#I think i'm begining to understand shading a bit more

[casscainmainly]

Duke and Bruce: A Question of Definition

When re-reading Cursed Wheel, I was struck by this exchange. Suspicions around Bruce's motive for taking in Duke is a running thread in their relationship, but what fascinates me about this moment is that Duke is using this suspicion against Bruce. He knows Bruce will be hurt by this accusation. More than hurt - Bruce's "maybe" suggests uncertainty, a lack of faith in himself. In this exchange, Duke and Bruce are both uncertain of what they mean to each other, and both troubled by that uncertainty.

This uncertainty runs throughout their time together. I'm going to try to track Bruce & Duke's dynamic through the years; basically, this post collects my disparate Bruce-Duke thoughts from my full Duke read. So warning that this is a LONG post.

I will probably contradict takes I've had in the past but you live and you learn 😭. Also the Bruce-Duke dynamic shifts a lot so this is not definitive or 100% correct - lots of these moments can be interpreted differently! But with all that said, let's jump into Zero Year!

The Beginning

Duke and Bruce first meet during the disaster called Zero Year, where Riddler blacks out and floods Gotham:

Batman (2011) #21

At its core, Zero Year and Endgame are about Bruce's relationship to Gotham. Duke says "He thinks you're dead[...] ever since he killed the city." Batman's death becomes intertwined with the city's death; in the reverse way, Duke in Bruce's mind will become intertwined with Gotham. This exchange sets up their relationship as reciprocal: Bruce gives Duke his fish, and Duke gives Bruce information. From the beginning, they have equal need for each other.

Batman (2011) #30

After Duke's parents rescue Bruce, Bruce tries to persuade Duke to leave Gotham. Duke replies: "No. We're here." Duke's decision to stay in Gotham directly influences Bruce to stay as well - here, we begin to see Bruce linking Duke to the city. This issue establishes that their relationship in some ways revolves around the city itself.

Batman (2011) #38

Then, Joker arranges for Duke and his parents to star in a re-enactment of the Wayne murders. Bruce manages to rescue Duke only, and then Bruce asks Duke to help him find a first aid kit for Jim. This scene parallels their first meeting in #21 (see the fish panel above!), with one handing something to the other. Their positions are flipped: this time it's Duke handing something to Bruce. The flipping nods to the 'reciprocity' aspect, and also to the way they parallel and will continue to parallel each other (particularly in Snyder's writing).

But this is also the first moment of genuine connection between the two of them! Bruce asks Duke to be a "friend," and they fist bump. Nowhere near familial, but a bit more intimate - this intimacy is more on Bruce's side than Duke's though. Duke still sees Bruce as primarily Batman, but Batman begins to think about Duke as an individual. This one-sided growing intimacy is a core tenet of their dynamic.

Symbols and People

Let's address this 'one-sided intimacy'. To Duke, Bruce is Batman first and foremost, and he criticises Bruce whenever he's not:

Batman (2011) #47

To Duke, Bruce is just anybody, but Batman? That symbol "inspire[s]" people, and "no one could be [Batman] but you!" His faith in Bruce is entirely tied to the Bat symbol. Concurrently with his growing understanding of the Robin symbol in We Are Robin, a large part of Duke's early story is about symbols as markers of community and hope. He prioritises Batman's relationship to the city over any relationship he personally could have with Bruce.

Bruce's view of their relationship has shades of this too. He tends to describe Duke in terms of his effect on the city:

From Batman & The Signal #3 and Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal respectively, both of these are about Duke's potential to benefit Gotham. The latter in particular shows Bruce idealising Duke as the 'perfect' Gothamite, a "represent[ation]" of the city's best.

This kind of idolisation skates close to early Bruce-Cass, particularly the idea of Duke being the 'best' (analogous to Bruce calling Cass 'perfect'). But Bruce does not go as far as he did with Cass. Other Duke fans have said this, but in a lot of ways Bruce is actively trying not to fall into previous parenting/mentoring failures. So he tamps down this symbolisation with lines about Duke as a specific person:

Batman & The Signal #1

"Something independent of the past, and... of me." The wording here is so careful, so constructed to highlight Duke's agency and to separate Duke from Bruce's previous relationships. Bruce also separates Duke from himself, avoiding the projection that was characteristic of, yet again, early Bruce-Cass. I'm Cass-brained so I'm mostly using Cass but these pitfalls occur for his other kids as well. Bruce does see Duke as a symbol of Gotham/hope, but he also knows the importance of seeing Duke as an individual with agency.

Bruce's struggles drive him to differentiate Duke from the other Robins, to cover him in bats but allow him to work during the day, to constantly show how important Duke is to him personally but only verbally acknowledge Duke's importance to Gotham. He ends up simultaneously pulling Duke into the family (offering him the manor, giving him a Batsuit, working alongside him in All-Star) and accepting Duke's distance (allowing him to work in the daytime, giving him his own cave, putting him on the Outsiders).

And Duke, being the detective he is, notices.

Insecurity

A ton of Duke stories feature people telling Duke he doesn't fit/shouldn't be here:

Dark Nights: Death Metal Robin King // Cursed Wheel Part 2 // Cursed Wheel Part 6 // Detective Comics (2016) 983

Duke brushes some of these instances, but he does internalise some of it. See Batman and the Signal #1 and Cursed Wheel Part 6:

Duke's insecurities are not about Bruce alone. They're about being unable to find community, represented by the Batfam in both cases. But Bruce is a huge factor in the insecurity, and the Cursed Wheel panel in particular is so evocative for me. The way Duke frames it - "They found a way inside with you" - suggests that Duke is expecting Bruce to help him. He doesn't want Bruce's approval, but he does need Bruce to help him through this, in the reciprocal way they've always helped each other.

But I think Bruce's struggle to define what Duke means to him, as I outlined above, is part of why Duke feels Bruce isn't helping him. Duke begins to question Bruce's motives in taking him in:

Batman and the Signal #2 // Dark Days: The Casting

Bruce shuts it down every time (including in Cursed Wheel Part 6), but it doesn't really make Duke feel better. "I chose you because of who you are / I only wanted to be there when you decided what you were going to become." Bruce consistently highlights Duke's agency/individuality as the reason he took him in, but it just doesn't jibe with what actually happens - not Bruce giving him two suits, putting the bat on him, etc. And Duke sees that inconsistency, so anytime Bruce pulls out an 'it's just because you're cool Duke,' it doesn't ring true. They both know that's not Bruce's entire motive.

That brings me to the panel I opened this post with. Duke questions whether Bruce took him in for self-serving reasons, and Bruce pauses before saying "maybe." Duke hits on the reason for Bruce's inconsistent behaviour - Bruce himself is uncertain about his motives for taking Duke in, and afraid they are selfish. This uncertainty in turn sows insecurity in Duke, because he values and desires transparency. As long as Bruce is unsure about why he took Duke in, Duke cannot be fully comfortable in his position in the Batfam.

Parenthood

But what's the root of Bruce's uncertainty? Right before the Cursed Wheel argument, Bruce suggests moving Elaine and Doug away. What Duke says - 'maybe you took me in out of guilt' - is a paraphrase of what a Jokerised Elaine told him earlier. This argument, and Bruce's uncertainty, revolves around Duke's parents.

Bruce is kind of the reason anything happens to Duke's parents anyway (since Joker mimics the Wayne murders), but Bruce also promises Duke everything will be alright:

Batman (2011) #38

Duke doesn't blame Bruce for what happened to his parents or his inaction on finding them - he calls Bruce's amnesia 'selfish', but it's more a general critique than a personal one. But I think Bruce does blame himself for failing to keep his promise. I'm extrapolating a lot because we don't really see any of Bruce's feelings, but thinking of his reaction to Duke's mom's absence in Batman: Urban Legends #18:

Jefferson says Duke is going to make a mistake that he'll "never forgive himself" for, but they "owe [Duke] more than that". This is pure extrapolation but I like to read this as touching on Bruce's guilt for never having found Duke's parents earlier, something he'll never forgive himself for. He owes Duke, which is why he becomes hell bent on finding Elaine when she goes missing again. But if he's guilty at this point, then the guilt could have run through their entire relationship.

Which makes things so complicated!! Bruce feels guilty about not saving Duke's parents; Bruce loves how much Duke loves his parents; Bruce thinks it's not good for Duke to spend so much time thinking about his parents; Bruce also, maybe, a little bit, wants to be Duke's parent. Thinking of this tidbit from Detective Comics #984:

Bruce warns Jefferson about how he should treat Duke, and the very first thing he says is that Duke "won't want another father figure". This shows that a) Duke and fatherhood is a touchy subject and b) it's a subject at the forefront of Bruce's mind. This wording also leaves it ambiguous whether Bruce considers himself a 'father figure'. The next line is nonsense about Duke respecting Bruce too much to 'challenge' him, which is plain wrong, but it does show that Bruce is not very clear what his relationship to Duke is. He's not exactly a 'father figure,' but neither is he a stranger like Jefferson. This in-betweenness is repeated by Duke in Batman & The Outsiders (2019) #1, when he says "You're not my father. And you're not Batman." Batman occupies this nebulous role in Duke's life, orbiting fatherhood but never quite touching it.

Though I think this discomfort around fatherhood is more on Bruce's side, nebulous fatherhood is also a motif for Duke. In Batman & The Signal, Gnomon's presence disrupts a lot of Duke's beliefs about 'family'. We don't have too much on Duke's feelings about Gnomon (recurring thing... sigh) but we do have morsels:

Batman: Urban Legends #18 // Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal

Gnomon makes Duke question Doug's 'father' status; simultaneously, Duke struggles with this idea of 'trading' his WAR family for the Batfamily; then, in Urban Legends, Duke imagines his mom accusing him of loving his dad more than her. All of this shows Duke is deeply troubled by familial replacement - he's terrified of losing his family, particularly Doug and Elaine, because he's found other people he considers family. Bruce figures as both a symbol of the Batfamily and as a possible-father, undergirding a lot of Duke's fears here. So while Bruce more overtly grapples with the way their relationship is defined, Duke also struggles with it.

It's why Duke imagines Bruce under 'family' in Batman & The Signal #3, and then immediately amends it to 'mentor' and 'friend'. In a way, Duke's namelessness in All-Star Batman is a symbolic encapsulation of how neither of them name what they mean to each other.

Our Best Selves

BUT while their relationship is complex and filled with uncertainty, it can also be a really beautiful, really healing thing for both of them.

All-Star Batman #3

Bruce has a long history of shutting people out and being dishonest, which has landed him in hot water with his allies many times. But Duke, who represents honesty and truth, allows him in turn to be honest. Duke knows Bruce needs someone to hear him talk about Harvey, and Bruce knows that Duke needs the truth. And they offer each other what they need, as they have from the very beginning.

Bruce does this for Duke, too, in Batman: Urban Legends #18:

Duke has been working himself to the bone trying to find his mom, to the Outsiders' worry. But it's Bruce's appearance that allows Duke to finally talk about what he's been working on. This panel just really gets me because Duke is talking to all of them but looking straight at Bruce - at a man so entangled with Gotham, with what happened to Doug and Elaine. He wants Bruce to understand. Bruce does.

They are both people who have such a deep love for Gotham, for their parents, who believe in rehabilitation and the goodness of people. And they'll always save each other.

All-Star Batman #5

All-Star Batman #5 // Batman (2011) #50

So actually this section is about the random Duke appearance in Detective Comics #982. Deacon Blackfire tells Bruce that Gotham is cursed, and the issue takes Bruce through ruminations about underserved Gotham neighbourhoods, the role of community, and ends with him watching the sun come up with a little boy. IT'S SO DUKE, like everything Duke stands for, but it's also what Bruce stands for too!! And what's interesting is that when Bruce is told he's alone, he imagines Dick, Babs, Damian, and Duke. Duke says, "we're out best selves because of you."

The Duke-Bruce relationship is a reciprocal one, so Bruce may bring out the best in Duke but Duke also brings out the best in Bruce. And they both believe in the best of people, the best of the city. They are both in love with Gotham, with their families, and they both deeply believe in rehabilitation and promises. They are their best selves because of each other.

Conclusion

In Cursed Wheel Part 4, Duke decides to keep his parents on the premises. He tells Bruce that no matter what his parents say, the truth is that they love him, and he can take it. And Bruce smiles.

Because even though Bruce was the one who suggested moving his parents away - even though he may want Duke to be in his family - he loves Duke because he would never let his parents be moved. Through all of the symbols they make out of each other, all of the slippery definitions of fatherhood, friendship, and mentorship, they are two people who fundamentally get each other. Duke gets where Bruce is coming from with Harvey, and Bruce gets what Duke needs (with the daytime, with the Outsiders, with finding his mom).

The best Bruce-Duke moments are layered with an intimacy that isn't necessarily familial, but is also not strictly teacher-student. They've grown close, but they are also still independent of each other - and though I don't think either of them will ever fully say what they are, that's not so important. They may never be fully free of the uncertainty that underlies their relationship, but they love each other, and the indefinability of their love doesn't make it any less strong.

[sunlightpassingthroughthewater]

Name:

Caliathmo Culaari

Full name:

Caliathmo 'len Curwe Thelantaril Riltiiwen ata' Aldaril Talicar Vallanya Cal' Culaari

Alias:

Haeliata (when corresponding with members of the Beautiful)

Birthplace:

Mathiisen, Auridon, Summerset

Date of Birth:

16th of Frostfall, 4E 141

Affiliations:

The Beautiful (an anti-thalmor resistance group). The Thalmor (undercover in its intelligence branch as an agent) Clan Culaari (a once prosperous noble clan from Auridon)

Background:

Caliathmo's father, Aldaril, was a battlemage in the Imperial Legion when Summerset was still a province of the Empire. After fighting in the Oblivion Crisis - wherein he was stationed in Ald'ruhn in Morrowind - Aldaril chose to retire and lead a quiet life as a fisherman in the coastal town of Mathiisen. This is where Aldaril would meet Caliathmo's mother, Curwe, and where Caliathmo and his younger brother, Tilaandil, would be born and raised. Curwe was a member clan Culaari, a family that once had strong ties to Summerset's navy. Following the thalmor's rise to power, the Culaari clan was destroyed and had it's lands seized due to it's loyalty to both the Empire and Summerset's royal family. Curwe was a young woman when this happened and was forced to go into hiding. With most of her family either murdered, imprisoned or scattered, she had little choice but to live a humble life of a commoner. Curwe had a passion for designing clothes and was therefore able to use her skills to find work as a semestress. Both Aldaril and Curwe would go on to join the Beautiful, a group dedicated to overthrowing the Thalmor. They would try to keep their sons out of it for their own safety, but that proved difficult as Caliathmo and Tilaandil grew older and started asking questions. Caliathmo grew up captivated by tales of his father's time in the Legion, which brought him all across Tamriel during his 60 years of service. He was told tales of the various cultures and philosophies Aldaril had encountered. This gave Caliathmo a deep interest in the world outside of Summerset and instilled in him a sceptisim towards the rigid worldview of the Thalmor and their propaganda. At the age of 16, Caliathmo would find out about his parents involvement in the Beautiful. At age 18, he would - to the dismay of both his parents - go on to enrol at the Thalmor academy. Not out of a genuine belief in what they stood for, but with aims of undermining them from the inside. The Beautiful were always in need of extra eyes and ears that could be trusted to relay information back to them concerning the inner workings of the Thalmor. Caliathmo was sick of talking about the past and a hypothetical future, he wanted to take action. He was unaware, however, just how much this decision would cost him and those around him. During his time at the academy, Caliathmo would meet Quenanya, his future wife - who he would introduce to the Beautiful - although they wouldn't actually get into a relationship until after the Great War, a decade later. A war in which he served, gathering intelligence for the Dominion whilst at the same time passing on vital information to the Beautiful. His participation in the great war (and the war between the Dominion and Hammerfel that occured afterwards) left him with both physical and mental scars. He also felt deeply conflicted at having to fight against the Empire, an Empire his father used to speak highly of and spent much of his life defending.

[ohcorny]

How I Made the Colors in Hunger's Bite So Good

first of all: buy my book. buy it and look at the colors. (if you cannot buy the book, ask for it at your local library or i GUESS you can look at these spreads i posted)

we're gonna talk about colors, but more specifically we're going to talk about overlays. if you're an artist you are probably familiar with overlays. we love our overlays. we love to color a picture and then at the very last minute go 'hm. looks bad. i'm going to put a yellowish overlay on it to make it look less bad :)'

do not do this.

i mean you can, and it'll work sometimes, but all you're really doing is tricking your brain into thinking different is better. you've been staring at the image for potentially several hours. none of the choices you made at the beginning mean anything to you anymore. you're just finishing what you started. one of the big reasons you might look at your art and go 'man, this doesn't look that good' is because You drew it and are intimately familiar with it. you know all the flaws and mistakes because You made them and You know what your vision was. one of the great frustrations with art is that the piece in your head doesn't look like something you actually made. you want it to look like somebody else did it, so you can enjoy it as a viewer, not as the creator.

so when you put that overlay on, and suddenly the image looks very different, your brain will go 'this doesn't look like the thing i've been staring at for 2-3 hours! this is different! now it's good!'

and again, sometimes it Is good. but do you actually understand why it's good? or is it just different?

okay so what am i supposed to do smart guy

i'm glad you asked. the trick to making overlays work is to have them on from the start. this requires knowing what mood you want to convey in your scene from the very beginning. hopefully you know what mood you want to convey. you do, right? and i don't just mean happy or sad, i also mean safe, threatened, familiar, strange, soft and harsh. blue is not always sad. green is not always healthy. yellow/orange are not the only way to convey a companionable warmth.

okay did you pick the mood? do you have an idea of what color you want to use to represent that mood? great. i'm gonna use blue to convey the cool, clean white of a ship's maintenance corridor without making things literally white. and i'm going to stick in two characters whose color palettes consist of bright yellow, brown, and wine red. awesome. i definitely know how those colors would behave under blue lighting.

(here's the thing: no i don't.) this is where a gradient map correction layer comes in. i want my page to be Blue. alright. let's make a gradient map that's Blue.

a gradient map is basically just A Gradient with specific colors connected to specific values. you have your darkest values on the left, and your lighter values on the right. at 100% opacity, this gradient map layer will read the value of anything below it and go 'okay this bit is this dark, so it should be This shade of blue. and this bit is this light, so it should be This shade of blue'.

kind of like a hue or color layer except determined by a gradient rather than one color, so it could also go 'this is light, so it's green' and 'this is dark, so it's purple'. it's math. i don't really get it either. but anyway this is probably not what you want if you want your characters' palettes to be recognizable. emery's sweater is supposed to be a wine red! neeta's skin should be brown, and her shirt should be yellow. these are their Key Colors. generally, i want them to be recognizable. so let's lower that opacity down.

nice! you can definitely now see that emery's sweater is red and neeta's shirt is yellow. and everything is relatively balanced. nothing is too saturated, nothing is significantly brighter than anything else. it's all got a little bit of blue in it. but i've skipped the step of actually picking your colors. because here's the thing with gradient maps.

they hate you and want to fight. when working with gradient maps you must imagine there is a monkey sitting on your shoulder dumping paint in every time you pick a color. the monkey has a tube of blue and he is going to put that blue into everything you paint, but it's not normal paint. it doesn't mix, it overtakes. it won't turn something yellow into green, it will turn it blue. it wants everything to be blue. if you want something to look like the color it's supposed to be, you will have to make it extremely saturated under the layer to essentially fight the paint monkey's blue. hence, emery's sweater is a BRIGHT red, so it will look a little more purpley under the blue. and neeta's skin is very orange, so it can be dulled down into a soft brown.

this is the sort of thing you will have to learn by feel, because it will be different with every gradient map, especially if you start getting into weird ones that aren't monochromatic. you want to know one of my favorite maps to use?

i have memorized where on the value scale all of these colors appear. i can color something using only shades of gray when i have this filter on. i am evolved. if you want to use gradient maps effectively, you'll have to get a lot of practice.

anyway this post got really long and i'm about to go to a movie so i'll talk about how to use screen/multiply/overlay layers later. but gradient maps are the main tool i used to make hunger's bite's palettes so unified across scenes. but you can see way above how they work to turn insane saturated colors into the nice harmonies--and the trick is that i'll never see those saturated colors while i'm working. because i have accepted the paint pouring monkey into my heart, and i trust him. except when i'm coloring wick's coat. holy mother of god every gradient map hated that man's purple coat.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Cosmic Experimentation

Author's Note: @angelesca 's post has been living rent free in my head ever since I read it. I've wanted to write something for Anaxagoras, but I couldn't figure out what to write. And now I have the best inspiration, thanks to her HCs 😚 (I'm thinking about writing a part 2 where we finger his chest hole too–)

Pairings: Anaxagoras x male reader

Warnings: Dom male!reader, sub!Anaxa, fingering unusual holes, slight thigh humping, dacryphilia

“Are you sure about this? You really don't have to you kn–”

“No — I… I'm certain that I want to do this.” Anaxagoras takes an unsteady breath before he adds, “I trust you. I trust that you will be gentle and cautious.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as well before giving Anaxa's waist a light squeeze. Then, you raise one hand up to his face, cupping his left cheek. The warmth from your palm seeps into his skin, bringing about a bit of comfort — enough to bring a small smile to his lips.

Anaxagoras' eye flutters shut at the gentleness of your touch. The ornate eye patch covering the left side of his face keeps your attention, it's chain swaying gently whenever Anaxa's head moves. Your other hand remains on his hip, holding him steady while he sits comfortably in your lap, straddling your thigh.

It's another full minute of staying as you are, lost in this peaceful moment, before you trace the underside of Anaxa's eye patch. Gently slipping a finger underneath and lifting it slightly, only to pause when your partner shudders. “Sweetie?” you prod, afraid that this area is more sensitive than he led you to believe.

“Keep going–” he reassures, holding onto your wrist now, almost as a guiding hand. You hesitate, but ultimately give in and continue reaching upwards until your fingers reach a new sensation. Anaxagoras' breath hitches, his lips pressing together tighter as you explore this new territory. It doesn't feel like skin anymore — it's damp to the touch, and somewhat cold.

Your eyes flick to your partner's gaze; he's watching you with bated breath, predicting that you'll penetrate this spot any second now. Proving him right, you apply pressure, dipping your finger into that cool, unseen space hidden under his eye patch. Anaxagoras catches a moan before it can fully exit his throat. He gulps, digging his nails into your wrist while his other hand flies to your shoulder for stability.

“‘Sensitive’, huh? It seems you were right about that.” you tease. Anaxa can't even muster a retort as you push in a little deeper, then begin to pull your finger back out, repeating the motion idly. “Do you think you can handle two fingers?”

At this, Anaxa's eye widens, and you can instantly see the blood rush to his soft cheeks. He glares at you, but makes no argument against your question. So, you decide to find out for yourself. And the result is instantaneous: an unrestrained moan forces its way out of your pretty boyfriend. All the while, his hips jut forward, dragging his clothed cock along your thigh. The action is not missed by either one of you; while it only causes him to flush an even deeper shade of red, it brings a smirk to your lips as you understand why your partner wanted to do this in a secluded area.

Several minutes pass, filled with Anaxagoras making all sorts of reserved breathy noises. The space where your fingers reside is still a mystery to you, though one thing is for sure: future experimentation is required in order to find out the best way to bring out all of Anaxa's beautiful moans and whimpers.

The sudden realization of a wet spot on your thigh brings you out of your thoughts, and you direct your gaze to where your partner has been humping you, apparently. His hips move of their own accord, spreading a wetness that has quickly soaked through his clothing. You're sure that Anaxa doesn't even realize that he's doing it, which makes it all the more adorable.

“It must feel incredible…” you murmur. Your gaze is fixed on the growing wet spot between his legs, highlighting the very obvious bulge nestled there as well. As you thrust your fingers in a bit deeper, and more forcefully, Anaxagoras clutches your shoulder tighter, letting his mouth hang open and spill every noise without restraint now. Tears fill his right eye, beginning to run down his cheek. You grip his waist a little tighter, pulling Anaxa closer and accidentally causing his dick to grind against your thigh. An action that has shivers crawling up your partner's spine.

Anaxagoras pleads in the sweetest voice, “Please…it's– hnngh!! It's warm…haaah…and hard to breathe…” Another moan escapes as you curl your fingers deeply, making your boyfriend arch his back. “C-can't…take much mo-ore…”

“Tell me what you need, my love. What do you need me to do?” you ask in a gentle tone.

Rolling his hips against your thigh, Anaxagoras shudders once more, crying “Don't stop moving them–”

Immediately, you understand what he means. You pump your fingers in and out of Anaxa's cosmic orifice, and it makes little squelching sounds as you do. His voice wavers, going up an octave as he draws closer to his release. All of Anaxa's clothing feels too tight, as if his collar is constricting around his throat, and the back of his shirt clings to his skin as a layer of sweat forms. His chest hurts with how heavily he's been breathing for the past few minutes.

Something in Anaxagoras' core burns with searing pleasure, and the tension that has been building finally snaps as you coo at your partner to “Let it all out~”. His vision is blinded by white static, and his hips thrust forward a few times before his entire body goes lax.

“Aahh…aah~” your boyfriend heaves, exhaling harshly as the aftermath of his orgasm shakes his body and mind. You're quick to kiss Anaxa's cheek where tears had previously run down, holding him tightly since you could tell how weak he was in his current state. Soaking in every last whimper from your ruined boyfriend, you rub the small of his back while you tell him how pretty he looks. Earning yourself a halfhearted glare as a result.

You slowly remove your fingers from underneath his eye patch, eyeing them curiously as they're coated in a viscous blue substance. Before you can stare at it for too long, Anaxa weakly grasps your wrist again, putting your fingers in his mouth and sucking on them in an uncharacteristically lewd display. With his eye still glazed over, Anaxa stares at you like you're his entire universe (and, let's be honest, you are). His tongue swirls around your digits, cleaning them of that blueish fluid until they're practically sparkling, releasing your fingers with a wet pop.

“Well aren't we thoughtful?” you tease, swiping some spit from the corner of your partner's mouth. A content grin plasters itself onto Anaxagoras' face, and he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, taking in more of your warmth as it radiates off of your skin.

Absentmindedly, you rest your hand on his chest, rubbing it affectionately until something clicks in your head…

“Hey, Anaxagoras?”

“Hm?” he hums, not pulling away quite yet.

“This mark, is this what the one under there looks like?” you trace the outline of the cosmic design in the center of his chest, outlined with silver.

Without opening his eye or moving a muscle, Anaxagoras responds, “It is.”

You continue running your finger along the edges of this area. “Does it function the same way too?”

Now Anaxa does pull back, squinting at you cautiously. “It does…why?” And you know very well that the smirk playing on your lips has caught his attention.

No words are needed as you glance at the pattern on his chest, then up to your partner's gaze, then back to his chest, and to his gaze once more, raising your eyebrows knowingly.

The deepest blush spreads across the scholar's face, followed by a gasp. “You…!!”

[pedroscurls]

letters across time (one-shot)

summary: after having moved to rome for a fresh new start, you begin to receive letters from an unlikely stranger that you begin to develop feelings for... only to come to the heartbreaking realization that the two of you may never meet.

pairing: marcus acacius x fem!reader content warnings: angst (with a happy ending), strangers-to-lovers trope (?), mutual pining, mentions of war and death, sorry - i've got a lack of historical ancient roman knowledge but trying my best lol, deviation from the film (lucilla dies before marcus - sorry, wanted marcus to be single / widowed which only fuels his hatred for the emperors), reader has a nickname (rose), excuse my poor attempt at speaking italian, no use of y/n. word count: 9.4k a/n: so i'm really stepping out of my comfort zone with this one, but i've been obsessed with marcus a since gladiator 2 came out (and honestly who else hasn't lol). also a bit of a tidbit - my first ever tattoo is with the latin saying ad maiora so i had to fit it into this story hehe. if the characterization seems off or if the historical aspect of ancient rome / dialogue is inaccurate, please bear with me - it's my first ever marcus a fic and first time writing in that time period... anyway, huge thank you to @jolapeno for hosting this "dear-uary" challenge <3. my epistolary is letters and my prompt is here. hope you all enjoyed this!

Finally settled in, you walk out to your small balcony and take a seat. It overlooks the famous Colosseum and despite the sounds of chatter coming from nearby, you have to wonder how this place looked centuries ago. Rome had always been a place you wanted to visit, but never did you think that you’d move here. 

You don’t speak the language (yet), and the apartment you moved into was surprisingly affordable given the location. An elderly couple owns the small building and when you had approached them about a vacant apartment listing, they were more than eager to have you move in. It wasn’t at all luxurious–the apartment building. It was very dated, remnants of ancient Rome decorated throughout the building. It almost felt like you were transported back to that time period, given the decoration that filled not only your apartment but the entire building itself. 

The couple could speak a little English, asking plenty of questions that a usual landlord wouldn’t ask. 

American? Yes, you answered.

Married? No, you replied with a heavy sigh–memories of your last relationship flickering in your mind. 

A beautiful girl like you, not married? No, you repeated–now trying to end the conversation in hopes that you don’t have to go into detail why you uprooted your entire life into one suitcase. 

You had noticed the way the older woman’s smile drops, can see her eyes softening at the sight of you. It’s almost like she knows, like she can understand why you’re here. She’s the first one to say that you got the apartment–the brief meeting lasting only twenty minutes. 

It’s yours, she said. 

You had told them you weren’t sure you could afford it, given how close it was to the Colosseum and knowing that it was one of the hottest tourist spots. There’s a lot of foot traffic that surrounds this area and you’d be lucky to have found an apartment this fast. 

Whatever you can pay, the husband had chimed in. We will accept.

Then, the woman had touched your arm–gentle, light, almost feather-like and you could have sworn the warmth radiated throughout your entire body. This place, this couple–it felt familiar, it felt like home. 

You nodded in agreement and you shook hands with the husband before the woman hugged you gently. 

And now, sitting in your new apartment, this didn’t feel real. You still feel like you’re running, like you’re looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But the sun begins to set, the sky soon turns a shade of orange and you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

A flood of relief washes over you.

You’re safe. 

This is your fresh start. 

And you remember what the woman had told you when they had given you the keys to your new apartment: Ad Maiora, cara mia, she whispered, eyes staring into your own. A fleeting gaze of understanding. You asked her what that meant and she smiled, patted your hand and answered, Towards greater things, my dear. 

After finding luck with your apartment, you doubt that your luck would continue. But now, a month later, you have a steady job at a coffee shop that’s within walking distance and the elderly couple–Giovanni and Antonia–have begun teaching you Italian. Most nights, they invite you to their apartment for dinner where they ask you about your day along with a detailed lesson in learning Italian. Some nights, though, they ask you to teach them English–living so close to a famous tourist area, they encounter plenty of Americans and they believe it’d be good for business if they learned how to speak the language. 

Rome starts to feel more like home as the days pass. Giovanni and Antonia have welcomed you with such warmth that they soon find out the reason for you moving here. You told them you left America for a fresh start–having just gotten out of a very toxic relationship and a very meaningless job. You wanted more for yourself and you knew that staying in America was only going to keep you complacent, stagnant. 

Antonia had given you a hug at the end of that night–a hug that you had gotten so used to receiving, a hug that you found so much comfort in. They reminded you so much of your grandparents that had raised you–those were the only good memories that you dreamt of, a time where you could be a young girl again, running around in your grandparents’ home. 

You feel much freer, more at ease, safe now that you feel fully settled in here. And one day after work, you walk up the two flights of stairs to your apartment and unlock your door. There’s an envelope on the hardwood floor–almost like someone had slipped it underneath your door. There’s no writing on it, no name addressed on it, but you pick it up anyway and notice that it isn’t sealed. You set it on your small rounded table and walk to your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine–this is routine for nights when you don’t have dinner with Antonia and Giovanni. 

You take a quick sip of your red wine and then move to your bedroom, removing your clothes to change into much more comfortable clothing–shorts and an oversized crewneck, your hair now pulled into a messy bun. You’re barefoot when you walk back into the kitchen to retrieve your wine glass. As you pass the rounded dining table, you notice the envelope. Someone must have had to slide it underneath your door on purpose, right? 

You take the envelope and then walk out to your balcony, sitting on one of the seats as you set the glass on the small table. Slowly, you pull the letter out of the envelope and open it, the writing in neat cursive. You shouldn’t be reading it, especially if this was meant for someone else. 

Confused but intrigued, you continue to read. 

Lucilla died today. I was not there to bid her goodbye. I had given her a promise–that this campaign will be my last. All of Numidia–for the glory of Rome… all for nothing. Writing this journal entry surely is treacherous–I could be punished for it, but what is the point of it all? This is not Rome. This is not the Rome I had promised to fight for.  Lucilla–I am sorry, my lady. I will love you for the rest of my days and cannot wait until we meet again. Your blue eyes, your smile… Your laugh and your voice–I will carry it with me, my love. I will speak with the Senate. I will–I will do what is right, what must be done.  For you. For Rome.  Acacius

You’re unsure of what you just read. Lucilla. Numidia. Acacius. Rome. It almost seems like this is a journal entry–the feel of the paper, the cursive writing. Maybe you shouldn’t have read it, but you’re curious. Something inside you tells you to write back–almost like a tug, a pull that you feel in the pit of your stomach. So, you grab a piece of paper and a pen and begin writing–not in cursive, though.

Dear Acacius,  I’m so very sorry for your loss. I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can say to make things better and I’m not even sure if time helps either… Shit happens. It sucks, and I want to say that life goes on, but it doesn’t. At least not for the person who lives.  I lost my grandparents when I was eighteen–it crushed my entire world and set me on a path that I’m still trying to fix. I know this isn’t the same as losing a wife or a partner and I’m not even sure if I’m making any sense. I just–I know what loss feels like and it fucking sucks.  Anyway, I think this might have been sent to me by accident and I’m sorry that I opened it and read it. It wasn’t my intention. So, I’m just gonna send it back to you–somehow–but… I hope things get better for you, Acacius (really cool name, by the way!).  Best wishes,  A stranger

You fold your letter and place it into the envelope with Acacius’s original piece of paper. You then close the envelope, grab your glass of wine and walk back into your apartment, setting the envelope onto your dining table so that it’s visible for you tomorrow morning to ask Antonia about. 

The following morning after getting ready for work, you notice that the envelope is gone. You furrow a brow in confusion, beginning to turn over your entire apartment to find the envelope–contents of your letter along with Acacius’s journal entry inside of it. When you realize that you’re late for work, you decide to call in sick and quickly leave your apartment to descend the stairs to speak with Antonia. 

She’s in the community garden, tending to the roses and when she sees you, a bright grin lines her lips. She stands and pulls you into a hug without hesitation. 

“Cara mia, no work today?” 

You shake your head and ask, “Antonia, there was an envelope in my apartment last night. Do you know who might have slid it under my door?” 

“Envelope?” she shakes her head, confusion written across her features. “Like a letter?” 

“Well, not really?” you answer. “It seemed like a journal entry. They talked about Lucilla, about Numidia–”

“Lucilla? My dear, she was the daughter of Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius.”

“Wait, that was centuries ago.” 

Antonia nods. “And Numidia,” she sighs. “So very tragic.”

“Antonia, who’s Acacius?” 

“General Acacius?”

“G–General?”

“Cara mia, cosa sta succedendo?” asks Antonia. My dear, what’s going on?

You shake your head. “Nothing. Um, I’ll have to skip tonight’s dinner with you and Giovanni. Mi dispiace.” 

“Cara mia–”

You give her a hug and walk back inside your apartment, determined to find out more about Acacius. 

Marcus returns to his chambers, distraught and overcome with grief. His bed–once shared with Lucilla–now remains cold and empty. He can’t bring himself to lie in bed, yearning for his wife who is no longer alive. After Numidia, he was more than ready to return home–returning home meant returning to Lucilla, but when news of her death finally reached him, he no longer found the need to go back to Rome, despite the emperors’ orders. 

But Marcus was a man of honor. He would ask Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla for a period of rest from war, to fully grieve the loss of Lucilla. He can’t even think about attending the emperors’ ceremony that’s dedicated to his success in Numidia–how can he when Lucilla is no longer here? 

He hears a knock on the door and he walks–barefoot–to open it. He sees a chambermaid on the other side–she has a look of sympathy across her features with a hint of fear. 

“G–General,” she mutters. “There is a letter for you.” 

“A letter?” he asks, confused.

She nods and extends her hand. Marcus takes the envelope from her and gives her a single nod, dismissing her silently. She turns on her heel and Marcus shuts the door, walking towards the candle that illuminates a small table. He takes a seat, pours himself a cup of wine before he begins to open it. He holds two pieces of a paper–one he’s familiar with and when he opens it, he realizes it’s the journal entry that he had written–and the other, much more smooth, less texture, more white in color. When he opens it, his eyes widen at the writing–all capitalized, not written in cursive. 

He reads the first line and realizes that this is a letter to him. He reads it with interest, eyes still slightly widened at the choice of words that he’s not used to. 

Shit sucks. 

Cool name.

It’s signed A Stranger and he isn’t sure how his journal entry even got into the hands of someone else. He doesn’t have any information aside from the fact that your writing is unusual and the words you use are out of the ordinary. 

But, he finds comfort in your letter. He’s known loss before–plenty of his men understand what he’s going through–but somehow talking to a stranger who doesn’t truly know who he is provides a sense of relief. He doesn’t have to be General Acacius in his response to you–he can just be Marcus. 

So, he grabs a piece of paper and his quill and begins writing to you. 

Dear Stranger,  Thank you for returning my journal entry. I am not sure how that fell into your hands and it is quite alright that you read it. However, for some reason, I feel some relief knowing that I am not alone. Maybe my journal entry was meant to find you… Do you believe in that? In fate?  Anyway, I am sorry for your loss as well. Loss is… Well, it is a part of life but that does not mean that it is pleasant either. I am sure the path that you are on now will lead you to greater things. There is a saying–if you are familiar–Ad Maiora. It means towards greater things.  Also, what do you mean by ‘cool name’? It is quite interesting that my name is associated with some kind of temperature… unless I am misunderstanding.  In any case, you may call me Marcus. If you are comfortable, may I ask what your name is?  I hope this letter finds you well, stranger. And I hope I get to talk to you again.  Best wishes,  Marcus

He re-reads his letter, furrows a brow and sighs. It sounds desperate–a plea to get you to talk to him again because he feels less alone when he’s writing to you. He isn’t sure how this letter will get to you, but he keeps his journal entry and your letter and places his reply back into the envelope. 

Marcus spends the better part of his night drinking, having ended up falling asleep at his desk and the envelope magically disappearing by the time he awakes the following morning. 

You awake the following morning, having fallen asleep on your couch with your laptop and notebook scattered on the coffee table. You had spent the entire night researching Acacius. Antonia was right–Marcus Acacius was a General for the Roman empire, serving under the rule of Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. Empress Lucilla was his wife, but had died while he was on his way back from Numidia. But all of this–it happened centuries ago. 211 AD. And Acacius ended up dying–right in the center of the Colosseum after he was forced to fight in the arena after the emperors found out his plan of treachery. 

There’s no way that the person you had written to the other day was the same man you had researched–he was dead. Surely, you can’t be writing to someone from a different time period and to someone who is no longer alive. Right? 

You sit up from your couch and notice the same envelope magically resting on your coffee table. Quickly, you grab it and pull the letter out. Same paper, same writing. 

It’s from Acacius. 

You read it quickly, a small smile lining your lips and a quiet giggle escaping you. You feel a wave of emotion when you read his reply; it’s obvious this man is clearly still alive but how could it be possible that you’re communicating with someone who lives in an entirely different time period? And how come the envelope is your only string tying you to him? 

After you finish reading his letter, you grab your notebook and pen and begin writing your reply. 

Dear Marcus,  You can call me Rose. It’s my favorite flower and I grew up helping my grandma with her garden, which was filled with roses.  You’re cute, Marcus. Cool name meaning… You have a nice name. I think that translates the same?  Ironically enough, Ad Maiora is something I’m trying to remind myself when I have tough days. A good friend of mine mentioned it to me when I moved here. It’s been something that keeps me going every day… the hope that I’m moving in the right direction.  And fate… I don’t think I believe in it. We all have free will and everything we do in life is a choice we make… like my choice in getting into a relationship with a really bad man. Would you call that fate?  I like talking to you too… and I feel less alone too. Can I ask a question, by the way? What year is it?  Best wishes,  Rose

You take Marcus’s letter and set it aside, folding your reply and placing it back into the envelope. You’re sure that it’s going to disappear during the night and you hope that you can wake up the next day with a response from Marcus. 

Marcus attends his ceremony, dressed in white and gold as he feigns a look of pride, a forced smile when he’s standing in front of Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. It makes his blood boil–the fact that these two young men are parading him around like he’s done something so great, so grand. All he can see is the unnecessary bloodshed, the bodies burning in that pit. All he can feel is the emptiness in his soul–Marcus doesn’t want to be here. 

And not once did they give their condolences over the loss of Lucilla. Marcus asks for a respite from this war, but they don’t grant him that luxury. He has a cut along the side of his neck due to Emperor Geta placing a sharp blade along his skin. As soon as the ceremony is over, Marcus retreats to his chamber where the envelope that disappeared that morning magically appears on his desk. 

Still in his white and gold attire, he quickly opens the envelope and reads your letter. He lets out a breath of relief as he sits down and reads your words over and over again. It gives him comfort–something he desperately needs right now. 

There’s something in the way your words put him at ease. He still has to put Lucilla to rest and he isn’t looking forward to it–that the next time he sees his wife will be in a coffin. 

He grabs a piece of paper and begins writing to you. 

Dear Rose,  That is a beautiful name and a beautiful flower. There are gardens filled with them here. Now, when I see a rose, I will think of you.  Cute–I have never been called cute before. That is certainly a first, thank you.  I believe in fate, Rose. I believe that everything happens for a reason… But I am sorry to hear that you had to endure a difficult relationship. It pains me to hear that you were mistreated and I surely hope that you are far from him now.  I believe that we have crossed paths for a reason. Maybe we will never know why, but I am surely glad that we did.  You can ask me any question you like and I will be more than happy to answer. It is 211 AD–do you not know the year? Also, I assume that you live in Rome since these letters are coming rather quickly.  The next few days will be… rather difficult. I am planned to bury my wife and I am not sure if I will be available to reply, but if you send me a response… I will do my best to write to you when I can.  I am not looking forward to saying goodbye to Lucilla. She was an amazing woman. She had to sacrifice a lot in her life–she was very brave, strong, resilient… I should have been there at her bedside. I should have held her hand when she took her last breath…  I failed Lucilla.  What kind of man does that make me?  If you choose to never respond after this letter, I understand. I just–there’s something in the way your words bring me comfort, puts me at ease, gives me a sense of relief… Anyway, I must go now. Until we speak again, Rose.  Best wishes,  Marcus 

He folds his letter and puts it back in the envelope, ensuring this time that he passes it along to the chambermaid. 

Later that night, you come home after having spent dinner with Antonia and Giovanni. You’re welcomed with the sight of the envelope sitting neatly on your dining table. You set your things down immediately and grab the envelope, taking the letter out and sitting down on the couch. 

Your heart breaks slowly as you read Marcus’s letter. You can feel his guilt through the words on the page and when he confirms the year he’s living in, it all but crushes you. This is a man that you’re slowly developing a friendship with and you know that it isn’t going to last long. 

As you continue to read his letter, you feel tears sting your eyes. So, you don’t hesitate to begin writing your response back to him. 

Dear Marcus,  With you, I’m starting to believe in fate. Would you believe me if I said the year I live in is 2025? I’m not sure how to explain how we’re able to exchange letters from different time periods, but… here we are. It’s possible. I just don’t have an explanation for it.  I can assure you that I am no longer in a relationship with that man and I am very much far from him. I moved to Rome about a month ago and I love it here. I can see the Colosseum from my balcony.  I’m sorry that the next few days will be difficult. I can’t imagine the pain that you’re feeling–losing the one person you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with. Lucilla sounded like a great woman, Marcus. I know saying sorry doesn’t change anything, but I don’t know if there’s even anything I can say to make things better.  I’m sure Lucilla knew… I’m sure she knew that you did your best to get to her. I’m sure she knew that you wanted to be there with her…  And you know, maybe you don’t have to say goodbye. The ones we love don’t ever really leave us, do they? We continue living to keep their memory alive.  You didn’t fail, Marcus. Sometimes, things happen out of our control. Not being there for her at the end isn’t a reflection of who you are as a person, or as a husband. I’m willing to bet that if you had it your way, you’d have been there for her. Maybe wherever you were… you wouldn’t have gone if you had a choice.  Finally, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, sorry.  I hope the next few days give you some closure, Marcus, and when you’re ready, I’ll be right here waiting.  Best wishes,  Rose 

You take his letter and put it on the pile you’ve collected before you place your reply back into the envelope. You turn your back for a moment to grab a glass of water and when you turn back around, the envelope is gone. 

Marcus awakes that morning to the sight of the envelope. He can’t explain how it just vanishes and reappears out of thin air on his desk. He pulls your letter out of the envelope and reads what you have written. 

2025? Surely, that’s a lie. There is no way he’s exchanging letters with someone centuries into the future. He has to wonder if this is some sort of joke, if maybe the emperors put someone up to this. As he continues reading though, he feels tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over. Your words–it provides a sensation of warmth that blossoms in his chest. He wants to believe you, wants to believe that he’s a good man. 

Marcus rereads your last sentence repeatedly, commits it to memory as he begins thinking of what he has to do today. 

I’ll be right here waiting. 

He doesn’t have time at the moment to write you back, so he keeps the envelope and letter separate from each other. He takes one last look at your letter before he leaves his chamber. 

The next few days, you’re anticipating a response from Marcus. He did warn you that he wouldn’t write back until he’s able, but you still can’t help the disappointment you feel when the envelope doesn’t appear for the next few days. Antonia and Giovanni notice a change in your demeanor since you’ve been receiving the letters–they notice the excitement in your eyes, a much freer spirit, but you tell them it’s because you’re finally feeling more and more comfortable here in Rome. 

You learn more about Marcus through your research and you try to find someone who can explain the phenomenon that you’re experiencing. How is it possible that you’re communicating with a man from a different time period? Sure, there are theories about time travel but that never felt real to you. 

At the end of the week, you’re already getting anxious. It’s been four days since Marcus’s letter. You have to wonder what he’s doing, how he’s doing. You know how his life ends, and you have to wonder what would happen if you told him. That would change so many things, right? It would not only change history, but it would ultimately change the trajectory of how the world is now. 

On the fifth day, Marcus is exhausted. Saying goodbye to Lucilla had only fueled his anger for the emperors. He has a plan in place and he knows what end he will meet if he gets caught, but at this point, he has nothing else to lose. 

After he buries Lucilla, he finds some time to ask around if anyone knew a woman named Rose. When someone would respond with a nod, there’s a flutter of excitement that he feels in the pit of his stomach but he’s left disappointed every time. Every Rose he’s met so far has no idea of the letters and he’s starting to believe that maybe you do live in the future–centuries into the future. It leaves him with an unsettling sensation in his chest, a sad reality that there’s a likely possibility that Marcus will never get to meet you. 

Now, he finally has some time alone. So, Marcus sits at his desk, rereads your letter once more before he takes his usual paper and quill out to begin writing a response to you. 

Dear Rose,  I am sorry for the delay in my response. The last five days have been very difficult for me, but every time I saw a rose… I thought of you and it brought me a lot of comfort that I did not realize I needed.  I want to express my gratitude to you, Rose. Your last letter–I kept it close to me at all times during the last few days here. Somehow, knowing that you’re waiting for me helped me get through each day… and knowing that I get to write to you again helped me through the difficult moments I endured. Ad Maiora, I suppose. Towards greater things… and I think that greater thing is you.  I buried Lucilla yesterday. She still looked so beautiful, but she looked… peaceful. She endured a lot of hardship in her life and there is some comfort that I feel knowing she’s no longer in pain. She no longer needs to fight… and I believe you are right. The ones we love do not ever leave us. We keep their memory alive and Lucilla will always hold a special place in my heart.  I must be completely honest with you, Rose. I am the General of the Roman army. I have a lot of blood on my hands… all for the glory of Rome, but you are right. If I had a choice, I would have been by Lucilla’s side from the start. I am conflicted… It is difficult to fight for this version of Rome. So much bloodshed, so many lives lost… all for nothing. I should not be writing this–it is certainly punishable, but I am exhausted, Rose.  If you do live in 2025–which does not seem possible–how does Rome look like then? You say you moved to Rome. Are you happy here? I also tried to look for you. Asked around about you, but I did not get anywhere. There isn’t anyone by the name of Rose that knows about these letters. Do you really live in 2025?  Lastly, tell me more about you. I want to spend as much time as I have getting to know you, Rose. I hope that is okay.  Best wishes,  Marcus 

He folds his response and places it into the envelope. Right before his eyes, it suddenly vanishes and Marcus is sure that he must be hallucinating. He’s exhausted and hasn’t had much sleep since he’s gotten back, but he has no other explanation for it. 

You awake the following morning to see the envelope on your coffee table. Excitement fills your veins and you quickly walk over to the envelope, carefully taking the familiar piece of a paper out. You begin to realize the letters you have begun exchanging with Marcus are becoming longer and longer–it brings a smile to your face and heat rising in your cheeks. 

You sit on the couch, pull your legs underneath you and grab the blanket to drape over your lap as you finally read Marcus’s letter. He thought of you–the last five days and he thought of you. When he finally tells you the truth about who he is, you feel a sense of relief. You had been afraid that you’d accidentally let it slip that you know who he is, despite already telling him that you live in the future. 

The last sentence in his letter brings you back to reality. You feel the pit in your stomach drop at the realization that this is as far as you’ll ever get with him. Sooner or later, this letters will end but you can’t help the feelings you’ve begun to develop for a man you will never meet. 

I want to spend as much time as I have getting to know you, Rose. 

It’s almost like he knows what will happen to himself–maybe he knows that the plan he eventually comes up with is a death sentence once the emperors find out. 

You know you shouldn’t get attached, but you get your notebook and pen and write back to him anyway. 

Dear Marcus,  I must say, it’s such a relief to hear from you. I wish I could have been there for you, with you… supporting you. If I’m being honest, it’s hard to hear that you’re going through a difficult time. Makes me want to go back into time and pull you into a hug. Do you think that’s possible? Time travel?  You sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you? You make me blush sometimes with the things you say. Are you sure you’re real? A lot of the men here certainly don’t talk like you do–you can definitely teach them a thing or two.  I'm starting to think our saying is Ad Maiora, isn’t it? Moving to Rome led me toward a greater thing… one after the other, and it finally led me to you. I’d say that’s fate, wouldn’t you?  And General Marcus Acacius–sounds so formal, so official. You must be very important, aren’t you? Like I said, I wish I could pull you into a hug. I hope, at least, knowing that I’m here to listen is enough though. Also, if talking about this is punishable, then maybe we should be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you… Yes, I live in the year 2025. I’d be surprised if someone lied to you and said they knew about the letters we’ve been exchanging. Rome is… different than what you’re used to. There are no emperors. The colosseum is no longer in use–there aren’t anymore gladiators. I’ll attach a photograph of me and my balcony, maybe it’ll help you believe me.  Well, what do you want to know? I’m an open book, Marcus. Ask away.  Can’t wait to hear from you again. I have missed you.  Love,  Rose 

You sign the letter without thinking, but you don’t bother to change it or rewrite it after you realize the word you used. You hope it isn’t too forward or too insensitive. You grab your Polaroid camera and quickly walk out to your balcony. You face the camera to yourself and smile, pressing the button to take the picture. Once it develops, you go back inside and fold your letter. After a few minutes, the Polaroid develops and you look down. It’s a good picture and gives a good view of the colosseum in the background. 

Placing the letter and the Polaroid into the envelope, you close it and surprisingly see the envelope disappear. 

“So it is real,” you whisper to yourself, a smile lining your lips as you already begin counting down the time before you receive a reply from Marcus. 

Later that same night, Marcus sees the envelope on his desk as he gets ready for bed. He sits down instantly at his desk and uses his candle to illuminate your writing. 

But he sees the Polaroid and takes it out of the envelope. Marcus lets out a quiet breath when he sees you. He isn’t sure what exactly he’s holding or how this managed to capture a realistic photograph of you but he’s distracted by your beauty to even notice the colosseum in the back. He’s still reeling over Lucilla’s death, but there’s something in the way your smile and your bright eyes somehow puts him at ease. 

“My lady,” he mumbles. “Lucilla, if you can hear me, please forgive me. This woman–She is helping me through this, through your loss.” Marcus shuts his eyes, guilt and desire mixing together. Guilt because he’s still dealing with the grief of losing Lucilla, and desire because you are absolutely stunning. Marcus isn’t even surprised–this is exactly how he pictured you when you began exchanging letters with him. 

Marcus turns his gaze to your letter, but his eyes flicker to your picture repeatedly. You really do live in the future and you will always be so out of reach. 

Then, he sees the word you sign your letter with. A warmth washes over him. His lips curl upwards just slightly and he begins to write. 

Dear Rose,  This–This picture, it is you, yes? I cannot explain how something like this exists, so it must be true that you do live in the future. So far into the future.  But you are breathtaking, Rose. Absolutely beautiful. Your smile and your eyes… there’s a kindness and warmth to them. The man you had been in a relationship with before truly did not realize what he had because any man would be lucky to have you.  The colosseum in your photograph–it looks old. If what you say is true, no gladiators and no emperors, then can I ask… is your world a better place than what it is here? I think I will dream of this, of you, of a different life. This is not to say the life I currently have or have led is not great, but a man can still dream, right?  A hug from you sounds very nice. I imagine that I would feel even more at peace with my arms around you. I am not too sure about time travel, but if these letters are any proof of what’s possible, then maybe time traveling is too. Though, if anyone is doing the time traveling, I would rather it be me. I do not want you to be in this time period here, Rose. I do not want you to be around such men because there are bad men here too. Maybe more worse here than there.  If I may be honest… I cannot stop looking at you. I believe I’m going to keep this very close to me from now on. I am sorry that I cannot provide the same type of picture of myself–we do not have this here… but maybe I can think of something else…  An open book, hm? Well, I know your favorite flower. I know that you are starting fresh here in Rome… I suppose I should ask what do you like to do then? If you are living in the future, what is there to do?  I am unsure if you have experienced this yet, but this envelope… it seems to be the reason why we are able to exchange letters. It vanished before my eyes the other day, Rose. I cannot explain how or why that happened, but maybe this is fate. Exchanging letters across time sounds impossible, but for some reason, the Gods wanted us to meet. That sounds like fate to me.  I will wait for your next letter, Rose, and I have missed you too.  Until then.  Love,  Marcus

He quickly folds the piece of paper and gently slides it into the envelope, not bothering to wait for it to disappear because his attention is pulled to your photograph. He brushes his thumb across it gently–wishing you were here. 

The following morning, you’re awake far too early but excitement fills your entire body when you see the envelope sitting on your dining table. You make a cup of coffee and open it, having grown accustomed to Marcus’s neat cursive. You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks when he compliments you, can feel the butterflies in your tummy. 

I think I will dream of this, of you, of a different life. 

You feel your heart tug just a little–the harsh truth that you will never get to meet him becomes more and more real as you continue to exchange letters with him. 

He’s seen it too–the envelope disappearing without a trace. You can’t explain how it’s possible and there is a part of you that no longer wants one. Time travel–there isn’t a way that’s possible and even if it was, how would it even work? 

You grab your notebook and quickly begin writing to him, setting your cup of coffee down. You lift the cup away from the paper, taking note that it left a coffee-stained circle at the top corner of the page. 

Dear Marcus,  You are very sweet… I’m sure there are more pretty women there. I’m just… me.  But Rome… it’s beautiful here. It’s always been a place I wanted to visit. I never did think I would end up moving here and now, I can’t even imagine ever leaving.  Considering your time period, I would say the world now is much better. I think you would like it… it might take some getting used to–it’s so very crowded here, but I think you would like it. I suppose that’s all we will have, isn’t it? Dreaming of a different life… Or maybe I’ll learn how to time travel and bring you here.  I love the beach. I love the water, the sunsets… It’s calming, almost peaceful to me. There’s just something about the sounds of the waves, the feel of the water, the sight of the sky that just puts me at ease. The beach was the one place that I felt like I could get away from everything. It became my safe haven, my safe place…  What about you? General Marcus Acacius–what do you like to do? I have also seen this envelope just disappear. I don’t have an explanation for it either, but maybe you’re right. Maybe there is a reason why we’re able to communicate across time. Do you think we’ll ever get the chance to meet face to face? You know, if I learn time travel…  Sometimes, when I go to bed, I pray that I dream of you. I think it’s the closest I can get to ever meeting you. I imagine what you would look like, what your voice would sound like… How it would feel like to be in your arms. I would assume I’d feel like how I would if I were at the beach–safe, calm, peaceful.  If by some miracle I’m able to time travel, may I come visit you instead? I think it would be much easier for me to go back in time rather than you come here. Some things might change if you were to leave your time period and come to mine… Looking forward to your next letter, Marcus. Love,  Rose

You fold your letter and place it in the envelope, already counting down the hours until you receive Marcus’s reply.

Marcus finally sits at his table after an exhausting day at the colosseum. He doesn’t find the violence entertaining like everyone else. It’s unnecessary and he wants no part of it, but he has to put on a facade for the emperors. He still plans on speaking with the senate, to conjure up a plan to somehow overthrow Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. 

However, he’s conflicted with so many emotions. The grief and loss he feels over Lucilla lingers in his chest, but he feels hopeful–excited whenever he sees the envelope on his desk. If he goes through with his plan and he ends up getting caught, Marcus knows what the consequence will be. He knows that it’s ultimately a death sentence if the emperors find out, but his mind drifts to you whenever he thinks about what his end might be. 

His eyes drift to your picture on his desk, a small smile curling his lips. He dreamt of you last night, after he had written his response to you. He dreamt that he was in your world, somehow lying in a bed with you in his arms. It was the first time since losing Lucilla that he had woken up with a feeling of ease–just dreaming about you brought him that sense of peace. 

Marcus takes your letter out and reads it with a smile. Once he finishes reading, he begins writing back to you. 

Dear Rose,  I dreamt of you last night. The Gods answered me and I dreamt of you. I dreamt that I was in your world, sitting on that balcony in the picture I received from you. I have this image of you–smiling and laughing–ingrained in my mind. It puts me at ease. Talking with you has been my safe haven, I suppose. Things have been difficult here ever since I got back and it’s lonely without Lucilla. I am sorry to bring her up.  These letters have been able to get me through each day. Your picture, too. Lately, I have been dreaming of a different life than the one I am living. I have been a soldier for most of my life, Rose. I do not think there’s a day that has gone by where I have not fought… And it is tiring. The beach sounds like a great place to just get away from it all, I agree. Here, though, I like to go to the gardens. More so now than before. I am usually surrounded by roses and it makes me feel closer to you.  I am ready to retire, Rose. I am ready to spend the rest of my days in quiet–possibly far, far away from Rome. Maybe near a beach, hm? That would certainly be another place where I can be reminded of you.  I will pray to the Gods for a miracle that we get to meet one day. I didn’t think it would be possible to exchange letters with someone from a different time, so maybe being able to meet face to face may not seem so out of reach… I imagine that I would feel safe and calm with you near too.  Your beauty, your words… The way you have made me feel… It all reminds me of Lucilla, but in your own way. I am a man of honor, Rose, and Lucilla will always have a piece of my heart, but… you have become the reason why I am able to get up every morning. I look forward to the next time I see this envelope because it means I get to talk with you.  Maybe tonight, we can meet in each other’s dreams, Rose.  Until then, my lady.  Love,  Marcus

Days turn into weeks and your letters with Marcus become more and more frequent. You’ve tried to teach yourself the theories of time travel, but you’re just as confused as when you first started. The more you talk with Marcus, the more you begin to realize the magnitude of your feelings for him. You try to tell yourself that developing feelings for a man you won’t ever meet–a man who’s already dead–is only going to set you up for heartbreak. 

But despite knowing how this might end, you still exchange letters with him anyway. 

Marcus is set to meet with the Senate tomorrow and he knows that if he gets caught, it will be his death sentence. There won’t be any way that he will be able to get out of it. He holds onto your letters–and especially your picture–when the days and weeks become more difficult for him. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla require his presence at the colosseum and Marcus finds it increasingly exhausting to sit there and feign interest. 

When he gets back to his chambers every day, the envelope is there waiting for him. He reads your letters repeatedly before he can even write a response. The way you talk about your world–it helps him escape his reality. He begins to realize just how deeply he feels for you and it saddens him because despite how strongly he feels, Marcus knows that you two may never get the chance to meet. 

Later that night, you see the envelope and feel the excitement rush through you. However, once you open the letter and begin reading the words on the page, you feel your heart drop–tears building at the corners of your eyes. This feels almost like a goodbye…

Dear Rose,  I am set to meet with the Senate tomorrow. In secret. I realize that this might be the last letter I will ever write to you, but I will be praying to the Gods that it won’t be, but if it is… I wanted to write to you one last time.  You have given me hope, have made me feel alive when I had lost everything. Coming back to Rome after Numidia, after losing Lucilla–I could not find the will to live, but then I received your first letter. It was fate. You saved me, Rose. You continue to save me.  I wish I could see you. I wish I could touch you. I wish I could hold you. I know I said in a previous letter that I would want to spend the rest of my days in quiet… but I think that has changed.  If I had it my way, I would spend the rest of my days with you. I imagine what my life would be like with you. I imagine a lot of laughter. I imagine that we would be at the beach or maybe at the garden and we would have plenty of meaningful conversations. I imagine my mornings would be one of my favorite times of the day because I would get to wake up every morning with you by my side.  If this is the last time I get to speak with you, just know that you now also have a piece of my heart, Rose. I will carry your photograph with me forever. I will hold onto the conversations we’ve had and the letters we’ve exchanged.  If I do not make it… please remember that you deserve all of the good things in the world. You deserve to always be happy. You deserve to live your life the way you want. You deserve to be with someone who will cherish the very ground you walk on because you deserve nothing less.  When I sleep tonight, I will dream of you… like I always do, Rose.  Yours forever,  Marcus

You know what he means when he says he’s going to speak with the Senate tomorrow. You’ve read what will happen–after all, you know exactly how history plays out after having researched the history of Ancient Rome and Marcus. 

You can feel your heart breaking–the ache in your chest beginning to throb almost painfully. You know how Marcus’s story ends, but you can’t let him go. You had been hesitant before–altering history–but you have to tell him. You may never get to meet him, but you don’t want this to be the end. 

Grabbing your notebook, you begin to write your response. Almost fifteen minutes later, you fold it in half and place it inside the envelope, watching it disappear yet again before your eyes. 

Marcus awakes that morning with a knot in his stomach–his eyes glance over at your photo before he catches the envelope. He sits up from bed and walks towards his desk, pulling out your letter and reading it carefully.

Dear Marcus,  Don’t. Your last letter feels like a goodbye, and I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to say goodbye, not yet… Not ever. I shouldn’t be telling you this because I’m sure it’s going to alter my own reality, but I don’t care. I don’t want to let you go.  You’re going to get caught. No matter how many times you’ve rehearsed it in your mind, you will be caught. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla will find out and they–they will not take it lightly. They will make you fight in the colosseum and that is where you will die. I know how your story ends and yet, I made a choice to continue exchanging letters with you. I knew that our story would only end in heartbreak, but maybe… Maybe there’s still a chance for us.  I am begging you, Marcus… Please do not do it. Don’t go to the Senate. Just–Just leave Rome. Live the rest of your days in quiet–away from war, away from the bloodshed, away from the emperors. You no longer need to fight and I understand… I understand that you made a promise to Lucilla, to yourself, but I cannot lose you and maybe this makes me selfish, but– You saved me too, Marcus.  I will spend the rest of my days figuring out how to transcend time… to find a way where you and I can finally meet. Fate brought us together, right? We will figure this out. I will figure this out.  This is not the end of your story, Marcus Acacius. Do you understand me? And this certainly isn’t the end of ours. At the end of the day, we still have a choice… If you decide to still go through with it, then I will understand. I know you are a man of honor, Marcus. And if you do decide that you will go to the Senate tonight, then I hope you know how deeply I feel for you too. I didn’t think I would ever love again, but you… You nestled your way into my heart and made a home there. I go to sleep dreaming of you. When I wake up, you are the first person I think of.  I love you, Marcus.  Yours forever,  Rose

He sits at the edge of his bed, rereading your letter over and over and over again. You know how his story ends and you know exactly what will happen when he goes to meet with the Senate tonight. He should have known that you’d be aware of his history–you live in the future after all. 

Marcus isn’t afraid to die–in fact, it’s something that he’s come to terms with a long time ago, but for once, he doesn’t want this to end yet. He doesn’t want to let you go either and maybe, maybe you two will never meet, but he would rather die an old man exchanging letters with you. 

He reads the last sentence repeatedly and he can’t help the way the words stir something in him–the butterflies he feels in the pit of his stomach, his heart beating faster–you love him. 

Marcus knows what he needs to do now. 

The rest of the day seems to drag on–the minutes trickling by ever so slowly. Even at work, you can’t concentrate. Antonia and Giovanni pick up on your distraction, but you reassure them with a fake smile and tell them that you’d just rather spend the night alone. 

You know it was selfish to tell Marcus the truth, to practically beg him to stay, but you couldn’t imagine continuing to live your life with the possibility that you could save his life. You had only been exchanging letters with him for a little over a month, but you couldn’t help the feelings that you had begun to develop for him. The way your heart races faster when you see the envelope, or the way your stomach flips when you read his letters. 

In your free time, you had been trying to learn how to time travel. It seemed almost impossible, but you didn’t want to quit. You couldn’t explain how you’re able to exchange letters with someone who lives centuries in the past–and if that was possible, then surely it was possible to time travel. 

Somehow. 

You enter your apartment later that night–you can feel the nerves settle in the pit of your stomach when you slowly open the door. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, heart rate slowly picking up when your eyes scan the dining table.

No letter. 

Your stomach drops, so you close the door and then move your gaze to the coffee table. 

Nothing.

Tears begin to pool at the corner of your eyes and you realize that Marcus had made his choice. You sit on your couch, bring your legs to your chest and cry into it. The sob builds and builds until you let out a quiet whimper, tears now streaming down your face. 

He was gone. 

Forever.

A week later and you finally get the courage to go back to work. When at work, you fake a smile–feign happiness, but when you get back home, you cry yourself to sleep. 

Antonia and Giovanni leave you dinner at your front door, but you don’t bother to open it. You aren’t hungry–you haven’t had an appetite since Marcus’s last letter. You wonder if he ever received your letter and if he did, did he read it? 

And if he did read it, what went through his mind? 

And when you admitted that you loved him, did that scare him away? 

When you open your front door later that night, you set your things down and begin walking into the living room until you finally see it.

The envelope. 

Your heart leaps out of your chest. 

You waste no time in opening the envelope, quickly taking out the letter and breathing out a sigh of relief when you see his familiar cursive writing. 

Dear Rose,  I am sorry that I have not written back to you. I had a change of plans after your last letter and had to strategically plan how I would be able to execute it.  I am no longer in Rome. You were right–I no longer need to fight. I faked my death–with the help of some trusting men of mine–and am far away from that place.  I am living the rest of my days in the quiet–I now live in a small village where no one is familiar with who I am or what I have done. It is almost like a fresh start–a chance for me to live a different life… a life that I might have chosen from the beginning if I had the choice.  I want to thank you, Rose. For telling me the truth, for warning me. I am much happier now than I have ever been, and I am more than ready to spend the rest of my days with you. Traveling to this village was not easy, but you gave me the strength–like you always do–to keep going.  I love you, Rose. I wanted to tell you that once I was safe–once I was finally settled in. Ad Maiora, right? Towards greater things... So, my lady, what do you say? Shall we continue our story together and maybe–one day–finally meet? Yours forever, Marcus

the end...?

[burningcheese-merchant]

I think more ppl need to see this

Yeah for real lol. That's exactly what it is with him. Not to toot my own horn too much but I believe this post I made ages ago hits the nail on the head haha

"I'm bored" is... technically true. In a sense. Personally, I think it's a very simple and vague allusion to the real problem. That thin sheet of snow coating a massive, freezing cold iceberg. Just barely obscuring it from proper view.

imo it's been a bit disappointing seeing people take to extremes with Burning Spice's character. I've seen people either woobify him, downplay or excuse his actions by saying "he's not evil! He's hurting! He's depressed! He doesn't hate people, he's lashing out because he can't internalize his pain anymore!", or just demand he be put to death immediately on sight without trial. You can like a morally repulsive character and sympathize with their issues while also acknowledging that they're repulsive and need to face justice for their crimes. Burning Spice is one of my favorite characters, I love everything about him, he's sexy as fuck, I understand why he's the way he is, I'm still happy to see his ass beat because he's a piece of shit and he deserves it lol.

Not to throw shade at "simpler" villains ofc. I love me some assholes that are assholes just because they can be. Like Jack Horner in Puss in Boots 2. But Burning Spice isn't Jack Horner and he honestly shouldn't be. The deeper, sadder, more complex reasons governing his actions suit him better than just "I'm bored fuck this shit" and nothing else ykwim

and of course, he's still wrong. Burning Spice's view of the world is wrong. Does a book begin just to end? Does a song play just to finish in a few minutes' time? No. They begin so that we may read, listen, and enjoy. So that they may make us laugh, or have us shake our heads in disappointment, or tell us some hidden truth. Make our days and lives a little more interesting than they were before. Life is beautiful BECAUSE it is fleeting. Born, grow, wither, born, grow, wither. Yes, that's how it goes. But there's so much more to those things than just what we can gather from those three words. Every day is different. Though the sun rises every morning without fail, it's never quite the same color, is it? Always a bit of a different shade of yellow, orange, red, bleeding into the sky a little differently each time. There are so many things to see and do, games to play, people to meet and love and cherish. Maybe some of those things and those people won't be here someday but that doesn't mean their existence never meant anything. We are not born to die, we are born to live. We must die for those who are to live, and live for those who have died. Regardless, we must never lose sight of the intrinsic value of all that surrounds us. Burning Spice very much did. Underneath his bitterness and anger and (not unfounded, to be fair) lamentation for the unstoppable cycle of life and death is a deep-rooted selfishness and fundamental lack of understanding and appreciation for life and other people. In the face of despair, he gave in and chose evil. He was and is wrong for doing so, regardless of why he did it. He could've stepped down. He could've just admitted he didn't have what it took to be the Herald of Change. Hell, if he really hates being alive so much, he would've committed suicide a LONG time ago. But he never did any of that; instead he chose to inflict an equal or greater suffering on everything and everyone else, even the undeserving. And for that he MUST pay. And Golden Cheese, with her personality and her experiences and the wisdom she came to attain when faced with the exact same despair as Burning Spice, is exactly the right person to make him do that

[vaguely-concerned]

when spite describes itself in lucanis' journals, it seems to consistently use the wording 'a small shade'. self-identified 'just a little guy (threat)' fhsak. I really like that wording, though. a shade, something cut off from the wholeness and living light that is the fade and made a shadow cast by someone else in the real world. 'small', under threat, vulnerable, sort of scrappy (and perhaps a little pathetic but in a 'don't touch me I'll bite!!!' kind of way haha).

I'm so in my feelings over how in the last journal it/he describes the two of them as 'a small shade and a wounded spirit sitting together', though. he's so confused and frustrated about what's going on with lucanis at the beginning, but once rook explains that lucanis isn't intentionally fucking with him, he's just hurting, spite seems to understand and accept that pretty readily (if not without some initial 'ugh FINE physical reality rules are so DUMB bitch you guys live like this' frustration lol). lucanis' early statements that spite doesn't, can't or won't learn are obviously bullshit and the game basically tells you so the moment he says it haha, but you know what. that is some deep learning spite is doing, and in like a year of being in the physical world too. I know plenty of actual real adult human beings who are not capable of that level of insight.

and also, as an aside... I think it's pretty conclusively proven in the series that spirits do have the ability to change and learn all on their own when they get the opportunity to and that it gets turbocharged for good or ill when they're exposed to the physical world. but I also wonder if some of it is the other side of the two way connection. just as spite flows into lucanis, surely that must happen after some fashion the other way too. does spite have some access to/come into contact with lucanis' kneejerk empathy response? to be in opposition to something or someone is not the same thing as not understanding them or where they're coming from, after all. in fact sometimes that can amplify the 'no no trust me I get it I understand. but fuck you doubly for it actually you still suck that why only makes it worse', so I don't feel that would go against spite's nature, even. lucanis already has such an interesting relationship to his own empathy all on his own -- he's a prime example of how 'empathy' and 'compassion' are not inherently the same process and one need not accompany the other. when he's in contract mode, empathy is just a knife, a way to understand people deeply so he can stab them better and more efficiently. when he's in family mode, empathy is accompanied with enough tenderness and compassion and warmth that it makes me feel ill to consider and makes it a bit hard for him to stay with, sometimes. it's the same skill/instinct, but shows up differently based on the context he's in. sure why not drop a demon in there and see what happens I guess lol. 'smells like tears and lying' anyone. spite's response to meeting compassion out in the world is 'GOD no don't make eye contact keep walking this is so fucking cringe', but uh. there's no way for him to escape it within the bounds of the person he's been frankensteined into, is there. aaaah it's so interesting.

there's something so fascinating to me about two souls who are so close they can't help but reflect and bleed into each other, but also remain two separate entities who can look at each other. and be mutually protective about it, clearly. augh.

[23victoria]

slam!

pairings: f1 grid x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cussing, sexual innuendos, manipulation ig, lying in a way, it’s a prank, fluff

authors note: first official fic since my writing slump! i hope it’s okay! and im so so sorry if it’s ass lol, also you can see where i had no inspiration vs. where i did…please ignore that 😭, any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

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f1 masterlist 1k celebration

Charles

The drive to the mall was filled with easy conversation and laughter. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the city as you and Charles made your way through the bustling streets. Charles had one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on your thigh, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you.

You had planned this trip to Sephora for weeks now, eager to replenish your makeup supplies and maybe splurge on some new products. Charles had tagged along, promising to help you pick out new shades and scents, even though you knew he was more excited about the ice cream shop next door.

As you pulled into the parking lot, you felt a mischievous idea brewing in your mind. You wanted to test Charles' patience and see how he would react to a sudden, nonsensical argument. You knew it was silly, but something about the idea made you giggle internally.

Charles parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he was about to open his door, you decided to strike.

"Why do you always do that?" you snapped, turning to him with an exaggerated huff.

Charles froze, his hand still on the door handle. "Do what?" he asked, clearly puzzled by your sudden change in tone.

"You know what you did," you said, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

Charles blinked, completely taken aback. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, Y/N. Can you please explain?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes dramatically. "Every single time we go somewhere, you always do this! It's like you don't even care!"

Charles' brow furrowed, confusion written all over his face. "What did I do? I parked the car! What's wrong with that?"

"Never mind," you said, shaking your head and opening your door. "Just forget it, Charles. I'm going to Sephora."

Before he could respond, you slammed the car door shut with a loud bang, making sure to give it an extra push for emphasis. You could see his bewildered expression through the window as you stormed off toward the mall entrance.

Charles sat in the car for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. His initial confusion slowly turned into a mix of frustration and concern. Had he really done something to upset you? He replayed the last few minutes in his mind, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

With a deep sigh, he got out of the car and locked it, jogging slightly to catch up with you. He found you standing in front of Sephora, arms still crossed and a pout on your lips.

"Y/N, wait," he called out, his voice a mix of irritation and worry. "Can we please talk about this?"

You turned to him, your expression softening just a fraction. "What's there to talk about, Charles? You always do this."

"Do what?" he asked, genuinely perplexed. "I really don't understand."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. "You always park too close to the other cars. It makes it hard for me to get out."

Charles' eyes widened in realization, and he let out a relieved laugh. "That's what this is about? Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about that. I'll be more careful next time, I promise."

You felt a pang of guilt for making him worry, but the sight of his relieved smile made it worth it. You uncrossed your arms and took a step closer to him.

"Okay, fine," you said, your voice softening. "I forgive you. But you better not do it again."

Charles reached out and pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I promise, I won't," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Now, let's go get your makeup."

You smiled against his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "And ice cream?"

"And ice cream," he agreed, pulling back to look at you with a grin. "Anything for you."

"Charles," you said, lifting your head up from his chest. "I have to confess something."

Charles looked at you with curiosity. "What is it, love?"

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of guilt and amusement. "I wasn’t really mad at you... it was a joke. I wanted to see how you'd react."

Charles blinked in surprise, then let out a chuckle. "You little troublemaker," he said, wrapping an arm around your waist. "You had me worried there for a moment."

"I'm sorry," you said, standing on your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. "I didn't mean to mess with your feelings. To make it up to you, how about I spoil you with whatever you want from the ice cream shop?"

Charles grinned, his eyes lighting up. "I think I can forgive you for that. As long as I get to pick the flavors."

"Deal," you said, smiling up at him. "And I'll throw in a foot massage later, too."

"Now you're talking," Charles said, giving you a playful squeeze. "Just don't make a habit of these fake arguments, alright?"

"I promise," you said, kissing him again. "No more fake arguments. Just lots of love and ice cream."

Charles laughed, pulling you close. "That's all I need."

Lewis

The sun was shining brightly as you and Lewis drove to your favorite ice cream shop. The plan was to enjoy a treat and then stroll through the nearby park. Lewis had been looking forward to this all week, a rare weekend off from the rigorous F1 schedule.

As you approached the shop, an idea formed in your mind. You decided to playfully test Lewis with a fake argument, curious to see his reaction.

Lewis parked the car smoothly, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for the door handle, you pounced.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Lewis turned to you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Do what, babe?"

"Every time we go somewhere, you always find a way to make it about you," you said, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

Lewis looked genuinely puzzled. "What are you talking about, Y/N? We're getting ice cream. How is this about me?"

You sighed dramatically. "You always pick the spot to park without asking me if it's okay. It's like you don't even care about my opinion."

Lewis blinked, trying to process your sudden outburst. "I… I'm sorry, I didn't realize that bothered you. I just thought it was a good spot."

"Never mind," you said, shaking your head and opening your door. "I'm going inside."

You got out of the car and slammed the door behind you, glancing back to see Lewis sitting in stunned silence. You felt a pang of guilt but continued walking toward the ice cream shop.

Lewis quickly recovered and followed you inside, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. He caught up to you as you reached the counter.

"Y/N, wait," he said softly, touching your arm. "I'm really sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to."

You turned to him, your annoyance melting away at the sight of his sincere eyes. "It's just… sometimes I feel like you don't consider my opinions."

Lewis nodded, his face serious. "I understand. I promise I'll be more mindful in the future. I never want you to feel like I don't care."

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. "Okay, I forgive you. Now, let's get some ice cream."

Lewis grinned, pulling you into a quick hug. "Thank you. And I'll let you pick the spot next time."

As you ordered your ice cream and found a cozy spot to sit, you couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for starting the argument. But Lewis' genuine concern and quick apology made you appreciate him even more.

After a few bites of your ice cream, you decided it was time to come clean. "Lewis," you began, looking up at him with a sheepish smile.

"Yes, love?" he replied, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"I have a confession to make," you said, feeling a bit nervous. "That argument just now… it was a joke. I was bored and I just wanted to see how you'd react."

Lewis stared at you for a moment, then burst into laughter. "You really had me there, Y/N! I was so worried I did something wrong."

"I'm sorry," you said, reaching out to hold his hand. "I didn't mean to mess with your feelings. To make it up to you, how about I get you that perfume you wanted from Dior?”

Lewis' eyes sparkled with amusement and affection. "You don't have to spoil me, love. But I'll take you up on that offer. And maybe a massage later?"

"Absolutely," you said, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Anything for you."

Max

The drive to the mall was filled with excitement. Max had promised to help you pick out a new pair of sneakers, and you were looking forward to spending the day together. As you approached the mall, you decided to prank Max. Max parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. As he reached for his phone to check the time, you decided to that’s was your “issue”.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Max looked up at you, clearly puzzled. "Do what?"

"You always check your phone right when we arrive somewhere," you said, crossing your arms. "It's like you're more interested in your phone than spending time with me."

Max blinked, taken aback. "I was just checking the time, Y/N. I didn't mean anything by it."

"It feels like you're always distracted," you continued, pretending to be upset. "Like I have to compete for your attention."

Max's expression softened with concern. "I'm sorry if it feels that way. I promise I'm here with you, 100%. I just wanted to make sure we weren't late."

"Never mind," you said, opening your door. "I'm going inside."

You slammed the car door behind you and walked toward the mall entrance, leaving Max sitting there, clearly confused and worried. You glanced back to see him frowning, running a hand through his hair.

Max quickly got out of the car and caught up with you. "Y/N, wait. Did I really do something wrong?"

You turned to him, trying to keep a straight face. "It's just frustrating when it feels like I'm not your priority."

Max sighed deeply, his eyes full of regret. "I'm so sorry. I'll make sure to put my phone away and focus on us. I never want you to feel like you're second to anything."

You felt a wave of guilt but maintained your act. "Okay, fine. Just don't let it happen again."

Max nodded earnestly. "I promise. Let's go find those sneakers."

As you both wandered through the mall, Max was extra attentive, making sure to engage in conversation and keep his phone tucked away. You started to feel bad for starting the fake argument but were also touched by his efforts.

As soon as you neared the sneaker store, you decided it was time to come clean. "Max," you said, looking at him with a small smile.

"Yeah?" he replied, his eyes full of concern.

"I need to tell you something," you said, feeling a bit nervous. "I was just messing with you earlier, I was never mad at you for checking your phone. I just wanted to prank you and see how you'd react."

Max stared at you for a moment before chuckling softly. "I was so worried I did something to upset you. You really had me there, baby."

"I'm sorry," you said, reaching out to hold his hand. "I didn't mean to mess with your feelings. To make it up to you, how about I buy you anything you want from the next store?"

Max's eyes lit up with amusement. "You don't have to, but I won't say no to that offer."

"And I'll bake you your favorite cookies later," you added, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Anything to make it up to you."

Max grinned, pulling you into a hug. "Sounds like a perfect evening to me baby."

Lando

The drive to the electronics store was filled with excitement. Lando had been talking about getting a pc setup and you were looking forward to helping him pick one out. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to play a little prank on Lando.

Lando parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he was about to step out, you struck.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Lando turned to you, genuinely confused. "Do what?"

"You always take forever to decide on things," you said, crossing your arms. "It's like you can't make up your mind about anything."

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. "I just like to weigh my options. What's wrong with that?"

"It feels like you're wasting time," you said, pretending to be annoyed. "Like you don't care about getting things done quickly."

Lando's expression shifted from confusion to concern. "I'm sorry if it bothers you. I just want to make sure we make the right choice."

"Never mind," you said, opening your door. "I'm going inside."

You slammed the car door behind you and walked toward the store, leaving Lando sitting there, clearly puzzled and a bit hurt. You glanced back to see him frowning, trying to figure out what just happened.

Lando quickly got out of the car and caught up with you. "Y/N, wait, what are you so mad? I don’t understand. Did I really do something wrong?"

You turned to him, trying to keep a straight face. "It's just frustrating when it feels like you can't make a decision."

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't realize it was an issue. I'll try to be quicker next time, I promise."

You felt a pang of guilt but maintained your act. "Okay, fine. Just don't let it happen again."

Lando nodded earnestly. "I promise. Let's go."

As you both wandered through the store, you decided it was time to come clean. "Lando," you said, looking at him with a small smile.

"Yeah?" he replied, his eyes full of concern.

"I need to tell you something," you said, feeling a bit nervous. "I’m not mad that you take time to weigh out your options. It’s one of the things I love about you! I was just bored and decided to play a prank on you."

Lando stared at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Y/N….you had me so worried. I was like “What the fuck?! Why is she mad?!’ I was so worried I did something to upset you, I was about to take you to Marc Jacobs to get you that purse and perfume you wanted."

"I'm sorry," you said, reaching out to hold his hand. "I didn't mean to mess with your feelings. To make it up to you, how about I buy you with anything you want from a store of your choosing?"

Lando's eyes lit up with amusement. "You don't have to, but I won't say no to that offer."

"And I'll give you a special massage later," you added, leaning in to kiss him softly on his neck.

Lando grinned, pulling you into a hug. "How about we go home now for that massage hmm."

"Nope, we have to get our things first! And then we can go home." you said, smiling at him and winking.

Carlos

The drive to the new restaurant you both had been eager to try was filled with excitement. Carlos had been talking about the place for weeks, and you were looking forward to a nice dinner together. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to test Carlos's patience with a fake argument.

Carlos parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for his wallet, you struck.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Carlos turned to you, genuinely puzzled. "Do what?"

"You always insist on paying for everything," you said, crossing your arms. "It's like you don't think I can take care of myself."

Carlos blinked, clearly taken aback. "I just want to treat you. What's wrong with that?"

"It feels like you're undermining my independence," you continued, pretending to be upset. "Like you don't think I can contribute."

Carlos's expression shifted from confusion to mild annoyance. "Y/N, this is ridiculous. I'm just trying to help."

You opened your mouth to continue, but Carlos cut you off. He leaned over, his hand gripping your neck gently but firmly, pulling you close. His eyes bore into yours with a mix of authority and affection.

"I don't want to hear that nonsense," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I pay for everything and will always pay for everything. You're my girl, and I love to spoil you and buy you whatever you want. Complain all you want, but nothing is changing. Anything that has a price on it, I buy it. Not you. End of discussion."

Before you could respond, Carlos pressed his lips against yours in a rough, passionate kiss that left you breathless. When he pulled back, he released your neck and stepped out of the car, leaving you stunned. A moment later, he came around to your side, opened the door, and helped you out, his hand gently guiding you.

You were still silent as you walked towards the restaurant, your mind racing from the intensity of the moment. Finally, you found your voice. "That was hot... really, really hot…and sexy. I think…I wet myself a little bit."

Carlos laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "Good to know," he whispered in your ear, his hand giving your ass a playful slap. "Just wait until later, baby. I'll show you more of what you like."

Oscar

The drive to the new amusement park was filled with excitement. Oscar had been talking about going on the latest roller coasters for weeks, and you were looking forward to a fun-filled day together. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to play a little prank on Oscar to see how he would react.

Oscar parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for his backpack, you struck.

“Why do you always do that?” you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Oscar looked up at you, genuinely confused. “Do what?”

“You always decide which rides we go on first,” you said, crossing your arms. “It’s like you don’t think I can pick something fun.”

Oscar blinked, clearly taken aback. “I just thought you liked the same rides as me. What’s wrong with that?”

“It feels like you don’t trust my choices,” you continued, pretending to be upset. “Like my voice doesn't matter.”

Oscar’s expression shifted from confusion to concern. “I didn’t realize you felt that way. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was ignoring your feelings baby.”

“Well, it does,” you said, opening your door. “Maybe you should think about that.”

Oscar quickly got out of the car and came around to your side, gently grabbing your arm to stop you. “Y/N, wait. I really didn’t mean to upset you. Can we talk about this?”

You turned to him, trying to keep a straight face but starting to feel bad about the prank. “Oscar, it’s just frustrating when it feels like you don’t consider my choices.”

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I had no idea you felt this way. From now on, we’ll make all the decisions together. I promise.”

You couldn’t keep up the act any longer and burst into laughter. “Oscar, I’m so sorry baby. It was just a prank. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

Oscar stared at you for a moment before chuckling softly. “You really had me there, Y/N. I was so scared that I really messed up.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, reaching out to hold his hand. “I didn’t mean to mess with your feelings. I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

Oscar grinned, pulling you into a hug. “Well, you got me good. But next time, maybe pick a less heart-stopping prank, okay?”

You laughed, feeling relieved that he wasn’t mad. “Deal. Now, let’s go enjoy the carnival?”

Oscar nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Absolutely. And you can choose the first ride.”

“We are definitely doing the Kingda Ka roller coaster first.” you said with a smile on your face.

As you walked towards the entrance of the amusement park, you knew the day was going to be filled with laughter, thrills, and unforgettable moments.

Sebastian

The drive to the new bookstore was filled with excitement. Sebastian had been talking about a new release he was eager to get his hands on, and you were looking forward to spending some quiet time browsing the shelves together. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to test his patience with a fake argument.

Seb parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for his reusable shopping bag, you struck.

“Why do you always do that?” you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Seb looked up at you, genuinely puzzled. “Do what?”

“You always insist on carrying everything,” you said, crossing your arms. “It’s like you don’t think I’m strong enough to help.”

Seb blinked, clearly taken aback. “I just want to make it easier for you. What’s wrong with that?”

“It feels like you don’t think I can handle it,” you continued, pretending to be upset. “Like you don’t trust me to carry my weight.”

Seb’s expression shifted from confusion to mild annoyance. “Y/N, this is ridiculous. I’m just trying to help.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but Seb interrupted you. “Enough, baby. Arguing about this is pointless. I’m going to carry the bags because I want to. And I like taking care of you. Deal with it.”

Before you could respond, Sebastian grabbed your hair gently but firmly and pulled you into a rough kiss. His lips pressed against yours with an intensity that made your heart race. When he finally pulled back, he looked into your eyes with a mixture of authority and affection.

“Understand?” he asked softly.

You nodded, still a bit breathless. “Yes, sir.”

Sebastian smiled and released his hold on your hair, his eyes softening. “Good. Now, let’s go find that book.”

Jenson

The drive to the local farmer’s market was filled with anticipation. Jenson had been excited to pick out fresh ingredients for dinner, and you were looking forward to spending a relaxing afternoon together. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to test his patience with a fake argument.

Jenson parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for his shopping list, you struck.

“Why do you always do that?” you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Jenson looked up at you, genuinely puzzled. “Do what?”

“You always decide what we’re having for dinner and pick out all the ingredients,” you said, crossing your arms. “It’s like you don’t think I can handle it or make a decision.”

Jenson blinked, clearly taken aback. “I just want to make sure we have a great meal. What’s wrong with that?”

“It feels like you don’t trust my cooking skills,” you continued, pretending to be upset. “Like my preferences don’t matter.”

Jenson’s expression shifted from confusion to mild annoyance. “Y/N, this is ridiculous. I’m just trying to make sure tonight’s meal is special.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but Jenson interrupted you. He leaned over, his hand gripping your neck gently but firmly, pulling you close. His eyes bore into yours with a mix of authority and affection.

“I don’t want to hear that nonsense,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I pick the ingredients and plan the meals because I enjoy doing it for us. Plus, this argument is stupid because you cooked dinner for us two days ago.”

Before you could respond, Jenson pressed his lips against yours in a rough, passionate kiss that left you breathless. When he pulled back, he released your neck and stepped out of the car, leaving you stunned. A moment later, he came around to your side, opened the door, and helped you out, his hand gently guiding you.

As you walked toward the market, you found your voice. “I didn’t expect that reaction. It lowkey turned me on.”

Jenson turned to you with a smirk on his face, “Lowkey?”

“Okay, yes that definitely turned me on.” you said, turning away shyly.

Jenson chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, I guess I really know how to handle you then.”

You smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “It was just a prank, but if that’s how you’re going to react, I definitely have to pull some more.”

Jenson laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, you don’t need to, baby. You get me like this just by being yourself.”

You grinned, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Are you sure we need to cook dinner? I’m sure we can just go home now and do something very, very important first. We can order some takeout after.”

Jenson smirked, his eyes darkening with desire. “As much as I would love that, we are cooking this meal. But after we’re done, we will definitely do that something.”

He winked at you, making your heart race with anticipation.

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© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[evil-robot-cat]

She's here, she's here, she's here! Welcome home, Yona!

I am so, so proud of her. The most complex custom I've ever done, and the one where the most things went wrong, too!

I widened the faceplate, which meant I had to change the entire head to accommodate. Part of her head broke and I had to repair it. Then one of her legs became permanently fused to a joint peg. That's no good because the pegs are soft and prone to breaking - they must be replaceable! I had to start the legs over from the beginning. The sealant was perfectly fine with all the paint except once - it made her face paint buckle! I had to sand it smooth, then repaint and keep going...

AND THE PAINT. omg. I went through multiple brands and types of acrylic paint, and all of them were complete failures. In desperation I turned for the first time to lacquer paint. That's WAY more heavy duty stuff than I ever planned to get into! But the results... oh, they speak for themselves. 🥰

FUN PHOTOGRAPHY THING. In the game, in sunlight, Yona is like. Lizard green. Bright, brilliant lime. But in rain or cloudy weather (and when you print her out in CYMK), she's a soft, cool, mint color.

I use a Nikon camera that boosts the eff out of yellow. So much that just about every photo I take, I have to go in and manually decrease the saturation on all yellow. I thought to myself, "If I paint Yona that brilliant shade of green, it's going to be a nightmare to edit. I'll just go with her rainy-weather color instead." But look at that photo! It's perfectly her shade! The camera looked at cool mint and made it anole green! 😁🎉

I feel like I understand the game's lighting system a little bit better now.

...why is her head decoration missing, you ask? (Well pretend you did.) It was too bulky to fit on the part of her head that I squished down to fit Nendoroid proportions. Also it would have been very fragile. And it would have made her taller than Sidon.

And once again addressing the great big obvious: what does this mean for my photography?

I... think I'm correct in guessing my reputation in this fandom is "the sidlink toy photographer", right?

I ship all three as a polycule. But the same way I take photos of Sidon and Link, Zelda and Link, all three together, or singles; there will be photos with Yona in and out of the mix.

Whatever ship you like, interpret it and indulge freely. Zelink, sidlink, sidona, sidlinkona, and any combination I haven't named. Or no ship at all, if you like everyone as friends. Tags, comments, spinoff interpretations - all is okay. Enjoy it to the fullest. Tbh, you can even slide a wish list my way. As long as I have the props and the time, I'm always happy taking photos!

I don't mind what you ship - see what makes you happiest. 😉

[ardensregias]

look at me

yandere!aventurine x gn!reader, manipulation, hypnosis, reader's mom is mara struck, sfw with suggestive ending.

"...that's too risky, i cannot afford to gamble with my own mother's life."

your mother has been struck by mara, causing her to slowly lost her sanity. the severity hasn't reached the point of no return, and you have given her treatments—which works quite well, with the cost of occasional memory loss. and you have been traversing the stars to find a cure, which leads you to penacony.

meanwhile, aventurine smirks at you, as if already expecting that answer. what a kind soul, he thinks. which will make it more fun to corrupt.

"i understand how important she is to you, which is why i'm generously offering you this new and more effective treatment—one that has 75% success rate." the gambler says, bringing his gloved hands up to take off his glasses, accentuating the pretty colors of his eyes, the kind of eyes that only sigonians have, though his are devoid of life and light.

he place the pink shades down on the table, before adding, "also, the IPC is currently researching on a possible remedy for mara, and i can just gave it to your mother for free."

you bit your bottom lip, unsure and scared. but the possibility of the treatment actually succeeds in removing your beloved mother's pain, the possibility of her smile blooming once more...

before you can speak further, he leans even closer and toy with the collar of your shirt, "all for the small price of keeping me company for the next month." his hands slowly creep up towards your chin, grabbing it to make you face him.

you look up, immediately becoming mesmerized at the beautiful shades of pink and blue of his eyes. you begin to feel a strange tingling sensation, slowly running down your entire body the longer you stare.

"what's your answer, then?" the senior manager tilts his head, using his gloved thumb to caress your bottom lip. although he may appear calm in the outside, he's secretly holding the urge to pounce on you right then and there.

aventurine's smirk turns into a full-blown grin when he notices how you start to relax. with this, he's sure that you'll come around sooner or later. your expression, slowly turns from hesitation to obedience agreement.

the hypnotizing power of aventurine's eyes are slowly affecting you, putting you in a trance and coaxing you to obey his every command. and it's not like you can look away if his index and thumb are holding your face in place.

"alright, since you insist..." you reply in a low voice, naively unaware of his manipulation. aventurine thinks of how you're such an easy target, and how he should've done this sooner.

"good." his grin is replaced by a relaxed smile, and aventurine's other hand moves to click on the holographic screen beside him, confirming the payment for your mother's treatment. it seems that spending billions of credits at once barely affect his bank account's balance.

aventurine thinks of how a mere business trip can turn out so much more interesting after having met you. he'll have to thank diamond later for assigning him to this project.

"now then, shall we move to my private quarters? we shall discuss the terms during your time accompanying me." his arms curl around your waist and drag you with him, flashing a cocky smirk at you.

"after all, you have to know how to satisfy me if we are to become partners, right?"

[heartz4levi]

Hello, I was wondering if you could do an Ivan x afab!reader, a photoshoot maybe escalating just a bit with slight NSFW themes. Your style of writing is just so good.

i'm the highlight, a shining red light !

☆ thinking abt ivan + photoshoot mishap . .

☆ ivan (alnst) ,, afab reader . . this can be interpreted as both modern au and no au ,, ivan and reader are co—workers ,, suggestive themes but no nsfw ,, slightly ooc(?) ivan for the sake of the plot.

you wouldn't say that ivan is a close friend of yours, per se. the two of you simply happen to.. be paired up quite often in terms of photoshoots.

no matter how many times you ask the answer is always the same — you two look good together and the "chemistry" is unparalleled.

alright, you can understand that first part. your visuals just naturally compliment his and vice versa, not clashing in the slightest. but the second part? chemistry? you don't change your demeanor in the slightest whenever he's around.

that isn't the case for ivan, though. he never goes to an extreme, but his eyes light up the moment he takes notice of the fact that he has been paired up with you yet again and he begins to wonder about what the two of you could create in advance.

in other words, he fantasizes. plans out any and all of the potential conversations you could have, imagines what outfit the stylist will whip up for you — not even caring about his own — and thinking about how he can get closer to you, whether that be physically or emotionally.

usually ivan goes for the getting closer to you emotionally part. partaking in some idle chitchat with you, asking about your week and your thought on today's photoshoot, if your outfit is comfortable, if you want to try anything new that the photographer hasn't thought of.

if you respond to him in an equally enthusiastic manner, ivan will be over the moon. if you don't, he will be quite disappointed and even a bit sulky, but that doesn't mean he'll stop trying to get to know you better.

the only time ivan has tried going down the getting closer to you physically path was.. well.. now. except it was an accident. you find it a bit hard to believe, but ivan swears that it was an accident, looking and sounding so apologetic that it seems out of character for him.

one moment you're listening to the photographer, catering to whichever ordered is barked out at the two of you, standing as close to ivan as you're told to. the next moment the photographer addresses ivan and he's slipping one arm around your shoulders. that's all fine and dandy, no problems there, until his hand lands just a little bit lower than it was supposed to.

maybe the camera caught it, you're not sure. maybe it caught your immediate reaction, maybe it caught ivan's reaction that arrived just a milisecond later. maybe in one of the shots his hand is blurred because he moved it off of your chest at what might as well be the speed of light.

but neither you nor him say anything. you're the most confused you have ever been in your life and ivan wants to punt himself in his face that is now a deep shade of red. how could he slip up now? and in such a manner? he mentally berates himself. admittedly, he's surprised you haven't slapped him yet.

the sound of the camera shutter reaches your ears a few more times, slight adjustments are made in your poses and then a break is called. ivan immediately darts away. you have no idea where, as he is completely gone from your field of vision, but he ran away.

surprisingly, you go on about your brief break like you normally do. for the most part, you've gotten over that incident and brushed it off as an accident considering the shock ivan himself had gone through. on the other hand, he is not faring well.

ivan is noticeably more tense for the rest of the photoshoot. his usual talkative self is nowhere to be found and his movements become tenfold more cautious so as to not repeat that embarrassing mistake. several staff members notice, photographer included, yet no one questions him.

you don't either. regardless, all of your curiosities are answered once the photoshoot is over, when you find yourself being approached by a very bashful ivan. you have never seen him be this shy.

after explaining the incorrect placement of his hand from his point of view and apologizing profusely, ivan offers to make it up to you even though his apology has already been accepted. how will he make it up to you, you ask?

how about.. grabbing some lunch the next day? or maybe dinner tonight?

[hellish-sunsets]

Lucifer red string of fate soulmate au? Like, maybe he and Lilith originally got together despite the strings because Lucifers was Grey or something at the time; but eventually his turns bright red because turns out his soulmate was mortal and is now a sinner so they can actually be together? I think it would be cute since he's so depressed with Lilith leaving him; now he has the sparkle of hope that he can find the missing piece to his puzzle 😊 if you do end up writing this request could it be super fluffy??? (Also bonus points if Sinner Reader is not only shorter then him but also super kind hearted and sweet!)

I'm a sucker for soulmate AU's! This one got a bit away from me, I'll probably have to make a part two, but for now here's what I got!

Gray Dyed Red

Word Count: 1,912

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

The strings existed since the beginning of… well, existence. Every being had one tied to their middle finger, or the closest they had to one for the more animalistic ones. No one could see them but the owner of the string, thin things that could never tangle or be broken, either red or gray. And at the end of that string was supposed to be your soulmate. Well, as long as it was red. 

Lucifer’s had always been gray. 

And yeah, it bothered him at first, but he was quick to push aside and keep himself busy with creating with the other angels. He would lose himself in his work. But then, none of his ideas were good enough. They were too… different. He just wanted to make something he could be proud of. 

He was only allowed to watch when Adam and Lillith were made. 

Watching wasn’t as much fun, but he could still keep himself distracted. He smiled down at them as they started their lives on the earth they were given. 

Then they fell apart. He didn’t understand why. Surely the first man and woman would be soulmates, right? But no, they didn’t fit well at all. They’re relationship was a constant fight of who was in charge. He decided he had to help somehow, and in the process fell in love with Lillith. She told him her string was gray, and he thought that maybe they could make it work. They loved and supported each other! What did it matter if they weren’t soulmates?

Even after their fall to hell, they spent thousands of years in each other's arms. 

Then she left.

No word, no note, just an empty bed and an empty castle. 

And he knew he was falling apart, shunning the rest of the world, not even reaching out to Charlie anymore, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted a distraction, something to put his mind on that wasn’t his own failures. 

The gray string of his was just a reminder that there was no one for him, not even the woman he gave all his existence to. 

But it was strange. All these thousands of years, it had never changed color before. 

He didn’t even notice at first, couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it happened. He was in bed, had probably been there far too long. He physically couldn’t sleep anymore, so he needed to distract himself with something else. Maybe he could make an actually good rubber duck today. He should probably shower first, or clean himself in some way. Showers were faster so they usually won out. Though, they didn’t usually end up being faster once he gets in there. 

Whatever, he just needed to get up, right?

With a groan, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, stretching his arms over his head. He avoided staring at the empty side of the bed, shoving the covers off to head for the bathroom, the wood floors cold against his feet. 

He yawned as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror. That’s when he saw it, a glint of red. He frowned and lowered his hand to stare, wondering what he had seen. It couldn’t have been his eyes, the shade wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t his cheeks. He went to scratch his chin but froze with his hand halfway up. 

The string was red, deep and bright and unlike anything he had seen before. He looked down at his hand with wide eyes, not quite comprehending what it meant, but for some reason his heart seemed to flip in his chest. That was strange…

So… he had a soulmate now? How? When? Were they just made, or perhaps they were born somewhere? Were they from Earth? Heaven? Hell? Could he find them now? Maybe it turned because they just entered hell. But then, how good of a person could they be if they were down here with the sinners, perhaps a sinner themself? Was that even the type of person he wanted to interact with? But he had seen so many find their soulmates on the other end of their string and, good person or not, they were always perfect for eachother.

His heart does another flip in his chest.

He forces himself to undress and get in the shower, but his mind kept racing, going over the same questions over and over again.

His shower was much shorter than usual. He wanted to get out as soon as possible.

It had been a very long time since he bothered walking or flying through the city. He didn’t much like the sights or the people. Lilith was the one who dealt with them. Every single one of those sinners was just a reminder of what he had done, a never ending punishment. He preferred avoiding it all together. The last thing he ever wanted was to see how his gift of free will was abused by so many.

But that didn’t matter now. As much as he hated the people and the crowds, he was going to follow this stupid string until he found it’s end. 

—-------------------------

A few days passed. 

Pentagram city couldn’t be that big, and yet here he was, still searching. He did rest. Occasionally. Sometimes. Probably not enough. The only reason he did rest as much as he did was… well, he wanted to be at his best when he did finally find the end of his string. He wanted to make a good impression!

He narrowed it down to the edge of the city, a more rundown section where new sinners tended to congregate.

So they had to be new to hell. That's why his string suddenly changed color. They must have been a human who recently died and manifested here. He… wasn’t sure how he felt about it. What if she was just as awful as every other sinner? He feared that the most, that he was destined for some terrible person, that he didn’t deserve someone actually nice…

His string went straight down to an alley below. He could avoid the crowd, thank God. He swept down into the alley, feet landing with a quiet clack against the cracked concrete. He withdrew his wings, glancing around his filthy surroundings with a scowl of disgust. Surely there wasn’t anyone lounging in the muck here, right. But no, there was someone here, a sinner in tattered clothes, standing with their back pressed against the brick wall, head bowed as they took deep breaths, like they were calming themself down from something. 

A frown tugged at his lips. He glanced down at his hand, eyes tracing the vibrant red string towards this sinner, the other end tied around their finger.

It was them. 

He wasn’t entirely sure when he started walking towards them, just knew when his hand clasped around theirs. They jumped, trying to pull away at the sudden contact until their eyes met. They almost immediately relaxed, eyes widening with understanding as they gazed down at their clasped hands, then back up into his eyes. It was odd. No one had looked up at him since Charlie was still young.

He was usually better with words. They would normally come so easily to him, even if they may not always be the best or a bit rambling. But for once in his life, he wasn't sure what to say.

“Hi.” They said, smiling up at him ever so sweetly.

“Hey.” He smiled back, a flush rising in his cheeks. “What, um, brings you… here.” He motioned vaguely to the filthy alley with a slight frown, but the smile returned when he looked down at them.

“Ah, you know, just trying to collect myself and not freak out.” They said with her cheery voice, chuckling a little at themself. “I, uh, I never really thought I'd end up down here. I guess I thought sometimes I'd end up in hell, but honestly I just didn't think about it. But it's okay! I think I get it now.”

He tilted his head slightly in confusion, but that giddy smile never did leave his face. “What do you mean? You know why you’re down here?”

They nodded.

“Yep! I'm here to be with you! That must be it!”

Warmth didn’t bloom in his chest like he's felt in other circumstances. No, it was more like being hit by a freight train face first. In an instant he had them in his arms, savoring their surprised giggle as he squeezed them tight, burying his face in their hair. They happily hugged back. 

It could have been only a moment, it could have been hours, but he didn’t care. He didn’t dare let them go until he was sure this wasn't some sort of trick or dream. Only when he was satisfied did he pull away, eyes looking over them intently, committing every contour of their face to memory, every scratch, every scar, those sparkling eyes, that smile sweeter than apple pie. Shit, they really were perfect for him, weren't they? They could confess to murder and he would forgive them instantly.

“My name's Y/N, by the way.” 

Even their name was perfect.

“Lucifer.”

“Like the devil Lucifer?” They didn't even look that perturbed, just curious. He chuckled and gave a little bow. 

“The one and only. Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”

‐—-------------------

It was strange, having someone in his quarters again, sitting in bed with the sound of the shower running in the back. It felt… right. It was proper he wasn’t alone anymore. How things were meant to be. Nice.

He sat up straighter when he heard the shower turn off. A few long minutes passed before she came out, dressed in a simple white sundress he provided. He wasn’t very good at making clothes, he preferred creating animals and things similar, but at the very least it looked like it fit, accentuating her sweet smile. 

He could feel his cheeks heating up, but he ignored it in favor of exaggerating the smile she brought to his face.

She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, running her fingers through the damp strands of her hair.

“Well…” She started, but wasn't really sure what to say, voice drifting off. She stared at her feet, unsure what else to do. 

He tilted his head to the side, just watching her for a moment. He reached out for her, hesitating for a moment before cupping her cheek, guiding her head to turn towards him. He just… he needed to see her eyes again. He needed to be sure she's real and in front of him and this wasn't some sort of trick. 

She smiled at him and leaned into his hand. His heart melted.

“I didn't think I'd ever find my soulmate.” She admitted in a whisper. “My string was always gray before, so I thought…” She trailed off and shrugged. He nodded his understanding.

“Yeah, me too. ‘Sorta assumed I just didn't have one since I wasn't human. I think it's more common for demons and angels to have gray strings.” His brows furrowed in thought, but whatever was running through his mind vanished as she turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand.

“... what do we do now?” She asked.

He gulped and shook his head, gathering his thoughts.

“I suppose I should introduce you to my daughter.”

[tofupixel]

Thank you for getting me to finally try pixel art! I‘ve always wanted to get into pixel art but I never knew what to start with and always ended up procrastinating. Your blog and the post you made on learning pixel art were what finally pushed me to give it a go. It was really helpful and I managed this little animation in Libresprite.

I definitely want to improve and your art is like the ultimate goal lol. Do you have any tips or instructions for how to get better or on what to focus on in the future? I‘d appreciate any kind of criticism/input you are willing to give! How do you manage to make such gigantic and beautiful landscapes?

thank you!! and i'm so happy you decided to give it a real go, you're doing great already!! the rendering on the body and the pink shading is really nice.

i can help a little with animation stuff but i'm not an expert, ill write something out about backgrounds at the end

i hope you don't mind but i edited the sprite a little, just to illustrate some stuff

🤺Animation stuff

i added an extra frame near the top of the arc so it slows down. this is called ease or slow in/out and usually happens at the beginning and end of movements. u can do even more slow but this is just a quick version

i also removed the middle frame (where the tail is straight down) to make the swing appear a bit more powerful. this could be the principle of timing in the same video. you can exaggerate smears if you do this, its up to you!! lately i tend to exaggerate stuff a lot, things arent super noticable in motion

i also got a good bit of advice from nickwoz that helped me, basically when you begin to animate, it really puts the rest of the sprite being still into focus. try to think of how you could animate other parts of the body, even subtly. and sometimes if individual pixels stay still they can catch the eye in an unintended way as well, just keep it in mind!!

if you want to learn animation more, you could take a look at duelyst sprites, they have incredible idle and ability animations, i study them a lot

heres one i downloaded a long time ago. i recommend just downloading stuff you like and looking at it!! i have a huge collection of pixel inspo. slowing animations down can really help you understand whats going on. its just a bunch of simple elements put together that makes it look so good.

IF U WANT MORE RESOURCES/ARTISTS I REOCMMEND TO GO AND STUDY LMK!!! IM LIKE A WIKIPEDIA, I AM A BIG FAN of pixel art and love to share

🌿 OK lets talk about landscape stuff

it looks like you have art experience already, but im gonna talk as if youre a complete noob cos it might help some other people who read this!! ur doing great 👍

❓ how to learn: study (and practise a lot)

what i mean by study: draw it, copy it, try to understand it. you can try to change characteristics about it. changing the angle or lighting can help u understand how something works in 3 dimensions.

sometimes it takes time, dont worry, you will figure out your own style through doing studies, its all a process

❓ how to draw landscape details?

study pixel artists and how they do it recommendations: fool, slym, jubilee, deceiver

also please look at real world references!! you got to build that visual library

❓ how to learn composition?

study traditional artists or animation. i did a ton of studies of ghibli backgrounds which i think helped my growth a lot recommendations: arcane, studio ghibli, traditional painters

im gonna break down a piece as well and maybe that will help. this is one from 2022 but its still one of my most popular and its pretty simple too!!

if we remove all the fancy stuff what we have is actually really simple. just a few large, overlapping shapes that all point towards our focal point. it's the brightest area with the most contrast and many edges point into it.

go to pinterest or google and just search "pretty landscape" or "mountains" or something and you can see what i'm doing is nothing special or unique!! break it down into bigger shapes to begin with, its just different areas of material mostly.

and heres how you can make any landscape from any colours. purple sky or mountain? orange grass? ok !! it all works, it doesnt matter. i just blend the colours.

when parts of the landscape are in the distance they become closer to the sky colour as there is more "sky" in between you and it. its called atmospheric perspective. so if the sky was red, the clouds would fade towards red.

OKKK i dont know what else to say so i hope that helps!! honestly 90% of what i do is intuitive and hard for me to really explain, so you dont have to know The Rules, you just kind of pick up stuff as you go.

GL and thanks so much for showing me your art!! please keep going!! 💕💕💕💕

[forest-hashira]

Butterflies

i have no chill so yes i'm back with a new fic a week after the last one. idk how or why i'm like this so don't ask. this is my second entry for @threadbaresweater's "summertime (and the livin' is easy)" collab event! my chosen prompt for this one was geto + botanical gardens. this got away from me literally in the first sentence AHAHA.

read on ao3 | wc: ~1.8k | cw: gender neutral reader, first date, minor miscommunication, both suguru and reader are bashful as hell and have been crushing for a while, several types of bugs are mentioned towards the end, but i think that's everything!

When Suguru had invited you to visit the local botanical gardens with him, you’d accepted without much thought, assuming that all your other friends would be there, too. You’d all spent nearly every waking moment together since the weather had gotten warm enough and the days had gotten long enough to spend more time outside, so it seemed like a foregone conclusion that this was going to be another one of those days.

You were quite mistaken.

Suguru was standing alone outside the front gates waiting for you, and while he was usually the first person to arrive whenever you all got together, Shoko, Utahime, or Kento usually weren’t far behind and consistently arrived before you did, so you were a bit surprised.

“Is everyone else on their way?” you asked as you approached, one hand above your brows to block the sun from your eyes as you looked up at him; you’d forgotten your sunglasses, again, something Satoru teased you about constantly. Even with the small amount of shade your hand afforded you, you squinted a bit up at your friend. His hair was pulled fully up into a bun, a hairstyle he didn’t wear as frequently as he did when you were all in high school, but with a heatwave rolling through the area, you weren’t exactly surprised he wanted all that hair off his skin.

After a moment you realized the sun was creating a sort of halo around him. Like an angel, you thought to yourself. He’s certainly pretty enough to be one. The thought caught you off guard, and you hoped it wasn’t obvious that you’d grown flustered by your own thoughts; you didn’t need him finding out about the crush you’d been harboring on him since you were teenagers, especially when no one else was there to save you from yourself.

His brows pinched in confusion, and he cocked his head ever so slightly to the right. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“Satoru and Shoko and everyone,” you said, now feeling a bit confused yourself. “Are they just running late? Usually at least Kento is waiting with you by the time I show up.”

A look of understanding crossed his face then, and his face visibly reddened. “Ah,” he sighed, looking away from you and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s uh. It’s just us, actually. Sorry, I thought you knew that when you accepted the invitation.” 

“...Oh,” you uttered intelligently, feeling your own face beginning to heat as well, and not just from the sun beating down on you. It never occurred to you that Suguru would want to spend any alone time with you, away from the group; not that you didn’t get along without everyone else – you definitely did, you were just usually around the rest of your friend group – but the occasion for one on one time hadn’t arisen since you’d been partnered for assignments in school.

“We don’t have to go in,” Suguru offered gently, meeting your gaze again. “We can pretend this never happened. Or we can see if anyone else wants to join, I know Satoru’s not doing anything today.” When all you did was blink dumbly up at him, he looked away again, staring down at his feet. “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

That brought you back to yourself, and you shook your head vehemently. “No!” you burst out, then cringed at your own raised volume and squeaky voice. “I-I mean, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. We can still go in. I looked this place up when you invited me, and I really want to see their pollinator sanctuary.”

Suguru’s shoulders dropped in relief at your words, and his small smile returned almost instantly. “I’d like that.”

As he turned and headed towards the gates, you followed barely a half step behind. You started to pull out your wallet as you drew closer to the ticket booth, but Suguru stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you. “I bought our tickets already.”

His words had your face burning yet again, and you looked away sheepishly. “Thanks.” You followed him up to the gates, pausing long enough for the gate attendant to scan the tickets Suguru had bought – he’d printed them out, so the employee didn’t have to try and scan his phone screen, which struck as so distinctly Suguru that it made your heart flutter, though you’d never admit that to another human being.

Tickets now scanned, the pair of you were free to explore the grounds at your own pace. Ever the planner, your friend led you over to the large standing map. “Do you want to start with the pollinators?” he asked. “Or would you rather save that for the grand finale?”

Taking a few moments to consider, you looked over the map; the grounds were bigger than you thought, and you knew with the sun beating down on you, it wouldn’t be long before you were tired of the heat and ready to go somewhere with cold drinks and air conditioning. “Let’s do that first,” you said after a bit. “I don’t wanna run the risk of missing them because they’re hiding from the heat.”

Suguru nodded easily in agreement with your words. “I think that sounds like a good idea,” he confirmed. When he reached up and started tracing a path on the map from the “YOU ARE HERE” sticker to the pollinator sanctuary, you couldn’t help but watch, his hand making the sections of the map look smaller than they actually were. 

“It looks like we need to go this way,” he said quietly, and though you couldn’t quite tell if he was speaking to you or just thinking aloud, his words were enough to bring you back to yourself. “The pollinators are near the back, but this section with the trees should be pretty shaded for the walk back. What do you think?”

He turned to face you then, head tilted ever so slightly as he waited to hear your answer, oblivious to the way you’d been ogling his hand. You blinked dumbly for a moment, processing his words as you did your best not to make a fool of yourself.

“That sounds good, yeah,” you agreed sheepishly. “This way, right?”

When he nodded, you turned and made your way down the path, Suguru at your side. He was right, the path he’d chosen was pretty well shaded from the sun, offering you a bit of relief as you walked. The pace you maintained was steady; you weren’t rushing by any means, but you were eager to see the pollinator sanctuary, so you were walking a little faster than you normally might have.

Birds chirped overhead, singing to each other as they hopped from branch to branch, and the sound made you smile; summer wasn’t necessarily your favorite of the seasons, but right now the pros were definitely outweighing the cons.

“Thank you,” the raven haired man said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, and you looked up at him in slight confusion.

“For what?”

“For agreeing to come here with me,” he said simply. Then, looking a little bashful again, he added, “And for not freaking out on me when I told you it was just us after you got here.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “I was happy to accept your invitation. And I’d never freak out on you for something like that, y’know. You’re easy to be around, and if nobody else is here it means I actually get to appreciate your presence.”

“You make a good point. Satoru does tend to demand to be the center of attention when we’re all together, doesn’t he?” A soft smile painted his lips as he spoke, and his words made you giggle a bit.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He does.” 

Conversation was easy after that, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time, but it felt so good to talk with him; to spend time with him without anyone else around, something you rarely got to do, and never felt like you could suggest yourself until now. Now, though, you were sure you’d be spending a lot more one on one time with your companion.

“Oh, what was it that Satoru was trying to explain the other day? He kept comparing it to digi…mon…” you trailed off mid sentence as you stepped out from under the trees, completely forgetting what you’d been saying as you saw the pollinator sanctuary unfolding before you. Your steps slowed, and you looked around with wide eyes, taking in the sight of all the insects flitting between the brightly colored flowers: the honey bees climbing out of blooms covered in pollen; hummingbird moths hovering as they sipped before zipping to the next flower; bumblebees droning through the air; butterflies flitting from plant to plant.

Suguru slowed to keep pace beside you, and unbeknownst to you, he was looking at you far more intently than anything else in the garden. He paused for a moment, letting you walk a bit ahead of him as he admired you. As he watched, a few butterflies flew closer, dancing around your head as they came to investigate the scent of your shampoo. You stilled, though your eyes were wide as you tried to watch what was happening above you. One by one, about half a dozen butterflies landed in your hair, almost forming a crown around your head, making you look like some sort of nature spirit.

“You’re beautiful,” Suguru blurted out, and the sudden compliment startled you a bit. You turned back to face him quickly enough that all the butterflies went fluttering off again, now that they knew you were not, in fact, a flower.

“Huh?”

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, though a bit more bashfully this time. “I’ve always thought that, y’know? I just didn’t want to make things weird between us by telling you that.” He closed the distance between you as he spoke, and he offered you a sheepish little smile. “I hope it’s okay that I’m telling you now, though.”

“Yeah,” you murmured back, smiling just as bashfully in return. “That’s more than okay. You’re beautiful, too, actually. I’ve always thought that.”

A small laugh bubbled out of Suguru at your words, and his expression grew impossibly more fond. “I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, then,” he mused. He was quiet for a moment then, his dark eyes contemplative, before he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

The touch surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You felt your face burn a bit more as he pulled away, but your smile only brightened as you looked up at him.

He smiled back just as brightly, and as he spoke again, he took your hand and laced your fingers together gently. “Do you want to keep going?” “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @peachdues @ghost-1-y @witchbybirth

@marinnnnnnnnn @dr-runs-with-scissors @enchantedforest-network

divider by saradika-graphics

[osleeplessflowero]

I figured it's time to bring back Classic Sans for a oneshot. Haven't posted about him since Stargazing! My very first Sans oneshot and Undertale oneshot as a whole. - Reader is Gender Neutral as always! Their SOUL type is up to you. - This is a good way to tie these oneshots to another series of mine :)

It's quiet..before a breeze fills your ears. Your senses are overloaded with sound. Soon you can feel the breeze too, gently hitting your skin as you slowly open your eyes and move your hands over the grass beneath you.

How long had you been asleep? What happened? Did you miss anything? Your head is spinning..

A familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts softly, calmly. Just like he always does.

"heya. glad to see you're back." He greets you with a smile once you look over, just as he always does. You can't help but smile too. Sitting up, you scoot a bit closer to him and abruptly drop your head on his shoulder, to his surprise. "woah there, what's this all about?" He raises a browbone as he looks down at you, feeling your arm move behind his back so you can awkwardly hug him.

"How long was I asleep?" You ask, getting straight to the point. He looks back up, focusing on the rising sun before the two of you. "not much time has passed here since you fell asleep. or, i guess you could say we fell asleep, huh?" He chuckles. "guessing you've had lots of opportunities to explore. i couldn't imagine doing all that."

"..Yeah." You think about places you've been, your consciousness moving about through different timelines and possibilities. It is only right here, in this space, that you can truly remember things..and where you originally came from. You've certainly seen a lot of interesting figures recently. All of them being different variants of Sans, and even his brother, Papyrus. The same two, just..in various different fonts.

"it's kinda weird, when i think about it." You turn to look at him. "how there's so many other mes just..hangin' around in other timelines. that even the smallest decision can make an entirely new form, a new me. up to the point where..it's like i'm a whole other person. they're sorta..physical "what if"s. aaand prove that the timeline theory is real..so..that's complicated. i guess i can see why you like to go see them all. curiosity."

"..Yeah..it's..like a new adventure each time." You earn a nod from him, before you sit up and move so you're in front of him, placing your hands at the sides of his legs. "But..just so we're clear, that doesn't mean I want to see you any less, Sans. You're still you, the original you, that..that I fell for in the beginning." Heat rises to your cheeks, burning even warmer as you watch a shade of blue make its way onto the skeleton's cheekbones to match.

"i mean, i understand if you prefer some variations of me more. i'm not gonna take it personally-" You cut him off, placing your hand on his left cheekbone. He freezes like a deer in the headlights, his eyesockets relaxing a little as he leans into your touch almost instinctively.

"Just because I like to see other outcomes it doesn't mean I'll love you any less. I refuse to leave you behind. I won't leave Paps behind either. I promise."

"seems like a pretty big promise. sure you can keep it?" "I'm absolutely sure." You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his own. "No matter what..you'll always remain in my heart, Sans. The true you, I mean." "why settle for me when you can have so many other mes?" He raises a browbone, a soft smile on his face. "At the end of the day it was the two of you that my heart belonged to first. Nothing will change that." His face is now a prettier, brighter shade of blue..you can't help but smile, seeing him like this.

"You're not making puns." "it's not the time for that." He averts his eyelights, earning a chuckle from you. You lightly tap his cheek. "C'mon..look at me." "i dunno.." "Please?" "what if i fall for you all over again?" You smile. "I'd be alright with that."

He turns his eyelights to you, unable to look away the moment he does. You can hear his breath hitch, the lights shifting into little heart shapes the moment he blinks. "..Can I?..Or would that be too forward?-" You mutter, your face heating up again at the thought. "just get over here, you." He puts his arms around your waist, pulling you a little closer so you can make contact yourself.

You lean forwards, pressing your lips against his teeth..feeling yourself becoming lost in the moment. Your heart pounds in your ears, your faces both madly flushed as you embrace each other's company. Eventually you have to break the kiss for air, softly regaining your breath as he stares at you with admiring eyes. He reaches up his hands, placing them on the sides of your face now. The cool feeling both calms your nerves and makes you even more flushed. "you alright being stuck with me? with us, even?" "Always. Don't ever question that." You smile, earning a grin from him in return as you hear footsteps approaching in the distance.

"There You Two Are! I've Been Looking Everywhere For You!" Papyrus comes to a stop before you, pressing his hands on his hips with his all-too-familiar grin. A few seconds pass before he takes in your states, a smug look crossing his face. "Am I Interrupting Something?"

"nah, you got here just in time. right?" Sans lightly nudges you, earning rapid nods from you in return. If you let him hear your voice tremble or crack you would quite literally die inside.

"so, what's up? something going on?" He asks, putting an arm around you. "I Thought You Might Want To See Our New Neighbors! They Are Quite The Interesting Bunch. And..Oddly Familiar Looking.."

You and Sans give each other a knowing look. "You don't think?.." "awfully convenient timing, universe." "Might as well make a good first impression, huh?"

[soft-sunbird]

‼️Save Hilda's Pregnancy‼️

💥🚨 Pregnancy in War🚨💥

🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉

🔥💥Am pregnant 🔥💥

Please read our story carefully and imagine the situation we are living in. 400 days of war and genocide. 😥

There is nothing in the markets, and if anything is found, it is extremely expensive. 😭

The weather is very cold, and the leaky tents are worn out from the summer heat. 🔥

The children cry from the intense cold and the darkness of the night 💥.

There is no electricity, the water is contaminated, no education, no healthcare, and no medicine. 😓

Pregnancy has exhausted me, and I wonder how my child will survive in these conditions if they arrive. There are not even vaccinations or clothes for children. 😥

Some of my relatives are covering their children with pieces of plastic to protect them from the cold due to the lack of any income sources. 😰

In addition, the sounds of bombing, gunfire, and drones mimic the sounds of wild animals and screaming to frighten people in their sleep. We don't know how long this suffering will last or if we will truly be able to endure it. 😔 🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉

We want to reach our goal, we're still in the beginning 🙏🙏

Plz visit the pinned post on my page to donate or reblog ♻️

https://gofund.me/b845968e

✅verified by @gaza-evacuation-funds

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✅a-shade-of-blue

Hey, Tumblr. This is Hilda, who I care about so so so much. So much that I'm willing to be brave and vulnerable and share my own story under the cut. I ask that you make a donation to either of the below links if you can; Gofundme minimum €5, Ko-Fi minimum $1 AUD. Link to her Gofundme | Link to our Ko-Fi (Ko-Fi proceeds are split between the 20 families I'm supporting, but you can ask that your donation goes to Hilda directly) TW: loss

I was around Hilda's age when I got pregnant, too. I wasn't expecting it. I wasn't ready. My life was just beginning, and I had no money, and I had just escaped from a household that wasn't being very kind to me. I was NOT ready to be a parent. I was extremely distressed. My partner and I talked about it. We decided that, although it broke our hearts... it wouldn't be fair to bring up a child in the circumstances we were living in. We promised that one day we would try again, when things were better, when we'd both grown up a bit. So I booked an appointment, shamefully borrowed $1,000 from a friend, had a surgery... and I wasn't pregnant any more. And that was 9 years ago. I am still sad about it, because I think about what my child would look like, what their favourite animal would be, what their favourite food would have been. I will never know.

In those 9 years, I've been living my life. I'm 30 now, and I have only just started to feel like I understand myself, and what's important in life, and how to participate in the world. I am strong, I am brave, I am good.

But it's not the end of my story. I still get to look forward to meeting my child. I feel capable of raising a kind, gentle, creative child that becomes a passionate, strong, thoughtful adult. The thing is, although they were still overwhelming for me, my circumstances then were so much better than Hilda's are now. I had food, I had a safe place to live, our hospitals are free and operational. I WISH Hilda had that privilege right now. How will she cope, if she's already struggling to find food, taking vitamins in place of meals because she has no other choice? If her tent is already flooding, her bedding soaking wet and freezing cold? Will she have a safe birth with medical care, or will she be alone and afraid and in pain? Maybe Hilda would make the same decision I made, if she had the choice. I think she's very brave. I know she's very lovely. I have no doubt that if her child makes it into this world, she'll do an excellent job with the limited resources that she's got. I would be overjoyed to know that her soul carries on in the spirit of the next generation. I would hope so dearly that her child might grow up in a safe environment, that the war will end soon, that this crisis is something that her child is taught ABOUT, rather than having to live through and experience firsthand. I hope so. I really hope so. What I do know is that we are Hilda's best hope to survive this monumental life change, as safely and comfortably as possible. Whatever happens, I want her to know that she is loved and supported. That she matters, and so does her unborn child, whether they make it into this world or not. That they are worth fighting for. Give a little, or give a lot.