#First two drawings were done without reference

[orellazalonia]

The Solstitial Truce

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Angel!reader

Summary: You met him at the border between realms every solstice. Neither of you spoke of the war or how many souls were claimed. You simply watched the stars together, two entities out of place, bound by quiet conversation and the kind of silence that speaks more than words ever could.

Word Count: 2.5k+

A/N: This takes place in the winter solstice by the way! I had this idea earlier and hope you like it as much as I did. I tried to do more descriptive language/scenes. This has ANGST and is left on a cliffhanger by the way. References to a war too, but not explored. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist

The sky was a tapestry of frozen silence.

Stars flickered like dying embers, scattered across the heavens above the boundary. The solstice wind stirred the trees into brittle whispers, and the snow under your feet crunched with every tentative step. You shouldn’t have been there. Angels weren’t meant to wander so close to the borderland, not without orders, not without reason.

But tonight, something had drawn you in. A pull like a thread around your ribs, subtle but unyielding. You followed it, quiet, unsure, your wings folded close to your back like a secret you weren't ready to share.

And then, you saw him.

At first, you thought it was a shadow. A patch of darkness that refused to yield to the moonlight. But no. He moved. Slowly, with the weariness of someone who had lived through too many endings.

He knelt in the snow near a half-dead tree, one hand buried in the frozen soil, fingers clenched like he could still hold onto something that had long since slipped through. Smoke curled faintly around him, not from fire, but from him. It coiled at his shoulders like a protective beast, breathing in rhythm with the rise and fall of his chest.

You froze when you realized who he was. A demon.

Not just any demon, him. The Winter Demon. The one they spoke of in the higher halls. The one who fell long ago but never quite burned out. You recognized him from the whispers. A former soldier. A shattered soul. A blade that had once been wielded by hell itself.

Your hand moved instinctively toward the hilt of your blade, but you didn’t draw it. Something in you held back.

He didn’t move or flinch. Didn’t seem surprised by your presence either.

“I thought angels didn’t walk this far down,” He spoke in a voice low and rough, like it had been dragged through gravel and time. “Unless they’re looking for a fight.”

You hesitated. “I’m not here to fight.”

He chuckled, but it was a hollow sound. “That’s what the last one said.”

You stayed silent, watching him closely. He didn’t turn. Didn’t rise. Just kept his hand in the dirt, like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment.

The wind stirred again, ruffling the edges of your robes. Your wings shifted restlessly, feathers rustling with unease.

“I’m not here on Heaven’s orders,” You finally answered, your voice barely audible over the wind. “I came because… I felt something. A pull.”

“Funny,” He muttered. “So did I.”

That made you blink.

He finally looked up, just enough for you to see his face, half-shadowed, but unmistakable. There was no cruelty there. No hunger for sin or conquest. Just exhaustion. Blue eyes that had seen centuries of death, hands that had done terrible things, and yet, beneath it all, still remembered mercy.

“I should leave,” You said quietly, unsure whether it was directed to him or to yourself.

“Then why haven’t you?”

The question hung in the cold air between you like an open wound. You didn’t give him an answer because truthfully, you didn’t have one. So you stayed.

Not close and not far. Just within sight. The two of you sat there, separated by ruthlessness and faith, by war and fire, peace and light. You didn’t speak again that night. You just watched the stars together.

And for a brief moment, the world felt like it had paused. As if Heaven and Hell had looked the other way, just long enough for two things that should never coexist to breathe in the same silence.

When you finally rose to leave, he didn’t stop you. But he didn’t look away either. And somehow, you knew you’d see him again. And you did.

You never ask his name.

He never asks yours.

There’s no point, not here, not in this place where names don’t hold power, where they melt into the snow like forgotten prayers. You know what he is and he knows what you are. That remains enough for now.

Solstice after solstice, you come back to the edge of the world, to the boundary where no song from Heaven reaches and no scream from Hell echoes. The silence here is sacred in its own way. Unclaimed. Unwatched. It belongs only to you and to him.

This time, you arrive before he does. The frost has crept higher since last year, lacing the dead branches in silver threads that catch the moonlight like cobwebs made of glass. You sit on a stone half-buried in snow, your wings draped around your shoulders like a cloak.

You don't wait long before you feel him.

Not see. Feel.

The temperature shifts subtly. The wind thickens. The smell of ash and old iron fills the air.

He walks through the trees as though they part for him, his breath visible in the cold. The same worn coat, the same heavy boots. The metal of his left arm catches the moonlight like ice. And as always, the smoke follows him, not malicious, just… present. Like a memory he can't shake off.

He sits beside you without a word, the way he always does.

You don’t look at each other at first. There’s no need. You both understand the rules of this fragile ritual: no questions, no fights, and no judgment.

You sit in the cold, close enough to feel the soft heat of him. His unnatural warmth, something Hell must have carved into his bones to keep him burning in all the wrong ways. You stay far enough that the stars won’t take notice, won’t whisper of betrayal.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. The frost creeps slowly over the fallen branches, delicate and determined. You both watch it, as if it matters. As if the way it grows, inch by inch, might teach you something about stillness. About survival.

Like usual, sometimes you talk. Sometimes you don't.

Tonight, he breaks the silence first.

“I used to be human,” He confesses, almost absently. His eyes stay fixed on the sky, where clouds drift like smoke across the moon. “A long time ago.”

You glance at him, not surprised. You had suspected it. There was always something in the way he spoke, the way he moved, like he hadn’t quite forgotten what it meant to bleed in the ways that mattered.

He continues before you can answer. “Can’t remember much. Just flashes. Pain. Screaming. Cold water. And someone-“ He cuts himself off with a bitter breath. “I think I had a name before… Bucky. Maybe that was it or maybe not.”

You don't speak immediately. The words settle like snow, quiet and heavy.

Then, ever so softly, you speak: “You remember enough to mourn it.”

He turns his head a fraction, just enough to meet your eyes. He doesn’t refuse your comment, doesn’t try to argue. And that, somehow, feels more painful than anything else.

You both return to silence as he leans back against a frost-bitten tree, metal fingers twitching restlessly in his lap. You can feel something aching inside him, coiled too deep for words. Guilt? Regret? Or maybe just the echo of what once was.

You don’t try to fix it. You just stay. Because that’s the unspoken promise of the truce. Not salvation. Not forgiveness. Just presence.

And somehow, in a world that burned the both of you down into what you are now… maybe that’s enough.

-

During your next meeting, the snow falls heavier this time.

It comes in thick, whispering sheets, softening the world until even your footsteps are silenced. The sky is overcast, swallowing the stars, and yet you walk the old path by memory. Your wings are hidden this time beneath a dark cloak. Your halo, long dimmed near the boundary, pulses faintly, a reminder of the place you still belong to, even if you don't feel like you do.

He's already there when you arrive, perched on a broken stone wall, hood drawn low, and smoke curling lazily around his shoulders. He doesn’t look at you when you approach, but his metal fingers tap once against the stone, a quiet acknowledgment. A habit, maybe. Or a signal meant just for you.

You sit beside him, brushing snow off the ledge. Neither of you says anything for a long time. The snowfall thickens. It clings to your lashes, melts slowly against the heat of his shoulder when it drifts close. You almost lean toward him. Almost. But you don’t. Because this… this thing between you isn’t named or defined. It’s a careful, wordless balance, like walking a tightrope strung between Heaven and Hell. And you don’t know what happens if one of you leans too far.

So you speak instead.

“They’re starting to wonder where I go,” You murmur. “The others.”

He huffs a breath through his nose. “Same.”

You glance at him, startled. You didn’t think demons would care.

“I shouldn’t be here. They don’t trust me much,” He says. “Never did. I’m not… obedient enough. Still got too many memories, I think.”

You study the side of his face, how the flickering light catches the scar near his jaw, how snow gathers in the folds of his coat, how his eyes stay fixed on the horizon like he’s waiting for something that never arrives.

You whisper, “Why do you keep coming back here?”

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares into the white blur of the trees.

Then: “Because this is the only place I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be anything.”

The words hit harder than they should as you can feel your throat tighten. Because you understand. Because that’s the reason you come too. Not for salvation. Not for curiosity. But because here, on this forgotten ledge at the edge of war, you get to just exist.

Not as a Weapon or a Symbol. Not a Messenger, Servant, or Slave either. Just… as yourself. And maybe that’s why it almost happens.

The shift.

It begins as silence, broken only by the snowfall and the distant cry of something too old for naming. Your knees are nearly touching. His arm is barely a breath from your shoulder. And then, he turns to you. Really turns to you. The snow on his lashes. The flicker in his eyes. The pain he doesn’t speak about and the comfort he doesn’t ask for.

You don’t breathe.

His hand lifts slightly, hesitating between you, as if asking without asking. As if unsure whether reaching out will ruin everything you’ve built from the silence and distance.

Your breath fogs between you and you don’t move as that moment hangs like crystal in the air. Fragile. Shimmering. Dangerous.

But then he blinks and withdraws, looking away. The space between you swells again with all the things you didn’t say. All the things you didn’t do.

He clears his throat. “Should go. They’ll notice.”

You nod, but don’t stand.

He hesitates, then turns, walking back through the trees. The smoke follows him. Softer now. Calmer.

You stay until the snowfall covers where he sat. You don’t cry. Angels don’t cry. But something in you bends. And maybe next solstice… maybe it will break.

-

The snow is late this year.

The sky is too clear, too wide, the moon too full, as if the heavens are watching, waiting. You sit on the same broken stone wall, cloak wrapped tight, wings folded beneath layers of quiet. You haven’t spoken aloud since your last meeting. No words seem right unless they’re for him.

He’s late this time. You don’t pace. Angels don’t pace. But your fingers twitch and your breath stutters. The frost gathers along your lashes, and still, he does not come.

Then… you hear movement. The trees stir. Smoke curls through the air, faint at first, then thick, clinging to the wind like a memory refusing to be forgotten. And then he’s there. Shoulders hunched. Jaw tight. There’s a limp in his step you’ve never seen before. Something about the way he moves, it’s quieter. Smaller. Like he’s folding in on himself.

You don’t speak yet. Not yet. You watch as he stops before reaching the wall. He doesn’t move to sit. He stands there, hood shadowing his face, and one hand clenched tight inside his coat pocket. The other twitches at his side, fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to hold onto something too fragile.

You wait, watching him in silence for a minute. Two. Ten.

Finally, he speaks.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Your voice is steady, even if your heart stumbles. “You say that every year.”

His eyes lift to yours. Something in them flickers resembling pain maybe, or guilt.

“No.” The word is thick. Real and raw. “I mean it this time.”

You don’t ask why. You could. You could demand the answer, peel it from his throat if you wanted. But some truths aren’t meant to be touched. Some are better left where they lie, between silence and suspicion.

Instead, you ask quietly, “Then why come?”

He looks down, taking a slow breath before moving closer to you. Slowly and Carefully, like it costs him something. From inside his coat, his gloved hand emerges, clenched around something small and heavy. When he opens it, the object catches the moonlight and your breath.

A coin. Worn. Misshapen. Half-melted, like it passed through fire and never forgot. Its edges are jagged, dangerous, like the lives it's touched. Like his life. You know what it truly is though.

A soul coin.

You’ve only seen one before, only once a long time ago. It served as proof of salvation. The kind no demon carries unless they’ve done the unthinkable, not damn a soul, but save it. It is a mark of rebellion, of change. Of loss.

He holds it for a moment more, then steps closer before holding it out to you. You hesitate, but only for a heartbeat. Your fingers close around it gently, reverently. It’s warm. Alive, almost. You can feel its weight and the cost of it.

And then, his voice, quieter now.

“Proof,” He states. “That I’m not all gone.”

Your eyes search his face, the shadows beneath his eyes, the way he’s trembling, but only slightly, like a man who’s fought too long and finally let himself feel it.

“Why give this to me?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

You watch as his gaze drops and hear the silence swell between you. Then, he says it. The thing that breaks you.

“Because next solstice…” He stops. His throat works around a word he doesn’t speak. His eyes close, “I might not be here.”

And that’s when it hurts. Because demons don’t lie. Not like this. Not with this kind of sorrow. You reach for him, but he steps back. Not in fear or nervousness this time. In resolution.

Like if you touched him now, he’d stay. And he’s already chosen to leave. When he vanishes, it isn’t with fire. It’s with smoke swirling softly and quietly. Like the ghost of a memory that never settled right.

He leaves behind nothing more than the coin in your hand, still warm, and a silence that feels too alive to be empty. A terrible ache in your chest builds, because angels don’t hope.

But tonight, you do. You hope to see him again.

[tvntheatre]

OH MY GOD I CAN FINALLY FUCKING POST MY AXIS NONSENSE, LET IT BE KNOWN THAT I AM BIASED TOWARDS THE DISCARDED BOT!!!!!!!!!!!

If you think that the pink+yellow one is too bright and inaccurate, refer to the sixth picture in the post.

[remxedmoon]

your friends don’t know what to do.

so!! i redrew every single enemy in the game. in the span of like 9 days (excluding the king i made him right after the last update). that’s abbbout 79* drawings total, with only 3 custom ones for once!! i’m so normal. as always, these are free to use with credit!! go nuts!! spritesheets are included <3

got some notes under the cut, along with As Many Enemies As I Could Fit without making this post obnoxiously long. and i failed. i had to swap between the app and browser several times and i still couldn’t fit every drawing. open this post at your own risk (silly).

okay so first of all. what’s with the asterisk. well. I Drew A Lot More Than 79 Assets Actually. they’re getting posted separately, because this post is ABSURDLY long. you can find most of them in the miscellaneous folder, but for a bit of clarity, i added the teleport map and a bunch of ui elements that reference sprites from the icon sheet. and also the game over and loop back animations but i haven’t finished the spritesheets for those because they’re a pain in the ass so they’re not in the drive yet

if you missed my complaining a few days ago, a few enemies might look a bit crunchy in the actual game? specifically, calamité and désespoir were drawn at the wrong size, because their images in the files do not match the spritesheets! i avoided the issue with most of the other enemies, those two just blindsided me. sorry about that!

^sadnesses having inconsistent designs was actually a running theme with these. détresse rock has an unused design in the files (which i managed to catch before having to redo it thankfully), anxiété has extra spikes that don’t appear on the spritesheet (sorry i was too lazy to fix that one), even the version of the friend rescue in the files doesn’t match any of the frames in the spritesheet. hfjfhfj. sorry about the quality issues.

tangentially related to that, massive thank you to @riggedbones for grabbing the individual frames for the animations for me!! they made my life so much easier. vs friends would’ve been so annoying…

speaking of the animations! hi can you tell i’m not an animator. these were my first time doing Anything animation related since, like, middle school. super sorry for the Jank in some of these! the friend rescue looked way better when i drew it 💔💔.

bourdon’s hands also might act a bit odd, my apologies. the sizing ingame is SUPER inconsistent (why is one of the hands SMALLER than the other????). once i’m able to actually test the mod, i’ll try to fix it wauaua.

the 3 custom sprites are for the triplets! i ended up making two versions for each, one that follows the ingame art, and one with my personal designs for them. i like my own designs for them, but they’re a lot easier to tell apart? so if you want to use the ones that fit the gimmick better, they’re also in the drive 👍

this update. was originally going to have way more custom art. i’ve actually got an act 6 siffrin enemy asset in my art program! but school started and i decided it’d be better to just get the normal stuff done. so the mod can actually come out in a reasonable timeframe. promise that’ll all come out Later! sorry about the wait 😓😓😓

also adding this because i almost forgot: no i don’t know if these are compatible with sasasaap. i don’t have the game still and it’s not my main priority atm, apologies!

okay! that was a lot! and there’s a ton of art down here! thank you for reading all this, i’ll be back with the game over animations and teleport map pretty soon! like. within the weekend. enjoy!!!

[tsunodaradio]

cupid’s chokehold ⛐ 𝐈𝐇𝟔

isack brings his girlfriend to pierre’s friendly football match, and everyone in attendance realizes cupid has isack in a chokehold.

ꔮ starring: isack hadjar x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 0.7k. ꔮ includes: romance, fluff. established relationship, isack hadjar is a loverboy :(, everyone else’s pov, references to gym class heroes’ cupid’s chokehold / breakfast in america. ꔮ commentary box: short and sweet because the boy-next-door-isms of these photos,, i am #changed. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everybody knows Isack has a girlfriend.

It’s in the special ringtone he has for you, the one all-too familiar to everyone in the VCARB garage. It’s in the way Isack spends his free time on the phone with you—hours going by with the two of you doing your own thing, as if you’re content to just exist with each other when you’re countries apart. 

It’s in the picture in his wallet, fraying at the edges and fading in its colors like he’s pulled it out one too many times. It’s from his first F2 win, his Campos Racing motor suit drenched in champagne as he lifts you in his arms; his trophy, dangling from your hands. 

Isack has a girlfriend, and everybody is reminded of it at the Pierre Gasly-sponsored football match. 

The rookie had been so shy about it, too. Asking Pierre Can my girlfriend come? in a voice too full of hope to decline. And so Pierre had ribbed Isack a bit, only conceding when the latter’s ears were burning red with embarrassment. 

You run late. Isack doesn’t say a word about it. He seems physically incapable of saying anything bad about you as he describes you to Paul and Zhou with an obnoxious amount of enthusiasm. 

“She’s got this smile,” Isack tells them as he pulls on his MC Alger jersey, “and her eyes. Oh, man.” 

Paul and Zhou share an amused look. The Frenchman isn’t making any sense, but they’ll endure it for the sake of having more ammunition later on. 

When you do arrive—spewing apologies for your tardiness, armed with pastries for everyone—it becomes apparent just how down bad Isack really is. 

There’s the secret handshake, of course. The one you two exchange the moment he’s helped you set down your boxes of treats. Zhou watches, awed, as you and Isack go through the elaborate routine without batting an eye. You immediately go to converse with Pierre like you hadn’t spent 15 seconds knocking fists and linking pinkies with Isack in a faultless shtick. 

“Insane,” huffs Zhou, drawing a snicker from Paul. 

Isack follows you as you do your rounds. You’re already familiar with Paul. The two of you exchange a one-armed hug, impeded by the hand Isack firmly keeps at your hip. 

You have to be introduced to Zhou, though. “Hi,” you say brightly, and in a heartbeat, the Ferrari reserve driver sees exactly what has Isack so smitten. 

You give out your name and shake Zhou’s hand. Isack stands by your side the entire time, his expression so openly smug that it can only mean one thing. 

Take a look at my girlfriend, he’s saying without saying. 

It’s in the little details, really. Zhou notices the way Isack plants a kiss to the top of your head before they have to head out on the field. Paul rolls his eyes when Isack scores a goal, slams his fist into his chest, and then points directly at you. 

Pierre giggles, actually giggles, when the game ends and Isack makes a beeline to you. 

The three drivers—poised to take a selfie—pause to watch the scene unfold. 

“Not bad, Alexandre,” you tease Isack. Normally, if any other person attempted to refer to Isack by his second name, they would be treated to the boy’s icy glare. 

You don’t get that, of course. You get an Isack who melts, his shoulders drooping like the mere sound of your voice had taken away his exhaustion. And when you laugh, wiping sweat off of Isack’s forehead with undeniable affection? 

He looks done for. Like there’s no one else he’ll ever look at like that. 

“How did I do?” he asks you eagerly, and when you feign thoughtfulness, he lets out an almost petulant whine. 

This was Isack Hadjar. Former F2 championship contender, VCARB’s best shot at points. He was known for his shadow-boxing on the podium, for his passionate radio messages. 

Surely this was not the same Isack Hadjar. 

This Isack is wringing his hands over yours, desperate for any scrap of affection and approval. This Isack is ruddy-cheeked, and devoted, and so obviously in love that it’s sickening. 

Paul whistles, calling Isack over for photos. Somehow, the latter manages to tear himself away from you, but the dazed expression lingers even as he jogs back to where the rest of the drivers are waiting. You stay where you are, seeming completely oblivious to the effect you have on your boyfriend. 

“If that ain’t love,” Pierre sing-songs to Paul and Zhou, “I don’t know what love is.” ⛐

[ssahotchnerr]

Could you write something where someone compliments Hotch for "babysitting" and "helping out" when hes out with his kids and he gets all 😑😑 do you mean parenting my children?

standard parenting

omg LOL cw; dad!aaron, reader is referred to as mom, a ton of domestic fluff, very light suggestiveness (hehe reader and aaron are soo in love <3) wc; 1.2k

"Jack." Aaron moved forward, spotting his son as he climbed up a curved ladder, at the ready if he were to suddenly slip. "Careful."

"I am." He took the last, big step, his hands gripping the supporting bars and landing on the platform safely. "I've done this two times already Dad."

"Help your sister down the slide, okay? I'll meet the two of you at the bottom."

"Okay." He confirmed, beelining down a rattly bridge in the direction of Ellie.

It was approximately 3 pm on a Tuesday, the park filled with the afternoon rush of children freshly out of school. A doctor's appointment had brought Aaron out of the BAU early, and after picking up Jack from school, Ellie from preschool, he figured there was no better way to burn off energy than the playground.

Hopefully it allowed for a quiet, relaxing night at home, with both kids in bed at a decent time.

Aaron stood at the bottom of the slide, peering upwards and squinting - he had regretfully left his sunglasses in the car. Ellie stood at the top, looking a bit lost once her turn was next, the slide intimidatingly large for a newly four-year-old.

"Jack's coming, honey."

It took some convincing; Aaron reassuring her he was right there, there to catch her if she overshot into the mulch. Jack would be right behind her. Further hesitation on her end: Do you want Jack to go first? No. Are you sure you want to go down? Yes.

Finally down came Ellie, giggling profusely and not paying a mind to the static the slide caused (Aaron mentally winced at the sound). Jack followed soon after.

"See, there you go." Aaron praised, hands moving to his hips.

"Again, please please please." Ellie whined gently, looking up at Aaron with her identically adjacent brown eyes. It was something she was beginning to master, the puppy dog look that could cause him to cave within seconds.

He was in for it.

"Sure pumpkin." Aaron grinned down at his little piggy-tail headed daughter. "Just a few more times though, Mom's waiting at home."

"C'mon Ellie. I'll race you." Jack suggested, kicking up dirt as he bolted off without waiting for a distinct answer. She ran after him, as fast as her small legs could carry her.

Aaron called out after him, "The stairs, Jack."

"I know!"

"Cute kids."

A mother - Aaron inferred - commented, falling alongside him. Aaron's eyes continued to track the two of them, ensuring they remained together and stayed far away from any arched ladders. They dashed up the stairs, into the depths of the play structure.

Aaron offered her a friendly smile in return, "Thank you."

"It's nice to see someone so attentive for a change." She huffed, notably an impressed breath. "Most babysitters just sit on the bench on their cell phone."

Aaron's expression dropped; a mix of confusion and dumbfound, his smile gradually fading. The only thing going through his mind: I'm sorry, what?

"Well, I'm not like most babysitters." He frowned, pressing his lips together and eyebrows drawing into a line.

"Good for you." She commended, not taking the hint. A child called out to her, causing her to move forward. "See ya."

She left, but scowl on his face stayed.

It hadn't put him in a bad mood, but rather, a dulled mood. The inference could've been an honest mistake, it most likely was, but it settled funny within him.

Only at Ellie's, 'Daddy look!' did his face brighten up. For them.

-

"Hi Momma!" Ellie bounded into the kitchen, nearly crashing into you and smiling from ear to ear. "We're home!"

Jack added to her status report, voices intertwining. "Dad took us to the park!"

"It looks like you two had fun." You grinned, using the pad of your thumb to swipe away an unblended bout of sunscreen on the side of Jack's nose. You also took note of his grass stained sweats, and the dirt scuff on Ellie's knees.

"We did! Jackers helped me down the slide and Daddy pushed me on the swings-"

"No one pushed me on the swings." Aaron commented, his hand finding the small of your back momentarily as he brushed past.

"That's 'cause you're big." Ellie made a face at her father.

"Can we go again on Saturday?" Jack asked, "I wanna bring my soccer ball."

"We'll have to see what we're up to, bud," Aaron answered, also fetching him a cup of cold water. The car ride consisted of Jack stating how thirsty he was, and how he refused to drink the lukewarm water his bottle held. "But I don't see why not."

Meanwhile, Ellie plopped herself onto the floor, pulling off her shoes and dumping the remnants of lingering mulch onto the floor.

"Hey hey hey let's not do that." You said, your nose scrunching lightly too; the normal kid-stink that followed after an afternoon spent in the sun. "And baths, both of you. Go on, I'll be there in a second."

Ellie's voice carried as she ventured up, something along the lines of bringing her mermaid Barbie in the tub with her. You ruffled Jack's hair gently as he passed, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head.

"You know what someone said to me today?" Aaron asked, turning towards the sink to wash his hands.

"Aren't you forgetting something first?"

He stopped, a knowing smile forming on his face. "How dare I."

Aaron moved forward, hands finding your waist to pull you near, placing his lips onto yours for a few seconds. Albeit how short it was, you savored it; coming home after a long, long day.

Satisfied, "Enlighten me."

He paused to actually wash his hands, flicking the water droplets off once he finished. You tossed him the hand towel that happened to be nearby.

"Someone mistook me for a babysitter."

"What?" You snorted out a laugh.

"Left me speechless." He exasperatedly rolled his eyes, wiping his hands and throwing the towel back onto the counter. "Can you believe that?"

"Well, you know how some people can be." You shrugged. Your statement wasn't much help, but what could you do.

"Oblivious?"

"What prompted it?"

"Standard parenting. I was simply keeping a close eye. The slide made Ellie nervous, Jack was being a bit adventurous today, and the playground itself was a nightmare. Everyone had the same idea I did, it was packed."

You hummed in response, dumping the neglected water from Jack and Ellie's water bottles out. Aaron continued to ramble on.

"And she saw the two of them. Jack - he resembles Haley a bit more, sure. But Ellie?"

"Your twin."

"Exactly." Aaron scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Babysitter. How in the world does that title come to mind before Dad?"

He shook his head as his eyes found the ceiling; utter disbelief.

"You know," you raised an eyebrow, regaining his focus, "you're hot when you're fired up."

"Am I?" Aaron smirked, pulling you in again just as he did before, arm winding behind your back.

"Mom!"

A whine drifted from upstairs, Aaron pulled away from your lips with a comically heavy, defeated sigh.

You shoved him at the chest playfully, grabbing a laugh from him, heading upstairs.

"She, huh." You teased, "Are you sure it wasn't some strategically formed ploy in hopes you were unmarried? Wouldn't be the first time."

He trudged up the stairs behind you, a chuckle shaking through his chest. "I doubt it. She seemed genuine."

"And you would know." You quipped, ends of your mouth turned upwards.

"With my profiling expertise?" He bantered back, playfully patting your behind as you reached the second level. "I'd hope so."

[eupheme]

— i’ll be there

[part iv of sugar, sugar] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 4.5k

tags: baker!neighbor!reader, logan pov, soft smut & fluff, oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, manual restraints PiV, creampie, light angst, references to anxiety, guilt, memories of canon-typical violence/ death, logan handling his feelings in his own way

a/n: after finishing part iii, there were two ideas in the back of my mind (this, and then fixing [redacted]) so I am back with a little more ��

Sometimes, it feels as if he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Breath held - bracing for a blow that hasn’t yet come, each time the cracks lengthen in his walls. Letting sunlight seeping through.

So sure it’s waiting on the horizon for him, as it always had done. Has been, since that first night you spent together, all those weeks ago.

Finally allowing himself to exhale - for today, at least - in the darkened room.

It’s late when he twists the handle of the apartment door, easing it open. A habit now, how the keys drop into the ceramic mug on the table just inside, clinking against loose change.

His shadow stretching long across the wooden floor, cast by the light you left on for him in the kitchen. Fingers tug at worn laces, loosening boots that are left next to yours.

Funny how he’s able to navigate this space now, without thought. The old fleece from Wade’s closet slung across the back of an armchair. His feet taking him to the edge of the couch, fingers idly brushing over the stitching of the folded quilt left out for him.

One heartbeat passing, and then another.

He moves on.

The bedroom door creaks on its hinges, as he nudges it open wider.

Light pouring in, letting him see where you curl on your side. The space next to you open - as if waiting for him.

As if you knew he’d be coming.

All he’s wanted to do since Wade turned the car around was get back to right here.

Something loosening in his chest. Fingers working at the buttons of his flannel, then dropping to the heavy buckle at his waist. Stripped down, when he draws back the covers, and slides next to you.

You murmur his name, curl into him. Can’t pretend there isn’t a tugging behind his ribs at the sound.

His fingers drift across skin, tracing the strap of your nightgown. You lips curve up, eyes cracking open.

“You have a good day?”

Logan pauses for longer than he should, turning the question over in his head. Chooses to ignore it, for now.

Chooses to let his head dip, to press his mouth to yours, instead. Letting his mind shut off, letting it go silent for a moment.

Focusing on this, instead.

The tug of your fingers as they slide into his hair. Pulling him close - keeping him there, the sluggish movements turning more lucid as he deepens the kiss. Pliant becoming demanding, and even after the day he’s had, he can’t help the chuckle when your hand curls around his shoulder.

Urging, once more. Fully awake now, lips pressing against his jaw as he follows your whims. Settling between your thighs, cock stiffening with the way you nip at his neck. How you roll your hips upward, until he pins you to the bed himself.

“Missed you.” It’s sighed out.

Something inside his chest thrums, his heartbeat kicking up a notch. The answer coming easily, without thought.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.”

He means it.

Had left a little piece of himself behind when he left early this morning. The echo of your goodbye kiss lingering against his lips, as he had climbed into the car with Wade. Going north.

But he doesn’t want to think about that now.

Now, he’s letting his senses take over, an old habit. Focusing on warmth of you beneath him. Eyelids fluttering shut with the sting of your teeth against his throat. A twitching smile as his hands wander - letting you try to mark him as he finds the hem, slips beneath.

Fingertips dragging over bare skin. Rucking the flimsy fabric up higher each time his hips lift. A low sigh when he finally presses against your bare skin, nudging himself against the soft juncture of your thigh.

Your scent washes over him, drowning out the layer of thoughts that have chased after him all afternoon. Vanilla and sugar and you - he’s tried to taste it before, with the wet drag of his tongue.

Sometimes you smell like him, if he’s lucky, in the early morning, still tucked into bed. Cigar smoke clinging, from where you sat with him on the fire escape. Where he’s left himself painted across your skin.

It’s familiar. It’s as comforting as the pretty noises you make. Hungry for him, fingers tracing along his ribs. Slipping down the slope of his back, trying to tug you to meet him.

Logan is used to rushing things - wants to, after the day he had - but in the night, when he knows you don't have to get up early, it feels like time stands still.

He allows his movements to slow.

The mattress dips as he inches down it. Palms finding the curves of your tits, a soft squeeze against the giving flesh before he’s finding the taut peaks in the fabric with his teeth and tongue.

The silk darkens, as you squirm. A whine is wrenched from your chest, as his mouth closes around you.

The tip of his tongue flicking across your nipple. His other hand drifting down, hiking your thigh higher around his waist.

“Let me-“ It comes from you in a rush, hands tugging at the fabric.

He won’t ruin this one. Knows you like it - instead he balls the fabric from navel to sternum in his fist. Tugs, until your tits slip free.

“Fuck, Logan.” It’s laced with appreciation.

With need, as he sucks a mark against your skin. Another on the soft swell beneath, the pinch of his teeth soothed by the drag of his tongue.

Knowing what he’ll find, when he finally moves down. The fingertips that trail down as he kisses your stomach, your hip - ghosting across your folds, coming back slick.

They slide between his lips. An amuse-bouche to the feast laid out before him - unable to resist the urge to taste you, fingers spit-slick when they return.

“‘s for me?” He rasps, and a laugh slips from you - the soft, muffled sound dragging out into a moan as he traces your opening - sinking down to the knuckle.

“Always for you.”

It loosens a breath he’s been holding all day. Coming out as a rough sigh - your thighs inching wider as he kisses your mound.

Hovering then, just shy of where you need him.

“Really did miss me, huh?”

Can’t help it. Another unconscious nudge, seeking reassurance.

Your hips lift, seeking. Hands trailing down, fingers drifting over your tits, your stomach. Down to stroke your thumb against the bristle of his beard.

“Every time you leave.”

He leans into your touch. Eyes focused on the dark glimmer of your own, as he lets your fingers tangle in his hair. Let's you guide him, a low hum as he closes that final inch.

The tip of his tongue stroking against a spot he knows well, as your moan rips through the quiet. His name following with a soft whimper, and it’s then that his eyes shut.

Focused on the way you smear across his tongue. The wet suck of his finger, sinking into molten heat. Trying to grip him already, clenching around what little he’s given you.

A second teases. Slipping inside, as he tongues at your clit. As you pant, whining - nails pricking against his scalp. Thighs pressing into his shoulders, until he’s hiking one over, and then the other.

His hips flexing, rutting himself into the mattress as you surround him. Fingers curling and stroking, until you leaking against him palm. Until the quiet room becomes a chorus, his name a sweet song on your lips.

“Logan.”

Logan, Logan.

A name stamped on a piece of metal, but he’s grateful for it now. Grateful for the way it rushes from you, as if you’ve forgotten all else.

As he winds you up - your grip tightening, but it only spurs him on. Your breath shortens, as his free arm bands across your abdomen, leaving your hips to flex uselessly against his strength.

“Fuck me.” You urge. A hand kneading the flesh of your breast, the other circling around his wrist. Pleading, with the pinch of your brows, as your fingers flex against his iron grip, “Need you, Logan. Want, ah-“

“Come for me first.” It’s close to a growl, his own fingers never stopping. Feeling how you stiffen beneath his arm, on the cusp of something he’s more than happy to give you.

“Want her nice and ready for me.”

You moan at the command. Head tilting back as your body obeys - the “yes” that’s chanted over and over, pitching higher each time.

Stringing out, and then breaking. Your back bows, as the pleasure alights within. Coming hard with rhythmic throb he can feel against his tongue, that tight pulse around fingers.

He doesn’t let up until you’re squirming away from the press of his mouth. Puffy and slick where you warm his fingers, your arousal already leaking down to the curve of your ass. Swollen with desire, and he swears he feels you clench one last time, when he slips them free.

Another kiss pressed against you, one that has you sighing. Wriggling out of the twist of your nightgown, hooking it around a finger until it pools on the floor below.

Still begging for him as he lifts himself up. Closing the space between you as he shifts forward, palms curving against your hips as he kneels between your thighs. Your eyes drunken with pleasure up close - soft and hazy, your smile coming easily.

His hips rock forward on their own in response, unable to help pressing himself against you. A sticky spot of need left behind, smeared against your skin.

Your fingers pinch against his forearms as you push yourself up to your elbows, eyes dipping down. He knows you can see what he can, as his own head tilts - the swipe of his cock against your folds.

How they part for him, when he teases you - slipping the fat head against your entrance. Knows you imagine it - you’ve told him what you think about when he’s away.

How it’s never enough. Never him. Watched you show him how you fit your fingers inside yourself, but you can never reach the places he can.

He sinks into your heat with a slow thrust. You’re heaven around him, tight and slick and familiar. Teeth clenched as you make room, until he’s buried flush inside you.

Can feel your pulse around his cock, when his eyes close. When he lets all his senses narrow down to the space you’re joined.

Could never last, if he stayed that way. Would get pulled over far too quickly with the way you clench needily around him, trying to coax him to move.

And it’s here, as you beg him for more, that he loses himself. Hands flattening against the mattress as he slips half-way out - the jolt it sends through you, when his hips snap forward.

The gasp it pushes from you, your eyes fluttering shut. A sharp pinch of nails again, but it’s welcome - a low grunt, as he drives home again.

Again, and again. Leaning into the snap of his hips. Your hand reaching, drawing him down to you - mouth tipping up to meet his.

A groan, when you taste yourself against his tongue. Letting his sweep against yours, until you’re panting against his lips. The angle deep, with the way he hovers over you.

His hands fisted in the sheets, now. Using them for leverage, the bed creaking as he ruts himself into you.

A growl slipping from his chest when your fingers start to drift. Knuckles brushing the whorls of dark hair across his chest. Following the trail that leads down, past his abdomen.

The tips ghosting against your clit, just a tease before he’s shifting - a hand curling around your wrist. Bringing it up, pinning it above your head.

“Don’t need it.” It comes out ragged, when it passes his lip.

“Just me, right?”

Logan can take care of you. Stoking the lot embers in your belly, coaxing them to a burning flame.

He needs this.

Needs to be the one to give it to you.

“Just you.” The reply comes automatically. Your other wrist offered as you give him the control he desires, lifted to press into the clutch of his grip.

It makes his own muscles tighten. A deep clench, his cock throbbing inside you. Fingers pinching as he sees the way you give yourself to him.

Face tipped up, bare and stretched out beneath him. The pretty jolt of your tits each time his hips snap forward, and it’s enough that he’s closing those last inches of space.

Fitting himself against you, as his nose buries against your neck. Your thigh hooked over his hip as you chase his mouth, until you’re sighing against his lips.

Knows you can come like this, squirming beneath him, as his hips tilt. As he strokes against the places his fingers know well, your lips parting with a cry.

“Come on, honey.” It’s murmured out. Mouthing at your jaw, the word rasped low in your ear, “One more and then I’ll give you what you want.”

His other hand drifting - elbow and knees taking the brunt of his weight. Down past your hip until his palm curves against your thigh, hiking your thigh up higher.

Opening you up further, when he bottoms out. His breath hot in your ear, panted out each time his heavy sack kisses against sticky skin.

Winding you up, higher and higher. Your body arching against his - toes curling, a heel pressing into the mattress for purchase.

“Oh fuck, keep going,” You beg, trying to meet him - unable to do anything more than take it when he has you pinned like this, “Please, I’m so close-”

“Know you are,” He answers with a rough sound - more growl than words. The flesh at your thigh denting with the press of his fingers, keeping you still so he can pound against the spot that has you seeing stars.

“‘ve got you. Come for me, sweetheart.”

The whine that leaves your lips pitches high, the rushed plea dissolving into needy sounds. Muscles stringing tight, head tipping back as your breath grows short.

His eyes fixed on your half-lidded ones, your lips parted in pleasure. Feeling the crest of your orgasm - the flex of your wrists in his hand, the grip of your thighs as they press against his hips.

It’s different, like this. The pulsing clench around his cock, the press of your body against his. The rush that surges through him at the way you come undone for him - always him - how he’s never been able to get enough.

He’s following soon after, with a snarl.

Unable to get a grip on his restraint. Usually can hold out, needing more.

Another. Another. Another.

Not finished until you’re boneless- pleasure-drunk - and only then does he give in to his own need.

But tonight he’s wrenched over with way you tighten around him. Tendons flexing as the steady saw of his hips grows sloppy.

A punch of metal through flesh, as he throbs - that tightly-wound tension snapping as he spills himself deep inside you with a ragged groan, thrusts going shallow as the tight clutch of your cunt milks him empty.

All those muted thoughts inside his head fading to white noise. Drowned out by the panting of his breath, the thrum of his heart.

The rutting of his hips slow, as he comes back to himself. Always losing control around you. That tight leash slipping between his fingers, piercing through. The pillow tucked under your head shredded, looking as if torn open by a beast.

“Shit.” Logan grunts - as he comes back to himself, flesh knitting together, “Sorry, sweetheart.”

A groan, as he leans back - only to find his grip on your wrists had loosened. That your fingers lace through his now, careful of the tender spots between his knuckles.

“I’ll get you another. I’m-“ He’s starting, but then you’re smiling.

“Good for it,” You finish for him, breathlessly - face tipping up to meet his, “I know.”

Still so soft and pliant. Legs still hooked around his waist as his lips press against yours - urging him to stay.

So, he does.

He still hasn’t moved.

Sometimes, it feels as if he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Breath held as he braces for a blow that hasn’t yet come, each time the cracks lengthen in his walls. Letting sunlight seeping through.

So sure it’s waiting on the horizon for him, as it always had done. Has been, since that first night you spent together, all those weeks ago.

Finally allowing himself to exhale - for today, at least - in the darkened room.

Your nails drag against his shoulders, scratching at bare skin. A little furrow in your brow at the weary sound - unable to help the question that he’s sure has been on the tip of your tongue all night.

“Did something happen at work today?”

It’s met with silence, one minute bleeding into another.

You always seem to know. An innate sense, or far too observant - and if he wasn’t so sure you were human, he’d be think you were like him.

His breathing low and steady as the hours replay in his mind again, a warm exhale against your throat. Still caging you in beneath him, your leg still hooked around his calf.

You don’t push him. He knows what he’s like - that you’ve learned it’s easier to argue with one of the brick walls in your apartment, or to talk sense and logic with Wade, when he gets in one of his moods.

Only when the scratches of your fingers slow to a halt, does he answer.

Finds it comes easier, this late in the night. In this room - his tongue loosened like the rest of him.

“Didn’t go today.”

It’s accompanied by the shift of his hands. Grasping at your waist with a low hiss as he eases from you - your body carefully untangling, as if you’re expecting him to leave.

Logan doesn’t know if he has the strength to, tonight. Instead, he only sinks back against the mattress - his arm sweeping out, tugging you close as you tuck yourself against his chest.

Not knowing where to start, or if he evens wants to - his teeth still pinching at the inside of his cheek. Eyes drifting to the glimpse of the city outside your apartment window. The moonlight that cuts across the angle of his face, a path that you follow with the tip of a finger.

Supposes he could start at this morning.

“Wade’s been talking about X-Force again.” Logan’s fingers catch yours, flattening them against his chest. The words spoken to the ceiling, eyes still unseeing, “Keeps askin’ me to join him.”

You make a low sound at that.

“You don’t have to, Logan.” There’s a twitch of your hand beneath his, “I’m sure he means well, I can talk to him-”

There’s a bloom of affection in his chest, at how quickly you offer. Trying to protect him - as if you could put yourself between him and the ghosts of his past.

“That’s not what I’m getting at.” His eyes drag to you then, crinkling, “Thank you though, sweetheart. ‘s nice of you to offer.”

Unconsciously curling his arm a little more tightly around you when he sees the way you look at him - so fiercely, eyes unblinking. Before he goes somber, loosening his hold on something he’s held close to his chest for a long while now.

“Been thinking about it.” Logan confesses, quietly.

You’re silent, processing his words. The weight of your gaze settling over him.

He gets it - he’s felt the same. Hasn’t said it out loud before - no more than a non-committal sound, when Wade first brought it up.

“Think I liked being a part of something. Back in the void, it felt… good.”

He clears his throat, his gaze drifting from you again. The bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, fingers twitching against yours.

Had forgotten what it was like. Had rebelled even then - brushing aside the planning until Laura had found him by the fire. Even then he had wanted to discard it. Even as it festered in the night.

But even after everything, he couldn’t let them go alone. Not when he could help, this time.

“So I went today. With him. He was headed up to the mansion, and I thought I could do it. Go in this time, but-”

The sentence hangs, half-finished.

It’s not the first time he’s gone back.

Went the week after he first started staying with Wade. Needed to see if it was still standing.

If the sky was still blue above, instead of being blocked out with ash.

His body had rebelled the whole drive. Had only gone back once in his world. That time no more than a blur and yet the memories had still crashed over him, threatening to pull him under.

Even with the reminder that this mansion wasn’t his rang in his ears, it hadn’t done any good. His mind was never one to truly forget. Spent two hundred years watching places, people change. Ones that once existed, ones that would never look the same - they all existed in him, somewhere.

And even after everything - even after those bouts of not knowing who he was - they still managed to survive, broken into bits and pieces. Tearing its way through his skin to be known.

So even if moss grew high, even as it sat there - overgrown - the memories flooded back.

His feet taking root, at the gate. Unable to make himself take another step further - held in place as if by a force he’d encountered before.

Fleeing, like a scared animal.

But he’d gone again.

And then again.

Drawn back - each time moving just a little bit closer.

Each time still a mile away.

Thought maybe he could do it this time, when he wasn’t alone. Pass over the threshold and inside.

Maybe they’d still be there.

But…

“I couldn’t.” He manages.

Logan knew they wouldn’t be. It had been another knife between his ribs, when he found out they were still gone. The Logan of this world with them, and maybe it was better that way.

He’s met a few that live inside, since. Those who still carried on didn’t bear the hatred that his world did. Didn’t know him like he knew himself.

Didn’t know what he did.

Had only told a few, and even they didn’t look at him the way he was used to - and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either.

Ones like Wade - Wade who had noticed the way he stiffened at the steps to the Mansion.

Grown silent.

If it had been another day, Logan would’ve had something sharp and unpleasant to say about that. But there was a ringing in his ears. Tunnel vision, narrowing down to the old brick.

The dread hadn’t crashed over him this morning. Had been right - Wade’s presence had muted it. Made it bearable, until his eyes had lifted.

Reading the old placard affixed to the stone. The name - worn away, but he knew each letter, the shape of them, by heart.

But it had him giving into the feeling that he shouldn’t be there.

“Five minutes” he had been told. Didn’t know how Wade knew exactly how long five minutes had taken, but he had been back exactly as three-hundred counted seconds had passed.

The afternoon plans dropped - taking him along for a haphazard amount of errands. Laundromat. Grocery Store. Arcade. Discount Outlet. Logan forced to follow, until he’d been able to find himself again. Push down the memories, lock them away, as he always did.

Until it felt like it happened a week ago, instead of this morning. The endless chatter a balm, with its familiarity.

He tells you this now, slowly.

“Thought I was done running.” Logan sighs. A hand scrubbing a little too harshly across his face, pulled from yours, “Guess I was wrong.”

Your brow knits. The look you give him is soft, empty fingers curling.

A breath - as if you’re unsure how he will take what you’ve about to say.

But then it’s slipping from you.

“I don’t think you’re running.” It comes out quiet, but he can tell you believe what you’re telling him.

“It’s okay that you’re not ready. You know that, right? Not everything has to be all or nothing.”

Logan hums.

“Maybe,” You start, carefully. Another breath, and he lets his hand return to yours when you reach for it - resting across his chest.

“Maybe you keep going what you’re doing. Maybe you keep trying. Another step each time.”

There’s an age-old urge to rebel - to push your kindness away. To lean into the voices he’s brought over from his world.

But it’s hard to, with his heart thrumming beneath your palm.

“If you want me to, I’d-”

It drops off - but he’s certain he knows what you were going to say.

That you’d be there.

Go with him, be by his side - if that’s what he wanted.

He doesn’t know how to take it, your offer. Voice pitching low and gruff, as he twists his chest towards you.

The words coming slowly, and he finds he means them.

“Just knowing you’re waiting at home for me is enough.”

Home.

That’s what this place has become, hasn’t it? Wade’s apartment. Yours. This room, with his things tucked among them.

“I will.” You breathe, “Always.”

It’s a promise.

It’s one he thinks he might just believe.

His eyes flick down - and the dance begins once more, as leans into you. Done with words, for now.

The cracks deepen, as his hand slips up your bare shoulder. Cradling the back of your back, as your mouth meets his half-way.

Being the one to keep you close, this time.

Losing himself in you, once more.

Logan wonders sometimes what would have happened if Wade had pulled him into another world.

Would it have been enough, if they had been alive there?

But he might not have met you, there. Things might have not gone the same way, in the journey before. Another path taken, one where he had made it alone into the room with the Time Ripper.

Or worse, if he had been the only one to make it out.

Even those who worked outside of space and time had told him there was no going back.

He couldn’t fix what happened.

He could only move foward.

One step at a time.

Logan huffs, a breath of a laugh, as your own gradually slows. The second round and the late hour catching up to you, in the silence that’s gone soft, and the warmth of his embrace.

So many nights he thought about this. Certain he didn’t deserve it. Deserve you.

Always pulling away.

But tonight, your fingers lace through his. He’s tucked between your back and the wall of painted brick behind him, almost as if you’re protecting him.

Ears keen enough to pick up the faint clattering next door. A low murmur of voices, cadences he’s come to know well.

Maybe once, he can believe he’s safe.

Not everyone gets a second chance. He knows that now, and vows to grab onto it with both hands.

Sink his claws into it, if he has to.

And as his arm tucks around you like an anchor - he finally lets sleep take him.

if you've come back - thank you so much for reading. this series has meant so much to me, so it was very exciting when I was struck with inspiration for two more chapters of their story (exploring some ideas I hadn't yet been able to get to) 💖 I am planning to post another part next week, and this will be holiday-themed!

[ceruleanmindpalace]

Inktober No. 16 - Muddy + Wound Cleaning

Headcanon:

Sherlock in the bathroom of an abandoned hotel during his 'hiatus'. He was lucky it was a full moon because his torch's batteries were empty. Heating the water up in a fireplace took ages but it was worth doing it for the first bath in weeks. 

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This the biggest step out of my comfort zone this Inktober I guess, which is working without exact reference material.

The reference picture for this was of a medium height woman and I had to change that into … well… male Sherlock. It was super hard to draw his body by educated guesswork. Having done two semesters of life drawing certainly helped, even if it was ages ago.

Big thank you @adorkastock for their vast collection of reference pictures where this was done from.

Promts from @bluebellofbakerstreet  and @whumptober 's promptlist for Inktober 2024.

I am flattered if you reblog, but do NOT post my art on other sites/social media or use in any other way without my written permission.

[xitsensunmoon]

They are having a tea party!

Artfight mass attack on @silvermizuki @venomous-qwille @chocolateseeds @ilsole @just-a-drawing-bean @nebuladreamz @garbagechocolate @darkxsoulzyx @smoljeanius

Close ups!

Did this attack kill me? Yes. I think I spent more than 5 days on this. Will I do more artfight attacks? Also yes :)

Process under the cut because why not?..

I used a reference photo of some random theater play. And I will be honest that reference literally started it all because it was perfect for multiple characters. You can see similar poses and lighting as well lol

It's funny you can't see Razzle here because I was trying hard to hide from Bean that I included him ahahaha

Me struggling with bg... And all the characters too hahha. Have no idea why I chose such complicated designs together (well, some of them are complicated yeah)

Lined and ready... My friends were like "you aren't going to colour it, right?" Right.

I finished rendering bg first, surprisingly it took me only two hours and one layer haha. I see some mistakes already but was too eager to finally be done with it. Not gonna show bg separately because I don't want it to be used anywhere but here <3 Then I layed out all the colours(the fact that some details died with final render always kills me from inside slightly<//3) and shaded the characters. Each character took me from 20-40 minutes, depending on how complicated their design and lighting were. I was really determined to make every character look good in their own environment, like on close ups, but also to make the whole thing work as whole too.

Funny how ugly it looks without final effects too lmao. The final pic you have already saw. Thanks for attention<3

[the-monkeies-girl]

Berry Foraging. ( Planet of the Apes Imagines. )

Characters below includes: Ceasar, Noa, Anaya and Soona ( The Trio babey. ), Blue Eyes, Koba. Prompt: You've gone Berry Foraging. How would the scenario play out with each characters? Rating: T. ( Some language, primarily in Koba's LOL. ) Caesar.

The sun felt good against your skin now that you had shed your jacket, leaving you delectably exposed to the clean air. Caesar found it difficult not to watch how your shoulders move when you worked, when you shifted next to him to dive inwards towards the blackberry bush in front of the two of you. As simple as an activity it was, and as easy as it was for the Ape King to pin the task on someone else, to have you escorted to the Red Woods to pick berries, he did relish in the mild silence that surrounded the two of you as you intently placed your fingers against a vine and inspected it for ripeness, bringing it ever so closer to your face as your eyes narrowed at it. The way your mouth opened as you muttered to yourself, saying that it wasn’t ready before seeking another vine to inspect… Caesar found it difficult to actually focus on finding his own to pick. Like he would know how. Like he actively came foraging with the female Apes when they came out once a week in a group. Huffing to himself at that, he was careful to watch you.

You were surely faster than he was, deducing that the vine you had turned your attention to was more than good and you began plucking them berries off one by one, placing them delicately into the basket that was between your bent knees as you had crouched down to inspect the berry bush properly. Admittedly… This was something that Caesar had not done for years.

Well, at least since the Colony first took hold and he was demanded to be stationary there in case danger arose. Always easier to be in the same spot than to be missing in action and having tens of Apes out in the woods on horseback looking for their leader. Now, with Blue Eyes coming to age, and with the assistance from Rocket and Maurice, Caesar was able to take in moments like this, laced intricately with his favorite type of intimacy.

“No, no,” Your hands were suddenly grabbing at his own, the touch itself setting Caesar’s calloused hands alight as you grasped at them and pulled them towards you, “Do you see here?” Your pointer finger gestured at a berry at the very top of the vine that Caesar had figured was okay to pick at. Obviously not as you explained to him in a gentle voice, one that he would drown in if he was allowed, “They’re still a little green. Not ready yet.”

Were… Were you… telling him how to do this? Caesar narrowed his eyes, brow pulling in on itself as he looked at you, perplexity written completely over his expression. He chortled at that- At someone telling him what to do, how to actually do something correctly.

“Look here,” Lifting a hand up, you placed it against his bicep as your other hand reached and grasped it considerately as to not place any damage to it, “See how they’re colored? Darker?” Caesar looked at what you were referring to and gave a slight nod. Smiling at him, you squeezed where your grasp was placed on his body before pushing both hands forward and plucking the berries off with content, “That’s the color you want. Otherwise they’re going to be too bitter to eat. I don’t know any Ape who would enjoy that.”

Caesar tried to follow suit, almost mimicking your body language as he fell into a deeper crouch, inspecting the bush for what you had in turn told him to seek.

“Koba,” He said suddenly, the brazen and deep baritone of his vocals drawing you in without any regard for your other senses. He knew you liked to joke, in fact, Caesar found himself more prone to do just that when alone with you and it was a great way to put you at ease, to put you in a good mood - Or, if flirtatious in nature, enough to get you to lay with Caesar. This joke fell into the ‘good mood’ category as he finished his statement, “Koba would enjoy.”

That made you snicker, nodding in agreement. Caesar felt entranced momentarily as the sun caught your hair, giving the impression that you were ablaze as your gaze reached his own and you laughed in return, “Bitter berry for bitter Ape.” Noa, Anaya and Soona.

There were tears very visible at the corner of your eyes. Noa felt a small sense of panic wash over him at the expression, how you looked down at your feet in absolute defeat. Rested right in front of you were the remains of the berries you were so careful to pick, so careful to clean as you placed them in the wickered basket, scattered all along the floor of the woods. Now covered with mud and sediment and you were on the very verge of crying as a result. Anaya hadn’t meant to - He apologized the moment it happened, the moment the basket hit the ground and you let out a rather startling yap. Anaya swore to Noa he was just playing around, hiding behind a tree in a bid to scare you. In fact, your hands were still dangling mid-air out of shock like you were still holding the basket. Soona was silent next to Noa, her eyes looking between the raspberries and you, wondering why you were having this reaction. She then turned her attention to Noa in hopes that maybe he could translate. Unfortunately, for all three Apes, there was no clear translation. The look Noa gave her, the look Noa gave Anaya, biting around the edges but never enough to ruin a friendship, told them to back off slightly. You spoke - alerting all three of them that you were still there, not completely lost in the abandonment the poor berries must have felt being on the ground. “My… rasp… berries….” Shaking in tone, Noa tried to flank you so he could see your face but your chin was dipped and your eyes were now tracing the shapes the berries made. A few of them, in your mind at least, looked like a poorly drawn flower. You swallowed softly and looked at Noa with a distressed gaze, “They’re all gone.” Anaya yipped, “Sorry---” Noa placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Removing his hand just as quickly as it was placed, Noa reached down and grasped the basket in front of you, crouching on all four in front of you to obscure the vision of your now wasted forage. The pads of his fingers lined the wickered basket, catching here and there against the rough nature of his skin as he attempted to hand it back to you, his arm extending before dropping at the crushed visual of your face. The twist in his stomach was incredibly uncomfortable as the basket was placed on the ground and suddenly, Noa was encapsulating your entire vision. He placed a hand to your cheek first, caressing the smoothness of your skin before bringing his head in to rest against your own to comfort you. You didn't move in response and Noa took a step forward in a bid to captivate your attention.  “A… A lot of bushes here, can pick more.” A small sniffle hit your nose as you nodded in agreement, suddenly aware of your mated love’s closeness. Of course there were more. You were in the middle of the woods, your favorite spot in fact, and were surrounded by many bushes, riped, lush for the picking and taking.

You sniffled again, finally breaking the awkward stance you were holding and raised a hand to wipe the underside of your nose before you grasped Noa’s forearms, beckoning him nearer, to keep him close to you so you could have a speckled moment of privacy in front of Anaya and Soona, who were entangled in their own argument about the entire situation. You could vaguely make out Soona telling Anaya to apologize again. “T-They were for you,” Noa’s eyes widened at the declaration and with that, he held you a bit closer, almost to the point where it felt like a headache was forming where your foreheads were cusped. “I picked them for you, you-you really like raspberries and we-we never have enough at dinner and I---” Anaya shifted towards you and Noa, looking at his friend first who stepped aside slightly. Anaya  offered you the basket that was against his back, half full. He never went back with a full one, often picking some out to eat while plucking subsequent berries from the bush and often indulged on the journey back to the Clan. He gave you a gracious smile, extending his arm out with the basket. “Can… can take Anaya’s.” Swallowing gently, you grabbed his basket delicately and gave him a half-hearted smile as he apologized under his breath again, “Th… Thank you.” Noa watched the encounter and softened his gaze at that. Just one more thing; the Eagle Clan leader stepped forward and lightly brought his thumb along the top of your right cheek to catch a tear from falling. You smiled slightly at him, looking down at Anaya’s basket and finding yourself maniacally entranced in laughter. 

“He ate all the raspberries.” Blue Eyes.

Cornelius was so… Small. You tilted your head at that thought, hands full of fuzzy blackberries. You found it difficult at the moment to find a better description. But, it was beyond true. The berries in your hand found a home in the basket in front of you. Incredibly cute and so very small. Fragile, almost. That was not the case at all; if anyone even looked at the baby Chimp with the wrong indentation, Blue Eyes was prone to attack out of protectiveness. Watching with bated breath, Cornelius brought himself to cling a little further closer to his older brother, splatted along his back as Blue Eyes was crouched next to you, Ash on the other side. They had gotten you to go fishing, it was only fair you got them to go berry picking.

The added bonus? Cornelius was under Blue Eyes’ care today, and the little stow-a-way was eating the berries right out of the basket that his older brother was trying to fill. You chuckled at that, watching the small frame dip himself down Blue Eyes arm, onto the ground and then quite literally, into the basket itself. The quaint hoots and small howl at a blueberry warmed your heart, but the absolute chaos of Blue Eyes' gaze on his baby brother was universally known. Wise older brother, annoying little brother who got in the way. It was not more evident than in the moment as Blue Eyes grasped him softly, placing him outside of the basket before Cornelius jumped right back in. A growl escaped the older of the two before he repeated it and signed at his brother, ‘stay’ with one hand. Smiling at him when he made eye contact with you, you were flushed and eager to turn your face back towards the action of your hands.

Funny how that worked. Sibling annoyance was truly known across all creatures. Smiling at the Ape Prince when he made eye contact with you, you were flushed and eager to turn your face back towards the action of your hands. Pulled into a state of lulling day-dreams, you slid your fingers along the vines that held the berries and found a mild prickle sitting at the base of your spine when Blue Eyes’ fingers brushed against yours when you went for the same bunch. You apologized quietly, letting him have his fill, Cornelius’ small eyes watching the berries fall into the basket with intensity. He raised his hands to grab one but Blue Eyes simply ignored it as if it were second nature to deflect the annoyance that rose when Cornelius ended up in his way. Truly siblings, you thought to yourself with a small chuckle.

You were being nudged--- Humming under your breath, your focus turned to Ash who was peering down at your basket with focused intent. You blinked, swinging yourself back into reality, right out of the nice thoughts of Blue Eyes and his baby brother. Wh--- You blinked again, the munching sounds overtaking all of your senses as Cornelius shoved the freshly picked blackberry into his mouth before looking up at you.When did he get there? How long were you daydreaming? There was a mild stare down between yourself and the younger of the two brothers. It felt like you were enthralled in each other’s presence but it was quickly shot down when Blue Eyes finally took notice and pulled his baby brother out of your basket and placed him back onto his shoulder silently.

‘Sorry.’ Blue Eyes signed at you, digging into his basket and placing a few of his berries into your own as recognition that Cornelius had eaten some of your own. His were okay to eat, but yours? Off limits.

Koba.

“Human,” The gruff nature of Koba’s voice was more than grating enough to take you out of the quiet day-dream you had going in your head as your fingers were quick to push blueberries off their twig home and into a basket laying beside you. Groaning to yourself, you dropped your head before looking up at the Bonobo who had been so graciously blessed by Caesar to take you into the woods to forage for berries. He didn't even bother to dis-mount his stallion and rested on it for the last thirty minutes. “Almost done?”

This was the fifth time he asked you if you were ready to leave in the last ten minutes. Your patience felt like it was teetering between an insane breakdown, which you resisted waging that yelling at Koba was not going to earn you any favors, and quite aggravation. You drove with the second choice and smiled sarcastically at him, “Do you think my answer is any different than it was two minutes ago?” Silently, Koba fell back on his saddle, the action in itself rather reminiscent of a child who wanted to leave the grocery store but was placed in the shopping cart of a prison to ride the remainder of the trip in disappointment. Without a doubt, he was going to have words with Caesar about this later, figuring it to be just a punishment for causing mutiny without a abandonment. You laughed at that to yourself, knowing that Koba’s complaints were going to fall of deaf ears.

Bothersome silence ensued beyond your capacity. It felt bubbling, the way that he looked at you with his one good eye. The sweep against your entire body as you moved to another bush, content with what you had foraged from the previous. The glare against the back of your head as you began diligently working the new bush. You quipped sarcastically at him, looking at the berries in your hand before letting them slide down your palms into the basket, “You know what would make me go faster?”

Koba tilted his head in thought, though you knew what he was thinking with reckless care. He’d surely say something like ‘you… to be dead’ or a rather clever ‘Koba… threatening you’. Smiling at the sudden wash of familiarity at the fact that despite his best efforts, you knew how he could respond, the grin you gave him was more than shit-eating as you grumbled, “If you’d get off your horse and help me. I need to fill the basket.”

The narrowing of his expression was something you could write a book on. The tense nature of his muscles, gleaming it seemed as the sun vibrated off his fur, the permanent scowl of his brow and mouth. Koba had to be the metaphorical poster child for ‘human hater’. Not that it was a problem most days, but right now, you wanted to be left in some semblance of peace to pick your berries without having to hear him complain over and over again about wanting to go back to the Colony. Without his absolutely relentless dry inquiries about whether you were done or not. He hummed - deep in his chest and the sound was brutal to your ears. “Koba does not…”

The grimace on his face tempted you to double over in laughter, but you were positive that would be interpreted as a threat and you’d be pinned to a nearby tree with his teeth in your jugular. Bringing your knees together, you bounced in your squatting position and looked up at him, almost asking with your eyes to finish his statement. “Koba… does not… pick berries.” No shit, you wanted to say but refrained. You filed away the response to be used at a moment when you were around others who would ensure your safety. “Just thought I’d throw the option out there. If two of us were doing it, we could go back in like… Ten minutes.”

There was no processing your words, or at least, there was no clear indication that Koba actually considered them. More often than not, they slid right off him and he just ignored them, preferring to sit in petulant silence which was exactly what he was doing. With one more look at the Ape, you proceeded forward and found pleasure in how your fingers moved around the bush to find what you were seeking, all too aware of the heated scrutiny you were now being surveyed under. Looking right into his eyes, you smiled viciously as you popped a berry into your mouth and chewed painstakingly slow. For sure, you thought to yourself with a chortle, Caesar was going to hear about this from Koba.

[enderlovez]

Bloody

Spencer Reid x Vampire Reader WORD COUNT: 737

Summary: Doctor Spencer Reid is married to a vampire.

Content Warning: mentions of blood drinking, reader can go out in the sun but it's uncomfortable, reader has red eyes, reader is immortal and a few centuries old, brief mentions of murder and stalking

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer's not entirely sure how he ended up in this situation in the first place—you clinging to him like he's an oversized teddy bear—but he knows he wouldn't want it any other way.

Having a hungry vampire with her face pressed right up against his jugular should be enough to have him cringing away. And admittedly his pulse is racing, but for an entirely different reason, as his fingers absentmindedly draw shapes on the soft, exposed skin of your hip.

If someone had told Spencer three years ago that he would be happily married to a vampire he would have laughed in their face.

Yet here he is, holding his beautiful wife in his arms, and he can say for sure that he's never been happier.

How the two of you met? Well, that's something for another day, but to make a long story short, you found him while he was seconds away from being stabbed in the back of the neck by a psycho stalker.

"You awake?" he asks in an almost inaudible voice. Spencer feels the faint brush of your lips against his neck as you nod, leaving the softest of kisses against the delicate skin. It makes a shiver run down his spine, and he knows you can hear the increase of his heartrate.

Though you don't make any noise, he can feel the cool air on his neck as you let out a silent chuckle.

"Still hungry?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his fingers pausing their tracing for just a moment.

You pull back slightly, your crimson eyes peeking up to meet his hazel ones, glinting faintly in the dim light. There's a softness there, a warmth that doesn't quite match the traditional tales of your kind, and one that only Spencer can see.

"Not for blood," you reply, voice laced with teasing affection. "I'm more interested in the genius who's letting me hog all the blankets, even when he knows I don't need them in the slightest."

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle, brushing a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear. "I think 'genius' might be overselling it. Most people would call this situation irrational, maybe even reckless."

Neither of you mention how nobody would even believe him, if he were to tell then he's married to a vampire.

"Most people don't know you like I do," you counter, resting your head back onto him, this time on his chest. "You're not reckless, Spencer. You're... curious. And kind. That's why you didn't run when you figured out what I was."

He smiles faintly, the memory of the night you met briefly flashing through his mind. It wasn't every day you met someone who saved your life and then casually admitted they'd (technically) been dead for centuries. "I'd like to think the profiling helped with that," he jokes.

"Oh, definitely," you tease, drawing lazy patterns on his shirt with your pointer finger. "Nothing screams 'trustworthy' like a man reciting the statistics about violent crime to a vampire."

He laughs softly, and you join him for a moment, the sound mingling in the otherwise quiet room. Spencer's laughter fades as his eyes drift back to yours again, his expression growing thoughtful. "Does it still bother you?" he asks gently.

You know what he's referring to without needing clarification—the sunlit mornings he spends alone most of the time, the quiet ache of being different, the things you've done to survive.

"Sometimes," you admit, your voice quieter now. "But being with you makes it easier. You remind me that there's light, even for... someone like me."

Spencer leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You're my light, too," he says softly. "Even if you do steal all the blankets."

You smile against his chest, your pointed teeth peeking out ever so slightly. "I think I'll keep you around, Doctor Reid. You're pretty good at this whole 'marriage' thing."

"Good," he murmurs, holding you tighter, "because I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

"I think it's more like you're stuck with me," you correct gently, "you know, considering I'm the predator in this scenario. You're my prey."

His fingers resume their movements on your hip. He doesn't say anything, know that one way or another, you'll find a way to counter anything he says. Being alive for hundreds of years has made you good at things like that.

[meaningofaeons]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ emotionally unavailable p.2

⊹ character(s) - gepard landau, jing yuan, sampo koski ⊹ word count - 5.6k ⊹ notes - gn!reader (gepard, sampo), fem!reader (jing yuan, reader is referred to as 'lady'), emotionally constipated/stoic reader (but you're warming up a bit ;), confessions, fluff, love, mushy stuff! ⊹ part 1 here!

sorry this took so long !! (=´ᆺ｀=) really thought I'd have it out sooner, but I wanted to make sure it was planned and edited this time. hope you all like! and please do point out any mistakes, I know sometimes I mix up the gn pronouns with she/her so lemme know if there's any of that （ฅ＾・ﻌ・＾）ฅ

⊹ Gepard Landau

Ever since you and Gepard spoke that day, Serval had been seeing more of you around the workshop.

Rather than lounging as per your nick-namesake, however, you were frequently speaking with Gepard when he was around.

That, or you were at her desk asking when he'd be around.

It was a far cry from your former indifference for sure.

Sure, you weren't overly enthused or anything at the prospect of seeing him, but...

Serval could definitely see the gleam in your eye when you questioned about her brother.

You weren't alone in your affection, either.

The eldest Landau hadn't failed to notice the consistently at which Gepard asked about you, too.

Even though there were reports of Fragmentum corrosion being on the rise and more monsters to keep at bay, things that usually stressed the Captain out, he was in shockingly high spirits

It seems your presence was beneficial to his stress and mood.

Over time, you mellowed out a bit from your usual stoicism as well

You were more inclined to joke and be more open with Serval and Gepard both, though you still retained a bit of your standoffish nature.

This didn't mean you magically became an extrovert—Aeons knows you still treated other people just as coldly.

But to the Landaus at least, things were turning up.

You weren't running into their arms with warm salutations ready for an embrace, but at the very least, you spoke more.

Not to mention, you'd taken on a new hobby—teasing poor Gepard.

It wasn't really your fault, in your defense. He was just too easy, and his blushing cheeks were admittedly cute amusing to see.

Gepard, in spite of your embarrassing new pastime, would often count the hours, minutes, down to the seconds until he could head to the workshop and see if you were around

On the days you weren't (increasingly rare nowadays), it was quite obvious how he'd deflate. But he'd still wait around a little while longer for you

And when you were there? He'd light up immediately.

It's as if you could see the tail wagging behind him—he's like a giant golden retriever.

Eventually, it got to the point where he figured it was about time he confessed how he actually felt about you.

Serval, of course, encouraged and offered to wing-woman for him as she had done before, but he adamantly refused

As much as Gepard appreciated his sister, he wanted to do this himself.

He would find himself practicing singing, drawing, anything artistic he could do to show his affections for you.

It was an earnest, honest-to-good effort, but let's be honest—he's not the best at most artistic pursuits.

Eventually, he settled for a poem (the farthest he could get artistically without completely flubbing it) and a bouquet of the flowers that brought you two together in the first place—Ball Peonies.

He put it off for a few days out of nervousness.

Okay, no, a few weeks. Let's not kid ourselves, he had to buy a few bouquets since they kept withering (thankfully, that Silvermane Guard Captain salary is good!)

Finally, the day came.

Gepard shifted from one foot to the other, a habit of his when anxious. In battle, one always had to be on their toes. Though the matter ahead of him was far from a fight to the death on the front lines, it was a struggle nonetheless.

The brain's fight-or-flight response unfortunately didn't care to discriminate between a war with monsters and a nerve-wracking confession.

Maybe you weren't coming today.

No, no. Serval mentioned you had to swing by. You had an appliance giving you trouble, and she'd fixed it up and prepared it for delivery today.

His sister provided this opportunity for him. He couldn't back down!

However, as soon as sky blue eyes spotted your approaching figure, Gepard had to physically grab hold of his own arm to ground himself and prevent himself from running away.

He settled his anxiety as much as he could by hiding the flowers behind his back instead.

"Gepard?"

No going back now! You'd seen him!

His brain was in overdrive, and he found himself fending off trembles, face already going red. Aeons, he hadn't even gotten a single word out yet!

"That's me."

Okay, good, he'd gotten the first words out no problem.

"I thought you had patrol today. It's good to see you."

"G-Good to see you too!"

And there it was. A stutter, followed by a voice crack on the last word. The poor blonde man could've easily sank into a hole and withered away at that moment, but you only raised a brow, oblivious to his internal misery.

"Well, are you coming inside? I need to pick something up, and then I'm off. Sorry I can't stick around, especially since you're off duty for once."

"Y-Yeah, I'm coming. And it's okay!"

Gepard was far too caught up in his own gut-wrenching anxiety to notice the way you had rushed through your normally-casual sentences. Though your tone was the same, the slightest, most imperceptible tremble flitted after your every word.

When you entered, Serval was nowhere to be seen. You assumed she was in the back, and thus went to pop in and check, but as you did that, said woman snuck past and headed for the door, mouthing at her brother.

'Don't! Back! Down! Now!'

He swallowed thickly as she vanished, ducking outside to hide and await Gepard's long-overdue confession to you.

"Hm. Doesn't seem she's here. Maybe an errand..."

"Y/N!"

You raised a brow, leaning on the counter. "I'm right here, Gepard. No need to shout."

"Right! Right... Um! I just wanted to... I just... Err..."

"You alright? You're burning up, and I haven't even prodded at your singing or drawing today."

Those words only made the flare-up of his cheeks worse.

"I'm fine!" His voice had only increased in volume, and you winced. Your eyes flitted to the clock, and you sighed, taking a deep, shaky inhale.

Shift starts in a few minutes. I can always get the heater later, but... this is now or never.

Before Gepard could continue his train of thought, you interrupted, pulling out a small tin canister and slid it towards him on the counter. His ramblings cut short, he could do little more than stare down at it, calming down amidst his confusion.

"...This is?"

"Well..." you trailed off, glancing away and crossing your arms. Though Gepard was sure your expression was the same, pensive and uninterested, you adamantly hid it from him. "I didn't really know what else to get you."

...Huh?

"I could've gone for flowers, sure, but I guess they didn't seem very appropriate for you. You'd have no use for them."

Oh, but he would place them in the nicest vase money could buy, and stare at them for hours on end every day, thinking about the fact that it was you who brought them to him. No use? What nonsense.

"Then I thought chocolates, or maybe some other sweet, but I didn't know if you liked that sort of thing. I'm sorry I never asked."

What did you have to be sorry for? He'd eat anything you offered up, even if it were burnt or poisoned. And he'd accept it with the biggest smile, content in the fact that you had carefully worked on it for him.

"So, well, this seemed the most practical. Armor polish... for you. Keep up that 'Captain of the Silvermane Guards'-grade armor, and everything..."

Were he any less trained as a soldier for battle, Gepard could've shed a tear. Closed off, stoic, standoffish, yet you still remained the most considerate person he'd ever met.

He took the canister in one hand delicately, as if it were the most precious thing he'd ever touched, and then glanced up at you. A million words of gratitude and devotion were ready to spill from his lips all at once, but his brain fizzed out and he could manage but one.

"Why?"

You sighed deeply, the grip you had on your arm tightening.

"...ike you."

"...Huh?"

"I..." your voice increased in octave, but it fizzled out again at the end. "...eally... you."

"Y/N—"

"I really like you. There." With how loud you projected the words, anyone would assume you were confident and calm with their delivery, but your voice again contained the slightest timbre of anxiety beneath it. Still, with those firm eyes, you turned to look at him, confessing the thing he had taken weeks to even consider bringing up.

Perhaps, though, it had taken you weeks as well.

Gepard was silent, stunned into complete rigidity at your words. You knew he could be awkward, but the reaction he held only furthered your uncertainty, and you eventually turned to leave, somewhat dejected.

Before you could take even one step, though, a gloved hand took your arm as gently as possible, and Gepard was red and sweltering as if he'd just ran a marathon in full uniform to catch you.

"Wait! Wait!"

"Gepard, it's fine if you don't—"

"No, no! I like you, too!" Your confidence gave the Captain the boost he needed to finally blurt out the words, shoving the Ball Peony bouquet towards you. "I swear! That's, um... That's why Serval had me come by today."

It was your turn to be shocked—so shocked, in fact, that you didn't even bother to curse Serval out for setting you up like this.

Still, as Gepard slid his hand down to clasp your own, you couldn't bring yourself to feel too much enmity towards her.

"Um... If it's okay, do you want to go to dinner tomorrow night, then...?"

You tried to hide your delight as best you could.

"...Tomorrow night sounds nice."

Gepard, however, could not hide his.

⊹ Jing Yuan

It only took that one night of trickery, that one moment of Jing Yuan catching you hook, line, and sinker, for a routine to develop.

The General immediately took advantage of your acceptance and took you to the nicest restaurant the Xianzhou Luofu had to offer (and the most expensive, of course, much to your dismay).

As promised, he got his paperwork done on time.

But it wasn't more than a few days before he began slipping again.

Napping around his office, playing chess with Yanqing instead of working...

As soon as you got on his case again, you could see in the way his brow quirked that his mind was quick at work to justify himself.

Then, a wry smile had appeared—one you were both begrudgingly fond of and vehemently annoyed by.

"Well, Lady Y/N, go out to dinner with me again tonight and I promise to have my work done."

And so developed an unlikely routine—as long as you went to dinner after working hours, Jing Yuan would have his paperwork complete.

Of course, there were a few times when he slipped.

But whenever this happened, you vanished from the Seat of Divine Foresight before he could even awaken, and he found that the absence of your presence was punishment enough.

So now, him skimping his work was a rare occurrence. Even Yanqing was surprised.

"General, you've been a lot... busier, lately."

"Only as busy as I'm meant to be, my boy."

Golden eyes were immensely suspicious, and those same eyes watched the General in your presence carefully.

"...It's Lady Y/N, isn't it?"

Jing Yuan choked.

Even still, you'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying the routine as well.

It was a win on both counts—you get a nice, expensive meal, and Jing Yuan also stops skipping important work!

Surely, it wasn't also a win to spend more time with the General. Surely...

He was still as cheeky as ever, though, especially now that you'd caved to his whims and spent more time with him.

Sometimes, he'd try to pass you alcohol and convince you to drink with him.

Of course, this was with the sly intention of getting you to open up and drop that stoic façade.

It never really worked.

Either you refused, citing work, didn't get drunk enough to become loose-lipped...

Or, in one instance, actually drank the General of the Luofu himself under the table.

Needless to say, you never did that again. Not only did you gain nothing but a raging hangover, the people of the Luofu who were present in the bar wouldn't shut up about it for weeks.

The rumors were even more ridiculous!

Though, you did gain something to tease Jing Yuan about, for once.

Dinner eventually turned into dinner along with a small walk together afterwards.

It took a lot of convincing and taking on extra work for Jing Yuan to get you to agree to the latter.

It was nice, though. Not only were you out in the fresh air, but you were free of the somewhat guilty burden of having the General paying for all your meals out of pocket.

Still, one day... he seemed different.

"General—"

"Lady Y/N—"

You both paused mid-sentence, cutting each other off. However, it was you who ultimately remained silent, gesturing for the man to continue.

Jing Yuan seemed... uncharacteristically nervous today. Was nervous even the right word for it? Perhaps it was, seeing as how his one visible eye darted back and forth.

Strange.

He cleared his throat loudly, reaching out a hand.

"I was only going to ask if you were ready to head to our usual dinner arrangement. I've made reservations."

Well, that was even more strange.

"General, you've never asked me before. You've just dragged me along. Are you feeling well?"

Despite your concern, you still accepted his hand just as naturally as always, allowing him to move your hand into position so that you were holding onto his arm. The first time he'd done this, you had recoiled, embarrassed at the proximity, but now, it was just as routine as your near-nightly dinner dates.

Dates? Were they dates? You pushed the thought as far away from your head as you could to avoid any red flush potentially springing to your cheeks.

"Of course I'm well." Jing Yuan only chuckled mildly, not meeting your gaze. "Shall we be off?"

You eyed him, but nodded slowly. On the way to the reserved seats, you began cautiously.

"...If you slacked off on your work and are trying to hide it from me..."

Honey-gold eyes met yours with a slight measure of surprise, and before you knew it, the General was laughing. A low, rumbling, and comforting sound that emanated from deep within his chest. It caused the dam you held to keep your cheeks from going red to burst.

"W-What did I say?!"

"Nothing, my dear... Absolutely nothing," he chuckled, wiping an imaginary tear. As much as the sight irked you, it also caused you to breathe a small sigh of relief.

He didn't seem as anxious any more.

"I was just a bit surprised."

"Well, I wouldn't be..." you grumbled. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Jing Yuan's smile turned crooked. "Come, now. I think I've been doing rather well at holding up my end of the deal. How long has it been since I last shirked my duties?"

"One week."

Your unimpressed response had his laugh turn nervous, but not in the same way as before. He glanced away at your dagger-like stare, murmuring some sort of excuse before giving up at the squeeze you gave his arm.

"I would say I've been doing well overall, though."

You acquiesced with a sigh. "That you have, General. Better than before, at least."

"Well, that is high praise. Coming from my poker-faced Lady Y/N, I'd have thought it'd take ten decades of work to satisfy your standards and achieve a compliment such as that."

You only grumbled in response, eliciting another laugh from your General.

So caught up in the conversation were you that it took you being seated in a private room to realize where you were.

"...This is where you first took me."

"Correct," Jing Yuan smiled, a hint of unease in his features as he fiddled with something beneath the table. "I thought it'd be appropriate."

"For...?" you trailed off, trying to recall if there was anything special happening today. "Did I forget a holiday?"

"No, no. I'll tell you later, Lady Y/N."

"Very well, General," you sighed, making your choice and setting your menu down. Surprisingly, a comforting silence filled the air until the attendant came to collect both of your orders, and even after that. Minutes passed, and the silence was now... less comforting.

Something was definitely off. By now, the General would be talking your ear off about something—whether informing you about his latest trickery with his and Yanqing's games of chess or teasing you for your uptightness in the latest meeting, he'd have something to say.

But Jing Yuan just sat there, smiling down at his hands, still fiddling. You eventually had enough, clearing your throat.

"...So, are you going to tell me why today is significant for this restaurant?"

The man jumped—did he jump? Did the famous General Jing Yuan just jump over a mere question from his advisor?—and paused, clearing his throat again. You had noticed he was doing that quite a lot this evening.

"Well, I should get it out of the way, shouldn't I? No use dwelling on it any longer, haha..." Finally, he extracted the item he had been messing with, sliding a small velvet box across to your folded hands. "Here you go, Lady Y/N."

"And just what is this?" you eyed it, then raised a brow. A small trinket from one of his expeditions, perhaps? But you weren't much of a collector or anything...

"Just open it."

"Very well." You paused momentarily, but slowly pulled the box towards yourself, pushing up the little hinged lid. In an instant, your hands clapped it back shut, your face turning thousands of shades of red.

Jing Yuan, while still anxious, found himself chuckling as he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.

"General," you whispered harshly. "Is this some kind of joke?!"

"Well, I'd hope not, considering that little trinket cost me a fair chunk of my prior paycheck."

"General Jing Yuan, I'm being serious!" You were sweating bullets, trying to reign in your flustered state. "Explain yourself!"

The man cleared his throat again, and finally began to lay out his reasoning.

"You see, Yanqing was just getting so terribly tired of hearing me talk about you. In his words, 'You need to do something about it before I go insane, General.'" Jing Yuan was rambling. "So I went to a local jeweler and tried to find something nice, but none of them quite suit you the way I wanted. Then, I figured I should commission something, and—"

His rambling speech had given you time to process just slightly, just enough to cut him off and pose your own question.

"Are you proposing to me?"

Jing Yuan coughed.

"Well, I figured since we'd been to dinner together so many times—"

"—as General and his advisor!—"

"—but if you'd like to start with the label of dating, I'm perfectly fine with slowing it down to that. We do have nothing but time, after all."

You were about to shout some more, say anything, but the sight of Jing Yuan's somewhat flushed cheeks had you reeling, stunned into silence.

He was serious.

The General glanced up at you through his bangs.

"You don't have to give me your answer right now. But I'd be delighted to see you at least try the ring." And oh, when he beseeched you with those pleading eyes, how could you even think to say no?

You hesitantly opened the box, unable to fathom what was happening. In your state, you hadn't noticed Jing Yuan move to your side, taking your hand gently in one hand and the ring in his other.

"Allow me."

Tenderly, carefully, Jing Yuan slid the ring onto you. It fit like a glove, and you couldn't even think to wonder how he got your ring size down to a T. He gazed into your eyes with such adoration that you felt your brain going to mush.

"...It's lovely," you stammered. The General smiled.

"You're lovely."

Surely, the situation was about to escalate into something more.

An embrace? Possibly... a kiss? Just as you felt the very distinct possibility of your eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, the door to your private dining hall was slid open.

"I have the orders for one General Jing Yuan and one Lady Y/N—"

The waitress stopped short, eyes wide at the proximity between you and the General. Then, her eyes fell to your hands, the ring—

"Wait—"

"Ma'am, it's not—"

"Please forgive me! I'll leave you be!"

Without giving either of you even a moment to explain, the now beet-faced woman dashed away, shocked out of her poor mind. You exhaled shakily, and then whipped your head around as Jing Yuan laughed boisterously.

"General! The rumors!"

"Oh, they always spread some rumor or another. It's happened since we first started this little routine, and it won't cease now. But if you aren't interested, I will always happily have them dispelled."

You huffed another sigh, glancing away.

"...Who said anything about me not being interested?"

It was Jing Yuan's turn to be stunned, but he recovered annoyingly quick, immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him.

"Really now? Well, I'll take that as your acceptance of my proposal. I will be stuck to your side from here on out."

"I'm accepting the dating proposal, not marriage, General!"

"For now."

"General!"

⊹ Sampo Koski

The man who formerly avoided Natasha's clinic like the plague out of intense fear for Wildfire's motherly leader now found himself frequenting the joint more than the Fight Club.

Who would've guessed?

Well, you might've.

Ever since your run-in with the infamous Sampo Koski only a few weeks prior, it seems he'd made it his personal mission to only appear when you were working.

Of course, you only really worked night shifts, and Sampo was quite the night owl himself, but who's counting?

He still annoyed you to Hell and back.

The only edge you really had over him was when Natasha was in, helping you with the patients.

Sampo would stare at you from outside the window like a puppy left out in the rain—you could practically hear the whines and see the sad droop of metaphorical ears.

Natasha always knew he was by, and she'd always tease you about it, so in a way, you were both now avoiding her.

"Y/N... Your ol' buddy Sampo Koski got himself a booboo! Won't you fix me up?"

"Get lost."

"But it really hurts!"

"That's a flesh wound. Here's some ointment. Scram."

"Ouch! You're as cold as ever... Your words sting more than this egregious injury..."

A small, tiny voice inside your head was always thankful that he was never really as injured as he exaggerated, but he still found ways to negate even that tiny bit of mercy you held for him with his antics.

Usually, he'd just swing by to hop around you and ask for attention.

Really, he didn't want anything more than a few words from you or a few minutes of your time, but you didn't have much of either to spare with your work.

To catch your eye, he'd try to ham up his pain, but it never really worked.

A bandage there, an ointment there.

Sampo never failed to notice how you would always entertain those requests at least, giving him what he needed to care for himself.

Though he did long for your tender loving care again. Even if it meant being on the receiving end of your unimpressed stares.

Then, there was the time he asked for you to kiss his wound better.

That earned him a harsh clobbering to the head.

While you hated the distraction Sampo brought while you were actively trying to cure real patients, he wasn't all bad if he came at a good time.

Not that you'd ever admit it, though.

You'd given him enough ground with your little "For me" comment last time, and he'd never let you forget it as long as you lived.

When you were packing up your supplies and getting ready to trade shifts with Natasha, it was kind of... nice to see him around.

He'd bring you small doohickeys and trinkets from his latest scams expeditions, or talk your ear off about his adventures.

Scratch the dog analogy.

Sampo was more like a crow, squawking your ear off and delivering small, seemingly-insignificant, shiny treasures.

Somehow, his unending positivity and boisterous attitude was a nice contrast to the dreary place you were stuck in.

You were begrudgingly—with harsh emphasis on that word—becoming fond of Sampo Koski.

You weren't sure if this was a good thing.

"Y/N!"

You heaved a sigh, stretching out your weary limbs as Sampo came barreling into the clinic, thankfully uninjured. You kind of wanted to hit yourself for thinking of that first, rather than how obnoxiously loud he was being, but you digressed.

It seemed as though ever since your little run-in with him while he was badly wounded, he had taken your demand to stay out of harm's way to heart. Now, he rarely got anything more than a small bleeding cut or a sizeable bruise.

"How many times do I have to remind you to be quiet in the presence of my other patients? They're sleeping, Koski."

"Some things never change! Just like your painfully frostbite-y words, Y/N~"

You only grunted at that, collecting your tools and cleaning off your table. You always did like to leave Natasha with a neat workspace when she arrived.

"Sooo, I was thinking..."

"Sampo Koski, thinking? The Overworld must be crashing down on our heads as we speak."

"Yeesh, uncalled for..." the man grumbled, his energy bouncing back fast, though. "Let me take you somewhere nice. Think of it as a reward for working so hard and helping me out so many times, yeah?"

You raised a brow at that, and the conman clasped his hands together, that familiar grin sneaking onto his lips.

"After all, Sampo Koski always repays his debts! Never leaves a friend hanging!"

"You know the clinic's services for mild cases are free, right?"

"That generous heart of yours just makes me swoon, Y/N! But I can't possibly let you do me all this kindness without doing something in return!"

You sighed raggedly. "If this is you roping me into one of your scams..."

Sampo slapped a hand over his heart and clasped his chest as though mortally wounded. "You wound my poor soul, my heart, Y/N! Would 'lil old Sampo really do that to you?"

Your utterly deadpan glance sent him into nervous chuckles as he amped up his attempts to get you to come along.

"Come now, Y/N! You can trust me! Just this once, and if I wrong ya, you can toss me to the automatons! Honest to goodness!"

You were already yanking on your coat to follow when he crossed his finger over his heart as if to swear his undying allegiance to getting you back in one piece, sweeping past him out the door and grumbling something about being in your right mind to toss him to the robots anyways. The Sampo Koski looked a bit stunned at that, staring at you from within the clinic with wide emerald eyes.

"Well? Are you going to lead me there or no?"

"Ah, yes! Of course!"

Shockingly, it didn't take long to get to where the conman wanted to go. You had to duck past a few bots and avoid a few Fragmentum monsters, but really, that was every day in a place like the Underworld.

Yet, the bright glow of the huge Geomarrow vein caught your eye at once, sending you into awed silence.

Sampo smiled at that, dragging you along by the arm to a better vantage point. You stared up, admiring the rare beauty in a place as dreary as the Underworld.

As a doctor, especially an assistant to the only other doctor in the whole of the Underworld, you didn't really get the opportunity to go out and explore much beyond Boulder Town. Sure, there'd be patients you had to go to that couldn't make the distance to the clinic, but they were rarely beyond the walls of town.

The sight before you was truly something magnificent. Something you had never seen before.

"Well, like it?" Sampo nudged your arm, snapping you out of your trance as he grinned at you. "Told you it was cool! Thought you could use some time out of that stuffy clinic."

"It's..." You didn't quite know what to say. Words escaped you as you glanced between Sampo and the marvel of mineral. "It's really something. You weren't lying."

Even though you were too awed to realize you had admitted to his truth, the man beside you still hooted with laughter at his 'victory'.

Only when his joyful whoops calmed down did you manage to fully tear your eyes away from the sight, looking over to see Sampo trying to fiddle with something in his pocket.

"Sampo?"

The man jumped, and if you were any more alert to his antics, you would've assumed he was plotting something. However, he only hid his hands behind his back, beaming.

"What's up?"

"...Thank you."

The words were quiet, begrudging, but you managed them anyways. You expected immediate feedback from your so-called friend, only to be met with thick silence. You once again called his name, and he once again jumped.

"What's the matter with you? You've not got something criminal planned, do you?"

"Nope, Sampo Koski is always loyal to his word!" His chuckles were nervous, contradicting his statement. Just as you raised a brow and were about to speak up, however, he handed you a small chain.

"Haha, almost forgot!" Lie. "I had this for ya, too."

The item was placed in your hand before you could even protest, and you nearly leapt in shock when you realized what it was, were it not for your ability to keep on your stoic disposition.

A beautifully crafted, decorative Geomarrow wrist cuff sat in your palm, a nice rustic design to it that would compliment your outfit, surely. It looked more expensive than everything you owned combined.

"...Sampo—"

"See, an old buddy of mine owed me a favor from way back when. He's a jeweler nowadays, not super useful here, but I got my hands on a chunk of Geomarrow and he worked his magic! Cool, huh?"

"Sampo—"

"And that chunk isn't stolen, no siree bob! Got it completely legitimate this time! Paid out of pocket!"

"Sampo, are y—"

"It wasn't easy, but—"

"Sampo!"

The man finally stopped rambling, pausing to glance down at you with wide eyes.

"Haha, erm, yes, my dear Y/N?"

You would've felt your face flush—in fact, you were still actively staving off the heat to your cheeks—but you had to get one question out of the way first, a hardened expression on your face.

"You stole this, didn't you?"

"No!" Sampo's insistence was so adamant that it sent you aback. "Didn't you hear what I said? Honest, I didn't steal! Not a single part of the process was made with thievery or swindling! 'Cause you don't like it, and I wasn't about to confess in a way you don't like—"

"Confess?"

The conman stopped short, scratching his cheek and whistling inconspicuously, glancing anywhere but you. You weren't having much better luck with maintaining eye contact.

You glanced down at the cuff again, reluctantly sliding it on, but unable to deny how much you were taken by it. It was also the only way to distract yourself from the shock you felt, from the warmth now prominently displayed in your cheeks.

"So... yeah. Um. I did this all. For you. To confess, 'I love you' style and all of that, if that's how ya want to put it..."

"That's how you put it."

"Can you have some mercy on my poor heart?! Sampo's trying his best here!"

At that, you snorted. Then, you giggled. Eventually, you devolved into shaky, small laughter, chuckles that couldn't be hidden even by your typically impassive countenance.

For the first time in his life, Sampo found himself utterly dumbstruck. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, in a trance as he listened to your laughter, as sweet as the chime of a bell.

To Hell with confessions and acceptance, the man was fairly certain he could die happy just hearing such a sound and seeing such a look on your face. Even if you were laughing at the notion of him being in love with you, Sampo was confident he couldn't care less.

And then, for the second time that evening, the conman was struck speechless.

"Well... fine. I suppose I can graciously accept your feelings and your heart, Sampo Koski."

His eyes lit up like the Overworld sun.

"But only if you stop getting hurt. Period."

It wasn't enough to extinguish the light in his eyes, but it was enough to get him to droop, slinking over and hanging off your shoulder pathetically with a pout.

"Aw, then how am I going to see you?! Sampo Koski needs his Y/N time, or he'll be lost! I'm lost without you!"

It took everything you had not to clobber him—but this time, you were sure that twinge of annoyance was strong-armed aside by pure fondness.

[blackened-angel]

I'm personally not looking forward to the Netflix adaptation of Devil May Cry.

With the new trailers, I wanted to share my opinions again but I will say that this post isn't recommended for those who only have praise and that any criticism is forbidden.

It's a pretty long post where I try to explain what is my main problem with the adaptation and that is the person who is directing it.

I highlighted some parts that I hope you can at least read those ones, but if I were to give you a TL;DR it would be this:

If you want to make an adaptation based on an IP that's been around for a while, even if you proclaim that you're fan, at the very least be modest and try not to cause trouble with your audience, given that you're supposed to be a professional in the industry and perhaps trying desperately to please everyone isn't such a good idea because you might be hanging with the wrong crowd and that will reflect on your image.

Sorry but I'm not interested to coddle that guy so if that brief summary is enough to make you displeased, I'm asking you not to read any further.

So, will talk about why it's difficult for me to praise Netflix Devil May Cry. It's because of the person attached to it.

I've criticized aspects of this adaptation before and while the majority will get angry because the show hasn't come out yet, thus any criticism is invalid, personally, what I have seen so far has been enough for me to have a disdain for it because one of my favorite series is being handled by someone who has never done anything with it before.

Proclaiming to be a fan doesn't automatically mean that it will be a masterpiece and for someone who is allegedly a professional in the industry, their conduct reflects on the product and others that are involved.

Also, just saying, that I refuse to use the word "anime".

Pseudo-anime perhaps but I'm sorry, DMC The Animated Series from 2007, that's the only Devil May Cry anime. I don't see any 'bishounen'/ biseinen' . Have you?

Anime, to someone like me who has been into anime and manga for two decades, is animation produced in Japan, primarily for the Japanese audience, with aesthetic that is different from Western animations.

So yeah I'm just gonna say Netflix DMC.

Ok, so, let's return to the subject, but first, I want to ask you and of course, you can provide examples because from my experience, I haven't seen anime studios acting so desperate like Shankar.

Please tell me if you have seen anime studios on their social media accounts being so friendly with people?

At most, there are some who on some occasions retweet fan creations like art or cosplay but in general they just post information regarding what they are producing, trailers or key visuals, but they don't engage much with the audience.

They are just working on the stuff they want to deliver to their audience, hoping they will enjoy it and look into feedback afterwards.

How many anime studios have you seen bragging like Shankar has been doing?

He actually said on Twitter "I never miss."

Oh and on a few occasions, this grown-ass man kept referring to himself in 3rd person, somehow thinking his fans will find it...cute? Yeah, so it was more like "Adi Shankar never misses."

It's obnoxious. You can tell me that he was joking, but he seems committed to his whole "I never miss with my projects" bit, so it's kind of hard to tell.

Oh and do you think it's also adorable when he reposted people's fanart without crediting? Even when some of them had watermarks?

Like I'm not kidding. If you follow him on Twitter, there were a few times when he was called out for not properly crediting artists and you'd think he'd stop after being told once but no.

In addition to that, one time when I was reading the comments on a reposted artwork, there were only two people that mentioned the artist while the rest of them didn't even ask things like "Hey did you draw this? Did the animation team do it?"

It seemed that even though they must have known it wasn't art made by Shankar or the ones doing the animation, they treated like it was no biggie if he was reposting.

As a professional, allegedly, he should have never done such a thing, but most of his followers seem treat him like "oh he's just enthusiastic, cut him some slack, don't be mean to him".

And we know that in general, anyone else who would do that sort of thing just once would get torn apart by others, but with that guy apparently we must be indulgent.

When caught in the act, he did apologize but like...shouldn't he know better? He most likely expects that everyone will forgive him for anything he does.

Thus, can you understand why I'm having a tough time to like something from that person? Who keeps bragging, promising the best anime ever, acting as if he invented DMC...

That's a person who is supposed to be a professional in the industry, yet he as only been acting like a redditor...And of course he promotes a lot of memes. Gee, I wonder who's the intended audience?

He's been desperately trying to please everyone.

This is why I like the way anime studios conduct their promotion for their projects. They are humble and want to avoid causing problems t and that's why they generally just post information, artwork, trailers etc..

That's something I personally appreciate.

Shankar has only been off-putting...Honestly, what the heck was Capcom thinking?

Apparently he wanted Dino Crisis, but Capcom was like, have DMC instead. It feels like they were saying "yeah do whatever with this IP, doesn't matter", as if DMC isn't popular, which was proven by the popularity poll they hosted.

I feel like this adaptation is mostly for the people that know DMC just from memes and I'm sorry for the long time fans that will most likely get insulted and told to shut up by the people who will only watch this generic Marvel/DC looking animation and be told that DMC is only good because of Shankar or think he should be in charge of other Devil may Cry projects.

So yeah, to me, above all is that narcissistic man who has been trying so hard to please everyone.

No, I don't think it's endearing when he spoke in 3rd person and claims that he never misses with his projects. I did not find it cute when he went on to say stuff like Vergil is a hero and other bullshit, because some people would believe those will actually be the characterizations in the show, only for Shankar to post something like "I'm joking, I'm just a troll" after those kinds of posts, wanting to gain sympathy from people, to see just how much of a fun guy he is and you must definitely watch his DMC "anime".

We already had the reboot that was supposed to appeal to the Western audience because Capcom thought the original series isn't appealing to westerners, but man were they wrong. Still hate it for the fact that they mocked the OG series and here we are again, another production that's mostly for the western audience.

So yeah, I'm just not a fan of how much that man has been boasting and assuring everyone how great the show will be.

Perhaps, for some of you, it will the greatest "anime" ever, he keeps telling you that! But not for me. I don't appreciate the shit I've seen him do on Twitter done and as much as he brags that failure never happens for Adi Shankar, not everyone is of the same opinion.

If it turns out that it might fail the expectations of those who only praised, what then? Will they keep praising despite being disappointed so that the series keeps getting content, even if it might be the same quality or even worse?

I think that will send the message to the bigwigs that those people are willing to consume anything.

Like I've mentioned thought out the post, I personally would have appreciated humbleness instead of someone trying so desperately to please everyone.

I'm not sorry for what I said and I know there must be others who share my opinions.

If you have made it this far, I thank you!

[change-name-later]

I am done. I am calling this thing done. I know this isn't perfect. It could definitely be better. And I am by no means a draftsman. This is just me with my silly little screenshots trying to make sense of the layout. And now if I wanna draw/write about the inside of the cafe in the future for whatever reason. I have reference of where everything is at.

This was supposed to be a small project meant to give reference to others that didn't want to rely on screenshots alone. Or were like me and didn't have a way to access any fanmade maps. (I do not own gmod). But it's done, enjoy. With and without the screenshot references. As a treat.

If you guys had been following me for a while. You know just how much I had struggled working on this during my free time. However it became so much easier when I realized the square exterior was just a vague suggestion to how things would fit inside. That's for sure...

Anyhoo. Below the cut, you can listen to me crazily ramble on about the issues/inconsistencies I found while making this. But it's fine if you don't read and just want the references. The cut is just me specifically venting out all the slight insanity I felt making this.

Hey you're still here? Cool. Awesome.

So before I begin. Just to avoid any confusion. When indicating direction in the ramble below. I will be referring them in the way I oriented the map. For example, North is the entrance. South in the shelf selling bombs. Etc...

Main Floor/Cafe

1. The East wall has a door leading to the bathroom ("SMG4: The Inspection"). But it exists in a space that is not there.

2. The East wall also shows two windows on the outside. But only one window on the inside.

3. Both the backroom and hidden elevator are also are in a space that doesn't exist.

4. Speaking of the backroom. According to the concept sketch. There are windows on the West wall. Which, yes, should not exist. As we do not see any windows there from the inside. Unless they are being blocked by the shelves. Or those windows are just decorative stickers...

-Though I'm willing to give it a pass since we haven't actually seen that side of the wall in the show.

5. The front window's decal is not mirrored on the inside (this one is just a small nick pick. But something I couldn't unsee once I saw it).

Evil Lair/Basement

6. Past SMG3's bed (East side of room). There's a unknown area that turns off from the left of the entrance. With a solid wall immediately to the right. The tiles could mean it's a bathroom/kitchen area. But we don't see much more of it past the view from the doorway. I point this out because in "SMG4: You Used To Be Cool". There's a part where SMG3 shoots at the fireplace. Creating a hole and revealing a shower behind it.

-It's very confusing how you would get there. Because since there's a wall in the east room that could have lead there. The only other way to get there is the hypothetical space (shown in map) past the elevator to get to this shower. But again, this is not shown. So cannot be confirmed.

Anyways, that's it. That's the ramble. This project was more chaotic than I first thought it would be. And unless the official map comes out and I buy gmod to explore it. I am not touching this thing again.

[lightlycareless]

I was thinking about what would happen if like Y/N or Naoya somehow turned into like a younger version of themself for a day and the other has to look after them. I think it’d be especially cute if the younger version only had memories up to that age. Like all I can imagine is little Naoya all shy with grown Y/N not realizing that’s his future wife or maybe little Y/N feeling a little intimidated by adult Naoya or maybe even overwhelmed since he probably dotes on her too much lol

UHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Also, I had to rewrite this various times because I wasn't sure how to begin!! Like I had the idea, but I just couldn't translate it into words; but, here it is! Which I hope will be to your enjoyment :>

Warnings: fluff. you and naoya turn into kids but in different occasions. who knows if they happened in the same timeline lol. there's also references to other works which I will link once I update the masterlist. :') but you're always welcomed to search in my prompts tag.

Happy reading!

On one hand, we have a young Naoya that at first, doesn’t believe there’s a girl like you walking around the estate. And secondly, that the two eventually marry… in the future? Your relationship is somewhat explained to him; whatever he could understand it anyways…

But it still doesn’t make it any better.

It’s just—impossible! There’s no way he’d ever be with a girl that… that is so rude like you! Improper of the Zen’in standard!

Yet, makes him feel all warm up inside whenever you prepare his favorite miso soup, make sure that he’s well-dressed if the weather is too cold…or checking up on him between your duties, simply to see if he’s alright, if he’s getting adjusted to this temporary situation while reassuring him a solution will be found.

Something that was unusually done, without an ulterior motive, that is. Which instinctively draws him closer and closer to you.

And that’s without even considering your affinity for the same hobbies as him! Like watching anime, reading manga… Naoya couldn’t keep to himself anymore, he needed to know more of his supposed wife.

“How do you know all that?!” He exclaims, surprised by your vast knowledge in all his favorite series.

“Well, I had someone to guide me. An excellent teacher, actually.”

“Really?! Who???” Naoya breathes, growingly slightly jealous at the notion of someone else gaining your attention—guess that has always been the same.

“It’s you, silly.” You giggle, gently patting his head and making him blush. “You’re very passionate about these things whenever talking about them, how could I just ignore you?”

If the previous situations weren’t enough to warrant his complete devotion, this was. Because from that point forward he begins to follow you everywhere, but no longer with the intention of scrutinizing you—no; or learn more about the future the two shared, but rather, with the desire to impress you!

Naoya needed to hear more of lovely laughter, your warm compliments, and your bright grin whenever bringing you gifts—like those flowers he somehow knew were your favorite though you never told him (not in this age), but yet made sense for a pretty girl like you.

“I’m also a really good sorcerer, you know? I can protect you if you’re ever in danger!” Naoya proudly states, unwittingly making you laugh. “It’s true! There’s no one stronger than me!”

“Oh, I know you’re the strongest.”

“���And the most handsome one too.” He quietly adds, you smile.

“Perhaps, but you’re undoubtedly cute right now.” You then pinch his cheek, flaring his face even further before giving you a dejected pout, in disagreement of your words. “Ah, there’s no need to get upset—being cute is just as good!”

“No, as the great heir of the Zen’in I can’t be cute, I have to be handsome!” he protests. “Heir’s have to be strong and intimidating, command fear with every step I take!”

“And you’ll do just that, in due time. There’s no rush to get there.” You explain, shuffling the top of his hair. “Everybody is doing their best to get a solution for your situation, so why don’t you enjoy being a kid again? Not everyone gets a second chance like this one.”

“Because I don’t want to, I want—” he suddenly goes quiet, as if slowly accepting his face. Or perhaps still making amends with it.

“What is it?” you worriedly ask, leaning closer to him. “Is everything alright?”

“…Will you wait for me, then?” Naoya says, making you blink. “To when I grow up and become stronger, capable of protecting you and making you happy?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration, a striking contrast from the unwittingly arrogant child that never missed a chance to show off and impress you… now doubting his own capabilities.

But you could see it in his eyes, even then, what you always suspected of him became true: Naoya longed to love, and to be loved. To feel important, cherished. That his life was more than just fulfilling his family’s expectations and obtaining power.

He wished to be part of something greater, and that proved to be a family with you.

A part of you aches knowing that, if you hadn’t met him, his destiny would’ve been vastly different. Stings understanding his childhood had been nothing short of lonely.

But what you weren’t able to do then, you’re capable of now. Given a chance to mend those pains, give him a sample of what’s to come…

Reassuring him that life indeed, gets better.

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you. So, do your best until you become just that!” you cheer, offering him your pinky finger as the definitive sign of dedication, which he intertwines with his own soon after. “But don’t keep me waiting too long, we still have lots of things to do together once you’re grown up, ok?”

“I promise!”

When Naoya eventually returns to his normal self, you expected everything to go right back to how it was. But much to your shock, he’s unusually… shyer. As if ashamed that you got to see the only part he wished to keep a secret from you.

Yet, his actions would soon disprove your assumptions, revealing that the truth behind his demure actions were nothing less that appreciation, gratefulness at your unwavering commitment to take care of him, even when he was nothing less than a wimpy child—a stage in his life only God knows how much he needed that. To be cherished.

Makes him realize how truly blessed he is to have met you, and share his existence with yours.

Even on his last day on earth, he’ll never forget that.

You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite—at least in the very beginning.

When Naoya was nothing short of a reserved, shy piece of work, you went ahead and portrayed a striking contrast: enthusiastic to know all about this cool, somewhat handsome man that diligent took care of you.

Sure, you were a bit confused (frightened) as to why you were surrounded by people you didn’t know since you essentially lived at the Zen’in estate by that point, but after managing to calm you down by the presence of your family and a quick rundown of what happened to you, you were nothing but glued to Naoya, always excited to know what he’ll do that day, what cool technique he’ll perform during training…

Or, of course, what sweets he’ll bring for you to taste. Mochi are your all-time favorite hands down, but you’re always open for other suggestions.

“Do you like these?” Naoya would ask even though the answer was quite obvious in the way you gobbled all the treats one after another, yet he still wished to know.

“Yes! I love them!” you nod fervently, grabbing another sweet, unwrapping it, and moving it into your mouth. “They’re my favorite!”

“More than taro mochi?” He teases.

“No, that’s impossible. Taro is the best flavor in the whole world. Maybe Ube too.” You state confidently, in such adorable way he couldn’t help himself from laughing. And naturally, making you blush. “What…?”

“Nothing, guess it’s good to know that you’ve always been this way.”  Naoya admits.

“How?” you ask back, tilting your head.

“Like… you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s perfect.” He smiles before winking. “But I’m sure you already knew that, little princess.”

“N—no…” you quietly answer, looking away in hopes of calming your thundering heart, but of course, that would prove impossible for the following days because as soon as he uttered those words, they were imprinted into your mind… leading you astray.

From a giddy, playful girl, you soon turned into a blushing mess whenever he was around, now quietly admiring him from afar instead of eagerly approaching as you always did. As if you’ve grown self-concious…

And this sudden change obviously caused Naoya to worry; fretting if perhaps he had done something to bother you, if not worse…

But all those worries disappeared the moment you finally gathered all the courage to ask him what has kept your thoughts busy these past few days: about the relationship you two seemed to have beforehand.

Eyes glistening with curiosity as you eagerly awaited his response, revealing to him the hopeless in love child he always suspected you to be, far beyond the Gengar-loving, mochi enthusiast everyone knew.

“How did we meet?”

“At school, Jujutsu High.”

“What did you think of me?”

“That you were pretty.”

“And what did I think of you?”

“…That I was bold.”

“Did you like me??”

“Of course, I still do.”

“Did I like you too?”

“Not at fir—yes.”

“How did you ask me to be your girlfriend?! Oh, did you bring me flowers and chocolates?!”

“Actually, it was you who asked me to be your boyfriend.”

“Huh??? I thought you were supposed to do that!”

And Naoya wanted to, but your eagerness and fear of losing him made you move first. Now that he reflects on it, it’s quite endearing.

“It’s a moment I hold dear to my heart.” He confesses. “And I know you did too.”

You blush.

“…And where did we go for our first date? Was it Disneyland?!”

“Not quite, we went to the mall first.” Or technically, the fair. You frown.

“What?” He chuckles. “It was a nice date.”

“I always wanted my first date to be at Disney…”

“I did take you for Valentine’s day, though.” Naoya says, fondly recalling the way you… appeared to have fainted at his revelation. Luckily, you remained conscious throughout your whole visit at the park to make it memorable. “And we’ve gone many times after, too. I always took you whenever you wanted.”

“Really?” you breathe, stars in your eyes. “Did you really do that for me?”

Oh, if you only knew how far he’d go for you.

“I even bought you that giant Gengar you’ve always wanted. Got you all the gaming consoles you can think of, with the newest videogames too.” He goes on, each and every word making your smile wider and wider. “And naturally, all the sweets you can eat. But not too many, or it’ll be bad for you. I’d say there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Yet, when he expected another question to follow suit, just as you’ve bombarded him these past few minutes, he’s welcomed by silence. A prominent saddened pout on your face as you seem to be… disappointed by his words. Or maybe the limits he’s had to place to your sugary addiction?

“Now, Y/N; it’s necessary for your health—”

“No, it’s not that.” You interrupt, shaking your head, before going eerily quiet yet again.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” Naoya asks, worried at this point. “Does something hurt?”

“…I don’t want to be like this anymore.” You eventually confess, revealing the tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes; it’s a sight that has his breath hitching to his throat, tightening his heart.

“Y/N—”

 “I want to grow up!”

“You will, we’re already looking into it, remember? There’s no need to stress about it.” Naoya attempts to reassure you, carefully wiping away the tears in your eyes that simply keep on flowing. “Just hang on for a little longer, I promise this will be over sooner than you expect.”

“But—but what if it doesn’t? What if I stay like this forever?!” you sob, causing something in Naoya’s heart to tighten. “I won’t be able to live all those pretty things again!!”

“Then I’ll just have to find whoever did this to you and turn into a kid myself.” His sudden words earn him a quizzical look from you, which he presses on with a smile. “That way we can experience all those things together again, like it was the first time.”

“Na—Naoya…”

“I promised we’d always be together, through thick and thin. Even if we turn into kids, or 100 years old.” Naoya continues. “So don’t cry, little princess. As long as you have me around, everything will be alright.”

The culprit is soon found after that, and you, with the work of talented sorcerers, return to normal.

However, as in both instances, you kept these new memories as a child—alongside a sentiment of nostalgia that hindered you from doinganything else that wasn’t being close to Naoya.

Such was your determination that it actually pushed you to do one of the things you least enjoyed, which was seeking him when busy, heading straight into the training grounds where you knew him to be at this hour—ignorant of who else was there—to pour your affection in a tight embrace and sweet kiss.

A demonstration that he doesn’t reject, though he is startled by it. Upon noticing your longing, Naoya promptly dismisses the rest of his entourage, before captivating you into his arms and deepening your gesture.

“What is the meaning of this?” He breathes, slightly flustered as he debates whether to lean in for another kiss or let you talk. Naoya choses the latter, he asked for an answer, after all.

“Do I need one?” you respond, a smirk appearing on his lips as you rest your face against his chest, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “…I just wanted to thank you for… taking care of me—No. For everything.”

“It’s my pleasure.” And duty, he once swore. “And I’ll do it again, if you want me to.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” You give him a breathy laughter, looking up into his eyes. Remaining so, still, attentive to the gaze you fell in love with, before assessing your feelings yet again—your undeniable truth. “I love you.”

And Naoya smiles in response, placing a kiss on your forehead as he gives you the confirmation of what you already knew; for all eternity so.

“I love you too.”

This just made the two fall more in love with the other; also, when your kids eventually come along you can easily say "hey, they act like you!" and Naoya will no longer be able to deny it 🤣

As stated in the beginning, this was very sweet 🥺 Thank you so much for filling my life with a little bit of fluff—it's always necessary during these harsh times. Now I want to write domestic fluff jfc. Look what you have done... lmao 🤣

Anyways, thank you so much for sending me this ask!! I truly enjoyed writing it.

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[anim-ttrpgs]

I recently ran an oneshot for my friends in Eureka.

It was a lot of fun and went mostly smoothly! The charakter creation was very easy. It still took more time than I expected, but that was simply because the players needed it to decide on which traits etc. to pick.

The central resolution mechanic with 2d6 is of course tried and true (I assume. Never played one of the many other 2d6 games.) but especially the Eureka system felt really good.

I think I read in a recent post of your's, that you are overhauling the chapter on combat. That seems very important to me. Even though I read the whole book once before running the game, I had immense problems finding out how small details of the combat worked during play. The musings on game design (eg, "yes, the combat is deadly, thats on purpose heres why" and such) where really enlightening to read, but got in the way when searching for concrete stats.

I will run the same oneshot again for different friends. The game seems really promising to me.

My mystery took place on a single in game evening, and none of the players were monsters. Having therefore only scratched at the surface of Eureka, I am looking forward to running it more.

Woo! We LOVE hearing about this kinda stuff!

And yeah everything about how the combat-related rules are structured is getting overhauled. All of that was written like 2 years ago when I was a slightly worse game designer and MUCH worse at writing coherent paragraphs and hasn’t been touched since until now. Instead of being split across like four paragraphs (what was I thinking), there will be just two chapters on it: “Instruments of Violence”, which is mostly just a giant list of references for the stats and special rules of weapons and armor, and “Dangerous Situations”, which covers every rule related to how your investigators can get killed. Some of these clean-ups are already available in the latest patreon release, and the rest are coming soon to both patreon and the itchio beta.

Combat is a very rare thing in Eureka, but when it does come up, we want it to be tight and granular, but without wasting the players’ time, which I think we’ve done pretty well at.

Like the book says, combat is deadly and there’s a reason why: so it doesn’t waste the players’ time.

This is a twofold problem to solve. The first layer of it, we solved by making sure the numbers are low. Most weapons can take a character down in 2 to 3 hits, so a single instance of two guys smacking each other will never take too many rounds.

Secondly, well, combat is dangerous and deadly, and if the PCs approach it without a plan, they’re gonna die, or at least get their asses kicked fast. Otherwise, well, I consider that a waste of the players’ time. If it was predetermined that the PCs would win otherwise the story can’t continue, well, what did we roll all those die, look up all those stats, and track all that HP for? Why didn’t we just describe the PCs winning and move on? Combat matters because it can change the outcome of the adventure, and if it can’t change the outcome, why are you rolling dice? Of course with death being so possible, to keep it fun, we gotta include lots of “tools” like cover, positioning, different weapons, special melee attacks, etc. that the PCs can use cleverly to give themselves an edge, and *earn* their survival.

Oh and also yeah can’t wait to hear what you think about the monsters. Funny thing about that, everyone who has read the rulebook knows that monsters and other supernatural creatures are supposed to be really rare, like one supernatural person for every 3,000,000 normal people kinda rare, but, monsters are super cool and fun to play, and are one of the big draws of the system, so we were kinda worried that that rarity wouldn’t come through in play, everyone would just be monsters. We considered setting a limit on how many monsters can be in a party? But quickly decided against it, because then players would have to compete for the limited monster slots, and people might even feel like if they’re not filling in that slot every single adventure, they’re missing an opportunity, and so every party would max out their monster limit every time and there’d, again, be way too many monsters.

In practice, though, most parties in Eureka seem to be comprised of all normal people, or all normal people and 1 monster at most, even without the limit. And I suspect this is both because monsters are kinda difficult to play despite their immense power, and, just to brag, because we made the normal PCs fun has hell to play too. :)

[lifemod17]

@sillycartoonhozier @shortqueershakespeare @justjeansmain all tagged me in such sweet posts I'm going to cry brb 😭💛

Woe appreciation post be upon ye!!!

favorite writer: @pastlivesxpastlie @daydreaming-in-letters @padfootagain @lovenliterature <- yes, you! your poems are so beautiful okay?? all super talented and super kind souls, i have no choice but to stan!!!

favorite artist: @a-s-levynn @effervescent-fool @sillycartoonhozier @thatjeanguy @elkkiel @fivewholeminutes eternally grateful for all of the wonderful art that you share with us 🙏

favorite person in general: @tonguetyd loml frfr guys idk what to tell you, and after all she is the reason why i came back here on tumblr. i followed her to another platform no questions asked. what can i say, i'm a simp 💛❤️

favorite random people: @whataboutyouisamascot @polteergeistt @foundationsofdecay @songbirds-sweet @glitterghost @hysteriamachines @hozierawakening @raspbrrytea @dearreaders-things @doperunawaybarbarian always a joy to see these people on my dash/notes 🥰

favorite shitposter: @deprivedmusicaljunkie and @bubacorn top tier shitposters 😍

favorite act done by someone: valentine's day 2024, i had only been in the Sleep Token fandom for a few months and didn't really know anybody except Drift. (because of timezone differences) i had woken up to two asks in my inbox: one was of @melit0n who had drawn me pink tulips and put my real first name on the little tag on the flowers, which is extra dear to me because only few people call me that name and when they do, it warms my heart. the other was @fivewholeminutes who drew me the cutest litol guy tripping as a reference to 'Fall For Me' which is one of my all time favorite song. it meant the world to me because i was a nobody at the time, and here were these two kind folks who thought i was worthy of spending some time and effort to dedicate a drawing to 🥺

someone who just gives good vibes: @loveinthemindpalace the goodest of all vibes!!! such a sweet soul!!!

favorite url: @lesbeansoups that is just such a fun URL you cannot tell me otherwise!

someone i think is nice irl: @littlequeenofthemangoes i KNOW she's nice IRL, and so very precious!!

someone i’d eat 28 chilies for: @daredevils-advocate i would put all 28 of those chilis and make it into a nice sambal 💛✨

someone who listens to my yaps and yap posts: @shortqueershakespeare @shatterthefragments @tonguetyd no IRL yapping or online yapping gets ignored by them <3 also Patch literally said the other day he goes through my blog even if he doesn't understand what's happening whenever i yell about ST god bless

favorite reblogger: @moonchild-in-blue i always say it and i still mean it: i never want to live in a world without Darya's tags (not even solely on mine, in everyone's posts she reblogs! it's the best) 🌻🐞🐞🌷

sigma: BAL- nope i'm sorry wrong blog to continue that joke. @neonflavoredbees do not fight me on this okay ily and my answer is final

no pressure at all if you wanna do this too, this is purely just me wanting to spread some love. happy timezones to all 🙏💛