#trying to use my rejected frames more creatively

[smalltownghosts]

Sunday

[greenlotusleaf]

“Been getting a little fat, hmm?” I poke at the slight outward curve of your tummy when we have a moment away from prying eyes. You blush. I know your secret. I’m the Ranger, stoic and grim to everyone but you. When we first met, we had a professional rivalry. We were always trying to outdo each other as the party’s scouts and trapfinders. We joked with each other over our near misses, confident in the other’s skills, and kept friendly wagers about how many monsters we could slay in an encounter. Whoever killed the most had free drinks for the night at the tavern. It was your drunken flirting that broke down my barriers. Sometimes I lost on purpose, knowing the state you’d be in. Although you never accused me of it, I think you knew. Then there was the spring. We had stopped to camp in the forest and chanced upon a shrine dedicated to the mother goddess of the old ways. I warned everyone not to drink from the spring. But you didn’t believe me. Our friendly competition got the best of you. You took a long drink from the clear water. It tasted fantastic. Then you start hacking and coughing, everyone looks surprised and concerned. You broke character and laughed big belly laughs at their expressions. “See? It’s just a bunch of superstitious nonsense,” you said. You were from the city. You thought you knew better. Days later with loot in tow, we head to town to rest and relax after a particularly grueling dungeon. It took a lot less beer to get you going this time. You smiled, sat in my lap, whispered in my ear, pouted, rubbed on me. I wanted it, badly, but I knew better. You set an enchantment into motion that had to be seen all the way through. Disappointed by my rejection, you went out with the nearest broad-shouldered farmer like you were possessed. I noticed the changes not long after that. You were eating constantly, everything you could fit in your mouth. You asked for seconds and whined when you couldn’t have thirds. Although, I obliged by giving you half my portions. After weeks your body began to accommodate all the extra food. Your lithe, little frame, so skinny you could practically fit through prison bars, began to plump up. Your clothes grew tight around breasts, hips, and ass first. I did enjoy watching you struggle with straps of your arm and whine when you had to loosen them. Now there’s your belly. Even though it’s still small, at the moment, I can see it get in your way. You’re not as quick as you used to be, and you’ve become very pouty about it. I find myself picking up your slack more and more with each passing day as the primal lifeforce inside you swells. I enjoy teasing you about it too. You’re in denial, but in a week or two, you’ll see. For my part, it’s my responsibility and joy to take care of you, as a practitioner of the old ways. In my dreams, I see you growing into an image of the mother goddess to be worshiped and fed. In my waking life, I have to fulfill these primal visions. They're like base instincts to me. When you come to terms with your new role, I'll take you to the Druid circle so that you can be properly worshiped and enjoy the months to come. Maybe you’ll want to remain as a living goddess for the Druids? Maybe you’ll want to go back to your old life as a rogue? Of course, it’ll be far, far more difficult with the weight and curves you’ll have accumulated.

I don't have the creative energy for a response that would do this justice, but it's way too good to sit unanswered in my inbox any longer. I simply have to share it. Thank you, anon. Delicious.

[cosmic-corporation]

AFJAGAJJHA I LOVE THE YAPPING OK (<- avid tag reader) IM EATING THIS LORE UP LIKE A DELICIOUS GOURMET MEAL /ref YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND🔥🔥 ITS SO FUN TO READ!!! CREATIVITY CREATIVITY!!!! (also reading lore just motivates me to do stuff idk why) (ough… platonic marriage /silly)

what about cassian? hehehehe (laying on my bed, on my stomach, reading lore and kicking my feet like a little girl)

- ducky anon

ooh when I catch you ducky, ducky when I catch you-/j

Cassian is... One of the BIGGEST characters I have they live in my brain all the time as we as their partner in crime, Archie ( @gl0wsticko 's character I lob archie am <3)

suicide mention after the 'read more'

That's the newest rendition of Cassian that I've got :]]

and since they're the character I have built the most, I'm gonna section things up a bit!!!

Family

THE WHOLE IRVINE FAMILY IN AGE ORDER SOVANNA - MOM - 59 HANNES - DAD - 57 ATTICUS - OLDEST BROTHER - 36 CASSIAN - MIDDLE BROTHER - 28 CECIL - MIDDLE SISTER - 16-17-18 IONE - YOUNGEST SISTER - 13-14 DOYLE - DOG - 3

Cassian is currently trying to avoid their own family due to their mission. Cecil pursues Cassian, trying to convince them to come back home. Ione has no memories of Cassian, only the stories Cecil and Atticus tell her.

Mission

At a fairly young age, Cassian was taken to a cult and some sort of curse was put upon them. idk how to really explain it, BUT, their mission is to take out any humanoid creature that *isn't* human. (themself INCLUDED!!!) they're a hypocrite SHIT. But, due to this mission they left their family to keep them safe. They moved around constantly trying to avoid enemies they've made and to avoid being found by Cecil. Along this, they found Archie who became their partner in crime. archie uses xe/xim for whoever is wondering. Once Cassian is no longer able to go on with their mission, they are supposed to end their own life due to the hypocricy mostly. They don't remember being cursed, they only know they get strong, painful headaches at the thought of purposfully sparing someone they shouldn't or at the thought of keeping themself alive in the end.

Relationships

Despite having left, their relationship with their family is still decently intact!!! They love and miss their family every day, having a framed family photo always hidden wherever they're staying. Cassian and Cecil were also quite close, with Cassian still sending Cecil letters and voice mails some days. The lanterns and candles on their antlers are from Cecil. see here's where it all goes so fucking KABAMBAM

ARCHIE AND CASSIAN'S RELATIONSHIP!!!!

they're gay for eachother. 100%. no denying it. in so many AUs if things went right they'd be together. The two pine for eachother in secret, but neither confesses. Archie fears rejection and Cassian is scared to love someone, worried about the enemies they've made and mostly worried about xir safety. If Archie were to confess, Cassian would reject xim and initially be cold and harsh, but later come around to apologize to xim for being mean. (THEY ARE THE DEFENITION OF 'Somethin' Stupid' BY FRANK SINATRA KILL ME) But regardless, Cassian would do anything and everything to keep xim safe from harm. their love languages if ur curious; feels loved with acts of service and physical touch, but expresses love with words of affirmation for the most part they're also a cuddly and koala kinda guy.

Fears

They don't have a lot of fears, honestly. They mostly just fear killing their family and Archie, seeing as those are the only people they have left that still care about them. They're also violently insecure about their deer traits (antlers, ears, nose, and tail) :]

Hobbies

They're a BIIIIIIIIIG reader. and word man, so many fancy word,,,, They also enjoy cooking a lot :]

Misc

THEY'RE FUCKING BRITISH !!! They/them but prefers masculine terms like "boyfriend" and stuff like that They have a weighted spider plushie they cuddle with silk pjs, skincare routine, very hygiene oriented. you would not expect them to be a murderer/hj

also here's their playlist :] helps explain personality or wants and stuff.

the family excluding cassian ^

AND THE SPECIAL XE, ARCHIE !!!!!!! <3333 i love archie sm archie cassian all day all night all that's in my brain GET THE TWO OF THEM OUT/j

anyways there's your extra large lore session i love cassian sm <3

[mysteriawrites]

Hello ,can I request a TWST matchup please !? And thank you .

**Appearance:**

I'm a 5'5" Arab girl (165cm) (she/her, straight )who wears a hijab. I am a brunette with big, light brown eyes and red-framed glasses. People often say I have a soothing aura when they look into my eyes. My face is round with a kind of heart shape with big cheeks, a small nose, and cute defined lips. I'm pale cause I mostly stay at home and avoid getting a tan. I have a lot of beauty marks on my face . I have eyebags, which might be due to anemia, and I always look tired unless i use blush ,tho i dislike the texture of makeup on my skin (but i do care about my skin by applying skincare ,but i dont do it very often 😅)people say I am cute and pretty but it's hard for me to believe them (insecurities and self doub go brr...)

**Hobbies:**

drawing, (sketches mostly) ,I plan to learn colour theory to start painting. I adore all forms of art, paintings , music , sculptures..ect (I love everything that is beautiful ,plus everything is beautiful in its own way).I enjoy reading. Although it's been a while since I found a book that peeked my interest ,I mostly read fanfics recently . Video games hold a special place in my heart, I LOVE the different art styles and plots in each game. I like anime, but I've been too busy lately to watch. I have some sewing skills, mostly for patching things up, but I want to sew clothes and learn crochet in the future. Crafting is another hobby I enjoy, I am good with my hands. I love learning new stuff. biology ,psychology, and physics r my fav subjects(i like learning about anatomy whether it's animal's or human's +plants in the medical field +my fav scientist is Nicolas Tesla). I speak 3 languages: Arabic (native), French, and English. I plan to learn Spanish, Italian, or German next, depending on my mood. I'm a quick learner and adapt easily to different situations(that's something I admire and take pride in) While I can cook simple dishes like pasta and eggs, I'm not skilled at cooking savory foods.but in baking ,if you give me a recipe, i will make the most delicious desserts you've ever tasted(but quiet ironically i hate cooking ,i only do it if i am forced to), lemon tart is my fav due to my sweet tooth.

I forgot to mention my love for horror movies and games(they dont even scare me . Even though I am a good swimmer, I have thalassophobia (ironic), but i do like me some facts about marine biology, with jellyfishes, anglerfishes, and Caribbean reef octopuses being my favorites.

**Personality:**

My personality is quite flexible and depends on both the people I'm with and my mood. When I'm outside , I tend to feel anxious, although I do my best not to show it. I come across as calm, chill, and reserved, often giving off a "don't approach me" vibe, but I'm friendly and won't reject anyone who wants to chat, although I dislike small talk and feel a bit uneasy around boys. I've had trust issues due to past betrayals, so I'm cautious with my relationships now (whether it is friends or family ,no lover tho ,don't get me wrong i can be quiet the romantic but the only man that I would probably get attached to would be fictional for sure lol)

With my close friends, I'm more open, bright, and cheerful. I talk a lot about my interests, sharing random facts (they call me a nerd). I'm caring and sweet toward my friends, and my love languages include gift-giving, physical touch, and acts of service. I give them presents and hugs, always respecting their boundaries.

I would describe myself as creative, passionate, and smart, with a hint of perfectionism. I admit I am lazy and unmotivated more often than i like (i can't help it). I am an INTP-T, Enneagram 5w4, and a Libra. I'm also an older sister.

I am a burnt-out gifted kid , but I try to be the best version of myself whether academically ,mentally or physically(i admit i do feel down thinking that i am never gonna make it ,but i always try to push these thoughts aside but most of the time they get the best of me sadly).I often feel I'll never be good enough for my mother (she has high standards for me that I can never seem to meet). I was bullied cause of my looks and weight, which made me depressed and anorexic for a year. Thankfully, I've changed a lot over time, tho it affected me making me antisocial, having trust issues and insecurities. I like energy drinks. My music taste varies from pop, alt/indie, classical( my fav pieces are moonlight sonata 3rd movement, danse macabre , in the hall of the mountain king and la campanella ) ,jazz, to rock/metal, with a particular love for rock & roll. Comfortable baggy clothes are my go-to(makes me feel good in my own skin) , and I can be quite sarcastic with a sharp tongue at times. Once I get comfortable with someone, you'll find I'm pretty blunt and honest .I am polite and respectful .I can also be stubborn and a pessimist if I am not in a good mood . I like cats, and I am afraid of dogs and horses and can't stand people who underestimate me .I have inferiority AND superiority complex (but mostly inferiority)

Hello hello thank you for the request (first hijabi request I’ve gotten which makes me happy cause i wear hijab too ❤️) sorry this took 80 years my life is on fire.

Anyway without further ado DRUMROLL PLEASE!!!

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

VIL SCHOENHEIT!!!

You and Vil are surprisingly similar which makes it easier for you two to click than with most other people. You both try your absolute hardest to be the best people you can be and see the beauty in the world around you although while he tries to bring out the beauty in things you see beauty in the way they already were.

You and Vil met during alchemy class after you dropped into Twisted Wonderland. At first Vil was his usual perfectionist self: ordering you around and being controlling about how to do your project, but once you showed him your alchemic proficiency he was genuinely impressed.

Ever since then not only did you capture his respect, but also his intrigue. Despite being as busy as he is, when he had the time he would try to learn more about who you were by either word of mouth or asking your friends (Rook offered to “observe you” but Vil voted against it for it is rude and creepy).

One day while he was on a run he saw you under a tree practicing your sewing. He decided this was a good opportunity to strike up a conversation with you given he knew a thing or two about clothes.

He walked over and gave you some advice about your stitching. Sadly it came off a lot more condescending then he would like and it rubbed you the wrong way which lead you to giving him the cold shoulder but tried to politely dismiss yourself.

You know those guys that are more intrigued by those who aren’t interested in them? Yeah that’s Vil even if he’ll never admit it. The more you ignore or avoid him the more he wants to make amends and try to impress you.

Until one day where you’re in a particularly bad mood you have an outburst about how him not giving you space makes you uncomfortable due to old wounds and ask what his deal was.

This made him realize his behavior towards you was unfair and disrespectful. He didn’t take your feelings or comfort into account at all. He is as ashamed with himself.

He stood before you and gave a genuine and sincere apology before walking away.

You don’t know how or why, but his apology moved you. He’s not like other guys you’ve met before. You could tell that he felt genuine remorse and met every word of what he said

A week later you two run into each other again and make awkward small talk. You can tell that he still feels bad about what he did, so you propose that you guys start over as true friends.

And he agrees.

After that you slowly but surely grow closer and closer. Bonding over shared passions and views, before long Vil is falling in love with you. You’re not his first crush, but you’re the first one he truly feels love and affection for. Not just a relationship for the press or screens.

And so he asks you out like a classic fairytale prince for a fancy private dinner. And although you accept you let him know that he doesn’t need to do something so extravagant, that you would be happy no matter what. That takes him by surprise, but it’s not an unwelcome one.

You and Vil are like an old married couple once you finally get together.

Always bantering about how you both need to take better care of yourselves. It’s wholesome and funny at the same time.

Because he can’t always spend a lot of time with you, his love language is gift giving and acts of service. What better way to spend his money than on you. He gets you things he sees you eyeing in the store or on your wishlist or things that make your day a bit easier.

Since he’s not the best at showing it he wants to make sure you know you’re loved even without words.

Your dates usually consist of simple things like cooking at home where you have full privacy.

He is the Queen and you are the King/Queen/Royal at his side.

[spongeofaces]

Hello! I am here for the twst matchup (romantic, please) and no first years or the teachers .Thank you, and have a good day !

**Appearance:**

I'm a 5'5" girl (165cm) (she/her, straight ). I am a brunette with short dark brown hair, round light brown eyes ,and transparent framed glasses. People often say I have a soothing aura when they look into my eyes. I have a round-ish kinda face with big cheeks, a small nose, and defined lips. I'm pale cause I mostly stay at home and avoid getting a tan. I have 8 beauty marks on my face. I have eyebags, which might be due to anemia, and I always look tired unless i use blush , i care about my skin doing skincare and such(i try(i want to be beautiful🥲).people say I am cute and pretty but it's hard for me to believe them (insecurities and self doub go brr...)

**Hobbies:**

drawing (digital and traditional ). I adore all forms of art, paintings , music , sculptures..ect .I enjoy reading, although it's been a while since I found a book that peeked my interest ,I mostly read fanfics recently . Video games hold a special place in my heart, I LOVE the different art styles and plots in each game. I have some sewing skills, mostly for patching things up .I learned to crochet and knit recently as well .Crafting is another hobby I enjoy, I am good with my hands. I love learning new stuff. biology and chemistry r my fav subjects(i like learning about anatomy whether it's animal's or human's +plants in the medical field ). I speak 3 languages: Arabic (native), French, and English. I plan to learn Spanish, Italian, or German next, depending on my mood. I'm a quick learner and adapt easily to different situations(that's something I admire and take pride in) .i hate and can't cook, except eggs and simple stuff.but in baking ,if you give me a recipe, i will make the most delicious desserts you've ever tasted(but I still hate it). Anything involving lemons is delicious (especially lemon tart😋).

Even though I am a good swimmer (I did swimming for 2 years) I have thalassophobia (ironic) but i do like me some facts about marine biology, with jellyfishes, anglerfishes, and Caribbean reef octopuses being my favorites.

**Personality:**

My personality is quite flexible and depends on both the people I'm with and my mood. When I'm outside , I tend to feel anxious, although I do my best not to show it. I come across as calm, chill, and reserved, but I'm friendly and won't reject anyone who wants to chat, although I dislike small talk and feel a bit uneasy around boys I can be quite sarcastic with a sharp tongue at times, kinda(really) annoying. Once I get comfortable with someone, you'll find I'm pretty blunt and honest .I am polite and respectful. I've had trust issues due to past betrayals, so I'm cautious with my relationships now (whether it is friends or family ,no lover tho ,don't get me wrong i can be quiet the romantic but the only man that I would probably get attached to would be fictional for sure lol)

With my close friends, I'm more open, and relaxed and cheerful?. I talk a lot about my interests, sharing random facts . I'm caring and sweet toward my friends . My love languages include gift-giving, physical touch.

I would describe myself as creative, observant, passionate, smart, meticulous and a perfectionist.I can be lazy and unmotivated. I am an INTP-T, Enneagram 5w4, and a Libra. I'm an older sister.

I am a burnt-out gifted kid , but I try to be the best version of myself in all aspects(i admit i do feel down thinking that i am never gonna make it ,but i always try to push these thoughts aside).I often feel I'll never be good enough for my mother (she has high standards for me that I can never seem to meet). I was bullied cause of my looks and weight, which made me depressed and anorexic for a year. Thankfully, I've changed a lot over time, tho it affected me making me antisocial, having trust issues and insecurities(but i am getting better). I like energy drinks. My music taste varies from pop, alt/indie, classical( my fav pieces are moonlight sonata 3rd movement, danse macabre , in the hall of the mountain king and la campanella ) ,jazz, to rock/metal, with a particular love for rock & roll. Comfortable baggy clothes are my go-to(makes me feel good in my own skin) .

***what I prefer in a partner?***

Anything is fine really , smart maybe? ,I can't cook so a good cook ,I just want someone to listen to me and make me feel included ,never getting annoyed by my behaviour and my clinginess , I want someone who I can truly be myself with (flaws and all)

I'm soooooo sorry for taking so long 😭

Tried to add some extra detail to make up for it <3

Hope you enjoy 🙏❤️

---

I match jellyfishuuuuu with...

🐍 Jamil Viper 🐍

-:-:-:-

You are one of the few people who have gotten to know the true Jamil behind all the walls he puts up. He never puts on a mask around you, always being as genuine as possible.

He adores you quite dearly, you'll often find him just staring at you from afar, even if he doesn't realize it himself. He just wishes to cherish you, and make you see just how precious you are, to him, and to your companions. He needs you to know just how much he thinks you're worth, constantly going to the extra lengths in your relationship, determined to make you love yourself as much as he loves you.

Everyone knows how good of a cook Jamil is, but he gets on a whole other level when cooking for you. He pours his heart and soul into each dish, every time. He'll be by your side as you eat, analyzing every reaction so he can make the next meal even more delicious for you. He's also very willing to help teach you how to cook.

If worry ever shows in your expression, he'll pull you aside to ask after your wellbeing. He won't take "I'm fine" as an answer either, he wants to listen to what bothers you, he wants to help in whatever way he can. He's always there to comfort you, making time even on the busiest of days.

Jamil's constant responsibilities can tire him out. Allow him to lay across your lap, or if that's too uncomfortable, lean on your shoulder, and he'll relax extraordinarially. He'll slowly doze off, fingers intertwined with yours, feeling at peace knowing you're there with him.

You guys swap clothes a lot, seeing as though you have similar styles. If you're missing a hoodie, I'd check his closet.

He's very patient. If you're ever not in the mood to socialize, or don't feel like being around him for whatever reason, he'll respect your wishes and leave you be.

He's impressed by your affinity for languages, even asking if you'd be so kind as to teach him some words or small phrases.

Constant praise. For the big things, for the little things, he wants you to be proud of yourself. You can tell he means every word of it too, by the way he looks at you with such adoration.

Since you like crafting, you could probably give him hand-made gifts. He'd find great joy recieving something from you, always treating you extra, extra special afterwords. The next day, you'll probaby be bombarded with triple the amount of gifts you gave him though, each more heartfelt and thought-out than the last.

Extra stuff as an apology for taking so long:

Before Jamil and you started dating, Kalim would constantly make excuses to have Jamil invite you to Scarabia, only to goof off elsewhere and purposely leave the two of you alone. Kalim was practically the matchmaker for you two, Jamil probably would have had noooo idea how to ask you out otherwise. Kalim was also the first to figure out Jamil had feelings for you.

If you ever wake up to frantic, jumbled texts, Jamil has been found by a bug. Please save him 😔

Your first date together wasn't really 'official' more like Kalim organizing the event then dipping at the last minute. He booked a real fancy restaurant, and only cancelled when both you and Jamil were already seated.

He pokes your forehead and sticks his tongue out at you when annoyed. Kinda childish.

A song for the relationship:

My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski.

Other options: Trey, Idia, Malleus and Ruggie.

[renjunsbbg]

Original start. (Warmer Rainy Days)

Choose your own adventure (story after read more!)

DISCLAIMER/RULES

Welcome to the first choose your own adventure story of mine! In this series you can send an ask in reference to certain chapters in this series, I will then create a story based off of this first chapter and you can branch off from other people's stories. I can give your choices credit or you can submit it anonymously! I can write anything EXCEPT for smut (I'm just really bad at it but maybe someday) If you want a detailed y/n or reader (EXAMPLE: describing the physical features) That is fine! I will add a disclaimer there for people who don't exactly fit that trait! Be as creative as you want! here is an example if you guys are confused!

Anon: adding from the [insert title here] choice, I wonder what it would be like if y/n did [insert choice here] after!

I would then add on to a certain storyline that you guys have created and/or create my own!

If any writers out there take any inspiration from this idea, please tag me or use the tag #bbgsadventure Please reblog as well! I would love to see what you guys create! Are you ready then? Let's get started!

----------------------------------

Genre: fluff, soulmate au, anything else, you could even choose to create a different beginning with a different setting or character if you want! I write for svt, stray kids, ateez, enhypen, txt, and nct!

Of course you were walking in the rain. Again. You should bring an umbrella next time you attempt to go on a date, you think to yourself. You walk down the cold sidewalk, trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. You hear the little splashes of your feet into the tiny puddles.

"Jesus, It's really coming down." You say, looking up at the sky. Yikes, you really should have brought an umbrella, you think to yourself. You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to get warmer, but ultimately just squeeze the water out of your clothes.

"If someone didn't cut this freaking string, I wouldn't even be here!" You say, in reference to the red string around your pinky. In a perfect world, everyone has a soulmate. Some people reject their soulmates though, cutting off their string or refusing to get near them. This is all exactly why you are here, walking in the rain, freezing your ass off.

You decide to start walking faster, your brain clouded by anger. You don't even notice where you're going until... BAM! You decide that you could die right there. You accidentally bump into a very tall man, really hard. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You put your hand up in shock, covering your mouth. "Are you okay?!?!?" You ask in a panicked tone.

"Hey! What-" The man turns around to look at you and scold you. Instead, he sees your cold shivering frame looking at him in shock. "Oh my god! You could get sick in this weather, what are you thinking?" It is now his turn to look at you in shock. You look up at his change in demeanor, confused. "Here," he places his umbrella over you both, making sure to completely cover you. "My name is..."

FIRST CHOICE

You can redo the entire setting or scenario (example: school au), or choose who he is. Remember, I write for svt, stray kids, ateez, enhypen, txt, and nct.

Paths (People):

Johnny (wip)

Different starts: (each start has a certain title that is used to navigate, this one is called "Warmer Rainy Days")

[steadfast-unmoving]

How to OUT/WITH, 2023 (exhibition text)

Created during a residency Wysing Arts Centre with FLOCK Emerging Creatives Network in February 2023

more information

When taking photographs, I look for simple compositions. I take something complicated, like a building, or a collection of objects, and I look for ways to frame it that reduce it down to a collection of lines and colours. Usually, these photos end up being of 'manmade' objects - bins, walls, cables, windows. I've been considering whether this 'manmade' nature is essential to my work, or if it's coincidental to the type of images I like to create.

I find that when working with more 'natural' environments, they have a complexity which doesn't diminish, no matter how closely you look. The frame always ends up feeling cluttered - especially in the harsh, woody, starkness of the british winter. Instead of a boundary, drawn by a coherent line, and a field (or fields) of colour, the image fragments into a fractal pattern, irreducible. My work is interested in the reduction, therefore not interested in the fractal, infinite, complex. Often this means my work is described as being of 'human-altered landscapes', in the canon of the New Topographic Movement.

It feels futile, however, to try and draw a line between these 'manmade' subjects in opposition to more 'natural' ones. Even the natural within which I am currently resident is a remnant of human-altered land. Wysing itself is former farmland, arguably the very definition of a human-altered landscape. Very little, if any, land in the UK remains unaffected by the human urge to organise, control, maintain, and extract from.

The simple, reduced, compositions which I am drawn to are of the same origin as the 'natural' farmland my work tends to reject. They may be more removed, further down the line in terms of 'human intervention', yet there is not a clear delineation between the two. Arguably, humans, and therefore everything humans do, is just as natural as any woodland.

And what is more human an act than to take something complex, scattered, and unorganiseable, and try to organise it? To try and make it into something that makes sense, that we can cultivate to our own ends. And who is to say it is scattered in the first place? Perhaps it is just organised for beings which aren't us - the way the tree grows makes sense to the tree. The invasive plant, that dominates the landscape, reduces habitat for other beings, and appears to cause untold damage, is simply organising the world in a way which makes sense to it.

We live in a world which has been heavily reorganised in order for humans to make sense of it. The bins, and wires, and corners, and windows are simply part of that reorganisation - as emblematic of human organisational process as a fence, border, hedgerow, or barbed wire.

OUT/WITH is an ongoing photography series by honor ash, which emerged from a habitual Instagram presence over the last 10 years. It was first collected into a zine in 2020, called simply OUT/WITH, comprising images from the first eight years of the project formed into a wordless publication. Through the FLOCK Emerging Creatives Network residency at Wysing Arts Centre, OUT/WITH as a project has been distilled into a more coherent framework for image-making.

The exhibition today includes a copy of How to OUT/WITH, a publication documenting the images created at Wysing alongside a series of rules for making images in this series. ash was able to outline these rules thanks to the space and time to think offered by the residency. There are also posters available of How to OUT/WITH, as well as some selected images from the Wysing series.

OUT/WITH can be found on Instagram at @out___with, on the web at https://out-with.hnr.fyi, and on federated social networks at @out_with@anar.chi.st.

[gotjacobian]

More thoughts on AI art discourse - there’s a claim I’ve seen pop up a few times that AI art models are tools for “democratizing creative expression’ because they enable people who can’t draw or paint well to make beautiful art about things they want to see. This claim is weird to me, in a way that’s had it rolling around in my head since I heard it. I have zero incentive to begrudge the use of technological tools to help create art - even those that embed strong priors in what that art output looks like that comes more from the technology than the user. That statement applies to many interesting and well-respected mediums, including those that act like AI art in other ways - remixing and resampling existing work is a legitimate way to express creativity. But like, you don’t make a collage of something and tell someone ‘I drew this’, right? Or you don’t say, “this is just like if I drew this”. Which is what I feel like this claim is saying. That making AI art of something will be as if you drew it yourself. 

That’s a claim that will elicit immediate backlash in the same way that traditional art theft (“I made this”) would. But I think it’s different than claiming the skills and work of another artist directly. Most people I’ve seen sharing AI art are honest about how the image was generated. The benefit they get isn’t the clout of having the skills to make the image - it’s just the clout of the image… existing, I guess? So I don’t think that’s my issue with the framing. I think, instead, the part of the original claim that stirs me up is this idea that people who use AI models to make art would not otherwise be able to creatively express themselves on as “high a level” without AI tools. And that’s weird to me! 

I think it’s common to think of the process of creating art as of translating some platonic ideal of what that piece could or should be from the artist’s brain into an actual artifact. The artist wants something to exist, and they bring it into existence, in a form that’s impacted by not just their self-expression and decisions, but also their physical abilities and the tools available to them. It’s not uncommon to metaphorically label these two parts of the process into something akin to “signal” and “noise” - to imagine that the ideal art in someone’s brain is corrupted by their lack of ability to realize it. In my experience, most people who don’t think of themselves as artists think that this is what making art is. You get better at art to reduce the ‘noise’ and make images that look more like you want to make. 

I’m not gonna claim that’s wholly untrue. I think it would be dishonest of me - god knows I prefer digital drawing over traditional because it gives me tools for making my art cleaner, clearer, and more deliberate. But also, the more art I’ve made, the more I’ve come to reject the “signal/noise” framing. Artists are not printers. It is much more common, in my experience, to ‘think on the page’. When you’re making art, you’re communicating with the world, your medium, your own abilities, at every step of the process. I don’t see those influents as noise - or rather, when and whether they are benefitting or hindering the art is extremely contextual to what you’re trying to do. The “democratization through AI art” claim comes in with some very specific ideas of what all artists are trying to do. It implicitly assumes the goal of art is to produce a very polished image in a specific and recognizable style, that features a desired subject or theme, and is appealing to look at. It then follows that people who have creative ideas but who aren’t able, currently, to bring them to fruition in that exact way, are deprived somehow of the experience of making art. 

I disagree with that. I recognize that technical art skills and expressive capacity often grow together, but art that is made by a person without those technical skills is just as art-y as what they’d make with years of training. The quality of expression comes from the process of making the art, not the polish of the outcome. I know there’s an eternal, unresolvable discourse about how much certain tools erode the artistic process. Again, the use of new technology to create art in general doesn’t bug me. What does is equating what I see as processes on very different parts of a spectrum - saying they’re doing the same thing, and fulfill the same role for an artist, audience, or art as a whole. (Plus, there’s a whole other piece to be said about seeing the way that art is shared and distributed online currently, where art with certain polished visual styles is more likely to be produced and shared en-masse, and then thinking that the way to make that process more ‘democratic’ is to give everyone the ability to make art that looks exactly like that, rather than to consider and elevate the art that people are already making.)

Which brings me to my last point- I don’t actually think it’s bad in any way to want to have a polished piece in a specific style that you didn’t have to draw yourself. But that need isn’t met by better drawing tools - it’s met by art commissions. The claim that AI models make it easier to make art, rather than to bypass paying artists to make you art, is a spin that should have more eyebrows hitting the ceiling. 

[findlayccarter]

'La Haine' Cinematography Research Continued

Pierre Aïm used depth in a very interesting and unconventional way I think. When the characters are in the suburbs of France, they are almost always in focus and the composition tends to be a-lot wider. In terms of the framing this is to show the surrounding and the environment that these people live in. The depth and focus however shows that these characters are an extension of their surroundings. They fit there just as much as the buildings do, this provides a-lot of information about the characters from the beginning. The environment they've grown up in has consumed them. This is contrasted later in the film when they travel into the city. The depth of field becomes a-lot shallower creating a feeling of isolation for the characters. Suggesting that this unknown territory is more than just being somewhere they don't know. It’s a feeling of not belonging/being an outsider. This depth of field creates connotations of judgment, isolation, rejection, and disapproval for the characters. These feelings stood out to me the most in the Dolly Zoom (vertigo Effect) shot. This effect with the three characters and the background of Paris helps convey this feeling of separation they have with the normal world and the pressures they feel when removed from their normal - which is not normal. 

'La Haine' in my opinion has some of the most visually interesting compositions. The DoP effectively manages to create images that are uncommon to the viewer, yet not off-putting. I feel like it can sometimes be easy to get lost in creative/experimental effects and styles in each filmmaking segment. When I look back at some of my old work, particularly before university (photo and video) it’s obvious that I focused too much on trying to create something experimental but by doing so I over did it and forgot what the true intention of the story was. Composition wise, ‘La Haine’ tells us a story through its framing as well as movement. 

A lot of the framing creates a very satisfying viewing experiencing for me with styles that I love personally. Wide shots where the characters are viewed from a distant tend to be centre framed, or there are leading lines that create symmetry in the frame, drawing the viewer to the filmmakers meaning. These wide shots often also have foreground elements that help add depth to the image and draw more attention to the elements that are further away. These wide shots are commonly contrasted with close ups. To me this signifies the connection that the characters have with their surrounding environment. At the start of the film when they are in the suburbs of Paris, close ups and even extreme close ups are used more frequently. When establishing an environment its common to use wide angles and then focus in on small details about the environment with close ups. From my viewpoint, ‘La Haine’ suggests through cinematography that the characters are the small details about the setting. By exploring the characters, we gain more information about the setting, as the characters are moulded by it. When we look closer at the second section of the film where they leave the suburb. There tend to be fewer close ups instead there are many wide shots that rely heavily on centre framing. A common reason for using centre framing is to show that a character is the most powerful or that they are the main attention. While in this film they are the focus, I think it relates back to what I said about the use of depth. Wide framing paired with a centred composition creates a feeling of loneliness and isolation. The characters are in a nice part of Paris surrounded by privileged people in comparison to themselves, therefor they do not feel as if they belong there. I think that the cinematography really exaggerates this feeling of belonging and possibly even internal desire.

Another element of cinematography in ‘La Haine’ that was used differently was the camera movement. Something I noticed in third year and think I’ve improved on is knowing why I’m moving the camera. The majority of the reasons for moving the camera for me would be motivated movement. Tracking etc I feel is one of the easiest reasons to justify moving the camera however I’m unsure if I think it’s always effective. When I was working on ‘Current’ last year, I found that I didn’t have a great deal of reason to move the camera. The only time I think I moved the camera was to replicate a bit of camera shake. Movement is something that I want to research a lot this year and experiment where its most effective. This is mainly because having done handheld in the past, I think it’s one of the trickiest but most rewarding elements in cinematography. Purely because it requires so many different variables on set – and planning is crucial. In ‘La Haine’ the movement of the camera is often unmotivated. Typically, in films that have chaotic or action moments there is a lot of movement. This doesn’t seem the case for ‘La Haine’. For instance, the camera stays static (or has very little movement) when; they attempt to steal a car, a robbery takes place, there’s a gun fight between rebels and the police. This relates back to the setting they are in and the relationship the characters have with it. There’s no need to add a chaotic movement with the camera as the characters are somewhat numb to the chaos of their environment. Camera movement is instead used for other reasons such as character revealing or highlight symbols throughout. For example, the most used symbol in the film is the gun which has themes power and conflict. The camera movement directly concentrates on this symbol as they are aware of its importance through the story. The movement is also very intense or significant so that it is noticed and remembered by the viewer. It goes from; the start of the film with the famous mirror gun fingers shot, the tunnel where Vinz hides the gun and the camera zooms rapidly all the way in, the end scene where we move past the gun and see the sad reaction of Said.

By looking at ‘La Haine’ I’m hoping not to take inspiration from it, but instead understand the process that the cinematographer went through in planning how to represent the environment and characters. Handheld movement that is unmotivated Is something that I want to test. I also plan to look at more films that use movement in a unique way that isn’t based on the physical movement in the frame. 

[weiwithwords]

Nihilist Philosophy in Concorditor Humilia

There is no sound in the world uglier than music.

I would sooner submit to the squealing of a starving infant, the shriek of stone on glass, the squelching of a dying warrior's intestines, than submit my ear to song. No auditory experience is as grotesque, passion-killing, or debased. Yet these plain facts elude us, for our lives are drenched in song, from the moment we are born (always crying) to the moment we die (surrounded by others who are crying, if we are lucky). We are immersed in the abomination so we cannot see it, wanderers blinded by a killing-fog.

The most common ontology of music frames it as a "contract". This is pure delusion. A contract is, by definition, an agreement. There is mutual understanding in a contract, an intent to be bound by terms. Even the most exploitative, labyrinthine contracts nonetheless exist in some enforceable space, are intelligible in theory.

Music bears no such features. Music is more like begging. The first measure of a song is the first measure of an anguished, raving entreaty, a desperate plea for the universe to loosen its grip on our neck, just a little. So when the universe hears that plea and relaxes its grip by the meagerest ounce -- when it doles out that simulacrum of pity -- you understand why I am less than grateful.

But the choir's plight is worse than helpless supplication. For the beggar, no matter how destitute, is at least in relationship with another human being when they beg, and every human, no matter how vile, is capable of goodness. The universe is not so capable. The universe feels no emotion, experiences no beauty, harbors no mercy. The nature of the universe is evil, incapable of consideration or intent, much less mutual understanding. Hence why every chord of every composition, from the incessant Firestarting Canon to the vomit-inducing Grappler's Canticle, rings out with ugly desperation. Let us not forget the act of song -- which some have the gall to call "art" -- originated as a means to violence.

Then there is the act itself. No act is more soul-crushing and less creative than making music. Music is, at its heart, repetition: harmony borne from the same rote spacing, melodies reaped from the same abysmal harvest of frequencies, that pitifully puny subset again and again and again -- to say nothing of music's underlying structure. Measure and time signature are jail cell and prison guard with the (aptly-named) key locked inside, denying all escape.

Endless, monotonous repetition is music's bones. Composition tries to rearrange these bones into something lifelike, but it's as hopeless as trying to breathe life into a skeleton. And what do we get after shuffling these identical pieces around for the millionth time? What awaits us when our throats are raw, lungs gasping? What is our reward for participating in this looping, waking nightmare? We get to wake and do it all again on the morrow.

I say, no thank you. I reject song, reject music. If choir is necessary for our survival, then I proudly choose annihilation. At least down that path, I'll find peace for my aesthetic faculties, my body, and my dignity.

--------

This is philosophy written from the point of view of a nihilist in the world of Concorditor Humilia, a game of Microscope I played with a couple friends. The premise of the Microscope game was pretty fun: we'd hit the RANDOM button on TvTropes a bunch of times, and build the resulting chaos into a serious fantasy world.

We got Headlock of Dominance, Finger Poke of Doom, Killer Game Master, and Ominous Latin Chanting, so we envisioned a world where choirs empowered martial artists to duel each other. Two competing traditions, the Grapplers and Strikers (or Headlockers and Finger Pokers), had a bitter rivalry. The universe was an inhospitable, brutal place to live (a Killer Game Master), and could only be persuaded to relax its viciousness by song (Ominous Latin Chanting). Consequently, survival necessitated membership in a choir. I wondered how it might feel to hate that.

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

thoughts on toga?

Sorry, I was putting some good music to do this 😌 our vampire princess deserves only the best.

PERSONAL THOUGHTS ON TOGA HIMIKO :

First of all, I still maintain that she's one of the best written female characters of bnha.

I used to think she was heavily sexualized on the manga, and while I still maintain that she is hyoersexualized on the fandom and still sexualized on the manga, I came to realize some of Horikoshi's choices are not that bad. Of course, it has a lot to do with certain common motives and symbolisms.

I think my main complain about the way some people write Toga (pushing aside the way the ship her with adults), it's that people either put her a a total child or a total woman.

Oh God, Toga is so smart. She's so under-appreciated, so so much.

"She's a murdered". She's what? 16-17 years old? Let's see the facts.

Toga was born in a family with money.

The first memory we got from her is Toga bitting a bird and showing it to her parents. They reacted pretty bad, like it was terribly spooky and told her to put that away, rejecting her.

After that, she created a mask for herself. She started pretending to be normal, smiling a lot, becoming the sweet overexcited girl.

However, the feeling never went away, because it was part of her quirk. The need to bite people to become them, the joy of wanting to taste the blood of someone she loved.

This could be a side effect like a person with wings wanting to fly, or a person with fire wanting to see the flames.

After stabbing her school crush, she ran away and began a criminal career of stabbing other people, hiding from the police.

This all means she lived in a lie for at least 13 years of her life, before becoming a criminal and loving on the streets at least 3 or 4 more years.

Toga has both taste the high-middle class class and the low class. She knows what is like to have too much money and be empty inside because no one sees you or accepts you, as much as she knows what is like being hungry and with cold, but living with people that love you for who you are.

This girl learned to erase her presence from a young age, before any of the UA kids ever dreamed about having that level of skill. She knows how to fight pretty well in close combat, how to fight with knives, how to trick people, how to choose her preys and when to retire from a fight.

She's extremely smart because she has successfully infiltrated in the heroes side at least three times: during the license exam, during the overhaul arc and on the war arc.

Her great goal is to live and live well. This is fucking magnificent because many people with her experience would reject themselves, thinking they're the problem. Toga knows she's not the problem, but society. She knows she deserves to live and love and have friends and family and she fights for it. In fact, even when so many people say she's insane, she's uses her logic all the time, way more than many other members of the League.

She see humans as they are. Not villains, not heroes. She was able to love Izuku and Ochaco even when they were heroes, she was able to hate overhaul while he was a villain. This shows she's outside the hero-villain toxic narrative, clever girl.

She's not afraid to face anyone when it comes to her rights. She faces Tomura more than once (overhaul arc, mva arc), she doesn't let Dabi intimidate her, she protects Twice and sweetly answers to Mr. Compress and Spinner's worry.

And God, maybe she doesn't have a mutant quirk, but almost. See her pupils, see her fangs. The reason why she makes people uncomfortable it's because she doesn't fit their standards. And she's perfectly okay with people not knowing how to categorize her. In fact, her fight in the MVA arc was because someone was trying to frame her.

I don't know how to make this clear but she's not crazy or psycho.

Toga Himiko would have passed the UA test with honors. She's so further above from the rest. She knows the older generations are full of shit and she knows they can't follow their paths, enough to outgrow Stain's legacy and make her own ideals.

I love how she shows that one can be totally feral and go against the system without stop being oneself.

Her speech to Ochaco on the war arc was incredible. She quickly questioned the idea that heroes can decide who deserves to live and who doesn't by saving only the people they think that deserve to be saved. She criticized the heroes decision to forget and dismiss and put away real people suffering just because they were not passive about their pain. She also make Ochaco see that she was a girl, just like her, not some type of hell demon trying to consume her soul.

She refused to say Shigaraki and decided to call him Tomura instead. This is so important!!!! From a narrative point of view, she's rejecting AFO's last name and accepting Tomura, the boy mourning for a father, a family.

She's observant, analytical, good at judging people, great at adapting and changing her mind.

I love how she kept being so happy and vibrant even in the worst moments.

And she's not just a victim, please. Toga Himiko is not some lost child, not a know-it-all woman. She's a teenager that can understand the situation but still needs tsome guidance.

She's actively changing the system. She's not passive or easy to manipulate. Like Spinner said, she's a free spirit.

So I'd love to see more fanfics depicting this. She's an amazing character at the level of most male characters on bnha, just like Ochaco, for example.

I'd love to see more headcanons about her with people her age. Real headcanons.

What about Momo and Toga talking about how boring can fancy parties be? How people with money are crazy sometimes?

What about Toga talking with Jirou about beinf girls that are considered "bros" by her friends?

What about Toga talking about being a little mutant and Tsuyu talking with her about hating cold weather?

What about Toga and Kirishima being overexcited and full of positivity together? About Denki and Toga talking about celebrities and TigTog? About Toga and the people from class 1-B bonding over being considered less when they're as good as class 1-A? Toga and Shinsou? Toga and Koda loving cats? Toga and Shoji playing card games? Toga and Tokoyami loving metal music? Toga and Bakugo loving romance stories?

What about Toga admiring female pro-heroes? Mirko seems loud and determined, Toga would adore her under other circumstances. Fuyumi helping Toga with her self-care because she ran away young. Toga showing Eri that they both have "scary" quirks and it's not wrong! They're both went through really bad moments and they're not bad! Toga being a big fan of the Wild Wild Pussycats. Toga adoring Vlad King and Present Mic.

The potential is there.

Anyway I just want more creativity, maybe. People writing more about Toga and the implications of her childhood, about how insane she is a fighter and a human being.

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (11)

(c!technoblade x fem!reader)

(people showed chapter 10 some nice love so here’s chapter 11. sorry it took so long to get out. I threw my back out and doing just about anything has been physical torture. but I’m starting to feel better so here’s hoping I’ll write more soon. but remember, please comment and reblog. they keep me motivated! <3)

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

Things settled down pretty well after the election. Almost unbelievably so. Wilbur pretty much completely disappeared afterwards. You felt worried and voiced your concerns with Niki, saying you hoped he wasn’t terribly upset he’d lost the election. You understand he no doubt felt incredibly attached to the title of president, and he may feel resentful of you for ‘stealing’ it from him. Niki smiled at you, glad you were being kinder about this than the other contestants would be in your shoes, but sighed and said,

“Yeah, he’ll probably be upset for a while. But I’m sure he’ll come around to accept you as the new president.”

You gave her a thankful smile, even if you didn’t quite believe her words. But then you paused and wondered if maybe, despite all your reservations about the brunet man, it was possible to smooth things over with him? Maybe all you needed to do was sit and have a talk with him. Perhaps he’d gone insane in the original timeline because both Schlatt and Quackity were… well, for lack of a nicer term, total dicks to him. They were openly antagonistic to the former president, banishing him and his younger brother from the very nation they fought and died for, which no doubt added to his crumbling mental state after L’manberg chose a new leader.

But maybe you could be different from Schlatt and Quackity. Honestly you had no desire to be cruel to Wilbur, though you would not put up with any of his BS, and honestly you hoped to have a neutral relationship with the man. So you decided right then that there was no harm in trying. Your smile brightened and you nodded and said to the blonde woman,

“You’re probably right, he just needs some time. Maybe after a few days he and I can have lunch and just talk. Clear the air between us. I’ve never been president before so I’m sure he’d be a great help in getting me better settled in!”

Niki was super glad you were being so chill about all of this. She knew you were the best choice for president. That’s probably why she’d voted for you. (yeah she’d heard your little speech and was really moved) But she’d never tell Wilbur that. He fully believed she’d voted for Coconut2020, and to be fair she had intended to until she was so moved by your speech. You had a way with words that just put the listener at ease.

“Yeah, I’m sure things will be alright,” Niki replied with a cheerful smile.

-0-

You settled into being president pretty well all things considered. There wasn’t as much work as you were expecting there to be for a president. But perhaps your only frame of reference (the US president) was a bit different than your current job (l’manberg president). L’manberg was super small actually. Especially compared to the United States. Hell, Punz’ house was almost as big as L’manberg if you remember right. 

You’re glad there wasn’t much presidential work to do at that moment. Because you wouldn’t have had time to juggle that work plus going back to your village and packing up some of your stuff in your ender chest before telling the villagers (and azo) what actually happened while you were gone. Which had been an ordeal in itself. You felt bad for just leaving to a new place so out of the blue. But you felt obligated to complete the role of president given to you. You’d feel less obligated if there was some other option you felt safe passing the torch to. Someone not a child. That left out every minor on this server and Wilbur. 

Part of you considered Fundy and Niki for the job but another part of you doubted if they’d be able to handle it. Honestly they shouldn’t have to either. It’s no secret that being president is one of the most stressful jobs a person can have. Being in charge of the safety and well-being of a group of people is enough to turn anyone’s hair grey. Even if the group was just like 10 or so people like L’manberg had. You remember seeing a post about pictures at the start and end of American presidents’ time in office. And each president looked at least a decade older in each after picture. Complete with wrinkles and grey hair. Those happened in FOUR years! Their jobs were so stressful that they aged 10+ years in only 4 years.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Tommy practically shouting “We’re here!!” as you all made it over the hill that led to your village. The first thing you saw was the towering bamboo wall around the perimeter of the place. You’d been so in your own head that you’d actually forgotten about the two boys on either side of you. They’d insisted they accompany you to your village as ‘presidential bodyguards’ despite the fact you said you would be fine. They’d practically demanded to go, to ensure the ‘new prez’ didn’t get attacked on the journey. Amused and touched that they cared, you’d finally relented and let them come along. You’d only be gone a short while anyways. At least that’s what you told yourself. 

It didn’t take long to pack up everything you wanted to take with you to L’manberg. You put all the nice gifts the villagers gave you (as well as a couple of the banners you made) and some of the stuff you made and packed it away into a shulker box you pulled from the Creative inventory before picking up said box and putting it inside your ender chest. Then you just picked that chest up and tucked it safely in your inventory and you were basically done. With packing anyways.. You still had to talk to the villagers and let them know you had to move away for a while. But you doubted they’d be heartbroken or anything. Maybe bummed out but they’d understand. It’s not like they’d be lost without you. They’d been living in this world long before you showed up and they’d probably be here long after you left.

Then you were ringing the village bell. And like every time you did the villagers all poked their heads out from wherever they were to see who rang it and what was going on. And when they saw you they brightened and hurried over to see what was happening. They gathered around you and the bell, murmuring curiously between themselves. You sighed and cleared your throat, gathering their attention to you before you hesitated, not entirely sure what to say. Should you explain the entire story from start to finish? No, probably not. That would take a while and you felt like they’d get bored fast. But just blurting out that you were leaving felt too abrupt and blunt. Though your indecision ended up not mattering because Tubbo finally lost patience with the silence and just let the metaphorical cat out of the bag in his usual laid back candid way.

“Are you gonna tell them you’re moving away?”

Oh that caught the villagers’ attention and suddenly you were surrounded by displeased grunts and hums, like surround sound stereos. You sighed and confirmed yes, you were. So with the news out there you started explaining what happened the day before, or at least a shortened version of it. You mentioned how you’d gone to support Tommy, placing a hand on his shoulder as you said this. Then you said how you’d sorta advised everyone to vote for who they felt would lead them smartly, and how you guess they took that as you entering the presidential ring.. And finally how you’d won the election by some points and how you’d not wanted to reject their trust so you’d accepted the job…

“Reader is our new president!!” Tommy practically shouted, clearly excited. 

Though from the disgruntled murmurs from the villagers they didn’t seem happy.. But you told them it would be okay. You’d come and visit them as often as you could while juggling your new job. But even with that promise they didn’t seem happy. Your shoulders slumped a bit and without thinking you said,

“I’m not happy about having to leave the village and move away either. But I made a promise to the people of L’manberg, one I intend to keep.” 

Despite not feeling the best about this you were determined to keep your word.

“Besides, it’s not like I can just pack up the village and move you all next to L’manberg!” you said with a flippant wave of your hand.

But the idea didn’t sound too bad to the villagers. They basically worshipped you as their guardian deity. So if loading up all their possessions and hauling them to a new place meant they got to stay within reach of their deity then so be it. They’d still be living in squalor if it hadn’t been for your kindness and generosity, so they wanted to follow you wherever you went. Be it sunny skies, harsh rain, freezing snow. 

So they all made excited grunts and you blinked at them, catching on to their train of thought pretty fast. You shook your head, missing the confused looks the two teen boys were shooting between you and the villagers, and said they couldn’t follow you to L’manberg. Hearing this made the boys’ eyebrows shoot up and they started asking if the villagers wanted to come live in L’manberg. You sighed and said they seemed to, yes, but it wasn’t viable because there was nowhere for them to live! Moving them all on a spur of the moment thing would be reckless. Not only would the journey be very hard on them and take quite a while but there’s also no homes available for them in L’manberg. 

“We could make some houses for them if they want to move to L’manberg!” Tubbo said with a little grin, not seeing the issue with them coming over.

You rubbed a hand down your face, careful not to jostle your mask too much. But then you sighed and finally caved in. 

“Okay, you can all move next to L’manberg,” you began, but before they could cheer you cut them off with, “BUT! They can’t leave today. I refuse to let them take the whole long journey to L’manberg just so they can be homeless when they get there.”

You said you and some others (who you would pay) would build a new village next door to L’manberg for them. And once it was complete you would come back and help ferry them all over safely. But you might have to take them over in small groups to avoid hostile mobs and stuff. Though despite all the risks the villagers seemed quite happy with everything. So you pulled out your notebook, the same one you’d used when you first showed up to the village actually, and made a note to start construction on a new village to either the North or East of L’manberg. Or whatever side had better building room. But now that that all was settled you bid the villagers goodbye, saying you’d start construction as soon as possible.

With that out of the way you decided to pay a visit to Azo. You missed the adorable little piglin and hoped she was doing okay. Your boys followed you into the Nether, asking what you needed from there so badly. That made you pause and realize they’d never officially met Azo! You smiled down at them and said you’d sort of taken up guardianship of a little piglin girl who lost her parents. You’d expected questions and some comments but got nothing but silence in return, which left you feeling a bit confused. But when you glanced over at the boys you saw Tubbo looking lost in thought and Tommy looking mildly upset. This caused you to stop short, which made them pause and look back at you. 

“What’s wrong?” you couldn’t help but ask.

But they both waved you off, Tubbo with a soft ‘what do you mean?’ and Tommy with an almost harsh sounding  ‘nothing’, both of which didn’t sound the least bit convincing. So you tilted your head to the side and in a firmer (but still gentle) tone you asked again what was wrong. Tommy’s nose scrunched up and he crossed his arms, adamantly saying nothing and asking if you all could hurry up and see ‘this kid’ since you had to hurry back to L’manberg. Tubbo tried to piggyback off Tommy, his smile attempting to be brighter as he agreed, saying he wanted to meet your ‘new kid’. That’s when it hit you..

“Are you two upset that I adopted a kid?”

Tommy wasn’t very subtle with his feelings, his loud “WHAT?! NO!” didn’t convince you of his supposed ‘uncaring’ regarding the situation. Tubbo however reacted slower than his friend, like he was processing what you’d asked before he gave a laugh that sounded too stilted to be genuine and denied being upset, saying that was ridiculous. Tommy actually started walking away, heading in the direction you three had followed when you were together here last time, with the goatish brunet watching him anxiously. But you called for him to stop and come back, maybe a touch sterner than you’d wanted. But when the blond came back to you he refused to look at you, just scowling down at his feet. You felt your heart ache at the sight and let out a calm breath.

You wrapped one arm around the blond’s shoulders and the other around his back, pulling him into a comforting hug. You laid your cheek on the top of his mop of hair, glancing down at Tubbo who was shifting between watching you both and glancing away nervously. Without much thought you removed the hand holding Tommy’s back and instead used it to carefully tug the brunet boy into the hug. They just stood there at first, still and awkward almost. But once Tubbo wrapped his arms around your hips and Tommy’s back his blond friend quickly caved and sunk into your warmth, wrapping his arms around you both tightly, like he was afraid you’d both disappear. 

You took a breath and gently began to rock the two back and forth, missing how Tommy’s eyes pricked with hot tears as he heard your steady heartbeat against his ear. After a couple minutes of just standing there relaxed into the hug you said quietly but with as much emotion as you could put into it,

“Tommy, Tubbo, please talk to me. I can do many things, but reading minds is not one of them.”

You felt your shirt become warm and you frowned and hugged them tighter,

“If something is bothering you two, if you’re sad or upset or angry then you need to tell me so I can maybe do something to make you feel better. I never wanna see either of you upset, so please… talk to me?”

The air around you three was unintentionally heavy, only the sound of fire crackling nearby broke up the silence. It was killing you to remain quiet but you didn’t want to push them to speak. That would just make them clam up and possibly push you away. So you waited, just holding and rocking them as you did. And your eyes brightened when your patience was rewarded.

“.... Why’d you have to go and get a kid?”

You half expected for Tommy to be the one to break the silence, he was always so against the quiet. But no, instead it had been Tubbo who finally buckled and voiced his thoughts. You couldn’t help but ask what he meant. And he sort of stuttered over his words, not sounding exactly sure what he wanted to say before he got his thoughts and mouth to cooperate.

“I thought you already-.. I mean you have us.. Why’d you-..”

If your heart could physically break like glass then you knew after hearing that it would be in a hundred pieces on the floor. You couldn’t help but pull them closer and bury your face between theirs, unknowingly letting out a softened keening sound. 

“I want you both to listen, just because I take another child under my wing doesn’t mean I no longer care about you two. I don’t think I could ever stop caring about you. You’re my boys, and I-....” here is where you hesitated, not wanting so sound weird but you continued,

“If you both want… I mean since neither of you have one to my knowledge… I’d happily be your mom.”

Shy isn’t exactly how you’d describe the two boys you’d begun to care for, but there was no other word accurate enough to describe how they agreed to your offer to be their mom. Tubbo gave an almost meek, “alright, sure” while holding onto your waist and Tommy gave a long-suffering sigh while trying to discreetly wipe his eyes and said, “I guess you’re cool enough to be my mum. Barely though.” That caused you to let out a loud guffaw, your grip on them loosening enough to where you could ruffle the blond’s hair.

“Ohhhhh, Big man himself thinks I’M cool? Very high praise~”

The heavy atmosphere lightened and your laughter had the two boys laughing too. But then a sly grin took over your face and you chuckled. The sound alerted the boys of your mischievous mood and they looked up when you started talking.

“Well, now that you’ve accepted me as your mom I’m legally obligated to do all sorts of ‘Mom Stuff’, I hope you realize that. Like making sure you both eat things besides bread and meat, make sure you sleep regularly, and do the spit thing when you’ve got dirt on your face.”

They gave you a look that was a mixture of confusion and mild disgust, and Tommy couldn’t help but blurt out,

“What the fuck do you mean by ‘spit thing’??”

Unbeknownst to him, he’d activated your Mom Trap Card and your grin grew into a smirk and you raised your hand, casually commenting that he seemed to have a bit of dirt on his cheek, and then you licked your thumb and moved it towards his face. He shrieked and practically threw himself backwards to avoid your spit covered finger. But you still had your arm around his shoulders so he didn’t get far. He rapidly screamed out a verbal blur of ‘nonononoNONONO!’ that had Tubbo nearly doubling over, howling with laughter.

Though his laughter abruptly cut off with a gasp when Tommy escaped your hold, causing you to turn your sights on him. He let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like the bleat of a goat before turning and running from you. You just cackled and chased after him, your longer legs giving you the advantage. You caught up with him before he knew it and lifted him in a backwards hug. Now it was Tommy’s turn to laugh at Tubbo.

But you did let him down, without cleaning his face, and smiled down at the pair and said sincerely,

“All joking aside… I think you two would make a cool pair of big brothers..”

Tommy took that and ran with it, saying of COURSE he would be! He was practically Tubbo’s big brother already! Which just caused Tubbo to argue with him that uh, NO, he was older than Tommy! So HE was the older brother out of the two of them, if anything! And oh boy that caused them both to go back and forth, arguing about who was the ‘older brother’ between them. Tubbo insisted it was him because he was born first but Tommy insisted it was him because he was taller. You just shook your head and led the bickering duo down the familiar path to Azo’s little ‘house’ you built her. And as you reached the open area you saw her outside the house playing with a couple other baby piglins. But when she looked up and saw you she squealed happily and all but sprinted over to you. You made sure to bend down and hold your hands out to catch her. 

She was so excited to see you again that she totally missed the two boys standing at your sides. At least until she heard them and then she stiffened and stared down at Tubbo from her place in your arms. Neither boy really knew what to say so you decided to intervene and put out introductions. You tapped her hand and smiled down at her, helping her worry ease a bit.

“Azo, I missed you! I want to introduce you to my sons! This,” you gestured to Tubbo, “is Tubbo. And this,” you turned your head and pointed to the blond on the other side, “is Tommy. They’re both very nice. And they wanted to meet you!”

You turned so you and Azo were both facing the boys and saw them smiling genuinely. Relief flooded you, thinking they were actually glad to meet the little piglin, unaware the smiles were more stemming from the fact you’d called them your sons so easily.

But you saw the wariness still on Azo’s face and worried she’d not like her new brothers. Suddenly you got a bright idea and your smile widened as you spoke up and said, 

“Hey, don’t you two have a gift for Azo? Maybe something yellow and shiny~?”

Tubbo’s mouth dropped down into an ‘o’ as he realized what you meant. Then he elbowed Tommy and then pulled open his inventory and started looking through it. Tommy glared at him, moving his arm away after getting jabbed, but then his eyebrows raised when he saw his best friend pull out a gold ingot from his inventory. Then he understood what you meant and hurried to look through his inventory as well. Thankfully he did have some gold ingots leftover from when he was crafting golden apples.

Azo perked up when she saw the gold ingot Tubbo had taken from his inventory. And when he offered it to her she couldn’t hold back the happy snort she let out as she joyfully accepted it. You giggled at how she admired the saffron colored bar. And when Tommy extended his own gold ingot you laughed when Azo’s little tail began to swish back and forth in glee as she took that one too. She looked so cute as she admired her new items. You rubbed her back and said,

“See? They’re pretty nice, right? Why don’t we go have something to eat? And we can hang out.”

The tiny piglin seemed more than happy with that plan and snorted happily. You carried her towards the house, her little friends having long since scurried off. The teens behind you followed your lead, joining you in the house. You sat Azo down and suggested she show off her toys to Tubbo and Tommy, which she started doing gladly. The two played with her while you brewed some tea and crafted some cookies. Chilled rosehip tea and shortbread cookies were on the menu and after it was all done you laid it out on the table before calling them over. The boys were all too happy for the chilly drink, the cold giving them reprieve from the heat of the Nether. But Azo was shocked by the cold, not having experienced something like this before. It took a bit of explanation to get her to give it a try, and despite how it made her shiver she seemed to really like it. And cookies were always popular. So the plate was emptied in a flash.

As you sat with the three, listening to Tommy brag to Azo about how ‘cool and tough’ he was and how he’s practically a hero in the Overworld while Tubbo interjected with contradictions, you felt yourself smile serenely; truly happy where you were right then.

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

@lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @hufflepuff-demigod @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake @realitycanbeajerk @lostandsouciant @thegeekisheere @sparkling-gayyy @woman-soot @xxtwizztedxx @v10dw4lk3r

[catty-words]

an exhaustive list of things i love about “unsaid emily”:

- sad pretty-boy sings sad song prettily, and it ain’t more complex than that (i’m foolin’, it’s obviously more complex than that)

- the scene’s interest in doorways, starting with how julie producing the song is what gets her invited inside the patterson’s house in the first place and the way luke having to make the choice to follow her through amounts to him consenting to the plan to share it

- this subtle push-in on luke signifying that we’re entering his pov

- how the way the decor and luke & his mom fading into the scene reinforces the fact that we’re inside luke’s memory, incomplete and not perfectly accessible save for the broadest strokes and the way it felt to live it

- the stupid, sexy drama kingness of this turn toward the door + the breathy way he sings the line one of us running out

- no special thoughts, i just think this moment is neat

- the way the lyric then maybe time would not erase me really only makes sense as something ghost luke would write and joins the whole of “now or never” as some seriously ominous lyricizing for a totally alive seventeen-year-old, thus birthing my crackpot theory that luke is prescient, but in a lowkey and really unhelpful way. like, lyrics will pop into his brain and he’ll write them down because they feel right but he’s not about to look that gift horse in its mouth by actually unpacking these things, okay, he doesn’t know what clocks move forward / but we don’t get older, no is supposed to mean he’s just a vessel for the MUSIC, bro

- how freaking clever the lyrics and the words i most regret are the ones i never meant to leave / unsaid emily are, playing with and blurring the boundary between those two separate-but-connected lines (and, GOD, the way that adds to the scene’s whole thing with thresholds hOLD ON MAN i’m gonna need a minute.............)

- the fact that he checks his lyrics/music here while trying to play through the song, presumably for the first time, because it feels like such a realistic beat in the creative process

- how julie’s line ‘you’ve already said [what you’d say to your mom if she could hear you]’ deepens the meaning and tragedy behind the lyrics who’d be the first to break / guess we’re alike that way because of course luke never considered actually using “unsaid emily” as a tool for conversation between him and his mom. she’s rejected his music and he pours his heart and soul into that, always, so he’s probably convinced her feelings about it wouldn’t change even given that she’s the subject matter.

- the significance of them being on either side of a closed door here. for luke, it’s about not being sure how to reach his mom on her side of this conflict. for emily, it’s about the way she’s clutching onto a picture of luke (the frame is similar to the one julie acknowledges when she first comes into the patterson’s house, though i haven’t further proof that they’re the same photo), unwilling to let go of that frozen-in-time idea of who he should be as her son. ultimately, it’s her stubbornness, her refusal to acknowledge luke as an adult who can make his own choices, that keeps them on the opposite sides of this particular threshold.

- the way the studio door is wide open here in a way we rarely see it when rehearsals are in session because, in writing this song, luke is trying to process his feelings enough to bridge the gap between him and his mother. he’s leaving his door open, both to her and to the possibility that the song will give him the catharsis he seeks. and i absolutely love the detail that his ability to leave this door open hinges (heh) on all of his boys being there for him, supporting and encouraging him. backing him musically and emotionally.

- how him stepping through a threshold when his parents find out he’s died makes me go feral because this is what doorway imagery is all about people!!!! passing between life and death!! great, grand emotional transitions!!! add to that the way luke is currently stuck in the doorway of life and in imminent danger of stepping out completely and permanently and !?!!!? AHHH!!!!!!!!

- this pull-out signifying that we’re done with luke’s dissociative episode...ahem, sorry, i mean memories.

- lastly, julie’s whole gently shaming speech about luke being born to make music and how, even though i think ‘he was lucky’ is a bit of an insensitive point to put on the whole thing, seeing his parents agree to that fact is the last thing luke stays for because that’s it! he’s finally hearing what he’s needed to hear for the old wounds to start to heal.

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

I really liked reading your fics of Lotor watching movies! Do you think Lotor would like watching Atlantis or lilo and stitch? And who would he watch them with? (Hopefully either Allura or Pidge)

Movie Time with TSL Lotor – Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)

It was a cold and rainy morning on the planet of Olkarion, with an emaciated Galran prince swaddled in blankets on the floor of the paladin’s lounge room. Lotor still wore his night robe and Earth-fashion pajamas, his white hair disheveled from sleep. He yawned. His face pulled tight with his harvesting scars, and his long fangs gleamed in the lamplight. He tiredly scratched at his cheek. “Why did you wake me so early, little one?”

Across the room, a pajama-clad Pidge sat cross-legged, plugging in a few cables. “Because. It’s Saturday.”

The bleary-eyed man blinked. “I know not what a Saturday is.”

She looked up, readjusting her glasses. “It’s the day where people get up to eat cereal and binge-watch cartoons. Like a tradition. My brother and I used to do this all the time. And sometimes my dad too, but he slept in a lot.” Her face twisted in a pout. “And everyone here sleeps in for, like, ever.”

“Even the princess?”

“Even the princess.”

Lotor’s gaze slid to the container of milk, courtesy of Kaltenecker, and then to the sacred box of—he narrowed his gaze curiously—frosted cheerios. Pidge had procured two bowls and two little spoons. He raised his nose and sniffed delicately. The box smelled of sweetness and grains, and saliva swarmed through his mouth in anticipation of food. Beneath the blankets, he scratched at his stomach. Wakefulness began to seep through him at the thought of eating and watching more animated drawings from Earth. “You wish to share in this…tradition with me, then?”

“You were sleeping out here on the couch,” Pidge deadpanned, giving him a look, “so you were gonna share in it no matter what.” A small emotion came over her. She glanced down, returning to connecting the cables. “And my brother’s still off-planet, so you’ll have to do.”

He huffed in amusement. “I am a companion of convenience, then. A replacement brother.”

“Yeah, something like that.” She began to scoot away from the cables, grabbing for her cereal bowl.

Lotor quirked a brow. His blanket shifted around him as he picked up the remaining bowl, mimicking her actions. “What is the topic of today’s entertainment adventure?” He watched curiously as she dumped cereal into her bowl and filled it with milk. And then he followed in kind, hesitantly dipping his spoon into the concoction and biting down.

His slit pupils dilated at the sweet taste.

His fangs crunched down loudly.

Pidge munched more quietly, but her lips stretched as she moved to turn on the movie. “It’s called Atlantis: The Lost Empire.”

Lotor’s elfin ears flicked in interest. “Lost empire?” he repeated curiously, voice muffled by cereal.

As the movie began to play, Pidge’s face brightened. “The whole movie involves an old human legend, about this advanced civilization that sunk under the sea in a sudden cataclysm.”

“Fascinating.” His explorer’s heart lifted in excitement, the sleeping disappearing fully from his eyes. In that moment, it did not matter to him that he was 10,000 years old or watching something that was most assuredly meant for children and families. “Does the legend have any form of validity?”

“Well, being mentioned by Plato, who was a real philosopher—” she pointed to the screen to the opening quote—“has made people search all over for it. But so far, nothing’s proven because there’s a lot of sunken cities on Earth.” She paused. “The movie definitely takes some creative license with ancient human tech, too. Like, ancient humans did not fly in fish ships.”

“I see.” Lotor crunched down happily on the cereal, eyes wide. The screen brightened with the cartoon colors of human animation. Strange, fish-like planes streaked through a blue sky in a panic. Lotor instinctively leaned along with the framing of the movie, as if he were on the ships as well. “Calamity is rather fun to indulge in when it’s not real.”

“I know, right?” Pidge grabbed onto her blanket, wrapping it around her.

And the two remained sitting on the floor of the great lounge, increasingly lost in the tale of Atlantis.

***

It was at some point after Milo Thatch’s introduction that Lotor hesitantly spoke up, his voice catching oddly. “This animation.” He tried again. “I thought you said once that humans were unaware of the planet Altea.”

Pidge pushed up her glasses, still cradling her cereal bowl in her lap. “Yep. Didn’t know about it at all.”

Lotor puzzled at the screen. He hummed, setting his cereal bowl down on his lap. “This Atlantis bears significant similarities to Altean technology and to its people, down to being significantly advanced even ten-thousand years ago.”

The human girl blinked. And then her face twisted in a mischief. “Oh, yeah. It might have more similarities than you think.” She began to waggle her bows. “Including to a certain Altean princess.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Also, you kinda remind me of Milo,” she declared. “Just saying.”

His eyes slit further in consternation, for at that moment, the somewhat bumbling but intelligent character of Milo Thatch was sitting in a water puddle after his museum colleagues rejected his proposal. For good measure, Lotor crunched down on another bite of cereal. “I may enjoy ancient history,” he declared, voice muffled, “but I am not as scrawny as he.”

Pidge poked him hard in his ribs, which still jutted out beneath his sleeping robe. “You’re right. You’re scrawnier.”

Lotor flinched away, shooting her a playfully dark glare. “A temporary consequence of being harvested by the witch. I will reclaim my health, and then you will regret making fun of me so.”

Her face split in a wicked smile. “Nah. You’re definitely Milo. Muscle can’t hide that you’re a nerd.”

He sputtered, waving his cereal spoon. “And what of you? With your books and codes. And cat memes.”

“Oh, I’m a nerd,” she declared. “I just own it proudly.”

The fallen prince ate of his cereal in a light disgruntlement. He watched Milo as the character awkwardly stumbled through meeting a busty blond human woman and then a spastic old man in a bathrobe—his objective always set on discovering the secrets of Atlantis and its sources of power.

Milo Thatch owned a cat too.

Lotor’s face began to heat in realization that he did have a lot in common with this strange human man.

***

By the time the character Milo Thatch met the Princess Kida of Atlantis, a real princess had sleepily trailed into the movie room. Allura’s long, pink robes slipped against the tiles of the halls, her curls a tumble down her shoulders. She yawned and proceeded to stumble her way over to Lotor and Pidge.

With little preamble, she flopped over them.

Pidge barely managed to raise her bowl of frosted cheerios in time, squawking. Lotor froze entirely as Allura’s white curls spilled across his lap—her warm cheek leaning against his leg.

“It’s too early for movies,” the princess whined lightly. She snuggled against him and wiggled a bit to get comfortable, laying across two bodies. “I could hear the sound all the way from my room.” Lotor’s attention split from the animated Princess Kida to the living, breathing princess in his lap. His elfin ears flicked back, and his sharp cheeks heated.

Pidge grumped and tried to shove her off.

The princess did not budge, save for a grump right back.

Lotor had long finished off his bowl of frosted cheerios—leaving not even a drop of milk in his wake. But he carefully pushed the bowl further away, in fear that her hair would end up in it. “We are watching Atlantis: The Lost Empire,” he murmured to her, voice straining. “Would you not like to watch it with us?”

Allura made a noncommittal noise, appearing to fall back asleep, the lines in her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled deeply. The action suggested she had grown to trust him a great deal, for the back of her neck lay bare where her hair had parted.

Lotor swallowed hard.

He turned to look at Pidge, who had sighed and given up trying to push Allura off—instead, she’d moved to accept Allura’s robe as something of a blanket and had rested her arms over the back of the princess’s legs.

Lotor hesitated, knowing that the paladins often piled upon each other as a means of displaying familial affection.

As Milo Thatch moved to swim alongside Princess Kida in search of the Heart of Atlantis, Lotor moved to brush his fingers against the waves of Allura’s curls.

It was a soft, hesitant action—testing the waters of her trust. She made a soft noise in response, her lips sleepily stretching. Her elfin ear flicked lightly as the calloused pads of his fingers ran over it. The action itself meant things to Alteans and Galrans, for only family and lovers touched one’s ears.

The princess nuzzled against him.

His heart skipped. Careful of his claws, he continued to toy with her hair as he turned his attention back to the movie, in which Milo’s very interest in Atlantis had now endangered the Royal Atlantean family.

Lotor bit his lip, feeling a great protectiveness for Allura wash over him.

***

The movie indicated that Atlanteans received their power from a great, sentient crystal—the animation of which was not unlike pure quintessence.

“Do you think,” Lotor asked quietly to Pidge, “that it is possible your Atlantis was real, and that some piece of a quintessence-rich substance—a comet, perhaps—landed upon your Earth?”

Pidge looked over at him, readjusting her glasses in interest. “I suppose it would be possible, but you’re suggesting then that Atlantis is real. And that the power in this movie is real.”

“How do you know it isn’t?”

“What would you do with it?” she challenged right back, raising a brow. “You got plans for that power or something?”

The fallen prince made a face. He was still absentmindedly running his claws through Princess Allura’s hair. “No. I simply fear that concentrated sources of quintessence may have this effect in our world—that it bonds to a host and…overtakes them, somehow.” His white brows knitted together. “As it did my own mother, who has been lost to quintessence, and a demon has taken her place.”

Pidge’s gaze fell to Lotor’s hand, which ran along the tip of Princess Allura’s ear. The princess herself was fully asleep against him, her mouth open with a trail of drool slipping against Lotor’s pajama-clad leg.

The girl’s face curled with a sneaky smile. “You’re worried about Allura? Afraid you’re gonna lose her over something, because you loveher?”

Lotor’s eyes snapped to Pidge, his face heating. “I know she has successfully navigated Oriande, but…” He fell silent with emotion for a time before he could add, “My mother came across something of great power, and it changed her.”

The strain in his voice made Pidge’s mischievous smile falter. She hesitated.

The movie played between them as the animated humans fought to steal Kida, who was bonded to the crystal.

Pidge eventually said, voice softer, “Allura’s really powerful. We’re not gonna lose her over anything.”

Lotor’s throat tightened. He continued to stroke Allura’s hair as she slept against him. “You do not know what I have seen quintessence do to people. Even now, if certain groups knew what all Princess Allura could do, they would seek to control her, just as the evil humans in this cartoon wish to do with the crystal-bonded Kida.”

An emotion came over Pidge. “Well—I mean, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

Within the movie, Milo Thatch had accrued a small band willing to risk their lives to retrieve the princess.

Lotor watched, his heart rising in a pound. “Do tell me that they save her,” he demanded. “I will not watch the rest of this if the Princess Kida dies.”

The human girl gave him a look. “It’s a children’s cartoon. They’re not gonna kill off the princess.”

His breath caught oddly, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. He pulled his hand away from Allura’s hair. “Right, yes. Of course, they wouldn’t.” He breathed out slowly. “That is well.”

“You take these shows too seriously,” Pidge warned. “Half the fun is knowing that it turns out okay, but not knowing how. You just gotta watch.”

“And Princess Kida?” Lotor demanded. “She is not permanently bonded to the crystal by the end, is she?”

Pidge groaned. “Oh my god. Just watch the movie.”

The princess suddenly whined at the loss of Lotor’s touch, her blue eyes cracking open. “No,” she pleaded blearily. She disjointedly reached up, searching for Lotor’s hand. “Keep petting me; it was quite nice.”

He looked down at her, face tightening in a mix of amusement and protectiveness. “Apologies, princess,” he said, moving to run the back of his knuckles against her warm temple. “I will do as you wish.”

She made a happy noise, settling back into sleep.

***

Lotor did not relax until after Milo Thatch had released Princess Kida from her prison, and until after Princess Kida had saved Atlantis and reappeared from out of the crystal’s aura—to land in Milo’s arms.

“You see?” Pidge called, waving her hand at the screen. “What did I tell you?”

Lotor swallowed down emotion. His fingers stilled against Allura’s stiff curls and the warm of her cheek. Despite the fact that he knew the story to be a children’s fairy tale, an odd burn appeared in his eyes. He exhaled shakily. “You were right,” he relented. “The princess lived.”

“Exactly,” Pidge said. For all her youth, she narrowed her eyes with a critical level of awareness. “They saved the princess. Because she had people to fight for her too.”

He raised his vulnerable eyes to her.

An unspoken truth wavered between them—which was that he and the paladins would fight to protect Princess Allura in much the same way, if it ever came to it.

Then, Pidge broke the mood, her expression shifting with a demonic mischief. She waggled her brows. “You love Princess Allura.” She began to shove at Allura’s legs. “Wake up. Lotor wants to declare his undying love for you and tell you that he’ll save you from crystals and evil people and—”

“—Stop it,” he hissed, his cheeks heating. He grabbed for one of the extra pillows that hung off the edge of the couch—and he flung it directly at Pidge. “You gremlin.”

It struck her soundly, but it did not hide her cackle, nor did it stop Princess Allura waking up from all the unsettled movement and raised voices. Her eyes opened a slit. She made a noise of confusion. “What is—going…on?”

She sleepily raised up from Lotor’s lap, her white curls tumbling down her shoulders.

Pidge opened her mouth to respond with a tease, but Lotor smoothly cut in. “Pidge was just putting in another movie,” he said, voice straining. “Weren’t you, Pidge?”

Allura turned to him, still rapidly blinking her eyes. In that moment, she appeared so entirely vulnerable that Lotor struggled against an instinct to gather her into his arms. “Oh, another one?” She yawned. “But I think—I missed all of this one.”

The human girl crawled away, reaching for her watch with her movie collection on it. “Don’t worry,” she called merrily. “I’m sure Lotor wouldn’t mind reenacting it with you one day.”

“I should hope not,” he retorted, his lavender cheeks still in a flame of emotion. “I’d prefer the princess not be in danger at all. And I am not a Milo Thatch.”

“You are definitely a Milo Thatch,” Pidge deadpanned. “Allura, tell him he’s a Milo Thatch. You know he is.”

The sleepy princess only half-understand the plea. She rubbed at her eyes before leaning back against Lotor, resting her heavy cheek against his shoulder, curling up against him. “He’s—my Milo,” she murmured groggily. “Thatch.”

Lotor pressed his lips together, and he damned the skip of his heart.

Allura’s Milo.

He managed a glare at Pidge, but it lacked fire.

The human girl simply smiled back with that demonic mischief before turning away to look for another movie.

[mxvladdy]

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!) 

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub 

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing. 

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying  awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.  

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this."  Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”  

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back?  He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”  

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.  

[onceuponaloonatic]

(i just read most of surrogate au on a road trip i Love) do you want to do chaeyoung is hanging out with jihyo and baby nico but jihyo has to run in for a work thing or smth and so chaeyoung is left alone with nico. chaeyoung however has Zero childcare skills and is so clueless. queue chaeyoung getting nontoxic paint and trying to paint with 2 month old nico, its literally all smears and both are covered in paint from head to toe by the end but sana and jihyo both love it and take one of the "artworks" and frame it.

thank you so much !! sorry for the wait !! also i only have three asks left so if you guys have any ideas please send asks!!

“Who’s the cutest baby in the world? You are.” Jihyo smiled as she tickled Nico’s stomach, earning her a giggle in response. Nico had just started giggling a few days ago, right after her second month of life had officially begun. Needless to say, her parents could not give enough of it. Sana had taken countless videos the first time Nico giggled, and had sent all of them to Jihyo. Now that Jihyo was watching Nico, she couldn’t get enough of her baby girl giggling. “I love you.” Jihyo kissed Nico’s cheek.

“Babe if you give her too much attention she’s going to be spoiled.” Chaeyoung giggled from the couch. She had received most of the videos from Jihyo, and she thought it was adorable how in love with Nico Jihyo was. She also knew her girlfriend needed this time with Nico. She hadn’t been able to spend much time with her lately and Chaeyoung knew it was eating at Jihyo. “I think it’s too late for that.” Jihyo picked Nico up and carried her to the couch where she sat next to Chaeyoung. She quickly settled Nico before leaning into her girlfriend. “You’ve seen how Sana is with her. Sana is like obsessed with Nico.” “Don’t pretend you aren’t too.” Chaeyoung giggled. “You are just as in love with her as Sana is. She’s my competition for your heart.” Chaeyoung smiled when a tiny foot kicked her arm as Nico wiggled in Jihyo’s lap.

“You know I love both of you right? It’s not a competition. I love both of you.” Jihyo nodded, resting her head on Chaeyoung’s shoulder. Chaeyoung’s arm snaked its way around her waist and Jihyo smiled. “I know. Don’t tell Nico though, we have a bet going.” Chaeyoung laughed as Nico’s foot kicked her again. Chaeyoung took her free hand and grabbed Nico’s foot, squeezing her clothed foot. Nico’s toes curled reflexively, gripping onto Chaeyoung's hand while she played with Jihyo’s shirt collar. Their perfect moment was interrupted when Jihyo’s phone rang. Jihyo sighed, moving Nico to one arm to pick up the phone. Chaeyoung squeezed Jihyo’s waist before letting go, moving to take Nico from her girlfriend. Nico giggled as Chaeyoung lifted her up as high as she could before bringing her back in. Jihyo eyed her with an amused smile while she talked on the phone, but it was quickly replaced with a look Chaeyoung knew all too well. “Your boss?” Chaeyoung asked once Jihyo was off the phone. “It’s Saturday. My boss knows I don’t work weekends.” Jihyo sighed. “But there’s an emergency in the case, if I don't fix it we might not be able to get the conviction.” “I get it.” Chaeyoung smiled. “You have an important job. Nico knows that too. I’ve got her, go.” “Thank you so much. I love you. You're the best.” Jihyo gave Chaeyoung a quick kiss before getting up to get dressed. “I know. I’m the best girlfriend in the world. It’s a curse.�� Chaeyoung said dramatically. Jihyo laughed as she quickly threw on work appropriate clothes. Once she was dressed she pulled her hair up in a quick ponytail before moving to say goodbye. “Be good for Auntie Chaeyoung Nico.” Jihyo kissed Nico’s chubby cheek. “And you, no roughhousing.” “Can’t make any promises.” Chaeyoung giggled. “I’m serious. I should be back after lunch. You have Sana’s number but in case your phone dies it’s on the fridge. Her bottles with instructions are in the fridge. Sana wrote them so they should be pretty through but if you have any questions I’ll keep my phone on and Momo calls herself the master of bottles, she doesn’t need to eat until after her mid-day nap but if I’m not back by then you’ll need to take care of it. She needs to nap at eleven thirty, and she should be awake by one. The baby monitor is on but if there’s any issues with it-”

“Jihyo, it’s okay. Seriously you and Sana both spiral so much. It’s going to be okay. Nico and I have hung out before. I love you, have fun at work.” Chaeyoung giggled, kissing Jihyo one more time.

“Thank you. I love you too. Bye Chae, bye Nico!” Chaeyoung had to practically push Jihyo out of the apartment. “It’s just you and me kiddo.” Chaeyoung giggled, kissing Nico’s cheek before taking her over to the couch. She sat for a few minutes before Nico started whining. Chaeyoung quickly went through the usual list of Nico things but it quickly dawned on her why Nico was whining. “You're bored. Alright, let’s find something for you to do.” Chaeyoung went over to the baby bag Sana had packed and looked through it. She found a toy for Nico, pulling it out and giving it to Nico. Nico felt the toy, but immediately threw it. “Alright not that.” Chaeyoung sighed. She had spent time with Nico before, but not alone. She actually had never watched kids alone. Her best friend growing up babysat a bit in high school for some extra money, but Chaeyoung only went with her once and the kid was ten. It was nothing like taking care of a baby. It was a little overwhelming. So Chaeyoung did what she normally did when she had no idea what to do. Google.

After a quick “what to do with a two month old” google search and looking through a few articles she came to the conclusion she had no idea what she was doing. She had already tried toys, Nico had quickly rejected that. Sana and Momo handled tummy time so Chaeyoung didn’t want to do anything that would be wrong or confusing for Nico. Nico’s nap didn’t start for an hour, and she clearly wasn’t hungry. “What do you want to do baby?” Chaeyoung sighed, thinking about what to do. “You could help Auntie Chaeyoung with her work, would that be fun?” Chaeyoung’s answer came with a tiny kick to the arm and she took that as a yes. She carried Nico over to the makeshift paint station she had in the corner of their living room. Before she moved in, Jihyo had an old piano she had inherited from her family there. Now the piano sat on the other side of the living room and Jihyo’s dead plant that had been sitting in her living room for way too long had been replaced. Chaeyoung liked the change, it felt a lot more homey. “Alright let’s see. Here, this is non-toxic. Have you ever painted before?” Chaeyoung asked. “I’m guessing you haven’t. Your mommies are kind of boring. Let’s change that.” Chaeyoung smiled. “Do you know what color this is? This is red.” Chaeyoung smiled, getting some red non-toxic paint and putting some on her paint tray. She moved Nico so she was using one hand to support her body, Nico looking at her curiously. Chaeyoung put one finger in the red paint, showing it to Nico before putting it on the blank canvas. “Want to try?” Chaeyoung grabbed one of Nico’s hands and put it in the paint before putting it on the canvas. Nico giggled as a tiny hand print appeared on the canvas. “Like that? Let’s get some more colors yeah?” xx

Jihyo got through her work as quickly as possible. She wanted to be back before Nico’s nap in case Chaeyoung had trouble putting her down and she wanted to spend time with Nico. Thankfully, she got through it all quickly. She rushed home as fast as she could, noting she got home a couple minutes before Nico’s nap was supposed to start.

“Chae? I’m back!” Jihyo called when she entered the apartment. She took her shoes off before going into the living room. She saw her daughter and girlfriend sitting at Chaeyoung’s painting station. Both of them were covered in paint somehow but both had huge smiles on their faces. Jihyo couldn’t help herself but take a picture. “Hi baby.” Jihyo greeted after taking a picture.

“Oh hey! Nico look Mama’s back!” Chaeyoung giggled. “We made art.” “I can see that.” Jihyo smiled, taking Nico from Chaeyong and giggling at how much paint was on the denim dress Sana had put on her that morning. “Let’s go get you clean and then take a nap.” “I’ll clean up here.” Chaeyoung smiled. Jihyo nodded and carried Nico to their bedroom. She undressed Nico before putting her in the sink and gently wiping the paint off of her. She put on Nico’s pink frog print pajamas before sitting down on the bed with Nico in her arms. She rubbed Nico’s back and hummed to her as she waited for her to fall asleep. Nico was out quicker than Jihyo had ever seen her, and Jihyo gently put her in her crib before going back to her girlfriend. “She asleep?” Chaeyoung asked. “She fell asleep faster than she ever has with me.” Jihyo smiled, sitting in Chaeyoung’s lap. “Cool. Look at the art we did.” Chaeyoung showed Jihyo the canvas, which was covered in paint smudges and tiny hand prints. “Aww. We should hang this in the new living room.” Jihyo giggled.

“Hmm.. I think we should put it in Nico’s new room. The nice thing about moving is she will have her own room with us too.” “We could do that. Or you two could make a smaller one and it could go onto our new fancy fridge.” Jihyo offered. “Oh, sounds good. I meant to ask, would you prefer purple or blue for Nico’s new room? I was thinking we could do a sky theme with clouds and stars, but I wanted to ask your opinion first.” Chaeyoung asked.

“Chaeyoung, you really don’t have to-”

“No no no. You agreed to give me complete creative control of Nico’s room when you decided to give her her own room. It’s part of being my girlfriend.” Chaeyoung wrapped her arms around Jihyo’s waist.

“I was going to say, you don’t need to paint my daughter’s room. It’s a lot of work-”

“I know. But we can do it together. Nico deserves the world.” Chaeyoung kissed Jihyo’s temple. “Plus painting is kind of sexy, isn’t it?” “I can’t believe you.” Jihyo rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the proud smile on her face. Even if she was faking annoyance, she loved how much Chaeyoung loved Nico. When they were first dating, Chaeyoung had seemed apprehensive about Nico. Jihyo and her were already dating when Jihyo found out Sana was pregnant, but their relationship was only a few weeks old and definitely not in a place to be having kids together. Chaeyoung was younger than her too, so Jihyo was worried about how she would be with Nico. But ever since Chaeyoung had met her, she had been in love with Nico. And it seemed the longer they were together, the more Chaeyoung fell in love with Jihyo’s daughter. Nico was important to Jihyo, and so was Chaeyoung. She couldn’t help but be filled to the brim with happiness seeing them get along. “Love you too Hyo.”