#with how good he looked in it in my humble opinion but that may be something i may share on sunday rather than today haha

[mad-hunts]

AHH, before i catch some shut-eye, i have to share with y'all that although barton's sense of style is usually pretty understated with the occasional extraness, him in this fur coat is hitting different for me right now (and the fact that his FC took more pictures in it that are of a slightly more... uhh, spicy nature is just JSJSJ PHEWWW is all i've got to say about that)

[moonmaiden1996]

Paws, Pouts, and a Pettiness

Honestly, I have loved writing these little stories! I have written about five these week to keep me sane! I hope you enjoy.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of trees, scattering warm golden light over the camp. By the small river at its edge, you knelt, gently scrubbing the dirt from Scratch’s fur. The loyal dog wagged his tail in sheer bliss, his bright eyes fixed on you with a look of unwavering trust.

"Such a good boy," you murmured, working soap into his coat. Your fingers paused now and then to scratch behind his ears, earning a pleased huff as he leaned into your touch. His happiness was infectious, and you found yourself smiling at his unguarded joy.

However, that happiness that did not extent to a certain pointing ears of elf. Not far off, Astarion stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched the scene. The sunlight dappled your damp skin, each droplet shimmering like it had been purposefully placed to torment him. His sharp gaze moved between you and the dog—a dog!—receiving care and affection that, in his not-so-humble opinion, should have been reserved entirely for him.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. What did that mutt have that he didn’t? His hair was better, his presence infinitely more captivating, and he certainly didn’t leave muddy paw prints everywhere. And yet here you were, lavishing care on that slobbering beast.

With a swirl of his crimson cloak, he strode toward you, his boots crunching against the leaf-strewn ground. As he approached, you glanced up at the sound, and to your surprise, his usual smirk was absent. In its place was a dramatic pout, his expression a masterful blend of wounded pride and exaggerated heartbreak.

"Darling," he began, his voice dripping with theatrical despair. "Tell me it isn’t true. Have I truly been replaced? Is my endless devotion not enough for you?"

You blinked up at him, bemused. "Replaced? Astarion, it’s just a bath. Scratch got himself filthy today."

"Filthy?" he repeated, placing a hand over his heart as though you’d struck him. "And yet here you are, treating him like royalty. When he was the one that happily dived paw first into the puddle. Meanwhile, I—your loyal, loving, and might I add exceptionally attractive companion—am left standing here, abandoned. Neglected! How could you, my sweet? Have I not earned your touch?"

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, turning back to Scratch, who wagged his tail happily, utterly oblivious to the vampire’s theatrics. "You’re being ridiculous," you said, rinsing soap from the dog’s fur. "Scratch needed a bath. Besides, I thought you’d be thrilled—you’re always complaining about how he smells."

"Thrilled?" Astarion gasped, his voice rising in incredulous outrage. He crouched beside you now, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "My dear, do you see what’s happening here? That mangy creature is stealing what’s rightfully mine. I’ve been sitting over there, watching you dote on him, fawn over him, for what feels like an eternity. When was the last time you touched me with such care? Or looked at me like that?"

"You want me to give you a bath too?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His lips quirked up into a devilish grin. "Is that an offer? Because yes, I think I deserve a bath." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "I want your hands on me, scrubbing my back, washing my hair... tending to me in every possible way." he purred seductively.

You paused mid-rinse, water dripping back into the stream as you fixed him with a skeptical look. "You’re jealous," you accused, though your voice was light with amusement.

"Jealous?" he repeated, gasping dramatically. "No, no, my darling. Not jealous—heartbroken. Utterly heartbroken. My poor, withered heart may not survive this cruelty." He glanced over at Scratch with narrowed eyes. "First, the mutt takes your attention. What’s next? My place by the fire? My bedroll."

Before you could respond, Scratch bounded away, shaking off water with wild abandon. A spray of droplets hit both you and Astarion, and the dog happily flopped onto the grassy bank, basking in the sun. You made to follow him, but Astarion’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. His crimson eyes met yours, the usual mischief replaced with something raw and unguarded. "Don’t go running off after him again. Stay with me. Please."

Your heart softened at the vulnerability in his tone, but before you could reply, he tugged you forward—too fast, too forcefully. You stumbled, falling into the shallow river with a loud splash.

"Astarion!" you shrieked, glaring up at him as icy water soaked through your clothes.

He knelt beside you in the water, his expression shifting to one of exaggerated innocence. "Oh dear, what an unfortunate accident," he drawled, though the triumphant smirk curling his lips betrayed him. "I suppose this means you’ll have to spend some time with me now. Away from the dog."

"You’re insufferable," you snapped, splashing a handful of water at him. It hit his chest, darkening the fine fabric of his shirt.

"And yet, you adore me," he countered, utterly unfazed. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer with surprising gentleness. "Admit it, my sweet. You’d rather be here, soaking wet and utterly enraptured by me, than doting on that mongrel."

Your scowl melted into a reluctant laugh. "You’re impossible."

"Perhaps," he conceded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you’re stuck with me anyway." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, the earlier dramatics replaced by a raw neediness that stole your breath.

As the water lapped around you, his forehead came to rest against yours. "Tell me you love me more than the dog," he murmured, his tone halfway between a command and a plea. "I need to hear it."

You laughed softly, your fingers tangling in his damp curls. "I love you more than Scratch."

"Thank the gods," he sighed, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. "I was beginning to doubt my charms."

From the sunny bank, Scratch tilted his head, watching the scene with mild confusion. But when you didn’t chase him, he flopped onto his side with a huff, ear sagging as he watched you both. For now, it seemed Astarion had successfully reclaimed your attention—for now.

Please LIKE.COMMENT.REQUEST.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[quasi-normalcy]

Which Star Trek series should you start with?

The Original Series: Advantages: + The one that started it all + Has some sophisticated and socially conscious science fiction that has held up exceptionally well + The lead characters all have really good chemistry and fun to see play off of one another + It's what most people probably think of when you say Star Trek (together with TNG) Disadvantages: - It can feel very dated and kind of sexist, particularly in its treatment of women - The sci-fi and social commentary may have held up, but damn it, the special effects really haven't - When TOS is bad, it's really, really bad.

The Animated Series: Advantages: + Basically just more TOS. Disadvantages: - Basically just more TOS, but substituting extremely cheap animation for bad special effects

The Next Generation: Advantages: + Probably the most popular one at this point + The crew is full of interesting characters and they're fun to spend time with + Just really smart people solving Space Mysteries + Socialist space utopia + Geordi-And-Data! + Lots of cool sci-fi concepts and social commentary + It's what most people probably think of when you say Star Trek (together with TOS) Disadvantages: - Although not in the same way as TOS, it can feel dated at times, particularly in terms of its treatment of women and it's near complete refusal to acknowledge queerness - Without wanting to bias viewer opinion, the first season is widely considered to be pretty bad - The series makes no bones about the fact that the socialist space utopia is better than every other society that has ever existed and will reiterate this point over and over again

Deep Space Nine: Advantages: + The most popular Trek series on Tumblr + Has a complete story arc, as well as arcs for all of its characters, including the extremely minor ones + Plain, simple, Garak. The humble tailor. + Garashir, if you're into that + Seriously has a really sophisticated treatment of things like post-colonial politics, anthropology, worldbuilding, and the horrors of warfare + Just the characters in general + Is the only Star Trek prior to the 2010s to even look meaningfully at queer representation Disadvantages: - Has an absolutely massive inferiority complex with respect to TNG and this drives a few poor writing decisions that seemingly exist just to poke the Socialist Space Utopia in its eye - Introduces a space religion and then just slowly turns it into Christianity with the numbers filed off - Seems to think that sexual harassment is just a quirky eccentricity - There's no women in its writers' room, and frankly it shows

Voyager: Advantages: + Probably the clearest instance of found family in space + Lots of really good episodes + Lots of fun new characters + Strong female role models + "Set a course...for home." Disadvantages: - Continuity? I never knew her! - Probably about 90% of Trek's reputation for technobabble comes from this one series - Even less queerness than TNG. - Only like...3 characters actually get arcs. - The first few seasons lean very hard into bullshit fake "Native American" spiritualism with one of the characters - How do these guys have warp drive but can't find any water?

Enterprise: Advantages: + Chronologically the first series + 90% less technobabble + The only series to plausibly frame our heroes as astronauts...on some kind of...star trek. + Still has probably the best production values of any series + Makes alien cultures of the week feel somehow richer and deeper than other series + Faith of the Heart is good, fuck you. Disadvantages: - Oh my god, the decon scenes - Seriously, if you've ever wondered what a "sexy" series written by a 14 year old boy who's only ever seen a bit of scrambled softcore porn on late-night cable would be like, this is the show for you - Somehow feels more sexist and racist than the show from the '60s - Seriously, the POC characters mostly exist to fill seats on the bridge; the women constantly have to undress themselves - Hellooooo, Bush II-era political analogies - Scott Bakula is a good actor but you wouldn't know it from this series - In season 3, they add a tambourine beat to Faith of the Heart and ruin it

Discovery: Advantages: + Noticed the lack of queer characters in the first 50 years of Star Trek canon and decided to make up for lost time + Seriously, the "Bury Your Gays" tally for this series is like...negative two + Just incredible representation in general + Some really good science fiction plots, particularly in later series + Some really fun, memorable characters + It's still running, so it has an active fandom on Tumblr Disadvantages: - Makes Elon Musk out to be one of the great visionary geniuses of history - Not really representative of Star Trek as a whole - The series swerves wildly in tone because of constant, behind-the-scenes churn in the writers' room - Offputtingly grimdark first season - Let's be honest, none of the season-long arcs have actually had satisfying conclusions - Half the cast feels like it's just there for exposition and to be killed for cheap drama

Picard: Advantages: + Has the best dramatic acting of any Star Trek series by a fair margin + Has the best musical score of any Star Trek series + Introduces a whole crew of fascinating new characters + Introduces all kinds of fascinating transhumanist concepts + AGNES. JURATI. Disadvantages: - You know all of those fascinating new characters that I mentioned? Yeah, it unceremoniously gets rid of all of them to bring back the old TNG gang. - You know that all of those fascinating transhumanist concepts that I mentioned? Yeah, it gets rid of those too so that to give us some generic action - Oh my god, someone teach the set designers to operate a fucking light switch - Grimdark - Nossssstalgia - Each season is basically unrelated to every other season - Depends so heavily on TNG that its final season is basically unwatchable if you haven't already seen a 30-year-old TV series

Lower Decks: Advantages: + It has probably the most efficient storytelling that I've ever seen; seriously, it's incredible how much it can fit into a half hour episode + It has a bunch of delightful, archetypical characters you get to know and love + You like hanging out with these people + The ship is kind of crap and you will learn to love it that way. + Basically a sitcom version of TNG. + Has a big fandom on Tumblr Disadvantages: - The art style is pretty Rick & Morty-ish - It takes most of its first season to really strike a good balance between being a sitcom and being a Star Trek series - The main character, Mariner, is kind of unlikable for the first season or so (she gets better) - Lots of callbacks to other series (though always either incidental or clearly explained) - Given that it's the first Star Trek sitcom, the comedy is honestly kinda the weakest part? Subjective I know.

Prodigy: Advantages: + Absolutely gorgeous to look at; the most visually stunning Star Trek by quite a ways + Lots of fun new characters on a cool ship + Gives you clear on-boarding notes to the Star Trek franchise if you're watching it for the first time + Can be watched on its own, but also works as a direct sequel to Voyager and a prequel to Picard (making both of them retoractively better, in fact) + Kind of like the Clone Wars or Rebels of the Star Trek universe, I guess? + Found family in space! The next generation! + Soon to be running on Netflix, so if you already have a Netflix subscription, you don't need to pay for another service + Written for a younger audience. Not necessarily an advantage, but nice if you happen to like family friendly animation or YA. Disadvantages: - *sigh* You basically need to pirate it. Thanks, Paramount. - Has a second season that we may or may not ever actually get to see even through piracy. Thanks, Paramount. - Isn't airing on the same streaming service as all of the other ones. Thanks, Paramount

Strange New Worlds: Advantages: + Basically what the original series would be if it were released today, rather than 57 years ago; all of the cool, socially consciousness sci-fi adventure, none of the weird 60s sexism + Fun, awesome characters you get to like spending time with right away + Incredible visuals + Nifty sci-fi concepts, mostly without the 90s-style technobabble Disadvantages: - A huge cast with only ten episodes a season, so many of them feel underdeveloped - Unfortunately, a bunch of its characters are younger versions of the characters from The Original Series, and they hog most of the spotlight; and the characters whose futures aren't locked in stone are kind of treated as disposable - In general, it needs to spend less time being a prequel, and more time being its own thing - "What if Starfleet ran into the Xenomorphs from Alien?" "Well, they'd probably kill them." "Okay, let's spend several episodes on this."

[seventeenlovesthree]

Koushirou Izumi's clothing style - a meta analysis

When it comes to Digimon and fashion, you can tell that certain characters have - mostly consistent - preferences. Most obviously, every character has colours they are usually (but not exclusively) wearing, certain motives and symbols keep returning... And for some characters, their choice of clothes is - more or less - arc-defining.

While looking for references for some art pieces on Pinterest, I stumbled over one of my favourite Digimon Adventure 02 concept artworks:

We never see Taichi, Sora and Yamato wear their Summer uniform in the series and Koushirou literally only wears it in one episode - but looking at the ensemble here, there was something that caught my eye specifically. And this observation took me down a little rabbit hole in terms of what exactly Koushirou's style is, how it changes through the series - and what it may mean for his character as a whole in my humble opinion.

It simply felt like the perfect opportunity to post all these ideas as a contribution to @izumikoushiroweek 2024 and the prompt "Dressing Koushirou".

Adventure (+ Our War Game), age 10-11:

Analyzing Adventure won't take too long, because we don't have a lot of variety at this point - however, it still gives us the baseline for what we will have to expect for the entirety of the series.

Koushirou wears very "boyish" clothes that can be, more or less, considered to be common for a "computer nerd" in the 90s and early 2000s; wide, if not oversized button-down shirt (big emphasis here!), t-shirt, wide shorts, (colourful) sneakers. It's all "comfort over function" at this point, because, as pointed out, he seems to prefer wide clothes. While his signature (crest) colour is purple, his favourite colour appears to be orange, and there are usually lots of earth/nature tones too.

Honorable mention goes to his trademark Japanese school boy undercut hair with a middle parting, barely able to tame the spikyness.

So let's see what elements he will keep and what will change:

02 (+ Diablomon Strikes Back), age 13-14:

As mentioned, the concept art above was what inspired to make this post in the first place - because I couldn't help but notice his pants there. If you compare the way he wears the Summer school uniform to the way Taichi and Yamato wear it, three things come to mind:

The older boys wear the shirt very casually, whereas Koushirou has tugged it in - which is definitely a change to how loosely he wore his button-downs before.

Taichi and Yamato also don't wear ties in comparison to Koushirou. So far so good, these are the most obvious aspects...

And then there are the pants - which are particularly less "form fitting" than it is the case for Taichi and Yamato. Considering how he used to wear wide shorts in Adventure before, one may think that this is related to "comfort over form" again, but it collides a little with how "correctly" he wears the rest of the uniform. So my assumption here is: In one of the dramas he mentions "one of the female 5th graders in computer club who is taller than me" and we can definitely assume that he was referring to Miyako there. He says that he is "working very hard" to catch up... Which leads me to believe that he wears wide pants in anticipation of getting a growth spurt. Which is not only practical in general - but would also spare him/his mom the stress of constantly buying new uniforms.

In sum, we learned that he is the only male character in the entire season who wears his uniform correctly - with the spunky shoes being the only glimpse of "individualism" there. This is an interesting contrast - and will actually turn out to be quite a pattern for him: When it comes to important duties and business, he will make sure to wear his clothes appropriately and neatly (which, at this point, is important if you consider him taking so much responsibility for the 02 kids as their team mom dad). Outside of that, we still see the habit of wearing more comfortable clothes:

Koushirou definitely likes to wear layers (similarly to but not in the same way as Taichi btw), the good old button-downs or hoodies over shirts in particular, it's all very cozy and simple - and while he hasn't completely abandoned his associated colour orange, he seems to have adopted a second favourite colour to his wardrobe as an addition to the earth tones: Green. We later learn that his mother used to buy the clothes for him, so based on her excited expression in the first shot, watching him put on his green school uniform blazer for the first time, they may have realized how well the colour complements his red hair. The wide shorts and pants are also still there and he also seems to prefer basic long-sleeves (and stripes) at this point (which may or may not have been inspired by his own Digimon partner's colour schemes, very sneaky).

Last but not least we have the hairstyle - he's been growing out the undercut to even everything out and starts the season off with a VERY short cut and a side-parting. Very neat and, at first glance, very easy to tame, since the spikes are a lot shorter at this point. The side parting did not last for long though, so the middle-parting returns through the course of the season and he also grows it out a little.

Overall, the dichotomy of "business serious-casual" and "comfy-cozy" is already coming through, but we haven't come to the heavy lifting yet:

Tri (+ the Stageplay), age 16:

As I have briefly pointed out in the intro, for some characters, fashion is an arc-defining factor. For teenage!Koushirou, his interest in fashion is basically a B- or C-plot that - in my opinion - could have been handled in better ways, but I will get to that.

First of all, let's start with the "easy stuff": Hair and uniforms.

His way of wearing his uniform hasn't changed much from 02; he is still wearing blazer, shirt and tie "correctly" - but his pants are not as wide as they used to anymore, as can be seen on the promo art I have used above. (Since he has surpassed Mimi in height and is basically as tall as Sora, he may not expect to grow much further, so he probably chose more fitted pants at this point.)

The hair, especially the spikes and middle parting, are still pretty much the same and thus - probably - still very difficult to tame. It's notable that he has grown it out more in comparison to 02 though.

Now onto his private wardrobe: We see him confiding in Takeru, telling him that now that he goes to high school, he intends to pick clothes for himself, but... Shopping has proven to be quite difficult for... Various reasons. So instead, he created a software to generate outfits for him, with... Varying degrees of success. So through the course of the first few movies, it's heavily implied that he's making use of that software and also Takeru's advice - who appears to be a little bit of a mix between a "k-pop-fanboy / hobby-novelist with a Starbucks order in hand" and "an absolute fashion disaster" himself, but he seems to enjoy being Koushirou's wingman and assumes that his sudden interest in fashion stems from him wanting to impress Mimi.

And this is where things get a little more complicated. I will not go into too much detail about why I think that this was the wrong approach for his arc, because I have already talked about it in full length here. To summarize it very shortly: Koushirou's arc had ALWAYS been about him learning to be himself. That him being the way he is is perfectly fine and that he doesn't have to hide his true self - being adopted, smart, into computers, with all his flaws and quirks, whatever it may be. Him trying to bend over backwards to impress somebody else contradicts his arc and the only reason to include it at this point is for him to come to the same conclusion again. Of course there are underlying insecurities all over the place - especially since he actively seeks Mimi's approval. The school festival should have culminated in a scene in which he and Mimi - dressed up in a costume that was heavily criticized before, thus criticizing Mimi's way of being as well - should have had a talk that went along the lines of: "You know what? It doesn't matter what you wear, as long as you are comfortable." (Which... In itself leaves room for a lot of subtext as well, but I will get to that by the end of the post.)

So long story short, what we see through the course of the first three movies is him being quite experimental: Overalls, wild patterns like koi karps, lots of layers and a peculiar interest in bowties... He also adds several new colours to his arsenal, reds, blues, even his signature colour purple makes a prominent appearance. All for the sake of appearing "less plain", and to have more variation in his style.

While he has abandoned shorts from his wardrobe at this point, he - just like Taichi - likes to wear 3/4 length pants. One style of clothing he hasn't abandoned is his button-down shirts and (open) collared shirts in general. This has been a constant so far and I doubt that we will ever see it change, since they basically feel like "comfort clothes" for him. The interesting part here is, like we discovered before, the consistent contrast between "private" and "important occasions/business settings":

Once he's out with his parents for their anniversary, once he shows up at the school festival in a whole suit, once he wears his school uniform: He WILL wear the (bow-)tie correctly, the collar will be tight, the shirt will be tugged in, no funky shoes either.

Once he's in a private, less "urgent" setting, the collar will be more loose (!), the shirt will (most likely) be pulled out of his pants, the style will be more comfy, the shoes will be more "funky."

We've seen that since 02 already and it's nicely represented in Tri as well - the stageplay even dared to merge two of his outfits from the first Tri movie, a casual and a serious one, to create the perfectly "nerdy" mix for him: (Shortened) Shirt and vest from the anniversary (with an open collar and without the bowtie), 3/4 pants and yellow sneakers from the "let's look for distortions" scene. So we can tell - he DOES have preferences and may not even need a software to tell him what he naturally gravitates towards!

So let's fast forward a few years to see how it'll all develop...

Kizuna (+ The Beginning), age 21-23:

Unfortunately, we don't really get a glimpse of his private wardrobe as a young adult - but we can still be pretty sure that the patterns we spotted before are still going strong:

First of all, it can be assumed that he stopped experimenting for the most part: The hairstyle went back to the roots, for whatever reason he returned to his elementary school undercut, the middle parting and spikes are still there, but less wild. The associated colour orange also returns - and even makes its way into his business wardrobe, as he is back to wearing neckties instead of bowties.

That aside, we mainly see him in his work attire as the boss of his own tech company: White shirt with the orange tie and a closed collar (short-sleeved in Summer, long-sleeved in Autumn), black pants + brown belt, black business shoes.

And once again: Depending on his surroundings, the difference in how he presents himself is still intact to some degree: The outfit is still the same, but once he's just with his friends, shirt and pants appear to be wider again, whereas they seem to be more tailored once he is in "business mode" - this can be seen in particular in The Beginning, where he function as PR Digimon expert and gives interviews to the media.

Long story short: He kept his dichotomy alive for the majority of the series.

The epilogue, age 38:

Even the epilogue shows us that he could never give up the wide, collared shirts (wide collar, no tie, pulled out of the pants!) in nature tones after all. The most notable part here is probably the hair - not only did he grow it out to the point that the spikes vanished almost completely (aside from the long, pointy bangs), but he apparently managed to FINALLY get the side-parting going after all.

Final thoughts (and a few headcanons):

I've once conducted a whole post on how I felt like Koushirou broke a few gender stereotypes in interesting ways for a series that was created in the 1990s and early 2000s (and not only because he was the only male character who basically never had a male voice actor or because 02 basically turned him into "the mom" of the group). I feel like it's no coincidence that his arc and the way it is portrayed actually speaks to a lot of people who consider themselves as neurodivergent, non-binary or trans. It's a story of self-acceptance, about someone who used to question his whereabouts, who didn't know where he came from, who he was. He didn't consider himself to have much "worth" aside from being a human extension of his laptop and also tended to mask his insecurities (at least in front of his parents) with a polite and very correct demeanour.

The way fashion is interwoven into it all may not have been conducted perfectly, but the fact that it is tied to self-discovery still leaves room for interpretations and headcanons. While his personal clothing style has always been rather "boyish" (and not feminine in the slightest), him gravitating towards oversized clothing in private settings while conforming (!) to a very correct and neat dressing style for important occasions still is a curious contrast in this regard. Hiding behind his computer, hiding behind a software to tell him how to dress (and being uncomfortable going shopping physically), hiding his generally slender body behind (mostly) wide clothing because he may - or may not - experience something along the lines of gender-dysphoria is a headcanon that a lot of people can relate to. Especially if you take Tri overall as a metaphor for him figuring out "his preferences" (in both sexuality and gender and thus the scene in which he looks at a kimono - presumably made by Sora - will forever live rent-free in my head, especially because it is a more feminine piece this time).

In the end, it can all be just a matter of perspective - the most likely explanation is that he simply prefers comfort in private settings, but can easily adjust towards a "serious business mode" whenever the situation requires it. Through the course of the series, you may argue that the characters that had the most influence on his casual style were Taichi (layers), Mimi and Takeru (being a little more experimental). On the other hand, you may also take Tri as your average "the nerd cannot talk to women and doesn't know how to dress, so he makes disastrous choices" trope and call it a day. But personally, I feel like, since Koushirou does have obvious preferences that are mostly consistent, it really is more a period of self-exploration. And like I said before: I wish the outspoken conclusion for him had been: "As long as you feel comfortable, you can wear whatever you want."

[gay-dorito-dust]

I heard you are looking for Barbie prompts👀👀

1. Ken learning to kiss (he's never done it before lol)

2. FtM reader struggling, Ken helps him realize he's just as much of a man as anyone else

3. Ken asking for advice on winning over Barbie, only to fall for reader

4. Ken revealing his struggle with toxic masculinity and his shame

God so many amazing prompts, I wish I could write them all but I don’t wanna bore anyone with how long of a fic that would be. So if anyone wants me to do the other prompts (1, 2, or 4) plz let me know.

Prompt 3: Ken asks for advice on how to win over Barbie, only to fall for reader in the process.

You cringed as another one of Ken’s failed attempts of impressing stereotypical Barbie. You had to applaud your friends’ tenacity because had it been you, you would’ve just given up in the moments where Ken had done nothing but persist in his pursuit of the beautiful blonde. You honestly didn’t a clue in whether or not it’ll do Ken any good in telling him that he would be better off in giving up, or it’ll just further persuade him into trying even harder in his efforts in a desperate form of hope that one day she’ll see him. Like actually see him.

Whatever the outcome, you knew that not matter what was being said by anyone, Ken was one to never know in when it’s okay to quit. His supposed advancements weren’t advancing anything in regards to his and Barrie’s relationship; they were still on square one in your humble opinion, as it was quite blatantly obvious that Ken needed Barbie like she was the oxygen he breaths but Barbie didn’t need Ken, she could very well breath happily without him.

Quickly seeing how you and Ken were the only ones left upon the peachy pink beach, you sighed as you made your way next to your blonde friend -who was very much in the literal sense lying face down within the sand- before sitting yourself down next to him with your knees propped up so that your arms may rest atop of them, followed softly after by your head feasting atop of your arms as you stared out beyond the horizon.

‘Well, that certainly went off without a hitch, didn’t it blondie.’ You said rhetorically whilst Ken groaned as he removed himself from the sand before practically slumping himself against your side.

‘First of all, my names Ken, not blondie, and secondly what is it that I’m doing wrong?’ Ken said, ‘I’d thought that she would totally be girlfriend/boyfriend with me by now but it seems that no matter how many times I’ve tried to make her see the man behind the tan, the more she doesn’t want me…what do I have to change about me to get her to admit that she likes me?’ He adds solemnly before looking over at you with a look of sheer desperation and hopelessness. ‘Tell me what it is that I have to change about myself in order to make Barbie see me.’ He asked of you, making you look his way as he grabbed your hands in his, almost like he was pleading to you to hear him. ‘Tell me what to change and I’ll do it, tell me what will make her see me as more Ken the boyfriend then Ken the friend.’

You stayed silent for awhile as you made the conscious choice to stare into his beautiful cerulean blue eyes that looked almost midnight blue with how they perfectly mimicked the starry sky above, or how they perfectly encapsulated the deepest depths of the very ocean he often -though not that often as he liked to claim- surfed. It was without saying that the Ken before you, your best friend Ken, was probably the most beautiful Ken you’ve ever come across, and while it’s not uncommon for friends to hype up the others beauty; there was obviously lines in the sand in regards to how far one can speak so highly of another’s appearance without it having somewhat romantic implications.

Upon realising how long you had been inside your own head, whilst externally just staring at him like a weirdo, you began to talk. ‘Here’s one thing you can stop doing and that’s going to extreme lengths to impress her.’ You told him, watching as his face slightly drop before feeling a panic consume you into continuing soliciting your advice, ‘I’m not saying you should cut it out all together but maybe tone it down a little, nobody here wants you to end up badly hurt yourself one day. Besides I think it’d be best if you just let her see the so called ‘man behind the tan.’ You added on as you pulled one hand of yours away from Ken’s hold in order to press it against his chest; more specifically where his heart lies. ‘Show Barbie the Ken that I know and love, the Ken who isn’t above helping others, the Ken who loves horses despite never having ridden one, the Ken who loves the beach, the Ken who loves his friends and will go above and beyond for them.’

You paused before trailing your hand upward so that it was now resting behind his neck, your thumb running across his skin in soothing patterns as you smiled at him, causing Ken to take a sharp inhale of breath. ‘You don’t have to change Ken, I don’t want my best friend to change for someone who won’t realise how lucky she is to have you in her life Ken.’ You utter softly before adding, ‘because I am and I prefer you the way you are right now, but I’m not the one your perusing and therefore I have no say in who you change for, just hope that you never do.’ You hauled yourself onto your feet before making your way off of the beach and back to your home, leaving Ken to stare after you in wonder and in awe.

‘Have I? Have I been going after the wrong person?’ Ken asked himself as thoughts of Barbie quickly became thoughts of you instead and the feeling that usually blossoms within him for Barbie, seemed to have only blossomed more then ever in regards of when it came to you. Naturally Ken was conflicted about the sudden change, wasn’t he suppose to be with Barbie? Then why did the notion of being your boyfriend felt more natural, more likeable then being Barbie’s boyfriend? He couldn’t understand how after perusing Barbie for as long as he has, his heart and mind have seemingly made peace with the fact that she wasn’t even at all interested in him, just as they were immediate in their change of trajectory and instead decided to set their sights on you after this particular night on the beach, and engaging within a conversation that relied on him to being open and honest about his feelings.

Ken just couldn’t understand why he felt so breathless when you smiled at him not too long ago, it felt as though you knocked the wind clear out of his lungs and he was still struggling on getting it back the more his mind stayed stuck on that particular moment. Ken was afraid to admit that he had fallen for someone new, but a small part of him was telling him that he had fallen for you way before the events that lead up to tonight’s conversation, telling him that it was no longer Barbie he was trying to impress but you.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 4]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 6.7k

Summary: 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.'

🌶️Obligatory Warning for Some Descriptions of Violence & Mild Suggestive Content

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

As detestable as they were, at the very least your assailants were well organized.

You were plopped neatly at the center of the room, in a very conspicuous location that would have made it difficult for a hypothetical someone to, say, just flat-out torch everything in sight without also catching his very tiny, mortal, companion up in said firestorm.

The group of them split off to tend to their tasks with a frankly shocking level of competence and foresight. Was this how adventurers were actually supposed to work? They didn’t just—I don’t know—saunter into an abandoned castle on a whim and a prayer, with no real end goal in sight and nothing but the perpetual bounding of a singular, shared, braincell to keep them on their toes? There was a plan? What was this madness.

“How much time do you think we have?” one of them called, busy working to set up some sort of wire trap that, in your humble ‘I have faced this legendary dragon and survived’ opinion, looked like it would do exactly diddly squat.

“Enough,” the Elf Wizard shrugged, thin arms crossed tight across his equally gaunt chest. “These vermin don’t have the same concept of time as we do. It may return soon, but we may also be waiting hours.”

Hours? Hours? You fought the urge to groan. And then remembered it hardly mattered if you did or not, because you were still trapped in a bubble of perpetual Silence, and that just made you want to groan louder.

Assumed-Rogue nodded tersely in response and continued constructing his pseudo-trap. The long, red, stripes of his sleeves were odd things—very in-your-face bold for a dude whose job you assumed it was to slip through shadows unseen. But then you noticed that the threads he was spinning were pooling from those slashes of crimson, and alright, that was fairly cool. ‘Your failure of a stealthy design gets a pass this time, good sir.’

“You’re certain this is one of the Briar Beasts, Lord Flamm?” Armored Lady piped in, busy shifting through the various swords strapped at her hip.

“Of course,” he hummed, flicking through his spell tome. “Have I ever led you astray before?”

Armored Dude snorted from his place across the room. “You’re not the issue. I just have trouble believing one of those monsters would still be alive at all after all this time.”

‘Lord Flamm’ snorted. “And why not? They’re like cockroaches—thriving through the worst of the world and gorging themselves on its corruption. This one is no different.”

Your brows twitched irritably.

Thankfully, Silence was not an indefinite spell. And after about ten minutes of muzzled misery, you felt its sticky, gauzy, gunk wash itself out of your throat.  

“I’m getting the impression that you’re really not a fan of dragons,” you said, testing your volume.

Lord Flamm stared down at you with a hawk-eyed sort of sneer. His pale, green, glare felt like a tangible thing crawling along your skin.

“They are unnatural,” he huffed after a moment. “No creature should walk the planes of this world for such a great span of time. Immortality is a perverse transgression against the sanctities of life and existence.”

“You are literally an Elf,” you replied, incredulous. His face scrunched up like you’d forced a whole lemon into his mouth, and then he dropped another dome of Silence over your head.

Another ten minutes crawled by, and words returned to your tongue.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hypocritical?” you hummed, casually testing the arcane restraints binding your limbs. Those seemed to hold themselves in place with a great deal more fortitude than his on-again-off-again Mute Button, which was as frustrating as it was respectable.

“It’s not nearly the same. I was born into my burden,” he sniffed.

You blinked, confused. “I mean, so was Tsunotarou.”

Elf Wizard made a punched-out sort of noise, like you’d decked him right in the spleen.

“You named the beast?” he gawked. “Like a pet?”

“Look, man,” you grouched, offended on your scaly friend’s behalf. “If anyone’s the pet here, it’s me!”

Lord Flamm’s face went white, to red, and then nearly puce.

“Wait,” you spluttered. “That came out wrong—”

And then you were gagged once more.

The next time your muzzle was lifted, Lord Flamm was already pacing along the little, invisible, edge of the spell’s cage. You cleared your throat and he came to a stop a few feet away from where you were bound.

“I can see what’s happened here,” he said, stern, and you arched a brow in disbelief. You didn’t even have any solid idea what the fuck was going on, and you’d been living it for the past few weeks. He cleared his throat and glowered down at you. “You’ve been taken in by the monster’s wiles.”

You spluttered. “Not to just keep repeating myself, but really, if anyone did the ‘accidental seducing’ thing here, it was—”

He waved you off with a puckered grimace. “That hardly matters. At the end of the day, you are still the creature’s prisoner, and it is my duty as a man of integrity to assist you however I can.”

You frowned. Because while this whole thing had technically started as a hostage situation, it hadn’t really felt like one lately. Sure, Tsunotarou still threw tantrums that shook the foundation when you’d tried to put up a makeshift bathroom door, but he also listened to all your stories with the rapt attention of someone genuinely invested in the garbage pouring out of your mouth. He tucked you into your big mattress nest at night with his scaly nose, and endured all your griping with nothing but good humor. He showed you his treasures and told you terrible, dry, jokes that you were sure you only found so funny because he certainly hadn’t meant to be.

You sighed and dipped your head, expression shuttered.

Lord Flamm stepped forward and you felt a thin, gloved, finger tuck itself beneath your chin to tilt you back up to face him.

“I will save you,” he promised, something genuinely sturdy and righteous coating the words. “If you ask it of me.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose.

“There once a man from Trebucket,” you chirped, letting the jaunty tavern melody roll off your tongue like any good Bard ought to.

Lord Flamm arched a thin brow, in equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“Who really only wanted to find the dragon so he could fuck it—”

His face twisted in rage, and to the surprise of literally no one, you were Silenced yet again. Though this one felt the most like a victory so far.

And thus, the cycle repeated itself. Every quarter hour or so, the spell would drop and you’d start babbling some sacrilegious, borderline pornographic, nonsense that had him cursing you all over again. You counted each round of mockery softly in your head. Half to keep time, half to—

Your gaze trailed past the intricate, stone, entryway and caught. Perched atop the overhang were two gargoyles. Which was quite odd, seeing as you’d spent half a month living out of this room now and had never noticed them before (and you certainly would have, what with your host’s propensity for pointing out the gothic carvings each and every time one popped up in the castle’s architecture). Not to mention, they looked an awful lot like the pair of grey monsters which had been guarding the entrance when you’d first slunk in—the very duo that you’d sworn had tracked you and your friends with beady, gemstone, eyes and dug their pointed talons through solid rock.   

Ancient buildings always seemed to have a life about them—never quiet, never still. Always settling with strange noises and shifting shadows that danced oddly along surfaces that were forever decaying. And this castle was no different. So it took you really listening, really closing your eyes tight and straining your ears against the perpetual white noise, to make out the low grinding of the Gargoyles as they shifted atop their perch and curled their sharp claws.

You tilted your head at them, curious, and the one on the left seemed to bristle. As much as stone could bristle. The one on the right very softly dipped its chin, almost like a bow. Its purple, glass, eyes flashed in the lowlight.

‘Wait,’ that look said.

And so you did, sitting straighter and at proper attention.

The group of Dragon Slayers was still milling about making preparations. Eventually, one of the two yet-unclassified hench people slunk from the room, and when your gaze slipped back to the gargoyles, the one on the right was gone.

You made eye contact with the remaining carving, and it curled its lip at you like a grumbly hound.

There was a scream from beyond the threshold, and then a great clattering of noise not unlike an earthquake, or the resonating crunch of a building crumbling at its base.

Immediately weapons were drawn, shoulders hunched in panic. Defensive magic swirled through the air like ink in water.  

“What’s going on?!—”

With a shrieking roar, the remaining gargoyle lurched forward and collided with one of the armored attackers. The impact was like a crack of thunder, and it rattled around your skull like a gong.

And with that—dragon or no—the battle against the Hunters had officially begun.

With a panicked squawk, you began worming your still very bound self out of the dead center of this tornado of chaos. You flopped across the floor like a particularly determined caterpillar, or someone trussed up a in a sleeping bag with no limbs. You made it almost a solid twenty feet before you were scooped up by the back of your collar and dropped onto your knees.  

“Not so fast, you little cretin.”

And then there was a curved knife at your throat and a set of hands trapping your own. You gulped and the blade bobbed against your chin. Stupid rogues with their stupid stealth. You grit your teeth and clenched your fists, willing the meager scraps of magic that twirled in your veins to bob to the surface. You could feel the trace rumblings of a Thunderwave reverberating down your limbs, and it was certainly no Fireball, or Lightning Bolt, but maybe it would be enough to—

There was a spray of red, red, red and the Striped Rogue at your back collapsed in a puddle of gore.

Standing over the corpse of the felled assassin was a boy. Or, well, something that very much looked like a young boy. Or, not young. Just… It was strange. He was small, slight, with a cheerful youthfulness to him. But the mirthful expression lighting his crimson eyes chilled your bones like the seeping cold from a long-forgotten tomb. It was like looking at someone with dozens—hundreds—of faces. A kaleidoscope of lifetimes. It was disorientating.

“Hello, you,” the little demon cooed. He reached out to tap a clawed finger against your forehead and the arcane binds holding your limbs shattered on impact. “Let’s get you out of here, hmm?”

Something tugged at your brain as you gaped at that mess of choppy, black-and-pink, hair, and the glittering irises that matched the blood splattered across his cheeks almost too horribly well.

“Are you… Lilia?” you asked, dazed.

“Well done, little human,” he trilled, lips curling in delight as he hauled you back to your feet. “But there will be time for proper introductions later. Let’s get you somewhere safe first, before my silly ward really does tear this whole castle down.”

“Tsunotarou is here?” you frowned, anxious. “But these people are here to kill him.”

“We’ve done our best to keep him away for as long as possible,” Lilia hummed. “But I doubt he has much more patience for skulking about in the shadows. He never did,” He sighed, long and world weary. “And I loved this old haunt so much too. I hope it survives.”

“You—” you gawked. “You’re talking about the castle?!”

“Of course,” Lilia smiled, perfectly sweet. “Swatting these pests is going to cause more damage than they’re worth to begin with—”

You were yanked out of the path of an encroaching blade, and Lilia sidestepped the pair of you smoothly to safety.

“You’re not going anywhere!” the Paladin thundered, hand whipping out to leash a whirl of vibrating, bright, magic around Lilia’s wrists. “This fight is mine! And you will have no other!”

“Ah,” your savior sighed, looking down at the faint, yellow, glow circling his skin. “Now that is a doozy.”

The great sword came down with a crash, and Lilia ducked away from the destruction with ease. He gave you a light tap on the shoulder, pushing you forward, and you felt the flush of a Haste spell nibbling at your limbs.

“Go on ahead,” he said, with all the nonchalant politeness of someone lamenting that they were going to be late for afternoon tea. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

BOOM went the now glowing sword as it sliced through the air where your savior had been standing not a moment before.

“Do not take me so lightly, wretch,” the Paladin spat, and Lilia’s civil little smile twisted into something that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“If you insist,” he beamed, with a level of enthusiasm that was bordering on sociopathic.

You didn’t stay to see the fallout. Lilia’s orders to flee aside, you knew well enough what a cat looked like before it pounced—that smug, animalistic, satisfaction that came after deciding that it was going to play with its meal for as long as it liked. And the grinding, snapping, howling noises coming from their direction was enough to reinforce that looking back would be a very terrible idea indeed.

You’d only just made it past the threshold and out in the grand hall beyond when there came a whining groan that sounded familiarly enough like the protesting noises the banister would make whenever Tsunotarou dropped too much of his weight on top of it. You peered back into the room, and from the darkness at its rear emerged a long, thin, snout.

The Great, Ebony, Dragon slithered forth from the blackness like a snake through the grass. The sharp drag of his claws against the stone was earsplitting, and when he spread his wings behind him, he seemed to cast the entire cavern into shadow. Faster than you could blink, one, two, three of the Slayers were scooped up by those massive, pointed, teeth and tossed through the air—wherein the pair of gargoyles descended upon them like a set of well-trained attack dogs. Your dragon swiveled to spit black smoke across the rest of the echoing room and its occupants. Between the swirling smog seeping from his throat and the blackness of his wings, the brilliant, green, glow of his eyes were the only source of light in the gloom. It was all horribly eerie, but mesmerizing in a way that reminded you exactly why so many ballads and epics had been written about the terrible might of Dragons.

He reared his head back and roared. His bellowing seemed to shake the very foundation of the castle, and the sparks jumping from behind his canines bit through the smoke with harsh little pop-pop-pops. And man oh man, he reallymust have been taking it easy on you and your duo of idiots, because this would have had the three of you shitting your pants on the spot.

From there, the battle more or less became a one-sided massacre. The stone soldiers flew through the air, decimating the opponents as their master demanded. Occasionally there was a flash of pink, and then a cheerful laugh followed inevitably by a noise that was all kinds of unpleasant. And at the center of it all was your newfound friend—picking apart the opposition with all the careful rage of someone determined to sear the consequences of these Hunters’ folly into the memories of their lineages for ages to come.

And then—amidst all the quite frankly epic fighting that you would have to tell Ace and Deuce all about when they came back to visit—you noticed that not far from where you were hiding observing was a familiar, angry, gaunt face. Lord Flamm’s elaborate black and maroon robes swirled around his ankles as he paced, and he was leering at the chaos unfolding not a hundred feet away with an expression that calling murderous would have been kind.

You bristled immediately, limbs lancing through with a tight sort of indignation.

He was just—right there! Standing all the way out here! When the rest of his party was busy being chewed to itty-bitty pieces!

And sure, rationally you knew that Wizards were squishy, glass-canons not meant for close combat more intense than a round of rock-paper-scissors. Sure, when you and your idiots had been facing down a dragon, Ace and Deuce had ordered you and your equally ill-armored self to run for it. Someone had probably hurled the Elf from the room the moment combat began, or demanded he whirl away to safety.

But you wanted to be angry. Because this was the man who had strode, eyes wide open, into a hornet’s nest with the sole intention of crushing the poor bugs beneath his heel. He deserved to bear the brunt of the miserable, stinging, backlash.

It certainly didn’t help that he was glaring down Tsunotarou with near frenzied loathing. The tome in his hands was flipped open to a dense spell that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and he was casting. Something tedious, and extravagant, and with enough somatic nonsense to make your head spin. His gloved fingers glowed beneath a growing mote of magic that shone horrible and bright in the natural shadows of the castle. Whatever sort of magic it was, it was strong enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and push frantic adrenaline through your veins. Sigils swam through the air, and you swore you could feel it sapping at your own tiny pool of mana. If this was some kind of spell that would gobble up magic, then a dragon who was nothing but magic—then Tsunotarou—he would—This spell might actually—

You ran at that wretched little bitch with everything you had, and tackled him to the ground just as a bolt of crackling, pale, force magic boomed from between his fingers. The spell shot wide, and you thanked every divine being you could think of for the enduring shittiness of Wizard Muscles.

“I should have known you’d risk your life to save that unholy monster,” he seethed, rolling back to his feet and sending you tumbling off the side.

You stood firm and silent between this awful, garbage, Elf and the Dragon he so hated.

Lord Flamm raised a hand in your direction, incensed, and then you watched as something sharp and frightened slithered its way across his features. No sparks danced along his fingertips, no black miasma curled from his palms. You shoved your hands into your pockets and rocked back and forth on your heels like the most obnoxious piece of shit you could be.

“Wow,” you drawled, low in your throat. “That was impressive. I mean. How many times did you cast all those spells on me earlier? I’m shocked you have anything left.”

The already dark look coloring his face twitched into something truly foul.

“You were doing that on purpose,” he snarled. “You vile, loathsome, bumbling ignoramus of a bard!—"

“Ah, stop, stop!” You beamed, fanning yourself with a limp wrist. “You’re going to make me blush~”

You ducked out the way with a yelp as a mote of fire whizzed past your ear—singeing far too many hairs at it went. Because fuck fuck fuck. Cantrips were still a thing. And he was powerful enough that those simple, little, bits of magic would still probably be more than enough to fry the meat off your bones.

“It’ll be enough to kill you,” he seethed—like he could read your thoughts—teeth tugged into a hideous, gaping, sneer.

Your mind zipped through every possible escape route and settled frantically on the only option that had ever truly seemed to save your ass.

“What white teeth you have?” you tried.

He roared and another shot of brilliant, red, flames careened over your head.  

You ducked out of the way with a squawk just in the nick of time, nearly faceplanting into a wall in your haste.

And thus ensued a terrifying but morbidly hilarious Benny Hill chase through pillars, and behind rocks, and into holes. You killed your singular, daily use of Misty Step just trying to get out of one of said holes. And your brief attempt at tossing up a Mirror Image to throw off his groove did little but get you whacked with a Counterspell that made your bones ache.

Just as you’d burned through the last of your meager magic and were genuinely preparing to just try and deck the guy again, black smoke began to curl through the hall—soon followed by the ominous roll of thunderous growls and the heavy grindingof a gigantic beast clawing its way into the room.

You threw yourself at the dragon with more enthusiasm than was probably proper for a situation like this, and he immediately ducked his head to catch you against his snout. He curled himself around you with a rumbling snarl and your vision was drowned in a shifting sea of ebony scales. You squished yourself into his bulk with a shuddering sigh, fingers clutching a bit uselessly at the slippery surface of his natural armor.

A burst of orange flames rolled harmlessly off Tsunotarou’s scaled side and his lips curled unpleasantly over his canines. You could see the licks of emerald fire rolling off his tongue—dancing along his white teeth and lighting the hall in an ominous, sickly, glow.

Before the pair of you, Lord Flamm looked half-mad. If not fully consumed. His party wiped, his hostage freed, and the creature he hated so fiercely baring down on him with no escape.

He let his head fall back with a discordant trill of laughter and grinned at the approaching dragon without a hint of repentance. Fear, perhaps. Panic, certainly. But no remorse. He raised his hands once more, and another dredge of his own fire sparked along his fingers.

“And he shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.”

The Great Briar Beast of Old opened his gigantic, black, maw and choked the hall in a torrent of emerald fire.

And Lord Flamm and his Dragon Slayers were no more.

You stared intently at the singed corridor, as if waiting for one of the piles of ash to jump to its feet and pull a sword. Which you might have excused as paranoid fretting if you hadn’t heard of necrotic magics capable of doing exactly that. But after a long moment of waiting with bated breath and tight fists, the monsters did not rise from their graves, and all seemed to be truly well and over.

You let out a gigantic gust of a breath and collapsed bonelessly against the dragon at your side. After a solid minute or two of just awkwardly trying to find a good way to hug a giant lizard more than a dozen times your size, Tsunotarou slipped out of his scales, and then he was warm and fleshy in your arms once more. Still too big, still earth-shatteringly strong, but human-shapedenough that you could merrily settle into his embrace without the risk of becoming a pancake.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped past the lingering haze of smoke. “You’re okay!”

“Me?” he gawked at you. It was an awkward angle to make eye contact, seeing as he’d latched himself onto you like a particularly determined koala, but he managed nonetheless. “You were worried about me during all of that?” He blinked those wide, neon, eyes at you like you were some horribly long and tedious math equation that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of. “You were the one who was captured!”

“They were Dragon Slayers,” you entreated, brow furrowed. “They didn’t need me for much of anything. Of course I was worried more about you.”

When the constipated look on his face refused to fade, you prodded him gently in his side.

“Look, I promise if we ever run into Bard Poachers I will be exponentially more cautious.”

He didn’t look particularly convinced—whether because he was trying to suss out of if something like ‘Bard Poachers’ were an actual, factual, threat upon your person, or because you’d just openly hurtled yourself at a clearly overpowered, feral, wizard with no regards to your already shitty constitution to speak of, so a promise to ‘be more cautious’ was about as good as saying that maybe next time you wouldn’t outright flirt with death. Only subtly. A lil’ bit.

You reached up to smoosh your thumb along the sharp slant of his frown and smooth out the harsh edges that were practically digging into his jaw.

“Tsunotarou, if you keep making that face, it’s going to get stuck like that,” you warned.  

“Malleus,” he interrupted, firm. You blinked up at him slowly and your hand fell back to rest in the nonexistent space between you.

“A what?”

“Malleus,” he repeated, and you felt the weight of the word dance through the air like sparks. Like an invocation, or a curse. “My true name.”

You waited a moment in shocked silence before slowly repeating your own name back at him. He startled and snorted a laugh into your neck, some of that lingering, terrible, tension finally seeming to seep out of him.

“I am well aware of what you are called, Child of Man.”

“…I know that,” you mumbled, fighting the urge to fidget. Malleus, Malleus, Malleus. The syllables sat heavy on your tongue, like your mouth couldn’t figure out how to push them past your lips. “I thought you said that dragons don’t give out their real names.”

He drew back just enough to cup your cheeks in his ashy palms, brushing a clawed finger back and forth against one of the small cuts littering your jaw.

“There is power in a name,” he said. “It is not a gift readily bestowed.”

Then why—

You swallowed, nervous, and one of his thumbs tracked the movement along the hollow of your throat.

“This way, if you call for me, I will always hear you,” he promised, eyes going flinty and venomous as he gazed at the cinder piles of smoking intruders. “And something like this will never happen again.”

“I—I mean,” you spluttered. “Me being—And this being—I mean—” You cleared your throat. “That hardly seems like a good enough reason to—to—” To put something so important into the hands of someone who literally broke into your house less than a month ago. To give something so precious to someone so human.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, that sharp anger melting back into something painfully soft. Your poor heart kickstarted itself all over again. He ducked forward to press his nose into your temple, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath as his grin sharpened into a smirk. “Though I would have liked to bestow my titles on you in other ways as well, if this little hero would be amenable.”

You squawked, and the only thing that shook you out of the immediate spiral into ‘did he really just ask me to—am I really going to be stuck in every goddamn bard’s trope existence of—of—'  was the merry laughter that bubbled up from somewhere behind you. 

“Careful, my Prince,” Lilia hummed from his place perched atop a particularly large heap of rubble. “If you come on too strong, you’ll only scare them away. Humans are flighty like that, I’m afraid.”

You could feel Malleus’s pout against your forehead.

“Not my human,” he grouched. His hands dropped from your cheeks to encircle your waist and clutch at your lower back. “And that besides,” he continued testily, “you were the one who only just this morning insisted I take decisive action.”

“That’s true,” Lilia agreed with a gentle bob of his head, resting his pointed chin against his palm. “But perhaps three sentences at least before the proposal?”

Malleus blinked, slow and serpentine, before flicking his neon gaze back to you. “That does seem fair I suppose. What do you think?”

“I think,” you gawked, trying and failing to process any of the words that were coming out of their fanged mouths, “that I am having a stroke.”

“NOT ACCEPTABLE!” boomed a voice from overhead. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FALL ILL AFTER ALL THE EFFORTS WE TOOK TO KEEP YOU SAFE!”

You jolted in shock, and Malleus’s talons flexed reassuringly at your waist as he gently turned you back-to-chest so that you could face your accuser. He nestled his chin into your shoulder, and you could feel his horns bump against your skull as he tried to burrow in as close as possible. Which all would have been thoroughly distracting, but then you noticed that one of the Gargoyles from early had landed directly across from you. Its spiked head was swiveling back and forth as it appraised you like some particularly ruffled cockatoo. And that in itself was bizarre enough to help you focus on something other than the weight along your back and the steadily rising heat in your cheeks.

“Uhm, hello?” you tried.

“WE HAVE ALREADY MET!” It screeched. “THERE IS NO NEED FOR INTRODUCTIONS!”

“It talks,” you blanched.

“OF COURSE I SPEAK, YOU IGNORANT ENTERTAINER!” The Gargoyle thundered. Its yellow eyes flashed in indignation. “HOW COULD I NOT LEARN TO COMMUNICATE IN A RESPECTABLE FASHION WHEN SERVING SOMEONE SO MAJESTIC AS HIS MAJESTY?!”

“I think,” the other Gargoyle said, slipping forward so silently you could hardly believe it was made of such strong stone at all, “that what Sebek is trying to say, is that we are happy to finally be able welcome you into our home, even if it is under less than ideal circumstances. And that we are very pleased to be able to speak with you.”

“THAT IS WHAT I ALREADY SAID, SILVER!” the spiky one snarled. No one else looked particularly bothered by his ceaseless volume, so it was probably normal. He stuck his carved nose into the air with a harumph. “AND I HAVE HEARD OF THE WAYS OF YOU TRAVELING STORY TELLERS! IF YOU BREAK MY MASTER’S HEART, YOU WILL SUFFER AN ETERNITY OF TORMENT AT MY HAND!”

Malleus growled, low and rumbling, from over your shoulder. Instantly his stalwart guardian cowed—head dipping like a kicked a puppy.

“Of course,” it continued, much softer. “I don’t think this human would do that. And—And I think my master has made a very good choice in his mate, and I will be happy to serve you too.”

Lilia sighed a sigh that sounded very much like a doting mother overflowing with parental affection. Like the kind of noise one may hear on a cozy Sunday afternoon while helping prepare dinner, or while sitting on a little, floral, couch and sifting through little paintings of grandchildren. There was still blood splattered all along his cheeks.

“It’s so lovely to have the family all together again,” he cooed. “And I do think that you will make such a marvelous addition.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you nodded jerkily, just as your knees buckled and you collapsed to the floor.

.

.

On the first day of the new month, Ace and Deuce made their way back to the forgotten castle nestled in a pool of lava.

“We should never have left them,” Deuce grumbled for what was maybe the ten thousandth time. Ace was sick of hearing it. He was even more sick of the fact that despite being constantly inundated with various versions of ‘oh, we’re such terrible friends,’ the little, twisting, spike of guilt in his gut never grew any duller. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Something-something-repetitive-exposure-therapy, or whatever? This sucked. He wanted a refund on this whole ‘conscience’ thing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to sell his soul and become a Warlock or whatever. Surely that would help.  

“We didn’t have a choice,” Ace reminded him. Again. “They’re okay. I know they are. We’re going to show up and they’ll be, I don’t know, lying in a bed of gold being hand fed grapes or something.”

Deuce made a rumbly, whining, kind of noise that made him sound even more pathetic than usual and Ace sighed, determined to instead focus on the rickety rope bridge swinging beneath their feet.

The ancient, looming, monstrosity of a building was just as cold and dark as it had been the first time. If anything, it was more filthy. With walls stained with seeping ash and the charred, skeletal, remains of something that Ace was definitely, absolutely, not going to think about scattered throughout the grime.

The two of them made their way to the heart of the castle until they were standing at the entrance of a grand, cavernous, chamber that may have once been some sort of ballroom.

Ace didn’t know what he was expecting. Slaver’s coils maybe. A chain around your ankles and rags drooping from your shoulders. Or maybe you wouldn’t even be there at all—long since swallowed down as a little, midnight, snack.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see you lounging contentedly atop a mountainous heap of soft blankets, with the master of this castle—terror-incarnate, death from above, an eldritch beast ripped straight out of legend—curled along the lumpy hills of your grandiose pillow fort, its great head nestled at your back as you reclined against its scales and chattered away. Like the goddamned, rambling, idiot you had always been.

One of the dragon’s large, green, eyes shifted towards the intruders at its door, and Ace froze in place. You paused your chattering to raise your hand with an excited little wave. Your tattered traveler’s clothes had been replaced with something silken and soft enough that it would probably melt in his fingers, and it swayed like mist around you as you made your way to your feet. You were practically dripping in platinum, and diamonds, and emeralds, and—he was going to stop counting them before he gave himself a conniption.

And yeah… it wasn’t exactly a throne of gold and gemstones, but it was almost just as impressive. And immediately indignation swept through Ace with a horrible kind of vengeance. Because how dare you actually be living it up over here when he had been so fucking worried just lying about all that cool stuff to keep Deuce from storming the castle gates?

“You made it!” you chirped, perfectly merry despite the gigantic maw full of sharp teeth hovering at your shoulder.

“Of—Of course we did,” Deuce stuttered, his blue eyes flicking back and forth so quickly from the dragon, to you, to Ace, to the dragon, to you—that Ace genuinely thought he might be having a seizure. “We promised we would.”

You stopped in front of them with a considerate little hum, sharp eyes tracing and cataloguing their varying reactions. After a moment of what was obviously some very smug preening and even smugger ‘I win this round’ silent gloating, you slipped out of the piles of entangled jewels with an exaggerated shrug. With the exception of an intricately carved emerald pendant hanging softly between the hollows of your collarbones, the rest of the infinitely expensive and rare gems fell to the ground with a series of clattering chatter.

“All that shit is so heavy,” you whined. Whined. Like you had any right to complain about anything at all for the rest of your existence. You leaned forward with a wink. “I was just hoping it’d make your thieving, money-hungry ass, jealous.” You smirked, proud. “And it looks like it worked, you goddamn traitors.”

Ace was about to splutter out the most scathing remark his spiteful little brain could come up with, when Deuce ruined everything by rushing forward like the blubbering idiot he was and scooping you up into a bearhug.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” he wailed. “We missed you so much!”

“Speak for yourself,” Ace huffed, and twinged miserably when it came out sounding far too soft. He cleared his throat and decided to take a different approach. “You know, last time I was sort of joking about the whole ‘bards and dragons’ thing. But it looks like you’ve made yourself real comfortable. And here I thought you were always super opposed to the ‘fucking my way out of my problems’ stereotype.”

However, because the universe seemed determined not to give Ace any kind of win for the rest of his natural existence, instead of getting all embarrassed and mousey, you just huffed and turned up your nose at him.

“Well obviously not as a dragon,” you complained. “Do you know how big he is? How would that even work, huh?” The aforementioned dragon lowered his gigantic head to settle on the ground at your side, and you leaned against him good-naturedly when he grumbled low in his throat. “Yeah, no,” you said to the beast, rolling your eyes. “Nice try, but no.”

Deuce immediately choked and started hacking up a lung, and Ace wanted to die.

“You can talk to it?” the redhead asked instead of keeling over.

You shrugged.

“Not like this. But I’ve learned to interpret most of it.” You wiggled your fingers. “It’s my sixth sense.”

Ace’s nose scrunched. “Yeah, right. If anything, it’s your ‘I’ve been dicked down by a dragon and think that makes me soooo special now’ sense—”

The great, ebony, monster growled and the Fighter’s mouth snapped shut like someone had taken a hammer to his jaw. You snickered goodhumoredly and elbowed your companion gently at the base of one of its long, sharp, horns.

“He’s just joking around,” you said to the winged horror. “You don’t have to get all defensive.”

There was another grumpy sneer, but the dragon simply settled more heavily at your side with a defeated sort of huff. The gust of a sigh sent a wave of scorching heat along Ace’s front, and he fought the urge to cow immediately and beg for his life. Because apparently that wasn’t going to be necessary, because you had—you had—

“Are you in love?” Deuce blurted, because unlike Ace, the Barbarian was pure, and good, and still didn’t fully understand how eggs worked, let alone the concept of Fuck or Die.

And then you surprised him yet again by getting as flustered as he’d expected you to when he’d accused you (rightly) of bending over for a goddamn fucking dragon.

But before you could answer, the dragon lifted its head to press its temple against yours. Or, as well as it could do that when it dwarfed the lot of you the way an elephant might hover over a mouse. Mostly it just ended up being a very, very, delicate head bump. A deep, warbling, purr started from its chest and rolled all the way up and past its sharp, white, canines.

“Uhm,” you tried again. “You guys are invited to the wedding, I guess.”

“The what?!” Deuce howled, before promptly falling to his knees to fan himself like a devasted matron in a church.

You sighed and rubbed at the back of your head, clearly embarrassed. You mumbled something under your breath that sounded a bit like ‘it’s kind of a whole saga, y’know.’ And Ace, in all his infinite good will, decided to take pity on you just this once. And also because you were clearly loaded now, and all good friends know that sharing is caring, right?

“Come on then, Bardy,” he smirked, leaning down to kick Deuce flatter to the floor—half to knock the guy out of his frantic spiraling, half so he could perch on his back like a chair. Because the stone floor looked really uncomfortable, and he had a feeling that trying to slip into that nice nest of blankets of yours would not end well. “Tell us a story.”

.

.

.

[TAG LIST] CLOSED

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for commenting on a coworker’s appearance? ✨✨✨ I think this is lighthearted but I genuinely need a second opinion here. So I (20s, F) have been working with this guy (20s, M) for about a year. During this time I have acted in a sort of supervisor capacity but we both have the same boss so I don’t have any true authority here. I run the project and he’s on the project type thing.

During this time we have become pretty good friends: we talk and joke a lot at and outside of work, and have also talked about more personal stuff (bonding over anxiety disorders, etc.) Overall, he’s incredibly kind, smart, and competent and I really like him as a person. There’s just one problem: he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and it’s been messing me up.

Some more context: I am aroace and have a longterm partner who I love and am devoted to. I have absolutely no romantic interest in this coworker (he also has a longterm gf). But I cannot get over how attractive he is, and it’s been a year and it’s still distracting. I should maybe reiterate that I have literally never been so starstruck by a person before, it’s a bit unsettling.

Anyway I have been feeling compelled to say something about it to him - and if I did I'd probably I’d wait for the right context so it doesn’t sound super random. But I really don’t want to make him uncomfortable: he’s pretty quiet and humble and he might not know what to do with the information.

Reasons I may be TA: I am two years older than him, and (as aforementioned) have been in a sort of position of authority with respect to the project we’re working on, so there may be some perceived power dynamics at play. Also I try not to comment (in a positive or negative way) about things people can’t control. Also there isn’t really any POINT in telling someone they’re incredibly beautiful, so I may be setting up an uncomfortable situation for no reason.

Reasons I might not be: we ARE properly friends and in some contexts I would definitely feel comfortable telling my friends that they’re beautiful. Also, I have heard that men very rarely get genuine compliments and (in my experience) that kind of thing can stick with you and help you through times of low self-esteem etc.

I’m having a hard time looking at this objectively, so please help me out: WIBTA in this situation?

[fsfghgee]

Hello, I would like to ask you question about Kuai Liang in Mk1, Do you think of him as bad person? If yes, please tell me why?

Hi! I don't think Kuai Liang is a bad person, but he's no better than Bi-Han either. And I say this based on facts, on situations shown in the game (and other situations that will happen soon), not just on my personal opinion.

1st. He's a hypocrite and a liar

How can he demand something from her, that she should trust him blindly (since he hadn't even given an explanation for his departure), when he never trusted her in the first place? He's a hypocrite. And whoever makes excuses for him about this is either lying or didn't play the story mode, because besides Bi-Han being out cold, Tomas says that before they left the Lin Kuei, they asked them for help:

When they took Bi-Han to the Lin Kuei and asked for help in the battle, why didn't he already explain everything to Cyrax? Because he didn't want to. So, he has no right to demand blind trust from her when he didn't even trust her to begin with, even though they clearly have a past (whether romantic or not, they have a history).

2nd. He is vengeful

Contrary to what many people have assumed about his desire to find Bi-Han, he doesn't want to find him because he fears for Bi-Han's life if he is found by Li Mei or whatever, what he really wants is to get revenge on Bi-Han for letting their father die. That's all he wants. He doesn't care about his brother. And this will become even clearer when the story mode expansion is available:

Saying that his brother deserves to die and refusing to help save him is something a vengeful person would do. A good person wouldn't do that.

"Ah, but Bi-Han let their father die and their father was a good man…"

Bi-Han was a good brother to Kuai Liang…

and yet he is willing to let him die. How does that make Kuai Liang a better person than Bi-Han? When we don't even know why Bi-Han hates his father so much, we know why Kuai Liang hates his brother. And Kuai Liang's fans can say whatever they want, but all this hatred and desire for revenge is not something a good person would have. And let's not forget that he will be about to kill a person (cough cough, Cyrax) he has known for a long time who was deceived and was already subdued, all because HE IS a vengeful person.

3rd. He is selfish

Bi-Han may be self-centered, but Kuai Liang is a selfish man with people-pleasing disorder no matter how you look at it.

All his attachment to traditions and his father's words are not a moral compass, they are just traits of dependence. He can't let his father go and understand that Bi-Han is the new leader by birthright, so he insists on trying to embarrass him by talking about what his father would supposedly want or what his father would do during the story mode and intros. He wants Bi-Han to be like his father. He refuses to see that Bi-Han is Bi-Han until his sandcastle crumbles at the Ying Fortress. He is not humble, he is dependent, a true people-pleaser. He was a people-pleaser to his father and now he is one to Liu Kang. He does not invite former gangsters like Kenshi and Takeda, a demon like Ashrah to be Shirai Ryu because he embraces diversity and differences, he simply needs numbers to rival his brother's clan, the Lin Kuei.

He only thinks about what he wants (to be what his father was), not what is best for the clan. Bi-Han's ambition for the clan, for their future, is not a bad thing or evil, their god himself recognizes this:

But even before Bi-Han abandoned the defense of Earthrealm, he insisted on condemning his brother's desire to make the Lin Kuei evolve:

Why?

Because he is selfish. He never cared about his brother or the Lin Kuei, he only cared about continuing to please his father even after dead and that's all that matters to him to this day, only now, he does it with Liu Kang.

And does that make him a bad person? No, I don't think so (he has his qualities, just like Bi-Han has his). But he's far from being a better person than Bi-Han as only his fans will claim he is.

[tarotwithart]

ⴕ ( details of your future spouse⠀ )⠀⠀⠀ 𓆩♡𓆪

❝ in every whatnot,

I'll tie a knot with you... ❞

⋆ .... ♡ how to pick a pile ୨ ɞ !

-` ✧ ࿐ from left to right — intuitively choose the pile through your mind or what your soul desire for. take what does it resonates considering this is a general reading...

𝐒ource & 𝐃isclaimer: pictures I've used for pick a pile was from pinterest, the divider was from @.v6que while the banner was made by me. expect plenty of grammatical errors, please kindly enlightened me in a nice way when you couldn't understand what is the message behind of the reading, thanks!

PILE ONE

6 of wands, king of pentacles, 9 of pentacles

Everyone eyes are all to them, whether it may glimpse naturally or seldom-a kind of individual who can turn heads by its appearance and good body. The definition of success and achiever this makes them quite popular or well known in others, although prideful doesn't mean they're narcissistic. In what scale in it, would likely people rate them as 9-10 not only for looks but for other traits and people will fall for them instantly. S/he could beat someone by using his/her skills no doubt needed- a great player indeed. An individual that denotes someone who is highly passionate about certain things into his/her own life yet will always be remain humble even though s/he's aiming top and to forthcoming.

S/he displaying a strong leadership which people adore and people can depend on these said traits also have major impact for people who surround them. For what I seen, s/he can make own money and wealth through being famous and it could give them a long lasting success in life. If being famous does make them to have more money and having money will make them more even famous. Into people's opinions and view s/he is perfect as they seen, who wouldn't right? money, success and fame are all at once to them- what a lucky man. Proud for what they achieve but not in negative way. Expensive looking- s/he would love those kind of things specially in clothing and jewelries, it makes them looks like having high status which can be true. Either s/he working as business owner or a wealthy land owner, it could also define working in real state as well.

Sometimes can be totally stubborn but they very mature and grounded most of the time, it's normal for everyone to be stubborn (it means that they aren't perfect as they seems) a totally hard working individual and who also aware how they can rule through designated society (work/place). It also signifies someone who will be generous into their finance, energy and time, s/he will knew what are their commitments and responsibilities and tends to do what they say. They tends not have any anger issues as long as s/he could understand the situation and the person however they tends to be like a volcano- will be very explosive when they do get mad. You will be lucky for having this person, quite indulgent when it comes giving gifts to their lovers- mostly will bring the best and expensive gift you'll be receiving.

However the lover will tends to be lonely as the spouse is often busy for something like work (workaholic/ self-driven/ career focus) on negative note s/he will view their lover as part of their possessions. As my advice don't make them feel jealous or dark moods that may occur in surface as it will turn to be very chaotic. S/he may possibly own some pets especially dogs and horses, they will be independent whether it is financially and emotionally. You would never found this person chasing others cause they can easily attract people into their lives. Rerely takes anything personally and reason is s/he knows it better and likely to appreciate the finest things in life.

hugs and kisses, Vella

PILE TWO

queen of cups, 10 of cups, the lovers, 10 of pentacles

A typical type of person who is sensitive and is attached to their feelings, s/he concerned with the matter of heart, emotions, family and relationships. S/he possess a strong empathy for the others, if their love ones is happy and so they are too. Strong intuition- they will be aware if someone needs them or isn't right, they are not judgemental and will try their best to understand the situation. In past, s/he experience a painful situationship and will do the best to avoid it again.

Typically shy in nature but a great listener when you someone needs them and mostly without knowing people will come to them naturally without hesitation- the only problem in here is that when problems occur into their own life, they rarely receive help from others. S/he is family oriented individual, they got some friends but family, partner and kids are most highlight and important for them. Even though you prefer men- he will have feminine features and if women she is gorgeous, may look like a goddess. In any occasion regarding to family, they will be extremely happy to gather their family especially his/her siblings with or cousins.

Generally a happy individual and rarely take negative insights as well will be feelin' grateful for what the above give to them. S/he might love to put smile on his/her face or to others, love to laughs even though in lame jokes- sometimes people do wonder if they faking their happiness but it actually isn't. They are contented to what God give to them and they probably cherish it with all of their heart, also they tends to be very spiritual individual too.

S/he will be come an excellent parent and partner and will do their best to serve and nurture their own family. This individual will possibly teach you a lot- that happiness doesn't come from material things and it comes from within, that happiness is a choice, that family and kids should be put first, that how you love your self is should be how you love the others and more great good lessons.

They want or having desire to have at least two kids perhaps a twin will be perfect for them. It also refers to someone who is playful but can be childish sometimes and very very talkative when you get to know them or when they are comfortable in someone. The type of love language they want is physical touch so be ready for lots of kisses, hugging and touching, technically they enjoy the attachment of skins. Also they proud for what body or skin do they have, confident is the key here. S/he will make you feel how deep the love is, they will understand what you have been through. You both have different lives and what have been through however they will put to understand you that life is like that and happiness is just around. You will experience unconditional love from this person.

And yes they do have some money to flaunt too but they value more the family, health and gratitude for the others. S/he do appear very lavish into how they clothes themselves even though they don't try to be like that. The only person who will make you feel that you are safe and secure into their loving arms. They do love dating (even at this moment) but do searching for someone who can have long term committed relationship with them and don't want to rush things when they do date, they want to get more someone into deeper level.

hugs and kisses, Vella

PILE THREE

4 of wands, the fool, 3 of wands reversed

A kind of individual who is the real representation of being naive and happy person, they do love their family and is willing to go whenever there's occasion regarding into family circle. It would represents someone who do brings joy and happiness towards other life by making silly jokes or for simply uplifting them in their hardest situationship. Whenever someone ( proclaiming it is a love one ) is weak, they bring something to feel this certain individual comfort like “ Hey! make it chill, I'm here for you ”. It also the type of person who is making an effort to attend or be able to be present in family gathering even though they are quite busy they wouldn't hesitate to be right there with the fam.

Negative aspects of them which I can tell for only few of you who's happen to pick this pile, that this person will be more focus into their family rather than you. It might be one of the reasons why you both will have disagreements. Anyway, let's just move on and see what the future holds for you.

To continue, it could also symbolize someone who do love to play a lot probably a playboy or girl vibes, if not I see that they really to loves to play which can be games physical or online. I see that they do love pranking people who do close to them such as friends and cousins, can be siblings as well if happen they have one. This person represents someone who do care more to their appearance rather than for who they are. Sometimes people end up envying or feel jealous about them especially their peers.

As we're getting near at the end I feel that they are younger than you or it might be physically as well. It could also be mean that they are young at heart or someone who have young faces or can be an innocent. They do love their love freedom and do loves to wonder around or exploring the places that they never been. It might also symbolize someone who can be childish and likes being at the outdoor rather than indoor.

hugs and kisses, Vella

[telvess]

Record of Ragnarok Poseidon (relationship headcanons) 🔞

My first attempt in writing anything in… eternity. I’m not a native English speaker but trying to improve myself, sorry for all mistakes I've made. I didn’t write any major spoilers but used knowledge from manga. Also + still no clue how tumblr works.

Poseidon is such a adorable idiot.

SFW Not gonna lie, to catch his eye (not to mention eye-to-eye contact) there will be needed someone really specific. Someone similar to him in general, but unique in details. I think Poseidon is really good observant. Just because he’s indifferent to others, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t pay attention. He would notice nuances in behaviour, manners and gestures. His future s/o must be elegant, self-contained and pride. Maybe not in the haughty way but undoubtedly confident in her position as a goddess. Definitely not ‘damsel in distress’ type, she has to have guts to rule her sphere, protect her opinion and status. No other god or goddess shall stick their nose in her business. Unless they’re ready for harsh words or worse. In summary: a less extreme version of Poseidon. On the other hand, I don't think these qualities are enough to draw Poseidon's interest. It’s good base but potential s/o must get under his skin. Intentionally or no, she has to do or say something that would get his attention, and annoy him… He wasn't seeking her subtle chitchat, nor did he want to end up witnessing her fight! Congratulations, miss! You accidentally annoyed Tyrant of the Seas! Choose a burial place. Jokes aside, the best thing s/o can do here is ignore Poseidon. He thinks he wants that, but hey! Looks like he played himself. Now s/o annoys him even more and he cannot understand why. Such a useless bottom feeder and he can’t get over her?

She was like a sea: capricious and unpredictable in nature, always remained resistant to the expectations of others. But sea bend to his will like tamed puppy. He stamp his foot and it humbly part before him. That’s what he couldn’t stand - how little control he had over her, how unbearably free this woman was compared to other gods who ran away in terror as soon as he merely frowned.

Poseidon would catch himself thinking about her in the least expected moments. He used to almost never leave his realm, now suddenly is more present in social life. Still doesn’t care much, usually just staying in loneliness that nobody dare to disturb and observing from distant object of his contempt. As if nothing had changed, yet it did. Probably the only people that would notice he’s different will be Hermes and Hades. When first one won’t act on it nor share his observations, the eldest brother definitely won’t resist to make some ambiguous comments.

— Well that’s unusual of you, dear brother — said Hades. He toyed with his glass of wine, watching carefully Poseidon, who looked as unconcerned as ever. However he honoured him with one short glance. Hades couldn’t stop the corners of his lips to lift up. Did his little brother seem… disturbed? Or was that just his imagination? If Hades could pick one thing out of everything known in the universe that was unshakable and untouched by time or any other matter Poseidon would be his choice. Unaffected stability that did not leave any room for doubt and yet… something… someone push his stern brother out of his safe zone. Hades couldn’t wait to see what else the future may bring to them. He just hoped the intruder will be able to keep up with the challenge.

It will actually take a lot of time for Poseidon to realize that he isn’t annoyed with s/o but himself. Idea of being attached to another person is almost physically uncomfortable. It’s new and suspicious. The moment of understanding is the flash point of the relationship. At this point Poseidon would abandon distant admiration and start acting. He is still slightly annoyed but what’s more irritate him is the absent of that unbearable mouth of s/o. Poseidon would sit next to her or stand much closer at any events. At first she won't notice, but over time she'll start to connect the facts. She’s not dumb. Quiet neither. If she point it out, he may mock her.

— Why don't you just ask me to dance instead of deterring others? It would be a graceful way to start a relationship. Poseidon gave her almost cold look. — Such a audacity — his voice teetered on the verge of indifference - he thought so. She snorted. Her eyes weren’t darkened with anger, sparks of mirth still shone in them. Maybe even more after his refusal. Then she turned to face him and, with a subtle but promising smile, began to close the distance between them. Poseidon remained calm as she came within inches of him. He could feel the warm breath of hers, the smell of fresh air… — You know you want me — she whispered without hesitation. Something unbearably nagging was born in Poseidon’s belly. And that annoying heat under it… almost as someone wounded him. He frowned but didn’t move away. — How are you going to win me over if you can't stop fighting with yourself? — she asked innocently and didn't wait for an answer - just left him on the balcony.

Truth be told, Poseidon wasn’t made for small talks so s/o is doing most of the part and - to provoke a reaction - teasing him a bit. After a while, they both find the silence in their presence pleasant. Poseidon’s seduce tactic would mostly navigate around small gestures such as gifts. However he won’t send them like every normal suitor. If his s/o lives near the ocean or is often near it, she would probably find many beautiful pearls by chance. All of them in her favourites colours of course. Is she basking on the beach? The finest shells surround her. Is she admiring shoal of fish, coral reef or just the sound of the sea? There are no storms. And go on… It’s hard for Poseidon to overcome his pride and openly talk about his desire. When he finally bring himself to it, he’ll sound angry as if he’s doing something unworthy of him. Once s/o assures him that she wants to know more, Poseidon would relax.

— I want you to remind me every day how unbearable I am. How capricious… how impertinent… — she kissed his hand without taking her eyes off him and then put it to her cheek. Poseidon liked the cool touch of her skin — And still watch me with that quiet yet deep fascination.

Yeah, s/o has to make it official by saying out loud how she feels and Poseidon generously accept the offer…

NSFW For Poseidon to be in any relationship, especially romantic is almost impossible. He doesn’t get involved with others because, in his opinion, they’re not worth it. So nobody would force on him arranged marriage. He must be the one choosing that path. That’s why I don’t believe he would ever degenerating his s/o. The reason is simple - he would treat his wife with the same level of respect he treats Hades. Otherwise she wouldn’t be his wife; she cannot be someone less. I also don’t think he would praise her much, probably only when he’s in right mood she would hear complement here and there. His s/o must be good at reading his minimalistic facial expressions and body language. She may notice how his eyes widen in admiration, how he holds his breath for a moment or tightens the jaw muscles when feels really good. He’s not vocal; purrs or growls only on occasion. Poseidon has his moments where he shows desire for s/o. He won’t say it loud but won’t take his eyes off her as she undress in the evening. Yeah, she definitely gonna feel that burning look on her back. The only place where he become caring and warm is in bedroom, in private, far from servants’ eyes. These kind of moments are rare. Mostly because they both take their responsibilities seriously, which means they've been separated for a long time. Poseidon is calm, methodical lover. He’s detail-oriented - would leave no curve or plane untouched from his hands or tongue. He’ll enjoy every sound, shaking and blush s/o make, and act in accordance with the mentioned gestures. Poseidon prefers variants of missionary position to share eye contact though he wouldn’t say no to his s/o if she wants to ride him. In intimidating moment he enjoys challenging her to not close eyes when he thrusts deep into her. He starts with slow and almost annoyed pace that soon becomes raw and firm when they both chase their release. Afterward they usually lay in bed in silent, both satisfied and tired. Poseidon won’t say it loud but he really likes when his wife show him affections at that time. Slowly almost lazily massaging his chest, touching his neck and jaw, putting small kisses on his ear or cheek. Her tender words soft him. Poseidon doesn’t entirely return the favour but when she does all this to him, he caresses her back, pretending to be indifferent.

[aroacewxs]

sharing some of my rui headcanons :]

i mentioned this in that rui gender poll from a while back, but i am personally a believer of any/all pronouns rui with gender that cannot be labelled whatsoever. i think he'd generally consider and present himself as male, but doesn't have many strong preferences about it. doesn't actively make the effort to dress "femininely," but he'd probably fuck with long skirts if given the opportunity!

and all of you know how much i base my personality off of this by now, but. aroace rui :) aroace rui who has always understood romance as a concept, a trope. he can pick up on romantic cues, but purposefully chooses to pretend they don't exist. the mere thought of him experiencing romantic attraction fills him with so much disgust he has to distract himself for hours. i'd ramble a bit more, but then we'd be here for too long..

i think he'd have really good sleight of hand! he's always had an interest for things like card/coin tricks, and picked up more after learning from kaito :) he always has a little trick or illusion up his sleeve and occasionally performs them for kids at phoeniland or just on the street!

despite having really good dexterity with his tools and tricks, he is terrible with sewing and needles. tsukasa has tried everything in his power to teach him, but nothing stops him from accidentally pricking himself.

incredibly susceptible to cold temperatures. is usually wearing a couple more layers than necessary

doesn't get sick often, but when he does, the illness hits him like a TRUCK. it takes him at least a week to recover. he's huddled up in blankets like a poor and frail victorian child, and he can barely work up an appetite. the kicker: he doesn't realize he's feeling Bad until somebody points out how horrible he looks. and that's when it settles

always needs something in his hand to fiddle with! super super good at spinning his pens and pencils (sleight of hand), and is often found twiddling with his longer strands of hair. he also has a bunch of miscellaneous screws and trinkets and trash in his pockets that he keeps to fidget with.

rui has intrusive thoughts (projecting).. most of them come from his deep fear of hurting others and anxiety regarding social perception and safety

this is already kind of canon i think but. whenever rui ever makes the effort to actually clean his room (shocking), he almost always gets distracted by something he finds, and soon enough, cleaning is no longer of his concern.

shitty handwriting. he CAN write neatly, but he just chooses not to

i think he'd be really good at game pigeon word hunt. and sudoku. and crosswords. all the word puzzles. and it pisses tsukasa and nene off a lot. emu is his worthy rival

sensitive teeth. can't bite into ice cream...

this is a given, but aside from theatre, i think he'd be super into other performance arts like ballet. he'd be really intrigued by how storytelling can be completely reliant on visuals and motions with no words and lyrics. ballerina rui au is also something i've brewed in my brain a while ago but the logistics are funny

his opinion on mint chocolate ice cream: taste is perfectly fine but he doesn't appreciate the chocolate chunks at all

weird sock collection. he will die if he doesn't have a funky pair of socks on his feet at all times. aside from when he sleeps probably

lots of unfinished word documents.. he's had a few aspirations about writing an actual novel instead of a script, but the ideas are like ping pong balls in his brain that interfere with his other priorities so he never actually gets much writing done.. one day he will though

that's all i can recall for now.. i'll make more soon if i think of more! this is also a humble request for any other rui headcanons you may have that aren't mentioned here.. hehehe

[kai-anderson-whore]

Can I have an Evan request? Could it be that they have an age gap (I’m 22 lol) and she is insecure and it ends with fluff and maybe smut??

Of course sorry it took a bit to write and I hope you like it🥰

Do you love me? (Evan peters x fem reader smut)

Summary: you and Evan have been secretly dating for six months but you don’t want to hide anymore

Warnings: smut, fluff, p in v intercourse, self doubt, questioning of relationships, private relationships let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 1,6k

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You sat on your boyfriend's bed strolling through instagram seeing all the photos of the event he had attended last night. You hadn't attended the event since you and Evan weren't publicly a couple. You knew Evan likes to keep his personal life private but you couldn't help but feel insecure you had been dating for a little over six months and you couldn't go and do normal couple things because no one knew.

You could say you love him but neither of you said it yet. He was a few years older than you you were 22 and him only just turning 36. You knew if you both came out publicly about your relationship some may have not so nice opinions but you didn't care. Evan made you happy unlike anyone had before in previous relationships. He is kind, funny, humbling despite his line of work and just the most sweetest person ever.

You just worship the ground that man walks on. But the worry and insecurities still remain within you, 'I'm I really good enough for him?', 'does he love me?', 'is he going to break up with me that's why we aren't public?'. The thoughts ate you up. Biting your nails looking at how happy he was in photos with other celebrities.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Evan walking in with a towel wrapped securely around his waist, droplets of water dripping from his hair. "Hey babe" he smiled sweetly grabbing some clean underwear and sweatpants from his drawer. "Hey" you mumbled still lost inside your head you hadn't realised that Evan placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

"You okay?" He asked noticing your lack of awareness. You nodded your head saying you were fine but Evan knew you weren't. "Are you sure you look like your about to cry, come on babe talk to me" he whispered now sitting down in front of you. Your head hung low in shame the tears pricked your eyes.

"Hey don't cry" his voice become more soft like you would crumble at any given moment. His arms wrapped around your frame as you just sobbed into his arms. Evan just let you cry everything out till you were ready to talk, his hand rubbing your back soothing you, soft whispers of "it's okay" and "just let it all out" whilst placing his lips on top of your head.

You stayed huddled into his bare chest for about five minutes just letting all the buildup of your suppressed emotions out finally. "Evan do you even like me?" You asked not looking into his eyes fearing they would show you something that you didn't want to see. Evan scrunched his face in confusion not knowing where this had came from. He was absolutely smitten with you from the moment he laid eyes on you and it was beyond him why you would think differently.

A soft chuckle of disbelief and nervousness left Evans lips "what makes you say that?" He asked his hand still stroking your back comfortingly. You finally looked up at him seeing a pang of hurt within his brown orbs. "It's just your friends know about us and that but we can't even go out in public because we aren't official I'm not caring about the media and all that I just want the hiding to stop it's killing me" you sobbed more.

Evan hadn't realised that it upset you that much. He would love to be open about your relationship to everyone but with the past and who he is he preferred to have a private life. "I didn't know it upset you y/n I completely understand why it is upsetting you but I want you to know over these past six months you shook up my whole world for the better, and yes I do like you a lot in fact it's not even that anymore" Evan paused taking a deep breath unsure if he should drop the bomb on you both at this moment.

"It's what Evan?" You asked feeling scared incase he took his words back. You studied his every feature focusing more so on his perfect brown eyes. They showed something more towards you. Evan parted his lips licking them "I love you y/n" he blurted out. Your eyes went wide he finally said those three words that you had been dying to hear.

"W-what" you lowly gasped not fully processing what he just said. "I love you and I'm so sorry for making you feel like this and questioning my feelings towards you. but god y/n I love the bones off you and we should go public about your relationship" Evan remained his strong eye contact with you. You felt your heard swell with joy from his words. The tears that treacle down your face went from sorrow to pure joy.

"I love you too Evan" you whispered a smile cracked on to Evans lips before crashing them on your own plumped ones. The kiss wasn't like anything before it was soft yet full with passion, like he was trying to express himself more or like it would be the very last kiss you'd ever have.

His hand placed on your cheek holding you close. your lips moved in sync your hands tangled through his locks as he gently pushed you further down the mattress his body shifted between your legs, his hand moved to your side caressing your soft skin from beneath your thin nightdress. The other supporting him upright. You could feel his erection hidden by the towel on your inner thigh slightly grinding against the bare skin for friction.

A small whine left your lips as Evan pulled away only to remove your nightdress only leaving you in your underwear. "God how did I get so lucky" he happily sighed before pressing his lips back on yours. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip seeking entry which you accepted. Your tongues danced with each other your hands trailed along his arms down to his chest driving Evan wild.

Your hands went lower hovering over the towel covering him, slightly tugging on the fabric for it to drop off Evans hips. You bit your lip in excitement as Evan began pulling your panties down discarding them on the wooden floor. You could feel the heat raising within your heat the anticipation clawing at you waiting on his next move.

Evan lined himself up with your entrance your core desperate to be fulfilled. With one gentle push of his hips he entered slowly into you, you lowly gasped your hands on his shoulders. Your face scrunched as Evan pushed deeper into you but his lips peppered along your skin as a way to focus on something else.

“It’s okay baby” he whispered in your ear pulling out almost fully before thrusting into you passionately, a moan left your lips your hands making their way to evans back slightly digging your nails into his back earning a groan from him.

“I love you so much” Evan’s hot breath fanned your face, a droopy smile on his lips, passion and admiration within his brown eyes. “I love you too” you hummed lightly as Evan picked up a steady passionate rhythm. Both of your breathing became heavy, your mind clouded by Evan you were completely like putty in his hands.

The room soon was filled by moans and grunts from you both. Evan started to pick up the pace of his thrusts into you, his head dipping into your shoulders, your hands tugging at his hair driving him wild. A repeat of “I love you’s” left both your lips. It wasn’t like anything you did before it was like you both unlocked this new passion for one another a whole new meaning as your body’s united as one.

“I’m so close Evan” you moaned out your hips bucking upwards as Evan hit that spot guaranteed to make you see stars. “Me too baby” he says slick sweat decorating your skin, you hair tossled over the pillow but Evan thought you couldn’t get anymore beautiful. The way your eyes would roll back with each thrust he delivered to you, the your lips would part open letting your moans slip freely like music to his ears.

With a few more thrusts you felt that knot in your core begin to unravel. another loud moan left your lips as you reached your climax, your back arched a “fuck fuck” you cried out the euphoric feeling of your orgasm triggering Evan’s filling you up with his hot seed. His thrusts were sloppy milking you through your highs till he practically collapsed on top of you.

All you could hear was heavy breathing your hand strokes the back of Evan’s neck trying to regain your breaths. “I really mean it y/n I love you” Evan stated glancing at you with those eyes that always captivate you into a trance. “I know I love you too” you smiled sweetly with sleepy eyes.

Evan pulled out of you a whimpered sigh escaping from your lips at the loss of contact. Evan grabbed a towel helping you get cleaned up. You throw on your nightdress back on once you were all clean Evan discarded the towel in the dirty laundry basket in the corner of the room before climbing into bed with you.

You laid your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you holding you close. “Goodnight y/n” he mumbles sleepily “goodnight Evan I love you” you yawned eyes closed but you could feel him smiling down at you “I love you too”.

[inoreuct]

Since it’s spooky season, may I request a demon Sanji offering Zoro some food?

i was supposed to post this for friday the 13th, but it got way more dramatic than i planned… thank you for the ask!

Y’know, when Sanji became a demon, he hadn’t expected to have to deal with moss infestations. 

He is aware that that sounds rather ridiculous and makes little to no sense. The long and short of it is, he got himself cursed. Dumb, yes, he’s aware of that too, but how was he supposed to have known that the rare herb garden he’d stepped into was guarded by a territorial (and rather unhinged, in his humble opinion) occultist?

But as far as curses go, this one really isn’t so bad. Sanji had just sort of… accepted it, after a while, and it certainly hadn’t hurt that the whole becoming a demon gig came with its own massive underworld castle filled with invisible servants. He shudders, peering into a mirror and brushing an invisible speck of dust from his horns. He could have been turned into a goat, or something. How the hell would he cook if he was a goat?

Back to the topic at hand, he has a visitor. A human, of all things! Wandering about the underworld! Sanji’s scrying bowl had offered him a view of short green hair and three swords hanging from a belt, and honestly? He doesn’t know what to make of it, and now the man is hovering in his entryway, poking at a 6th century vase that Sanji is fairly sure holds some Roman emperor’s dead body. He checks his reflection one last time, sucking at his teeth before he phases into shadow, hovering just outside the edges of the foyer. The flames of the candelabra flicker in an invisible wind and the man whip his head around, looking for a threat that isn’t there— 

And Sanji coalesces right behind him. “Hello, little huma— Ack!” A sword swings for his neck in the space of a breath and he leans back on instinct, not putting much effort into it—

The tip nicks his throat and draws blood.

Sanji’s eyes go wide. Oh, this just got interesting.

Regular blades can’t hurt him. Can’t even touch him; they pass right through his form like he’s made of liquid shadow, but he feels this cut. The faint sting, the hot trickle over his tendons, the smell of his own blood thick in the air. He hadn’t even heard the sword unsheathe.

The man is backing away, eyes wild; Sanji huffs a laugh and melts into the shadow again, reappearing just in time for the man to bump into him with a loud swear. Sanji needs to stop calling him The Man. “What’s your name?”

The Man scowls as he holds his sword ready, and it pulls at the vertical scar over his left eye. “Like hell I’ll tell you. I’m not gonna let you use me for whatever— witchy shit you wanna do.”

Sanji raises an unimpressed brow. “First of all, I’m a demon, not a witch. And second, it doesn’t work like that. You need my name for spells and such.” 

“Which is?”

“Now why would I tell you?” He grins, sharp and sweet like the song of a blade through the air. “You’ll know mine when I know yours, Marimo.”

“Marimo?” his visitor scoffs, and Sanji shrugs with a genial smile even as Marimo bristles. Better than The Man. 

He turns around, gliding through the foyer more for the sake of having something to do than actually trying to go anywhere, and of course Marimo follows. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” he sighs, side-eyeing the man as he squints warily at a bust of some sort of cat with seven eyes. 

“Nope.”

“What’s the deal, then? A human all the way down here? Hell isn’t exactly the most popular vacation spot, y’know.” Sanji pauses and gives a pointed look to the weapon that had drawn his blood. “And that is not a normal sword.” 

Marimo’s eyebrows twitch, the only sign Sanji gets that he’s surprised. “Cursed blade,” the man grumbles, rubbing a thumb over the hilt. “And I’m looking for someone.”

“…In Hell.” Sanji’s skeptical.

“My best friend got himself kicked through a portal, alright?” Marimo protests, lip curling in irritation. 

“Ha! Good luck with that,” Sanji huffs, walking again. “Nobody new’s been down here except—” Wait. He spins on his heel, and Marimo narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Dark hair, chatty as anything, about… yea high?” he asks, lifting his hand as an estimate, and he lurches back when Marimo leans all up in his face with his eyes like sharp granite.

“You know something.”

“One of my… acquaintances said something about it, yes.” Mihawk had mentioned a guy suddenly popping up. Monkey something-or-other. Loofah? He opens his mouth to speak right as he hears an odd growl, and Marimo pulls back with the tips of his ears turning red. A huff of a laugh slips out without Sanji’s permission. “Alright, come on,” he decides, creating a shadow door and waiting for the other man to follow. “Can’t find your friend on an empty stomach.” 

They walk straight into the kitchen, and Sanji gets to work whipping up a plate of omurice. He was a chef before, and he still is one; he’ll feed anyone who’s hungry. He might not be human or alive (or is he? He still isn’t sure) anymore but he refuses to let go of the values that he’d lived and breathed by, no matter how… questionable his unexpected guest may be.

He is done in a matter of minutes. “Eat.” The plate scrapes as he slides it across the countertop with cutlery, but Marimo just glares. “What? Don’t like eggs?”

“Isn’t there some rule about getting trapped here if you eat?” 

Sanji resists the urge to roll his eyes, because Hell’s bells, this man is stubborn. “Look, that’s all bullshit, alright? Eat, or I’ll make you. This is the only place around for leagues that has food you could possibly digest. Or would you rather go hunt for elephant scorpions?”

The man recoils. “The fuck are those?”

“You don’t wanna know.” He nudges the fork and spoon closer, crossing his arms with an expectant eyebrow.

Marimo raises one right back, but he hesitantly picks up the cutlery and digs in. “…So you eat human food,” he mutters after a while, and Sanji looks up from where he’s washing the dishes.

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Dunno,” the other man muses, taking another bite. The dim light of the wall sconces makes his three golden earrings gleam, highlighting the gnarly scar across his chest. “What with the whole demon thing.”

“Not all of us have a taste for mortal flesh,” Sanji sniffs, examining his cuticles coolly before getting back to scrubbing. 

He’s feeling a little strange. Maybe it’s the human interaction after so long of being down here with just his invisible friends and other demons for company, but it’s making something hurt right behind his ribs, where his heart beats more slowly than it has any right to. He’d missed this. Cooking for someone else. Banter. Companionship. 

He takes a shaky breath and plunges his hands into the water, grabbing a frying pan and scouring it viciously. No use reminiscing and chasing pipe dreams. 

“Oi.”

Marimo’s voice catches his attention, and he rinses the sponge. “Hm?”

“How’s the—?” The man gestures vaguely to his neck, and Sanji’s fingers fly up to his throat to feel for the cut.

“Oh, that.” It’s already mostly healed, and he tilts his jaw to the side to show it. “S’fine. See?”

Marimo grunts, turning back to the last bites of his food. “Sorry.”

Sanji stills, something wild flaring hot in his ribcage before he mentally wrangles it into submission. He wouldn’t have expected an apology from anyone— much less this man. “It’s no big deal.”

“Still,” Marimo says gruffly, sliding the plate back over, the ceramic scraped clean. “And thanks.” He blinks for a second before nodding to the empty plate, as if it isn’t clear enough. “For the food.”

What the fuck. Sanji takes it, feeling like he’s in a bit of a daze. Marimo had seemed like a bit of a brute at first, with his scars and his close-cropped hair and his physique and the stupid shirt that was open halfway down his damn chest (Sanji, don’t look, it doesn’t matter how many muscles he has), not to mention the three swords. He’s bullheaded but obviously skilled, and— who the Hell is this guy? 

“Who sent you,” Sanji breathes as he sets the plate down, something sinking in the pit of his gut. He readies one hand behind his back. There has to be a catch.

Marimo frowns. “Nobody sent me, I told you I’m looking for my—”

He lunges. His claws are around the man’s neck in less than a second, digging up into the soft part of his throat. Marimo’s Adam’s apple bobs against the pad of his thumb. “Who sent you,” he hisses again, and it comes out less steady than he likes.

Sanji doesn’t know why he’s affected. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. He has not fallen so far that the thought of this small bit of— of courtesy, of company, being a farce should feel like such a betrayal. 

So why does it?

He tightens his grip, gaze boring into eyes that have gone granite-dark in the low light, and yet Marimo does not pull away. The man tips his chin up, allows the point of Sanji’s claw to dig just beneath his trachea. “Nobody sent me,” he repeats evenly, chest rising and falling with his breaths, and Sanji holds back a snarl. He has been alone for too long for some human to come waltzing in and fucking up his life with— whatever this is, only for him to get butthurt because it wasn’t real. It’s not even that big of a deal and he feels fucking ridiculous. 

“If you’re lying—”

“I’m not.” 

And it seems like he really isn’t. Marimo’s pulse is rock steady, his gaze unflinchingly neutral, tracking Sanji across the room even as the demon slowly pulls away. 

“I’m sorry,” Sanji mutters, leaning back against the sink and pressing a hand over his eyes with a tired exhale. “I apologise, I— I lost myself.” 

“S’okay,” Marimo says cautiously. His swords clatter against each other as he stands and pushes the stool in with his knee. “I should… get going.”

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, Sanji shakes his head a little and smoothes his hands over the front of his blouse. He snaps his fingers, and a shadow door materialises in front of the other man. “This will take you to the acquaintance I was talking about, Mihawk. He’s your best bet at finding— What’s his name?”

“Luffy.”

“Luffy. Right.” 

Marimo hesitates, and Sanji feels like something’s gotten caught in his throat. 

“It gets lonely here, doesn’t it?” the other man asks abruptly, turning to face Sanji properly.

He swallows. “…Sometimes,” he concedes, keeping his tone light. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Marimo gives an aborted jerk of his head, like he hadn’t been able to decide whether to nod or not. “Luffy’s appetite is crazy. He’ll be hungry when I find him.”

Sanji can’t help but laugh. It seems to be becoming a recurring problem. “You asking if I’ll feed him?” 

“Yeah. Because I think you’ll say yes.” 

A smirk pulls at Sanji’s mouth, and he lets it lean sharp. “Do you have a death wish, planning to come back to a demon’s castle?”

“Maybe,” Zoro mutters, but he matches Sanji’s expression tooth for tooth. “But the food’s good, and the company’s… decent.”

Sanji really does roll his eyes this time. Unbelievable. “You’ve got some nerve, Marimo.”

“Zoro.”

Zoro. It echoes around in his skull, sets something sparking up under his skin. “Zoro,” he tries, cocking his head before he nods to the shadow door. “Get going, idiot. That isn’t going to stay open forever.”

Zoro takes a step backwards. “You haven’t told me your name.”

Sanji purses his lips to hide his chuckle. “Come back with Luffy, and maybe you’ll find out.” 

The last thing he sees is the swordsman’s grin before the door dissolves, leaving him alone in his kitchen with a feeling in his chest that he hasn’t felt for ages. Fuck, this Zoro is trouble.

Sanji drags his hands over his face and groans, but he’s smiling. 

All he does in this damn castle is laze around and cook for himself. If it means cooking for someone else, and decent company… Well, a little trouble couldn’t hurt.

[smgsyndicate]

Little!Rain & CG!Alpha

No CW, Age Regression, Kinks DNI

Regressed Rain with CG!Alpha ??? Yes .

Anyways, a 2k-something word long mindless fic about them being adorable. No warnings, just cuteness

ALSO . Suggestions and criticism is welcome and encouraged (please be nice tho lmao)

The ministry halls were unusually quiet, though that may have something to do with the time. Alpha looked down at his wrist to check the time, sighing very obnoxiously when he was met with the sight of his bare wrist. ... The fire ghoul doesn't even own a watch.

Alpha just huffs, pulling out his phone and squinting at the light as it shines the numbers 3:33am brightly in his face. He groans, turning his phone back off and scrubbing tiredly at his face before going back to what he was doing ... Pacing the halls.

Sometimes, a feeling Alpha could never get anyone else to understand, would creep up on him. The feeling brought up intense urges to make sure absolutely *everyone* was safe.

This time though, he was thankful for his un-fightable urge, rounding the corner of the water ghoul's wing when he hears a soft sniffling. His ear flicks, eyes turning to pin pricks and his breathing slowing as he listened for the soul crushing sound again. ... *There!* Right there it was again!

But if a ghoul is crying... Who? Must be a water ghoul, obviously. But *who?* The sound was too raw and bare with emotion, as opposed to the silent and angry cry of a certain ghoullette, Mist.

The sound was a shitty attempt at hiding sadness, something Chain was *never* good at. You would *always* know when Chain was upset, letting out ugly (in Chain's own humble opinion) sobs anything something upsets him.

There was a distinct lack of destruction around, leading Alpha to believe it wasn't Lake either. The older fire ghoul brushed the tips of his fingers across the doors, wondering *who* could be so sad?

The answer hit him as he heard a sad wet sniffle come from the door to his right. He pauses, turning towards it. The name "Rain" is etched in a gorgeous stone that Alpha wouldn't be able to tell you the name of, sea creatures of all shapes and sizes glued to the pretty name tag.

The guitarist stared at the door with his mouth twisted to a slight frown. It's not that he didn't like the new ghoul- quite the opposite actually. His calmer personality and soft voice was a much welcome change to the hyperactive ghouls that were Swiss, Phantom, and Sodo.

Alpha hovers his hand over the door knob, hesitating. He didn't really know the guy, opting to spend his time reading or messing around trying to make his own music. Would his help be appreciated? Or even actually helpful?

The ghoul sighs, turning to walk away but a distressed chirp catches his breath. His head whips around to face the door again, throwing caution to the wind and knocking as gently as he could. (Which isn't all that gently, but he's trying?)

The crying grows quieter before a shaky voice reaches his ears. "H-hello?" Alpha winces at the attempt of sounding normal. "Hey buddy, you doing okay? I can try to help if you need anythi-" before he could finish, the door is opened and he stumbles with the force of a water ghoul hugging him tight.

The fire ghoul's face contorts into a mix of discomfort and surprise. Alpha had no problem letting the newer summon hug him, no. The problem was ... How was he supposed to comfort the ghoul?

He hugs the shorter ghoul, rubbing his back with what he hopes is a reassuring smile and not one that expresses his current feeling of being out of his depth. "Shhh.. shh... It's alright. What's going on?"

Thankfully, Rain either doesn't notice or doesn't comment on it, hiding his face in Alpha's chest with a body wracking sob. "I- I-" Rain's gills flutter and he shakes as he tries to get his breathing regulated enough to speak. "I wan- I wanted to prac'ice my bass but when 'm got there, is was broked! The strings!"

The guitarist nodded sympathetically, but was still a bit confused. How did this all lead up to this much distress? "A-an then when I tried to fixed it? We has no more!" Alpha frowned at the water ghoul's words for a few different reasons. Firstly, he feels bad for the bassist. Secondly, the practice room is usually stocked- so he made a mental note to remind Special to order some more. Third of all... The ghoul is a mess over something that's not that big of a deal? And his words are all slightly off and it's almost like a child throwing a tantrum-

Alpha would've face palmed if not for the fact he currently had his arms full of a Rain ghoul, who is still clinging to him just as tight. He's not as experienced with the coping mechanism known as age regression, but he'd heard enough from Omega that he's confident enough that that's what he's dealing with.

With as gentle of a smile as the fire ghoul could muster, he carefully moved the water ghoul so he could see his face. "Rain, how old are you right now?" The bassist blinked at him owlishly, lashes wet and small tear tracks left in his sorrow's wake. His brow furrowed adorably, (at least in Alpha's opinion), before he softly spoke.

The older ghoul tilts his head. The answer wasn't English? "Can you repeat that, little one?" The water ghoul lets out an embarrassed chirp at the name, shyly nodding. "... Trois.." Alpha wracks his brain for information, frustrated at the lack of answers before he lets out a soft "oh." of understanding. "You're three, droplet?"

Rain just nods, biting his lip anxiously. "I- I can uhm. I can go 'way an deal with it on my own though- if you wanna. M a big ghoul... An .. droplet 's Dewy's name. Not mine! Silly!" He giggles a bit at the end, but his voice is heavy with rejection.

Alpha frowns at that, shaking his head gently and keeping his tone light as to not frighten the little ghoul. "No, no. It's alright. You can stay with me until you're feeling better. Besides, there's plenty of other names out there little guppy."

That seems to be a good enough response because soon enough he finds himself with a hand full of a purring water ghoul. A small sound catches the guitarist's attention, ear flicking. "You hungry, little one?" He says with amusement, still gently rubbing Rain's back.

Rain flushes and hides his face in embarrassment at his stomach growling. "M... Mhm..." They hum out in agreement. Alpha lets out a small "aw" at their adorable behaviour, bringing a hand up to push their curtain bangs out of their face.

"No need to be shy, dragonfly. I've got you." The fire ghoul goes to pick him up but pauses. "Is it alright to pick you u-" he's interrupted by an excited trill and Rain lifting his arms expectantly. "Uppies!" He cheers, tail wagging so quickly that it shakes him slightly.

Alpha laughs at that, picking up the excited water ghoul. Surprisingly, Rain is pretty light. He expected some sort of struggle carrying a full gown ghoul (or well,,, full grown *physically*,) but it seems not to matter. Alpha maneuvers him to be resting on his hip as he makes his way towards the kitchen, eyes flicking over to the regressed ghoul every few seconds to make sure he's alright.

The bassist pouts, fins flattening, when Alpha gently coaxes the bassist's fingers out of his own mouth. They whine, immediately going back to do the same thing again. Alpha just sighs dramatically with a smile, trying to think of something better.

Naturally, he'd give the little one a pacifier, but he's never personally dealt with this situation before. He feels out of his depth with no tools or toys or anything to help keep the water ghoul all happy. Still, he tries his best to make Rain happy.

"Shhh... None of that baby. Can you tell me what kind of drink you want? Or maybe something to eat if you feel up to it?" Alpha remembers something Omega said about some littles not wanting to eat if they feel too young, opting for a drink alternative if they can. However, the guitarist can't remember what age range the Quint had said. "Mnh... M'k.."

The fire ghoul nods, carefully setting the bassist down on the counter and grabbing the milk jug from the fridge. He hums in thought as to what container to put it in, knowing the water ghoul would spill it in his current space.

"Boddle!" Rain chirps out happily, pointing at a cabinet Alpha's never used before. The lead guitarist nods with a relieved sigh when he sees an array of different bottles and sippy cups in the cabinet. He pulls out a blue one with cute little sea creatures on it and closes the cupboard, pouring the milk into the bottle and moving to put it in the microwave.

He stops when he hears a distressed whine, turning to see the bassist frowning at him and reaching for the bottle. "Oh, I'm just heating it up for you little one. Don't worry, you'll get it soon enough."

This doesn't seem to please Rain, making him whine louder and shake his head. Alpha swears he remembers Omega saying that he should heat up the milk, saying regressors would find the warmth soothing and it would be easier to make them take a nap, but in this moment? Alpha just wants the bassist to be happy.

Definitely not because Rain has him bending to his every demand with big round eyes and watery tears threatening to emerge and a sad little pout on his face .. ... No, definitely not. Alpha hands the bottle to the water ghoul, watching him fumble with it for a moment before chuckling and taking it back.

"Right. Forgot. You're just a little thing, aren't you?" He says fondly, big blue eyes blinking back at him owlishly. "Come here, you." He says, scooping up Rain as best he can despite only being a bit taller than the little ghoul.

Alpha carries him to the couch, sitting down carefully and putting the bottle down. He reaches over and grabs the spare blanket they always leave there in case they find a sleeping ghoul on the couch and wraps it around the bassist, swaddling him as best as he can.

Rain chirps and trills loudly at that, making Alpha chuckle. "You like that, huh? Being all comfy and cozy?" The water ghoul doesn't really reply, just happily nuzzling against the lead guitarist with happy little sounds.

The fire ghoul hums. "Alright, alright. Let's get something in your tummy now, hm?" Alpha paused, realizing he's been talking out loud to basically himself since Rain's too little to respond.

He stays quiet, feeling slightly embarrassed as he picks up the bottle and brings the nip to the little ghoul's mouth. Rain blinks at it before looking up at Alpha.

The fire ghoul sighs, realizing the water ghoul liked him talking. "Alright, alright, fine. You win. Now drink your bottle before I die of worry you silly thing. C'mon, open please baby." The bassist doesn't quite understand for a moment but with the help of Alpha trying to work it into his mouth, the water ghoul happily starts to suckle on the bottle. He purrs in-between gulps of milk, eyes closing and body relaxed peacefully as he drinks.

"Thereeee you go, buddy! Good job! You must be starving, huh? All tired out from such an exhausting day, hm? We'll go restring your bass tomorrow, okay? Right now, just rest up and relax." Rain chirps, happily drinking the bottle still.

Alpha just smiles softly when he notices the milk starting to drip down the bassist's chin, gently removing the bottle and wiping off the spilt milk gently. "I guess that's naptime, little shark." He says quietly, slowly standing up and carrying Rain to his room.

He looks around, never having been in the newer summons room before. The walls are painted with an ocean mural, all sorts of sea creatures and coral painted as well. Alpha carefully lays the little water ghoul down on the bed, adjusting the blanket and pulling another over him to make sure he's comfortable.

Rain whines quietly, wiggling a bit and chewing on his lip. Alpha tsk'd and gently pulled the bassist's fangs away from his own lip. "None of that, little one. Settle back down and go back to sleep baby ghoul."

The fire ghoul noticed a small box sticking out from under the bed, pulling it out and opening it to see some little gear. He smiled and picked up a small green pacifier with a little fish charm on it. "Here you go, this should be better, yeah?"

Alpha gently slips the pacifier into Rain's mouth, watching the water ghoul easily relax at the soothing pressure. The fire sighs, feeling slightly disappointed at having to leave now. "Alright... Sleep well little one."

He stands up to walk away but is stopped by a heartbreaking whine. When he turns back, the bassist is looking back at him with big watery eyes, begging him to stay.

The lead guitarist can't help the small smile. "Alright baby. I'll stay." He says softly, moving onto the bed and holding Rain close to his chest protectively. "Sleep tight, little rainbow." Alpha kissed the little ghoul's forehead, happily falling asleep to the sound of quiet happy little purrs.

[sunderingstars]

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ EIDOLONS ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: interpretative analysis, heavily aha!sampo

— word count: 3k (can you tell i'm an english major? :3)

— overview: (as of 2.3) hello and welcome back to sampo theory time! this time, i’ll be looking at his eidolons, their names & art, and how they might factor in to his overarching identity and story. there will be a few conclusions i reference in this post (like eidolons progressing in a linear narrative), so if you want more on that, i highly recommend reading my eidolon names as narratives and eidolon art as facets of character posts first! it’s not required reading though (god i sound like a professor) — otherwise, enjoy!

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

To begin, I would like to humbly say this post will likely be the most nerdy thing I’ve ever posted in my life. I have written entire paragraphs about two singular words for this. Two words. And I have even more I can say about them! But anyways, just a heads up, this is the type of thing you’d probably see spoken by a stereotypical “nerd” archetype in a high school movie. But without further ado, let’s get started!

(Yes, I am sad that I still only have him at E2 despite pulling every time he’s on a banner. And both of these are from event character selectors :))

My main thesis for this analysis is that Sampo’s eidolons follow a similar narrative structure to other eidolon sets in that they start with his backstory and progress to the present (and open-ended future) of where we are in the story; additionally, the placement of these names with the facets of his eidolon art add to further implications for his personality and development. This can lend itself to multiple of my theories — the main ones I will be interpreting for are Aha!Sampo, Emanator!Sampo / Functional Aha, and Dual Consciousness!Sampo.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ AHA!SAMPO ⌝

Starting with Aha!Sampo, I interpret these eidolons as beginning at his “rise” to Aeonhood, then following through to him “spending” some kind of cost in the present/future for whatever his plans are. 

“Rising Love,” his E1, has two important components — “rising” and “love.” “Rising” seems the most obvious to me, as Aeons have been referenced to “fall” before, so it makes sense that they would also be able to “rise.” Additionally, Himeko has explained that Aeons “ascended from the form of intelligent beings” (Parlor Car Dialogue); beyond “ascend” being a direct synonym of “rise,” this shows that Aeons can come from physical and perhaps even humanoid beings. In fact, Aha’s lore in the data bank, while not explicitly stating that Aha used to be mortal, implies the “climbing” of the tree of existence and laughing, which is a very human act. (However, it is good to keep in mind that this is a parable told by the Masked Fools, and given the nature of Elation factions may not be entirely truthful.) In this way, “ascend” and “rise” may be interchangeable, and the “birth” of an Aeon could also refer to the “rise” of a mortal to Aeonic status.

Next is “love.” For this we need to think not as followers of a Path, but as an Aeon Themself. While it may be easy to think “If he’s Aha, it should say rising elation” — 1. That might be a bit too obvious from a writing standpoint and 2. From an Aeonic perspective, Aha may very well view “Elation” as “love.” They may view spreading Laughter throughout the universe as the ultimate form of love, and as such “rising love” could refer to the rising of a being capable of dispersing “love” (Elation) on a wide scale throughout the universe.

After the ascension, or “rise,” to Aeonhood comes Sampo’s E2, “Infectious Enthusiasm.” This is one of the more obvious ones in my opinion, as “infectious” implies a status capable of imposing itself on others — influencing them in ways that are perhaps beyond mortal comprehension — and “enthusiasm” is closely linked to “Elation” both in wording (starting with the letter E) and in connotation. “Enthusiasm” and “Elation” are both high-energy words, carrying the idea of excitement and even mania. I would view this as “Aha proper,” in which Sampo has come into his full identity as an Aeon and is thus capable of dispersing “infectious enthusiasm” onto others (Pathstriders). (Aha is also directly described as having “infectious enthusiasm” in the Simulated Universe!)

“Big Money!”, his E3, is particularly interesting to me because it seems like an intrusion — a departure from the other, more grounded names. The exclamation mark especially lends itself to the exact kind of “infectious enthusiasm” present in his E2, to some kind of encroachment on his previous mortal existence. This ties into my compulsory existence theory, in which Aeons by nature live in a sort of compulsive state, needing to adhere to their given “concept” just by virtue of existence; this is heavily influenced by the game’s discussion of “Primum Mobile”s, or the idea of “restrictions” that come from existing as an Aeon. Aeons that ascend from mortal beings would experience the brunt of this, as their previous state would essentially be overwritten by this eldritch, compulsive concept. 

I think “Big Money!” could symbolize such a change in Sampo. After ascending to Aeonhood from a potentially mortal form, intrusive thoughts of Elation encroach on his very being — the feeling of momentary thrill, of “Big Money!” — likely leading him into his next state: “the deeper the love, the stronger the hate”.

I’m not going to lie, I’m absolutely in love with the name for Sampo’s E4. It links back to so many aspects of his character in a way that sets up an amazing juxtaposition between his outward appearance and inward feelings in so few words! For me, “The Deeper The Love, The Stronger The Hate” highly relates to compulsory existence. As we see in Aha’s splash art, the smiling masks — the Elation, the “Love” — are always at the front in the spotlight, while the frowning masks — the sadness, the “Hate” — tend to be obscured in the background by shadow. 

In a compulsory existence, I can’t imagine how horrible it must be to constantly be forced into performing a singular emotion or concept. In all likelihood, these negative emotions are barely able be felt at all, leading to extremely repressed layers of fear, anger, sadness and, yes, “hate.” “The stronger the love” — the stronger the Elation — means more repression, more hiding, a stronger fermentation of despising one’s own existence lingering in the background like shadowed masks — “the stronger the hate.” In this way, I believe Sampo’s E4 may convey this dual existence, of an existence where one side is so deeply, powerfully out-of-proportion with the other that any emotion from the other side is left to fester unchecked below the surface. 

(Note: The name could also be referencing the talent level-up, which would show the self-aware aspect of his character. This would apply to his E5 as well.)

This hate, of course, is then covered up by “Huuuuge Money!” (E5), because we can’t have those feelings swirling around in a being of pure Elation, can we? they must be taken out with the trash, overshadowed with yet another encroachment of exclamation marks and the thrill of sudden gains. After Sampo’s rise to Aeonhood, it must’ve been a constant battle between these underlying negative feelings and his compulsory, Elated existence — and given the linear progression of most eidolons, this must’ve been a pattern that repeated for millennia, over and over and over again, one he can never escape or solve. Perhaps it still is. 

Which is why, in his E6 “Increased Spending,” I believe Sampo may be “paying a cost” to try to alleviate this issue. Whether by becoming mortal, sectioning off his power to others, passing along his title, or any other number of potential solutions I don’t know, but I feel like he is turning his compulsive nature of Elation to the thrill of the “cost” in the hope of changing some part of this ever-chaotic, ever-stagnating existence. Either that, or it is to further a master plan we the audience don’t know about.

Overall, in terms of Aha!Sampo, I interpret these eidolons of tracking his rise to Aeonhood through his compulsory existence and fermenting self-hatred, all the way to “increased spending” trying to find a way around this problem.

Now, let’s take this a step further and add his eidolon art into the mix. This is where I’ll start to get into some of the conclusions I discussed in my eidolon art as facets of character post.

E1 (Rising Love): Keeping in mind “rising” as potentially referring to the rise of an Aeon and “love” as potentially referring to Aha’s idea of Elation, I see this figure as an ascending or untouchable silhouette; “walking” (or perhaps more aptly, climbing) into a new role. It also creates a distance between a potential “past” mortal form and a “current” Aeonic or ascended one.

E2 (Infectious Enthusiasm): I find it so interesting that “Infectious Enthusiasm” was chosen for the eye-centered eidolon. Since “Infectious Enthusiasm” is so, well, Aha-coded, this matches with the conclusions of first impressions and inciting incident from my eidolon art post. I believe this eye is meant to represent the first true “glimpse” of Aha people get — it is very close to the face without being too personal. It also spotlights Sampo’s unique facial features, mainly the almost condescending furrow of his brow. However, the eye itself has deep shadows, most likely referencing the dual hate within his being. This would be the “inciting incident” of Sampo in his Aeonhood proper, at the height of his power.

(Note: “Infectious” + the focus of an eye may further imply the presence of a “gaze” and the ability to distribute power in an Aeonic way.)

E3 (Big Money!): E3s are by far the most character-specific eidolon, with each character interacting with an important object to them. I feel like money is only fitting for Sampo, since it matches both the eidolon name and his obsession with making money. It very much leans into the “con-man” aspect of his character, and would make sense as the way acquaintances or those he keeps at arm’s length would view him (probably his customers).

I also find it extremely interesting how he is looking down. We see this a lot throughout his mannerisms and idles, with him always seeming to have a condescension that looks “down” on others below him. While this could be just another facet of his character, it also matches up with the way an Aeon may view the mortals around them — no matter how close They get to someone, that someone will always be “below” Them. It’s not even a conscious decision, just a natural byproduct of Aeonic existence, much like casting Their gaze down to bestow power on Pathstriders. Whether Sampo has become truly mortal at this point or not, it’s probably a bad habit to kick regardless. (I would also love to point out how him looking down at the money is also reminiscent of this (albeit more nostalgic and “loving”) face he makes towards Sparkle, a whole human being:)

E4 (The Deeper The Love, The Stronger The Hate): Here, we zoom in even more on his personality. Beyond the superficial impressions people get from seeing him at a glance, we have now entered a more complex emotional understanding — his eye, unlike in his E2, is more faded and shadowed, the hand scratching his head and his smile pointing towards a sort of “act” he puts on for others. This shows multiple dimensions of him: both the charismatic, smiling con-man, and the hatred lurking beneath that façade’s surface. This would be in a more present timeline, highlighting his “fake” and mysterious nature as well as how he is portrayed to people who know him better like friends. It shows a clear dissatisfaction with the façade he has to put up; whether the “love” is also a true emotion to him is up for debate, but either way this eidolon has him balancing between these two sides of his being (potentially balancing between an eldritch and mortal consciousness, or dealing with the aftermath and residual power of a past Aeonhood). (He also seems to be looking down at the spot the masks would match up with if the silhouette was looking down in Aha’s splash art — it is possible that this “hate” refers to the hate he has for his power or the power of the masks. Or, perhaps, this looking down is a general way to symbolize a being of higher power looking down on those below them like Pathstriders.)

E5 (Huuuuge Money!): This eidolon is more casual and comfortable than the others — there seems to be no dual-sided hate, nor does there seem to be as prominent of a focus on obsessive moneymaking in the art itself (the name is a different story). Instead, the main focus is drawn to Sampo’s outfit, the moniker of his existence in Belobog. The upper half of his face is still cut off, but the art seems to be hinting at a potential comfortability in Belobog, as well as the future mystery of his true identity (and if he will choose “Sampo Koski” as his real self). I actually love this combination, because it shows how Sampo may be at his most casual in Belobog; it’s clear he’s made real connections with the people there, and regardless of his motives, it seems to be a place he deeply cares about. This would be his appearance to close friends, most likely those aforementioned connections in Belobog like Natasha or Seele. (However, the looming encroachment of “Huuuuge Money!” still hangs in the air, perhaps signaling a bigger issue with Aeonic consciousness persisting despite his best efforts.)

E6 (Increased Spending): Finally, we get to the core essence of Sampo’s being. This is him at his most vulnerable, his appearance to only a select few special people. His head is tilted, his neck bared, showing clear trust and confidence in this position. The main thing of note here is the similarities between E6 and Aha’s splash art — the same pose and build with a different tilt.

This would mean that Sampo’s identity as Aha is his most vulnerable form of being — the fact of others knowing who he truly is, of wading through his personable exterior to reach the truth at the core of him, is a privilege only a trusted few get. This most likely points towards the “cost” implied by “increased spending,” the idea that, for whatever reason, Sampo’s true identity being revealed at the wrong time or too soon would put him in a less-than-ideal situation. As such, it is something he holds close to his chest (at least in Belobog) either willingly or unwillingly. (Note: This could also reference a past identity as Aha, it does not necessarily have to be something he experiences currently.)

It also shows that the silhouette in the splash art is the “core essence” of either Sampo, Aha, or both. Beyond the masks (much like Sampo’s façade) lies a deeper, truer version of who Aha is. The true Sampo is not the masks or the smiles or the laughs, but the shadowed figure beyond them, the silhouette that holds the hidden emotions of an Aeon.

I would also like to point out that, on the whole, Sampo’s eidolons (and kit in general) focuses on damage over time. Interpretations can be varied, but I personally like to think this further references the idea of “cost,” and that staying in mortal form as Sampo may be hurting him over time just like his DOTs affect others!

Overall, the art for these eidolons paired with the names create a fuller picture of who Sampo might be and what he might be hiding. There are a lot of hidden clues and implications that can be applied to several different interpretations, and I tried to account for multiple in my analysis! The standouts for me are his E2, E3, and E6, but that’s just because of personal preference. Before I conclude, I want to briefly interpret these eidolons for some non-Aha!Sampo theories.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ALTERNATIVE INTERPRETATIONS ⌝

There are other interpretations to be had, namely Emanator!Sampo and Dual Consciousness!Sampo. Many of the points I made for Aha!Sampo can be applied to Emanator!Sampo, as we know Aha is both capable and willing to give others entire mastery over Their path for shits and giggles. It is possible that Sampo, as either an Emanator or a “functional” Aha or both, could have a similar “rise,” “infection,” and compulsory existence as a result of Emanator status. Additionally, any kind of dual consciousness where Aha is trying to impose Their will on Sampo could contribute to the constant push-and-pull of two schools of emotions — even minds. We could read this as a more literal encroachment of Aha on Sampo’s mindspace, quite literally trying to force Elation into his brain while Sampo’s consciousness fights back. In this way, the “love” and “hate” mentioned could refer to more of Sampo’s feelings towards Aha as a separate or encroaching entity, rather than himself or his own existence.

(Note: This could also work for Aha!Sampo where Aha’s power & status is passed down or won like a sort of crown or title — a “mask” if you will — and Sampo is the latest inheritor/receiver of it. The eidolons would then track from a more recent experience of receiving power and dealing with the encroachment that comes with it. I think it would also lend to much more fear and confusion as this new existence would be a stark departure from Sampo’s previous mortal life.)

(Note 2: Electric Boogaloo: This could also work with a “transformation” theory where Sampo’s more human form and his eldritch-Aha counterpart have two distinct mind spaces, and the “encroachment” of “Big Money!” and “Huuuuge Money!” could be indicative of the literal mental change that happens when he transforms, leading to increased spending (or the “cost”) of him trying to stay in human form as much as possible because he doesn’t like what he becomes when he changes.)

(Note 3: I promise this is the last one: It is also possible that Aha has sectioned off these feelings of “hate” into a separate being — i.e. Sampo — and “The Deeper The Love, The Stronger The Hate” shows that how despite being separate physical beings, Aha and Sampo share an emotional space in which the “love” of Aha directly influences the severity of the “hate” in Sampo. Just a thought.)

Anyways, I find these eidolons super cool! I love how Sampo flips through his bills in his E3 and how his E6 mirrors the silhouette in Aha’s splash art. Even if the Aha! or Emanator!Sampo theories don’t end up being true, there’s some really cool psychological stuff going on that could speak broadly to his relationship with money, gambling, and his own self-image.

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ if you read this far, thank you for doing so! it means a lot to me when people take the time to listen to my silly little theories, so yes, thank you! if you have anything else you want to add or if you just want to talk about these theories (which i am happy to do at literally any time) my askbox is open! hope you enjoyed my nerdy rambling :3

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© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.