For a possible in-universe explanation, the Pokeverse seemed to have started in Japan (specifically in Sinnoh as we learned in Legends Arceus, so I guess their universe actually is geocentric like old astronomers used to think ours was?).

I think that’s about it. In DxP REWRITE, while my own language is American-English (& beginner-level Japanese lol) so I read the characters to be speaking American-English, they are actually speaking “Japanese” while in Sinnoh (which is why I haven’t really been peppering Ansy’s dialogue with Japanese). I have tried to write in the “Japanese” or Galarian scripts for signs & things a couple times:

The sign just says “Gear Station”

Here I (tried to lol) translate Mizumi’s letter to Japanese then wrote it out in in-game characters (in the modern horizontal, as Mizumi is from the modern era writing to someone in the modern era).

Thanks for reading yet another post of me geeking out lol. Feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments! じゃあ、またね! Until next time! ^o^/

—

PS: For funsies, here’s the (non-canonical, as these were made by fans) references I’ve been using when writing in either Galarian or “Japanese” in DxP REWRITE:

I personally was confused by the “Japanese” script also being alphabetical rather than phonetic like hiragana / katakana (two common scripts in Japan, the first being mostly used to spell Japanese words while katakana is used to spell foreign words - the third script, kanji, is used to write whole words). If that is the case (which is how I wrote it in Mizumi’s letter), “Japanese” is written in what’s called “romanji”, where they write out words in the Latin (aka Roman) alphabet rather than phonetically: “ありがとうございます” becomes “arigatō-gozaimasu” (“thank you very much”).

Whether it is actually written out that way in game though…? At a glance of the signs I saw in Hisui & Kitakami, it does look like it’s more like hiragana & kanji instead, but this chart is all I got for now. Any Japanese folks or fluent Japanese-readers who can tell me if there’s anything out there in the Japanese fandom about this, please lemme know so I can do right by it into future - as of writing this, I haven’t seen much else among the English-speaking fandom 8u8;

As for the Galarian script, it’s clearly based on the Latin alphabet that much of the Western world uses for our various languages - we see it in Paldea as well as Galar, & according to the trailer in Pokemon ZA, they retconned it to be used in Kalos as well. In universe, I wonder if they were at all influenced by the Unown, being based on the Latin alphabet themselves. Again, who knows? (though I question the accuracy of this particular font / chart: if it is, the first thing Laventon’s chalkboard says “REXBOQ” lol XD)

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 34-35

Not many photos here because anything I screenshot in these eps would literally just give me psychic damage at this point (-:

Spoilers under the cut!

Ep 34:

I'm being so brave watching this fucking opening scene again.

No actually though I've watched it several times by now and it just keeps getting worse. What can one even say about all this? Ow??? Fuck???

Probably the most gruesome onscreen death of a child character in cdrama that I've seen like I didn't know they could even go there like that. I guess maybe because it's not gory or specifically violent? Idk the rules but man. His expression.

The way they play TJR singing their song and then switch to LZY's version. Maximum pain thank you guys.

ZYC's "I'm sorry" is so damn loaded. For not being there, for failing to protect him, but also for being the reason Bai Jiu made this decision. For giving Bai Jiu someone to love and protect and die for. For unknowingly and inadvertently causing this just by loving him and being loved by him. ZYC's remorse and regret as he makes the connections and pieces together Bai Jiu's thought process is so fucking haunting. Just the most awful way for his own words of comfort to come back. And like I'd commented previously—the way love begets grief.

I'm going to kms I knew when they put yet another cloak on ZYC that he'd be giving it to someone else but NO!!! Not like this oh my god

"哥帶你回家" (Ge will take you home) I don't even have the words for how painful this is. Is this the first time ZYC refers to himself as ge? Not just acknowledging that Bai Jiu's made an older brother of him? If not, it's certainly the most salient.

Both actors' skills can hardly be questioned atp (like, that's a damn difficult expression to die with), but I just have to marvel at the way TJR's acting (his micro-expressions!!!) is at once subtle and incredibly clear. That ZYC's every emotion is clearly telegraphed—his shock, his horror, his anguish, his regret, his desperation, his exhaustion—but so naturally done.

ZYC struggling with the weight of Bai Jiu's body and dropping it, on top of paralleling the flashback, is just so terrible in its reality. ZYC must already be so incredibly drained after that final battle. To have gone through such an unspeakable loss, to carry it on his back and find himself unable to even properly do that, to protect what's left of Bai Jiu from the mundanity of physical damage.

WX's dad nooooo you're leaving her to ZYZ but ZYZ's not planning on staying either nooooo

Are we sure the magic rain couldn't have saved WX's dad tho ):

WX don't tell ZYZ your self-sacrificial plan there's no way he'd let you go through with it girl!!! You gotta pull a ZYC and be vague as fuck and make sure everyone's feet are frozen to the ground so they can't stop you

ZYZ backing away after using the spell on WX, slapping himself when he nearly can't get himself to go through with dying. Good shit. But also my god I'm so sorry WX what a fucking traumatic ten minutes will anyone give her a fucking break? Living at any cost, at the cost of her beloved dying several feet away from her, yet another manifestation of her trauma with Zhao Wan'er, and knowing it's about to happen, begging to be given a say—cruel. PSJ has been offscreen for forever just because plot convenience (which, in itself, already sucks) but if she were here she would kill ZYZ herself for putting WX through this and the rain would just be a bonus.

The Cloud Light Sword stained with blood to the point it looks unfamiliar—good shit.

ZYC's fucking voice when he asks if there's any other choice. Art, I tell you.

Fucking hell. The twist on their fate being ZYC choosing it rather than being forced into it, to absolve ZYZ of the cruelty he's had to bear responsibility for in doing this to his loved ones. Zhiji was not misapplied in this damn story—ZYC understands and he understands over and over because who else could do this for ZYZ? To find one last way to lighten his burden in such a conflicting and complicated and impossible situation. To know exactly what must be hurting ZYZ and to bear the weight instead and to make sure he knows full well that's what's happening. For ZYC to take that hurt upon himself, entirely upon himself. The way that ZYC dealing the killing blow is actually the furthest thing from a moment of hardening his own heart, that it's in fact the height of his soft-heartedness. And how much that must hurt. Pain.

Also, imo ZYC making it purely his choice at the last moment is so clearly and specifically for ZYZ. Not for anyone else's sake, and precisely against his own and WX's wishes. Upon knowing ZYZ's commitment to death in this moment, whatever else happening has been made secondary. He is giving ZYZ all that he has left to give—fulfilling ZYZ's sacrificial determination, carrying out ZYZ's will to save the people, absolving ZYZ's guilt at what it's taken to get here.

(Totally tangential but I referenced AOT in my last post so I figured I'd make further reference: if anyone's familiar with Eruri—I'm somewhat reminded of Levi's choice. Being the only one with the power to save or let their loved one die. Choosing death for them, on their behalf, perhaps a decision opaque and counterintuitive to the rest of the world but completely and utterly made out of love and an inimitable understanding of the man they love. The most painfully and unimaginably selfless act, to give them peace at the cost of their own suffering.)

"小卓，你還是這麼..." (Xiao Zhuo, you're still so...) Oh this line kills me (ha). I love that it's unfinished. That it encapsulates ZYZ's surprise, his understanding and gratitude, and ultimately this sense of marveling at the man in front of him and what he's given ZYZ even now, at the very end. It tells me ZYZ recognizes ZYC's choice for what it is: the utmost act of a soft-hearted and boundless love that sees through him completely. Zhiji indeed.

The way ZYZ has unfulfilled promises with both WX and ZYC, the way they both call him a liar—good shit.

When I didn't know there was an episode 35 (or special episode I guess) I was boutta throw hands like what do you MEAN that's it??

Ep 35:

I do love a good hair-turning-white-from-grief trope (': But man, white hair like that at 24/25........Also though PSJ and WX finally have more noticeably different styling/silhouettes yayy they look gorgeous

God, but I can't bear looking at how small their group is now.

Searching all the mountains and seas, all 28 mountains in the Wilderness. ZYC, that kind of devotion...I really feel the need to echo ZYZ here, you're really so...

ZYC looking like ZYZ from behind because of his hair......ZYC's hand shaking holding Bai Jiu's bell............................

Also I'm really glad (I say this through tears) because I saw Bai Jiu didn't have his bell in ep 33/34 and I was like ??

Ah, are you kidding me I thought the pain was more or less over what do you mean Bai Jiu wants ZYC to 勿想勿念 [wù xiǎng wù niàn] (don't think of, don't miss)?? The way 不念不响 [bù niàn bù xiǎng] is literally the title of ZYC's character song, which then plays in the bg ('''':

(I can't really tell how well the subs explain it or how it comes across in translation so apologies if this context isn't necessary but the characters in the song title say "don't read, don't ring," but the character for "ring" is a homophone for "think of" and the character for "read" can also mean "miss." Missing someone/something is "想念" [xiǎng niàn]. Bai Jiu tells ZYC not to miss him through homophonous terms—a book he can't read, a bell that can't ring—and the song title is directly referencing that.) What an elaborate way to hurt me.

Bai Jiu really pulled a ZYC though with a box full of hurt/comfort just like ZYC had left WX

Ohhh the way WX's narration turns into ZYC's?? Honestly this drama's commitment to canonizing ZYC's love for ZYZ to the same level as WX's is really gratifying. And ZYC talking about a bone-deep sadness after ZYZ died. The parallel of baby!ZYC in front of the pond. I especially love the mention of ZYZ's age in comparison to ZYC's, these glimpses of the perspective ZYC has gained with hindsight. The distance of time and reflection and yet the unmistakable fondness and love. It is in part healing to hear.

Also imo ZYC if the scene chosen for ZYZ's POV of you is accurate I'd wager he saw you not as some angry child but as the pinnacle of humanity's beautiful bleeding heart.

ZYZ said it before right? That every human emotion is important? Well ZYC really has been constantly feeling the entire range of human emotion this whole drama lmao

Why yes I do think I need a heartwrenching MV-style montage of all the tragedies of this story that ultimately offers bittersweet catharsis and closure as the OST narrates about searching for someone and finding them in the end. Just what the doctor prescribed tyvm

WX saying ZYZ's final wish was to 落葉歸根 (translated as returning home, literally translates to "fallen leaves return to their root," implies returning home after a long time) the way humans do and ZYZ's soul literally being on a leaf of paper (which kinda sorta works in CN as well since "leaf" and "page" are homophonous) that, carried by the wind, returns to ZYC?? Home??? Are you joking bc I'm sobbing.

Gonna have to use this photo again bc literally how else do I describe how I'm feeling rn?

And that's a fucking wrap. I'm so. I don't even. Wow. Maybe in another couple of business days I'll throw together a brief review of the show as a whole, but right now I'm gonna drown myself in other people's metas and gifs and fics as god intended. Thank you as always for spending the time on my silly ramblings and I hope you enjoyed the ride!

[thereweredragonshere]

Any tips for getting better at drawing?

Oooooh that is a very broad topic.

If I’m being honest I find it hard to put my art journey (that I am still pretty young in) into words. It all depends on so many things- experience, medium, your ability to understand anatomy, objects in a 3D space, colour theory, how joints work, lineart, comprehensive understanding of form etc etc. There is a lot of stuff involved with art and it would be hard to just compile it all into one topic. But I’m gonna assume you mean drawing as in pencil, paper (or the digital equivalent) and an idea.

My main tip, which you’ve probably seen over and over and over again is just practice. It’s disheartening to hear the same thing repeated until your ears are bleeding but from personal experience, it’s how I improved my understanding of form/linework. But don’t just practice the same thing. Go on Google or Pinterest, find reference photos of real people, trace over the human skeleton, divide complicated structures into easy to understand shapes. There is no wrong way to study art, do whatever works for you!

Another one is to look at other people’s art, see what about it you like and you dislike, and how you can apply that to your own work. Someone use a particular brush for outlines that you like? Try it out! Do you like the fluidity/connectedness of colours within a particular piece? Have a go at it!

And not everything you draw will be amazing, or even good. I’ve been sat feeling frustrated with myself because I couldn’t get a face right, or the way I was drawing a hand looked weird a squiggly, and that’s completely normal! No one posts the fucked up looking pieces of warmup art that they abandoned because they couldn’t find the right angle to draw a character’s cheek bones at (Cough cough). Trust me, everyone that draws has art they will never post.

Finally, progress takes time. It’s a long, frustrating, gruelling process that has massive highs and lows where you feel like the worst artist in the world or the fucking reincarnation of Picasso. It depends on the weather.

For example, my art at the start of 2023 looked like this:

And now it looks like this:

It took my two years to get that far, and fuck knows what my art will look like at the end of 2025.

Your art journey never stops, it only becomes less confusing and frustrating as time goes by. To everyone that feels like they’re in the art trenches right now, you got this, I believe in you and I promise that one day you will crawl out from the mud and filth with a clear understanding of the colour wheel (because fuck me I do hope I get out of that trench soon)

[thecertifiedboykisser]

Aglaea and ratio have wayy to many similarities to not be related in some way. Or atleast be from the same planet.

(Date of this being made is November 19th 2024 at like 11pm MST so no trailers have come out yet and I have seen zero leaks.)

Helpful visual i will be referring to:)

Starting of, the hair clip plant thing is the same for both of them, Aglaea just has two, probably because she holds the flame of romance. The sandles are similar styles. Though Aglaeas just seem to be more elegant and regal while ratios seem like just regular sandles. Both are gold and have some accessory to them.

There eyes, oh boy, it's not very clear here but if you go to the short on the hsr channel, you can see Aglaea has the same 'eyeliner' looking stuff but yellow and sparkly. Both eyes have some sort of heterochromja. Veritas has central while Aglaea has split.

Now, to a more subtle thing, the patterns. Both have themes. Veritas has his owls to represent wisdom and knowledge and stuff. Aglaea has plants and the leaf looking patterns.

This is where I'm getting into real life mythological to look into some of the symbolizem stuff, Aglaea is covered in gold and generally is painted in an ethereal kind of way. The mannequins are for the most part looking up at her in an almost like she is. Above them. The real life Aglaea is the goddess of beauty, splendor, glory, and adornment (don't quote me on that that's just what I found) it fits with how the character is portrayed.

Now, the stuff circled in blue is similar patterns, it's a swirl going in, and both of them have it complimenting their own themes. It's probably something we're gonna see with more character coming out.

Now this might be a stretch but the way they talk seems similar aswell

Both from official drip marketing, they read, to me atleast, the same. The language seems similar. But ratio seems more modernized while Aglaea seems more old fashioned (it literally says O,) and I think that's because of the IPC. Now this is treading into HC territory, but it is plausible.

Ratio probably sounded more like Aglaea when he first left his home planet for the intelligencea guild, which I do think they have some contact with Amphoreous if not very little. But as he was around people who spoke more modernized, he developed that too.

This is mostly just me pointing put there similarities and feeding into my thoughts that were finally gonna get ratio lore in 3.0

Especially since, in penacony, he was more of a support to aven than his own arc, especially since he wasnt released during penacony. I think he was made for amphoreous and penacony was just to get his character a little bit better and have some more connected threads to the new plant than just Black swan.

[shadowbriar]

Five Hargreeves — Daddy Issues

Pairing : Five Hargreeves x (she/her) CIA!Reader Word Count : 3.3k Warning : Angst. Character death. Snogging but nothing too graphic. Season 4 references. Synopsis : He promised himself that he would not let her come near his family madness, but the marigold was melting his blood vessels and none of his siblings look like they’re ready for a real fight. Notes : Inspired by The Neighborhood - Daddy Issues. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

The lack of presence on the other side of the bed made him pull himself entirely out off of drowsiness. Five’s frown was deep when he pulled the blanket up to cover his body, half sitting up with his elbows as support as he scans the room. It was far too early for his liking.

He caught her standing by the bookshelf, his white shirt hanging loose on her shoulders. A small satisfied smile tugs in the corner of his lips. The sight was too pretty for him to not appreciate. She was lost in her own world, caught in her own thoughts. Too busy reading the scribbles of some crumpled paper to realise that the other person in the room has awakened.

“Found something you’re looking for?”

She looks up to see him with a wide smile, looking slightly sheepish of being caught red handed, “No, but I found this,” She took out the fake moustache she found, placing it on her face “How do I look?”

“Ridiculous,” Five says, rolling his eyes “Come here so I can rip it off of you.”

Her grin only becomes wider as she comes closer to the man. She sits on the edge of the bed, leaning so that he could take the silly moustache off of her.

“What’s the story?” She asks, still curious about the peculiar item “Any exciting undercover stories you want to share?”

“You know I can’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t,” He remarks, giving her a playful disapproving look “What were you doing rummaging my stash?”

She shrugs, “I was just bored. You always wake up much later than I do.”

“It’s only what— 6 am? It's not my fault you have sleeping problems.”

She rolls her eyes in response.

Five bite down his smile as he leans in, kissing her softly.

This wasn’t what Five had in mind when he ran through the portal six years ago. Losing his powers and having to build a new life in a strange timeline was certainly not in his to-do list, but developing some clandestine affair with a girl from work was a bigger mindblown for the mentally sixty three years old man. Romance and any other personal relationship were practically out the window the moment he understood about the Apocalypse. Yet now, after one too many timelines, Five has found himself entangled with the knots of love.

He would never admit it out loud. Afraid that a confession would only spoil the fragile bond they’ve created. Hell, this was never even a proper relationship. It was just a simple deal made by two adults. A little roleplay they do whenever they’re alone. Nothing too serious, nothing too monogamous. Strictly business.

But he knew he was doomed the moment he tasted her. There was no other drug that could be as intoxicating, no other substance as addicting. The way that she knew just how much of a dose to give to get him crawling back for more. How she would push further than she pulled him. A little game she does that he’d never grow tired of.

There was only one rule— no rules within these four walls. He could show her how much he cares, how much he worships her, whenever she comes over. Not an inch of her skin left without his kiss. Five was whipped beyond saving whenever the door closes, but even with such intense affection, neither of them dared to pop the question.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks, staring deep into his eyes.

“I’m thinking whatever you’re thinking about.”

She bites her lower lip, climbing on top of him. She pulls him for a proper kiss, clinging her arms around his neck as he rests his hands on her hips.

“Tell me something I’ll forget,” She whispers, kissing the corner of his lips “Something you might have to tell me again.”

Five hesitated. The words were hanging by the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill in any second. Her gentle touch was melting his walls, breaking each and every fortress he’s built over the years. For someone who thought that he’s seen all the things in life, Five was once again caught by surprise.

“How bout I show you instead?” He offers, swapping their positions that she’s now laying on her back with him on top of her.

One of his hands travels to cup her cheek, deepening their kiss as he changes their course of action. Five could feel her smiling through the kiss, giving him the courage to continue his venture. His thumb brushes the skin of her cheek gently. Years of being a cold blooded spy had made him think that there’s no tenderness left in his soul. A broken shell of a man is all he is. Yet, he was once again proven wrong by her. Always her, only her.

It’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend.

—-

“Tell me about your past lovers.”

His grip on her hand loosen a little, brows rising from the unexpected request. It was fortunate of him to have her back leaning on his chest. This way she wouldn’t have heard the slight spike of his heart nor seen the surprise he had in his face. How he blinked and furrowed his brows as his brain tried to digest her words.

He lets go of her hand and rests his arm around her shoulder, silently caging her in an embrace in case the words he utters would make her flee, “Lover. There was only one woman.”

“What’s her name?”

“Dolores,” He sighs, the rare forlorn look in his eyes were potent “Her name was Dolores.”

“What happened between you and Dolores?”

There was a brief pause. His chest hitches as he struggles to find the words, “I.. Left her.”

“Why?”

“I had to.”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me too?” She questions. The fragility of her voice made him wince. Voicing her words barely above a whisper.

“I might,” He confesses with a heavy heart, swallowing a lump in his throat “Will you hate me then?”

She turns her head to face him, nodding like it was a promise, “I will.”

She wanted to ask more. To know deeper about what happened between him and Dolores. If their separation was recent or if he ever tried to come back to her. She wanted to know what made him leave. If there was a bigger story to tell, a bigger secret to share. She wanted to know if he loved her, if he would use his hands to trace the invisible stars on her skin and mark it with his kisses, if he would tell her the word she’s been dying to hear from him. She wanted to know it all.

And Five wanted to tell. He wanted to tell her about the fights and all the running he’s done for the past years. He wanted to tell her how Dolores was the only thing keeping him sane after being trapped in the post-apocalyptic wasteland for forty-five years. He wanted to tell her how tired he is, how he misses his powers and secretly hoped that he never got out of that hotel alive. He wanted to tell it all.

But both of their words die in their tongues. Crestfallen from all the silence that they’re bound to be stuck in. Their eyes tried their best to convey the message their lips couldn’t utter, hoping that the invisible string between them was strong enough to connect their hearts better than words ever could.

Her fingers gently tucked the stubborn strand of hair off of his face. She studies him, trying to see any trace of deceit or vice, but all she could see was the love bleeding out of him like a muck. His eyes were warm, radiating with that one sentiment she’s never seen on anyone else.

She cups both of his cheeks, softly kissing his lips, “I wish you’d let me in.”

Five shakes his head, “I’d never put you in such danger.”

“I can take care of myself,” She argues, an impressed smile decorating her face “Have you forgotten? We’re literally CIA agents.”

He smiles, pulling her head to his chest.

They would never admit it but tender moments like this scares the living out of the both of them. It felt too real, too personal to what they signed up for, but they would rather lose a limb than to miss it. For some reason such delicateness felt like it would dissipate in a moment. Like a bitter farewell was looming behind, ready to catch them off guard and without a fight.

And so they keep quiet. Letting the frail second to fall gracefully like the first drop of snow. His fingers entangle themselves with her hair while she listens carefully to the steady rise and fall of his chest. They make notes of one another, recording each and every little thing the other does before their time turns into bittersweet memory.

—-

Five hesitated. He taps on the payphone with uncertainty, doubting if he should dial her number and ask for the favour. He promised himself that he would not let her come near his family madness, but the marigold was melting his blood vessels and none of his siblings look like they’re ready for a real fight. Whatever this dry cleaner’s daughter kidnapping was about has certainly gone a notch more serious than it ever was.

He weighs his options. The only thing he could make out of her were the pleasant times they’ve spent. The laughter and the stolen glances they would exchange when nobody was around. The sun has always shone on top of them, no rain nor shade to ever taint their story. It feels as if they’ve been living in a fairytale despite all the secrecy he hides from her.

But Ben’s tails were stubborn and Lila’s laser eyesight was not boosting his confidence enough to follow through with this rescue mission. His family might have gotten their powers back, but it was an overstatement to say that the team was officially back on. Their bodies were still trying to readjust themselves with the liquid gold, whatever it might mean now.

The bitterness in his tongue sets thicker as his decision comes to a final. For some reason believing that calling her would compromise the charming affair they have. Not from the squabbles his family might show, but from other perils he couldn’t foresee.

“Hello?” She answers right on the second ring “Who is this?”

Five’s words were caught in his throat, unable to continue his action.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” He finally says. 

“Five? Is everything okay?” She questions, worry evident in her tone as she proceeds to speak in whisper “I know we promised not to talk during work hours, but I heard that you’re taking a sick leave and now you’re calling and I just— I’m worried.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” He answers, his tone heavy with regret “I’m fine. I’m just— Look, there’s something I need to tell you,” There was a pause, clearly still debating if he should end the call and just face whatever’s to come alone with his family.

“Five? Are you there?”

He nods, his voice strained with anxiety, “Yeah, I just— I’m going to Maine. There’s something I need to do there with my family.”

“Oh, okay. Will you be back soon?”

“No, I.. I don’t know,” He answers in surrender “Listen, I know I’m asking too much of you but.. Could you meet me there? In New Grumpson?”

A few seconds of silence, her confusion thick in her voice, “You.. Want me to come to your family gathering?”

“Well, it’s not really a gathering,” Five struggles to explain, running a hand through his hair “It’s more of a.. Rescue mission? I can’t explain the details through the phone, there isn’t enough time.”

“I can’t just drop things off and drive to Maine, Five. I’m in the middle of a case,” She reasoned.

“I know, but I need you to come. I need you to help me,” He begs, his heart beating fast inside of his chest as if it could already see the disaster this phone call would bring “I promise to tell you everything. I’ll explain everything—about my family, about myself, about Dolores, about us. I’ll tell you everything. I just— I need to do it in person. Please.. Please come and meet me there.”

There was still silence from the other side of the phone.

“I promise to let you in,” He continues, his voice faltering in despair “I’ll tell you what you want to hear. What I needed to tell you a long time ago.”

Silence hung heavy in the air. Beads of sweat were breaking in the back of his neck, afraid that he’s just lost everything before it even started. There was no going back now. Not even with the power that he’s just gotten back.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, fuck it,” She answers, having zero sense of hesitation left in her voice “But you better tell me right after I get there.”

“I will, I promise.” Five bites his grin, taking a deep breath of relief before he finally says the magic words “I love you. And I promise to say it again when we meet.”

—-

She has to admit, driving countless hours down to New Grumpson with little to no context, might not have been one of her brightest moments. She should’ve asked more about the plan, where to meet and what time, before hanging up and picking her car keys. God knows how she would meet Five now. Who’s to tell just how big this town is or if he’s even in the city yet. She was blind. Completely lost in a random town thousands of miles from home.

Between finding some covers for the windows that Victor broke and frequent bathroom breaks, the Hargreeves siblings could only reach their destination when the sun was already at its peak. Not to mention the bickering that they have to resolve every other ten minutes. The eight of them are certainly behind schedule but without any means of communication, there was no way for her to know his whereabouts.

Now sitting in a diner, she wonders just how long she should wait before leaving this town. There’s something eerie about this place. The people were kind, sure, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. Like these people were not just civilians but someone placed to fill certain roles to make up the city folks.

She watches as a man enters the diner. He was kicked out the first time by the diner’s owner, but supposed the kind lady could see that this stranger was in need of a shelter. He looks like a tourist, too. A little lost and too peaky to be a local.

And that’s when she heard it, the first gunshot outside. She reaches for her own gun, hiding it under the table as she tries to assess her surroundings. The people in the diner now corner the strange man and the diner lady, commanding the woman to come with them with their guns pointed out.

Good God, what is this place? She thought as she cocks her gun.

Just as the two people ran out through the back door, another shot was fired and it was enough reason for her to take the small mob down from behind. Whatever their reasoning is, the people of this town are certainly not the friendliest to tourists.

She runs outside, trying to help the other three people that were being gunned down by a bunch of the town folks. She watches as the biggest man shields the other two. An act that shouldn’t be logically possible.

She tries to help out, shooting the crazy goon with her own gun. It was a no match with the numbers of these lunatics and their AKs compared to her handgun, but it was enough to give a window for the three people to run further away.

One down, another ten appears. The people in this town just so happen to be complete terrorists who shoot on weaponless people, she reckons.

Out of the blue, Five blinks to the road and joins in the shield of the big man. It took her a couple of seconds to believe the sight she just saw— Five appearing out of thin air and hiding under the protection of the big guy who’s bearing all the gunshots fired at them. None of this was making any sense. Not the city, not the people, not the events she’s witnessing. But she didn’t have time for questions, not yet. Her finger pulls on the trigger nonstop, refilling her magazine as soon as she can before more madmen come.

But her hands weren’t fast enough. There was not enough time for her to raise her gun. To point and pull another shot before a couple bullets were aimed at her chest. She was hit. Too many times for her to count as she fell limp to the cold concrete, gasping for air.

“No!” She could hear Five’s echoing scream. In a blink of an eye, he was kneeling by her, lifting her body to be in his embrace. His hand was shaky, trying his best to give some pressure to the holes in her chest as his other arm pulled her close, “I’m here, I’m here.”

No words came out of her lips. Breathing hurts as blood starts to come out of her mouth. Colour was draining from her face, skin turning cold as her ear rings.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Five apologises, his tears flowing down to her face “This wasn’t supposed to happen, I’m sorry.”

“S-Say it,” She whispers, gasping “You promised.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” He confesses, cupping her cheek with his bloodied hand “I’m sorry. I love you. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”

The light in her eyes slowly dims out. Her laboured breathing quiets down as the interval widens before it eventually stops. Her hand that was holding his wrist fell gently, no longer having any care that the shreds of mirror were creating new cuts to it.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

Those three sentences were flowing out of him like a broken record. Five holds her close, planting tear stained kisses to her cheeks as if it would give her another breath of life. He calls for her name like a prayer, begging for her to look at him just once more, but the magnetism that would always fill those orbs were gone. They were staring into the empty space without a blink. Gone were the eyes that would stare into him with so much love and tenderness.

Five looks up to see his siblings. They were looking down with pitiful, sorry eyes. Never had they ever seen the collected brother be this broken, drowning in the anguish of a lost lover.

“It was Dad,” Luther says bearing the bad news “They were all Hargreeves goons.”

Another tear escaped his eyes. Five’s sobs were getting louder, whispering his apologies to her now deaf ears. He was sorry about everything. About asking her to come, about promising to tell her some complete nonsense, about falling in love with her. Even with his powers, Five was utterly helpless. He couldn’t undo what was done— save the life that he’s lost and keep her away from harm. The one thing that matters most to him has finally been ripped off of his hands.

There was a sense of resentment brewing in his heart. He thought that he could not be any more hollow than he already is, but now that she’s dead in his arms, now that the better half of him has disappeared, Five has ultimately become that one broken shell of a man he once thought he was.

If only she was his little girl, he would’ve run away and hide with her.

[includedisco]

After killing my heart(😁) with his "good morning krub" line when I watched the trailer, Style has done it again ☺️❤️

Not Style going in to humble Fadel and then getting humbled himself😂 Fadel is badass throwing Style's ass out like that

Love how Style keeps calling Fadel a crazy dog

Love how Style is just casually refered to as shameless😂 both by his future husband and even by his own best friend.

Love how Style just yaps nonstop and the way Fadel looks at him like, "what really is wrong with you, man?"

The way Fadel looked puzzled by Style when he haphazardly flexed his biceps while asking what Fadel thought of his dance moves.

Special mentions: Not Style making love to Kant's car. Not style looking like the prettiest thing ever while randomly flirting with Fadel about that pin

Overall, Style is a riot and both Fadel and I are in love. 🤫 Don't tell Fadel that he's already falling

Dunk and Joong own these characters. No one else can do a better delivery. Thank you for your hard work, gentlemen🤝

[meowie17]

Ok so I have a few suggestions but for the sake of space those will be under the cut

Putting it shortly I’d recommend Scar or Doc possibly Ren.

As a season seven sucker I’d normally recommend Scar due his role as the mayor of the shopping district and head of Hep in that season, plus the whole mycelium resistance thing cast him as the villain when looking from the resistance side.

But sense you’ve already got him as a character you could go for Ren he just had an arch as an evil king last season and he did great. He’s a theatre kid at heart and ended up playing king who slowly gets corrupted by greed and turns evil alarmingly well.

But out of all the suggestions I could give I’d recommend Doc. He’s basically the resident supervillain on the server anyway and he ends up as the “Bad guy” in almost every arch he’s in.

I mean just of the top of my head theirs season six’s arch when he was the evil government scientist fighting the hippies from his Area 51 knock off. Season nine where he fought the buttercups a different hippie group. And you could possibly count season six’s prank war but that’s a complicated mess that really depends on who you have as your main pov’s.

Outside of that he’s know for breaking the game, has but multiple world eaters (complex redstone devices that can essentially delete entire contents), he managed to do some insane nonsense to get the ender dragon as a pet, and he’s so rich he uses diamond ore as redstone scaffolding.

As for references if you want to go with Scar I’d recommend either his or Grians povs for the resistance arch it’s a lot of fun and has great story potential. But if for one reason or another you can’t watch it all then you can use the wiki’s article on it. It’s pretty well written and has all the major information.

For Ren I don’t have much, his arch had so many groups going on with the two separate rebel groups, the kings court, and whatever Grian was doing. Im going to tentatively suggest that you go with Impulse as that gives you a direct look at the soup group who I believe are the ones that actually overthrew him. then I’d say you should probably watch at least a couple of his videos to get a sense of his slow corruption.

If you end up going this route I’d suggest watching Rens third life series as he plays the Red king there which is a much more intimidating version of him as a king, plus a lot a lot of fics in the Hermitcraft sphere have some form of the life series in them due to just how popular and groundbreaking they are.

Now if your going for Doc then then there’s not much I can help on that point as his vids are always very long and there can be a lot of complex redstone stuff I don’t get but both the buttercup and area 77 arch’s are a good start.

Here are some links to help:

Hope this helps good luck! I’m really excited to see what you come up with and I’d love it if you were to let me know when the first chapter gets posted! :D

I'm fairly new to hermitcraft, and I'm attempting to write a fic, but I need a "big bad" so to speak, or at least a figurehead of one. Which hermit would be best to cast as said big bad?

I've already got Etho, Joel, Grian, Mumbo Jumbo, Pearl, ZombieCleo, GeminiTay, and GoodTimesWithScar cast, as well as LDShadowlady and Scott Smajor even though they aren't hermits.

The bad guy is supposed to be a metaphor for capitalism.

Suggestions are appreciated! And please point me to your favorite vids or vods from hermits you suggest! Thank you!

[musubiki]

.🖤🔄🤍.

[spiralmode]

wait im rewatching saw 2004 and as a germaphobe one of the cruelest things i had to watch adam endure was dig around in that toilet ("find anything?" "no solids!" 🤢) anyway so he had just taken out the play me tape out of a ziploc bag and that stuck with me because I was like okay that's something he could use idk for what but for something, and so then that toilet scene happens and im like yelling at my screen adam!!! no!!!!!!!!! use the ziploc bag as a glove ahhhhhhh !! but he just went right in there with only one small moment of hesitation

[nartml]

Saw a comment describe killugon as 'born to be brothers, forced to be best friends'.

And I just have to say that, out of all the things that have never happened, that has never happened the most.

[karioke13]

@beheworthy

OH MY GOSH YOU’RE THE SWEETEST! 🥺🥺🥺🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

I LOVED this chapter! Even though it was short, it had a satisfying conclusion for part two after everything Thor and Jane have been through! I think by far one of my favorite lines from this chapter is this line:

“Is this my legacy?" Thor shakes his head. "Asgard is at the heights it was never before. Is that not legacy enough?" "I cannot give you my blessing as you've chosen the girl." Thor looks down. He's not chosen anything. But he needs to do justice to the girl who saved him. Who loved him for him. His father couldn't understand. And Thor couldn't explain. "But your mother would be proud of what you've achieved with Asgard." Thor looks up, surprised at the praise from the man who has only hurt him. For whom he's never good enough.”

I swear this entire quote here is kinda the base of the beginning of this plot so far. It is like a storm itself. Thor tried to make his father proud of him, of Asgard, his pride and joy. However Thor failed into doing so, losing himself on the way. But with the help of Jane, he realizes that maybe he doesn’t need to make Odin proud of him, because he will never be good enough FOR ODIN. And he will never be LIKE HIM. He is his own person who makes his own legacy. And the legacy that he wants is a long, happy life with the love of his life, Jane. Now, moving forward, Thor can now focus on himself, his relationship with Jane and how they can focus on becoming better, and what HE WANTS in life. He does not have to follow in anyone’s footsteps, have everything decided for him and get punished for what he always does wrong. He can now decided FOR HIMSELF! And you did such an amazing depicting that here.

I swear this fic is so amazing and is so incredible when it comes to creating the plot, detailing, references and how each character is feeling and WHY THEY ARE FEELING the way they are! If you don’t become a director I’m going to make you ONE! I’m so proud of you and you’ve worked so hard on this! Can’t wait for part three! Loveeee youuuu sis!!! 🧡🧡🧡🫂🫂🫂

Stargirl Interlude 2 - Thunderstorm

Jane Foster/Thor

Summary: There's not a moment that goes by when Jane doesn't think of him but it's all she can do. She cried and cried. She thought he had left her. She thought he was stuck with his tough family that didn't let him come back to her. She even thought he was maybe a figment of her imagination. Deep down, however, she's started to accept that Thor is gone forever, whatever the reason may be.

-

ThorJane AU where he is an MMA fighter during his banishment and she is a bar singer.

Part 2 - Thunderstorm - is about Jane going to Thor's world that's utter chaos and the challenges that threaten to pull them apart.

(Part 1 here)

Chapter 1: Rescind

Jane continues to live with the hope that Thor will return but has started to accept that maybe he won't.

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[maxiwaxipads]

Romarriche - “Your company is one of a kind… I would never lie to you. I would never say a half-truth or be quiet.” “What is it in your mind, Merold?” “Hearing your voice, complaint or not—it is music to me either way.” Merold - “If there is one constant in this world… Let it be you.” “You’re the cruelest and the kindest thing that happened to me.” “…If only you continued to look at me like that.” Romarriche - “…Merold?” Merold - “But~ It’s only a minor case of bad-mood-itis.” “So Romarriche, spoil me with a spar, will you?” Romarriche - “Merold.” Romarriche - “Look at me.” Merold - “…” Romarriche - “Is something… Wrong?” Merold - “Instead of a spar…” “I might want to lie down on your lap after all.”

[aromanticannibal]

ppl really b acting as if there's only one specific ship that has weird shippers that will complain about ppl not shipping their otp. it's literally always the case you either get fucked over for liking a gay ship or for liking a straight ship or for liking a toxic ship or people just start going "oh there's nothing wrong with the ship but the shippers💀" and you don't fucking know what they're talking about. like can we all just chill. the weird shippers r everywhere it's called some ppl are assholes sometimes. it's not fandom specific