#too many versions of characters

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In the world of heavy metals, love is denser than hate!

[ganondoodle]

Empress and her Bodyguard (2)

(OCs, Zaphira she/her, Shargon he/they)

(close up)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[sophiethewitch1]

we've read about dick and tim being pathetic, but I wanna know the strange, stoic way Damian would be pathetic for reader if you're up for it :) I love your writing!!!

Points at camera like I'm on a gameshow! You, dear reader are lucky you came to the right blog!!!

So, we all know what cats are like when they like someone, right?? Just, following them around constantly. They don't want pets, they don't want to get picked up, they just want to watch you from a distance of five to twenty feet. Anyway, that's Damian!

He's in love with you, he needs you, he wants to keep you, but he has his pride!! Well, for a while at least. He's clingy, of course but he just... pretends he isn't?? It doesn't really work after the first few times. Pressing kisses to your forehead and holding your hand. And he'll do it while he's glaring at you.

Now, if you break up with him or reject him, you are going to see true brattiness. Monstrously bratty. How dare you? How dare you think you can leave him, reject him? He's the heir to the Al Ghul and Wayne dynasties. He gives you everything. And you don't accept it?

...Okay, you thought he'd stomp off after that. He's not leaving?? He's just... sitting outside your house...?? Why the hell is he glaring at you through your window???? It's not your fault????? Damian, however, is absolutely certain it is your fault. He will sit there through rain and snow, deliver you gifts and takeout, and wait sadly and grumpily till you take him back. And I thought he was impatient!

Unfortunately, while you saw him as a cat, he thought the same with you. While you see him as tame, he thinks of you as some wild alley cat that needs to be caught for it's own good. He just needs to slowly acclimate you to him and you guys will be right as rain. Maybe some treats will make you like him more? He'll figure it out, that he's confident of. Don't tell him he's being silly, you will just make things worse.

[whatudottu]

Welcome one and all to my version of the party's loopified designs, featuring my many broken bones and blood stains I especially put into Odile who I tackled second unlike the alphabetical order that I have presented here! I'll have in-depth discussions on each designs and matching practice portraits under the cut but before that-

Siffrin 'barely taller than a preteen' no middle name no last name Loop is still barely taller than a preteen but now that preteen can claim fire to their height!

Alphabetical order GO!

Bonnie, who I've been calling Bonfire (which if that ends up being their name I can imagine Bonnie calling them 'Fire' while they call Bonnie 'Face' to match), was the last of my designs because frankly I knew from the start what their design was going to take influence from and also knew I was going to draw fire :P They were based on bonfires (of course) and also specifically the Burning Man effigies just for a humanoid figure, plus being a chef cooker and a campfire and also a very heated expressive person.

Their flames are hot but not actual wood burning so the Favour Tree (and Mirabelle in the height chart) are not at risk of combusting, they're just incredibly bright-

Isabeau my first design, with influences from @basilpaste 's Lock (with a dressform body) and @nullapophenia 's original version of Husk (the faceless identityless sketch), I have combined them both to make a mannequin it/its loopified design that finally gets to be capital T Tall all for the low low price of being Changed against its will and suffering another bout of body dysphoria that it can't fix anymore :) :) :) When I was referencing mannequins I actually noticed how long their legs actually were let alone how they were perma-stuck in that Barbie-like highheel pose and thought why don't I just curse Isa with something he previously wanted :P

Something something Isabeau actively Changed not only his body but his personality to become someone he wouldn't be ashamed of, yada yada Loopsabeau is back to hating itself and has started to become a person it despises to match (also like a mannequin it's head and arms are technically painlessly removeable :P)

Third in order and third in design is Mirabelle, who technically is the only loopified design with technically hair and clothes, but the hair are the tangled roots of the Favour Tree and the clothes are like the carved hardstone statues of religious figures :P Initially my Idea for Mirabelle was to make her kinda like her statue, with the wonky expression of someone who made it without much mastery over details, not to pit anything against Mira, no, no. Thought about maybe abstract statue design but I couldn't find a version I liked but I did always imagine her statue being weathered in some way, there was a reason why I saved her for third I couldn't pick what I wanted. But then I remembered the broken Change God statues, thought about the 'blessing' that ended up being a curse, and then thought about overgrown weathering and gave her the roots.

I actually looked up Black hairstyles and mostly wondered what specific hair texture Mirabelle had (she wears it in a fro of course, but she has flyaways that aren't coils, but she described her own hair as kinky and :P) so that if I were to mimic hair with tree roots I can get an appropriate matching hairstyle (settled on megatwists). Hah, if Mira has 4C hair, considering how long her hair actually looks, if she to wear her hair in twists she might actually have elbow length hair :P

I spent 8 non-consecutive hours on Odile can you tell? Can you see my hands bleeding my wrist breaking my eyes drooping? Yeah so Odile was again, my second design and it took me a week to recover, and she's a combination of gem and mirror suit with all the little fragments floating around her the 'diamonds' that represent all her family members party plus the ones she originally had in sets of 2. I also put geodes where parts of her body have broken off (inspired by how when the King strikes she can't move, plus also being a glass canon) where when I was actually drawing those geodes that they kinda use the Change symbol?

Circle within a circle within a circle, regardless of how wiggly it is, and at the centre is a cluster of crystals. That was an accidental reference to Odile's mixed heritage but hoo boy what a connection! Her missing pieces are a combination of 'being too old for this' fragility and also 'i didn't want to render more mirrors sue me'

Anyway I am going to put my wrist in a cast and imagine loopified party members with their pre-wish counterparts :P

[shouyuus]

colorimetery

kuroo; 1,843 words; fluff, lapslock, no "y/n", abuse of extended metaphors, none of this makes sense, kenma is the most in-touch person in this entire fic and that should tell you something, awk!kuroo, whipped!kuroo

summary: in which kuroo is down bad for you and nothing much else happens

a/n: @seiwas this is for u! u asked for kuroo and i humbly deliver :) hope u liked it bby; fun fact, a lot of these colors are pulled from the gamblin oil paints website bc i love their paints and also i love the thought that a lot of pigments were poisonous way back when and ppl were just... casually poisoning themselves while making their art; there's a metaphor in there somewhere... but i'll leave that up to interpretation lol

─── 鉄朗 THERE ARE COLORS he doesn’t know the names for, just like there are birds who will sing songs that no human will ever understand, but somewhere between the viridian of a sun-lit forest and the minor trill of a mockingbird’s call, he finds the shape of you.

and he doesn’t remember exactly when he’d started feeling like this, only that he’d woken up one day to a pastel sky, heard the tell-tale blip of a message from you, and felt his entire body flush vermillion, hard enough to poison.

c’mon, bedhead. time for school.

he grins down at the message, his lips pulling wide, his fingers still blunted by his honeyed dreams (how many of you? don’t ask him — he’s long since lost count) as he types out a reply.

be there in three.

he stumbles out of bed in the raw sienna sunrise, pulling on his uniform pants, shoving the hems of his un-ironed white shirt into the waistband before dashing out the door. he finds you haloed in liquid gold, standing on his doorstep, flicking through your phone before you notice him and your face breaks into an earth-rending smile.

kuroo feels dizzy, punchdrunk, a sake-shot of fire sizzling down his front till it pools in the base of his belly as he pulls on his shoes and tries to hide behind a well-timed cough.

“c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he brushes passed you, but not before reaching out to ruffle at your hair, savoring in the midnight-soft of your tresses as it slips through his fingers.

you bicker the entire way to school, picking up kenma somewhere along the way. he casts you both a tired, reproachful look before slouching off ahead of you, content to resume whatever game he’s currently hyperfixating on while you and kuroo snipe at each other a few steps behind him.

“you could just ask her out,” kenma says during free period, his eyes never leaving his phone screen as he mashes at the attack button, watching the health bar of the boss monster dwindle even as kuroo makes an indignant sort of choking noise.

“w-what? she’s just — she’s just a friend.”

but at the scathing look kenma darts his way, kuroo finally relents.

“i — we’ve been friends for so long i just… i don’t wanna fuck it up, y’know?” he cards a hand through his already mussed up hair, eliciting a string of giggles from a cluster of girls sitting behind them, heads bent in towards one another, their long hair swishing like willow branches in a mid-autumn breeze; but neither of them take notice.

kenma heaves a world-weary sigh, grimacing as a large WIN!! image flashes across the face of his phone and he slumps back to frown at kuroo.

“i feel like you’ve built up enough affection points to unlock whatever good ending she’s got for you by now, so,” he pins kuroo with a pointed look, “i don’t think she’s gonna say no.”

kuroo can only blink, his mind churning around this strange yet apt analogy.

“aw man, you’re the best, y’know that?” he laughs, reaching over to catch kenma in a headlock, digging his knuckles into the crown of kenma’s head even as he struggles fruitlessly to get free.

it is in the cadium orange glow of sunset, after your art class and his volleyball practice, that kuroo finally works up the courage —

“hey uh — can i ask you something?”

you hike an eyebrow, a dangerous grin sharpening the shape of your lips.

“didn’t you just?”

kuroo lets out a frustrated sigh, “fuck you, you know what i meant.”

you laugh, the timber of it ringing through him like church bells on a sunday morning, and suddenly, he wonders if this feeling might be what inspired the ancients to worship at the feet of so much divinity — just this, the giddiness and anticipation, the knowledge and uncertainty. this, the insurmountable weight of something (call it love or infatuation, he doesn’t care) pressing down on his chest hard enough to rob him of every last breath.

he think that perhaps this is all anyone’s ever needed to start believing in magic.

“okay, okay,” you say, stifling a grin behind pink-pursed lips, “what did you wanna ask?”

“go out with me,” kuroo blurts out, well before he can stop himself. and he almost wants to sink into the earth with the way his entire body goes hot, the aftermath of a tectonic shift, the pluming heat of a volcanic hiccup.

you stare up at him, your expression curiously blank as he watches you, desperate for any sign of your answer, the most minuscule tells of how you might be feeling.

finally, you cock your head and ask, “was… there a question in there somewhere?”

kuroo almost swears*. almost*.

“fuck — fine! i meant — will you —”

“yes.”

“— it’s just i’ve — wait, what?” kuroo freezes, staring down at you with slack-jawed disbelief, blinking as if he doesn’t quite understand what you’re saying.

you allow yourself a smile, and kuroo feels his insides melt to something very much like molten marshmallows.

you let out a sigh that sounds remarkably like kenma’s — exasperated and amused in equal measure — before glancing back up at him with a bashful smile.

internally, kuroo wonders if this is what being “k.o-ed” feels like and he resolves to be just a bit more merciful to all of videogame opponents.

“i said yes, you big volleyball-obsessed oaf —”

“oh,” kuroo says, still not quite sure what he’s supposed to do from here.

you roll your eyes and turn back towards the sidewalk, taking a few steps before twisting your head to look at him.

“aren’t you gonna walk me home?”

kuroo nearly trips in his eagerness to level himself with you, but once he does, he straightens his shoulders and puffs out his chest.

“so —” he says, in a stab at his usual carefree bravado, “do i get to call you my girlfriend now?”

you shrug, “sure, if you want to.”

kuroo deflates ever so slightly, “what? you don’t want me to?”

you slant him a look that makes his knees turn to jelly.

“yeah, i do. but that won’t matter if you don’t, right?”

“i — i do!”

“so then…”

you turn your back on him again, though he’s sure this time he catches it — the dash of sweet magenta, swept across your lips like a kiss, or a promise.

or, the thought licks up the back of his throat, tantalizing — the promise of a kiss.

“oi.” he jogs to catch up with you, reaching out to sling an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to press his lips into the thick of your hair, breathing you in, losing himself in the familiar smell of your shampoo — green tea and apples, or something of the sort.

you laugh, and he basks in the sound.

by the time he walks you home, the street is gilded in goldenrod yellow, your shadows stretching long beneath you, the slant-wise light painting everything in an ethereal glow.

“well,” kuroo says, shoving his hands into his pockets, if only to keep them from fidgeting, because guys like him don’t get nervous. at least, not like this.

“well,” you echo, letting your voice linger over the ‘l’, letting it twist around your tongue, the sound lulling at the top of your palette till kuroo feels his stomach catch.

“see you tomorrow?” he asks, cursing himself internally for sounding so uncertain. since when has he been so uncertain?

your lips twist into a tease, just a fish-tail flicker, and kuroo knows he’s done for.

“do you wanna stay for dinner?” you ask, just as he opens his mouth.

“unless you don’t —” his voice jerks into an abortive breath.

somewhere behind him, a raven fluffs out it’s feathers on the low-cut wall that separates your house from the rest of the street. a single black feathers flutters to the ground, dark as an oil spill.

“unless i don’t what?” you ask.

kuroo swallows around his thundering heartbeat, feeling the last dregs of sunlight seep from the far horizon.

“i was gonna say… unless you — you didn’t wanna say goodbye,” he admits, his eyes flicking away from your face if only to give himself a momentary reprieve from the intensity of your gaze.

you purse your lips, shrugging up a shoulder, a single lock of hair slipping from its place behind your ear.

“i never do. c’mon — or else they’ll start eating without us.”

kuroo is speechless as he watches you make your way up the shallow steps to your door, glancing over your shoulder towards him. he doesn’t know how many times he’s stayed over for dinner, how many times he’d lingered in the perfumed warmth of your room while you showered, flipping absently through the latest volume of jump, how many times you’d fallen asleep with your damp hair slowly soaking into his school uniform.

he couldn’t count them all if he wanted to. and he doesn’t really want to.

he takes a breath and takes the front path two steps at a time, leaping up the staircase with a smirk as he skims his palm along the top of your head. you make a sound like an annoyed hamster and kuroo allows himself a laugh that bubbles up and up and up till it’s spilling over, till he pushes open your front door and is greeted with the familiar sandalwood radiance of your front hallway, the light pooling around his ankles as he toes off his shoes.

“hey,” you say, and he turns around, only to find you leaning up on tip toe to brush your lips against his.

he freezes, but you’re pulling back already, shrugging off your coat, shouldering off your school bag and shouting down the hallway to ask what’s for dinner, and to say that kuroo’s here.

kuroo finds himself caught in the sharp cerulean blue of your laughter like the rain-washed sky, the smoke-ridden darkness in the shades of your eyes, he turns to see you blushing, even as you motion for him to follow you into the dining room. he does, only tripping over himself once (though he’s been feeling wobbly since this afternoon, when he’d resolved to ask you out in the first place).

and he tells himself that, yes, there will always be colors he doesn’t know the names of, bird songs he will never be able to understand. but colors, he can learn. and as for the birds — well, he figures that they’re all probably singing about falling in love anyway.

TAGLIST: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @dira333 @stunies @phroggii @fennecnco @encrytpta @simpingdailyforthem @ryescapades -- join the taglist!

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

What can I say? They're my favorite.

[stopper-my-heart]

Heartstopper S1E6

The colours of the animated hearts in this scene are (basically) the colours of the Lesbian Pride Flag (for young-Tara) and the Bisexual Pride flag (for young-Nick). Plus, the lighting cycles through the colours of the rainbow!

[wolvertooth]

au/fix where the sabretooth that gets sent down to the pit and does the sabretooth war stuff is uhmmm just a clone. its the clone plot again. for the 3rd time.

i mean im kinda torn on this since sabretooth 2022 + sabretooth and the exiles did have some good moments. its just the ending and everything that happened after that was. weird. and off.

so maybe before the pit, the clone was doing some Evil clone stuff, but being in the pit triggered some genuine memories for the clone, allowing for it to have a brief period of victors actual self. then, by the end of sabretooth and the exiles, that wore off, and he reverted back to normal Evil clone. that would also give a good reason for the brief moments in sabretooth war that felt ‘real’ being at the same time he was remembering things, his actual self slipping through again. fuck now im feeling kinda bad for this hypothetical sabretooth clone…..

meanwhile, the real sabretooth(inverted) is chilling at home, watching this go down from the outside. cuz like, lets be real, his friends wouldnt just leave him in that reverted state at the end of weapon x 2017. they would absolutely kick some ass in order to get him back to normal. and i bet it was weird for him to hear about the graydon thing too, seeing as hes now got a solid relationship with his own graydon.

oh. and ben percys wolverine is totally a clone too. cuz he just seems so different from the wolverine in infinity watch.

and the real ones are definitely living together.

anyway, extra -> tbh the whole percy run feels like an au to me. mostly due to the way both of their memories are handled, wolverines especially, as shown in x lives / x deaths. its a mashup of a bunch of different wolverine runs, but with the authors own spin on them.

its kinda representative how every new wolverine run is like their own au, each author taking bits and pieces of canon as needed, but also slightly rewriting them to fit their personal take. bit like a game of telephone, plot points getting forgotten over time as new authors dont bring them along, and other authors ideas getting remixed. especially in the earlier days, when runs were way longer, plot points getting abandoned in their own run.

a good example of this comes from return of wolverine and infinity watch, which are both considered ‘canon’, but due to their length are never referenced again. and even though infinity watch is an immediate sequel to return of wolverine, the concept introduced in that run where wolverine has all the different versions and variants of wolverine in his head wasnt ever mentioned.

its like the previous stories set up new plots only for the future ones to drop them. like how weapon x 2017s ending of sabretooth being reverted back to a ‘feral’ state never gets elaborated on later, despite seeming like something that would lead into a new arc.

all different stories, all somehow labeled as canon.

[theminecraftbee]

Skizz slams the door open. "Am I late? Guys, am I late?"

"Relax, relax," says Impulse. "Grian still hasn't actually started yet, so like -"

"Oh, thank goodness. I wanted to put six diamonds down on 'soulenemies'," Skizz says, slumping into a couch in the corner of a coffee shop he definitely, definitely isn't supposed to have been able to get into. It's just, like, if Grian gets to open a ridiculous rift in reality, there's nothing stopping the rest of them, right?

"Okay!" Scar says, brightly. "That's long-shot odds you know. 'We don't get to know how many lives we have' currently has the most diamonds on it, you know."

"Yeah, Grian's not that boring," Skizz says, as Scar marks it down on the chart. To the side, Martyn snorts. "If he were gonna do that, he'd do some other twist too."

"I wanted to bet for reverse life but Impulse wouldn't let me," Pearl says.

"Pearl, I'm not letting you waste your diamonds on 'the guy who dies the most wins'."

"Jimmy deserves the win!" Pearl says.

"Yeah, that's why Grian wouldn't do it."

Martyn snorts and takes a sip of a drink. Skizz squints. He's... pretty sure that's actually just milk. He's not sure why Martyn is drinking it like it's wine or something, but like, sure.

"I still say 'we're doing it underwater' this time," Martyn adds.

"Can you do that? Tango, you're technically an admin, right?" Impulse asks.

"Uhhhhh.... I don't know," Tango says, shrugging. "I think we'd drown."

"Underwater, but we don't drown. We can test it," Martyn says. "The pool is mine."

"Long odds," Scar says.

"Listen. If you all insist on using MY COFFEE SHOP for these - these illegal activities," Bdubs starts.

"Awww, Bubbles," Etho says.

"Y - You don't get to try to sweeten me up!" Bdubs says. "If you're using my coffee shop, you'll keep it down, so -"

Cleo comes barreling down from outside. "Grian's in the shopping district," she says, deceptively calm.

"SCATTER!" Impulse says, not calm at all.

Scar flips the betting board over. Someone jumps out a window. Before Skizz can figure out what to do, he and Martyn are shoved under a table on top of each other.

"Take me out to dinner first," Martyn says.

"Come on man," Skizz says, and then the door opens.

There's a long silence. Then, Skizz hears Grian speak.

"You know, I'm not an idiot. I know when you're hiding stuff from me. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. Whatever prank you're planning? I will have both eyes open. Doc's been throwing creepers at me! I'm ready!"

Another silence.

"Yeah, okay, sure," Bdubs says.

"Why did you say that so suspiciously," Grian says.

"Oh, yeah, actually, Grian, what's your opinion on elytras?"

"...Bdubs, you've been on the same server as me for how many years?" Grian says, baffled.

"Just wondering! Have, uh, have..."

"You know what? I'm not asking," Grian says, and it's silent for a bit before there's a shuffling and Skizz is pulled out from under the table.

"Sorry about that, precautions, you know? It's not fair if he sees what we're betting on, then he won't do it," Scar says. "Anyway. You know, Bdubs, your theory that we're doing it this time with wings? Good theory, good theory! I see potential in that. It is easy to forget how much that man likes his wings. Looking far more promising! Any takers?"

"That would be the worst to fight with and I don't think he'd do it," Cleo says, and the conversation begins again.

[forsty]

Bill POV: Tfw ur werewolf buddy is really sad for the loss of his mate (ur best friend) and almost gets himself shot by a hunter so u beat the hunter nearly to death and then succumb to the horror of almost losing a best friend (again) and almost senselessly murdering another man (again)

[OC, Bill belongs to @walk-in-sunshine , Cody(Wolf) belongs to me]

[annoyingann]

This day has come!! My birthday!!

I must say, a lot has happened in the last year. I met a lot of people, my environment has changed a lot.. but I am sure that with the experience gained this year, I have become cooler and stronger💪 more text↓

Thank you, dear followers, for reading me this year. I am going to continue drawing and feeding you with doodles! I believe that today will be interesting!! 🙌

P.s. And I will not tell you my age directly anymore. I am not comfortable keeping information about me in the public, sorry :[

[guayabana]

elden ring attracting so much attention from audiences that usually wouldn't touch a fromsoft game has been so annoying when it comes to discussions about its story.

like maybe ironic considering grrm was involved in the writing this time, but the response to elden ring & specifically SOTE feels very similar to what happened with game of thrones, where the story is pretty explicitly about the dangers & violence & cruelty inherent in certain systems of power, and 95% of the audience response is to look at that & be like "wow i hope my fave character gets to be the good ruler who fixes everything because they're so cool & nice :D"

[sunfloweraroace]

recently I acquired an obsession with xmen (specifically the animated show) and what I’ve learned from spending time on Tumblr (and Pinterest) is:

Logan is in a relationship with anyone and everyone (at least in fanon)

Logan is a girl dad

scott eats soup when he’s sad

scott eats a lot of soup

[becauseplot]

Penciled Lines

(Cross-posted on ao3, if you prefer to read it there. Reblogs still appreciated!)

Missa wakes up, and he thinks he might be doomed. This doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

Missa is awake early—by his own metric, anyway. His nocturnal nature causes “early” for him to mean “early night” and not “early morning.” Regardless, “early” means that Philza is not asleep yet, still going through his nightly rituals. “Early” means that Philza is sitting up in (his? their?) the bed, pillows propped up behind him, notebook in his lap, sketching away.

And when Missa wakes up to the soft scritch-scratch of a charcoal pencil on textured paper, his forehead just so happens to be brushing Philza’s hip.

Missa can hardly breathe.

Oh no.

He knows that if he gives any indication that he is awake, Philza will stop sketching, close his notebook, shift himself over until he is politely seated on his side of the bed, and greet Missa with a friendly smile. Philza has done it before, when Missa wakes up early. That’s how Missa knows he’ll do it again.

Thus, Missa can hardly breathe—his breaths have to be the slow in-out of sleep. He can’t so much as twitch, either. He has to keep quiet and play dead or else he’ll be found out. Seen. Caught living the lie.

“Husband,” Philza calls him. They’re not married. They share a bed. They’re hardly ever in it at the same time. They have a son and a daughter. Neither of them know Missa very well. Philza has had an extra set of armor and a skull on his backpack for months, waiting for Missa. Missa doesn’t even know Philza’s last name.

Philza is a good man and a good friend—and Missa doesn't deserve him. Still, he takes what he can get. Curls around it. Hoarding every innocent kindness Philza extends like a starving creature: the generosity of a backpack fully stocked with equipment; the trust Philza places in Missa to watch the kids when he’s asleep; and now, the courtesy of not moving his hip from Missa’s forehead to ensure his “sleeping” isn’t disturbed. Missa clutches all of these little offerings in his greedy claws and hugs them into his chest, even as the guilt eats away at him.

Because, regardless of the lack of mutual feeling, he loves Philza. He loves him so, so much, and that is why he is doomed. He can’t afford to lose what little he has. He can’t cross that line. 

So Missa lies beside Philza, forehead pressed against Philza’s hip, pretending to sleep so he can imagine that they’re not just lying in bed together, but lying in bed, together; and later, when Missa truly wakes, he will sit on his side of the bed and look at Philza’s face soft with sleep and think about how lucky he is that he still has a side-of-the-bed to begin with.

Missa doesn’t mean to drift off. When it starts to happen, he’s hopelessly torn between shaking himself awake and thus giving himself away, or remaining how he is, silently fending off the inevitable. In the end, Missa clings to that scritch-scratch sound of Philza’s pencil on the paper for as long as he can before the fog at last pulls him under. 

Eventually, he dreams. In fact, he dreams of the calloused fingers he dreams of every night, hands like his own, an artist of Death, cradling and shading the contours of his face—a softness dashing charcoal across his jaw, and over his cheekbones, and perhaps on his lips, too, if he’s lucky. Defining every edge of him.

~*~

A deep sigh. Phil stops sketching as Missa shifts in his sleep. He tilts his head up so that the tip of his nose is now just nearly brushing against Phil’s hip. The motion disturbs the wild splay of his dark hair, revealing more of his face: eyelashes, cheeks, warmth. Tender blush of something Stygian and otherworldly. New.

Phil’s lips tilt upwards. He turns to a fresh page, and he starts again.