#empty mask

[ormspryde]

Today's sketch. I couldn't decide what to draw so I decided to do a redraw of a panel from Empty Mask. (except creepier because I'm into that shit apparently)

[ID: A digital painting of a young man with medium brown skin and short grey hair in a hospital. He is dressed in a white hospital gown with bandages wrapped around his neck, and his eyes are glowing light green. /ID]

[thaumana]

With great wisdom comes great responsibility....

[melit0n]

Oh ivy (sighing like I'm looking at old photos of my lover lost at war)

Credits: Unknown.

[thepeacefulgarden]

[taitavva]

[Worlds in Worlds — Danusha Laméris]

[dorianbrightmusic]

i'm seeing a lot of Pokémon SV DLC analyses where people say 'Oh, Kieran's fixation on Ogrepon is because he sees it as a path to strength; Carmine's bullied him long enough that his shield against admitting his weakness to himself is adoring a legendary creature'. And don't get me wrong – these interpretations certainly hold water – but I've actually been working from basically the opposite angle for all this time.

By all means, Kieran idolises strength, but he inhabits Carmine's shadow – he's the weak sibling, and probably has been for a long time. Yet, rather than fixate on the fantastical power of the Loyal Three, he identifies himself with Ogrepon – the downtrodden, ostracised creature cast out to eke out a subsistence. A terrible demon that wasn't quite terrible enough to cause anyone any lasting harm. The creature defeated by heroes, rather than the perfect, heroic figureheads themselves. He's enamoured with the downtrodden; he sees himself in its grief, in its being cast out and excluded. He's been cast out and excluded all his life (and he can't be a bad person, right? It's not fair – he's hated senselessly, surely, rather than for some reason?) – he sees himself as harmless; so the ogre, too, must be harmless, mis-blamed. Strength is thus in resistance; in growing a shell to tolerate others' inexplicable cruelty. So Kieran looks to Ogerpon, and he thinks that the meek shall inherit the earth, and it gives him the strength to tolerate long nights with poor company. Others are villains – not him, not this creature – and he's safe in the knowledge that at the end of the day, at least an ogre can go down in mythology as the putative sole survivor of its trials.

In this sense, Kieran's like Penny – he finds himself in a position of weakness, of being victimised, and forms himself an armour of being an underdog, of being the thing that bites back. Yet while Penny's position is that the underdog might muster the strength to bite back and restore justice, Kieran's view is that at least the underdog was worth loving. He's inert and preoccupied with his inertia. He can't understand that maybe he could be a human, with the capacity to grow, the capacity to sin. And when Carmine is cruel to him, he reaffirms his own contrarian mindset more – she says I am worth little for my weakness, so my weakness is all I am worth; my weakness is my strength.

And yet he chases strength, because he has to to survive. So when the player comes by, and supports him, maybe he has the safety to walk away from his preoccupation with being an underdog, to enjoy strength for strength's sake. And then, he starts losing, but this time, there are stakes, since he can't just withdraw and be consoled by the fact that withdrawing is right, is right, is right. Thus, he must get stronger. And then, when Ogerpon turns out to favour Juliana, who's become Kieran's idol for all that strength means, rather than Kieran, who's Kieran's selfsame designated weaklingpatheticscumidiot——well, what can Kieran do but fracture, since his whole ideology, his whole premonition that he might have the right to inherit the earth, has been fractured? And, under stress, he pivots from one extreme to the other. All he knows is that weakness is now unbearable. He must get stronger. Must get stronger. Must get stronger—because otherwise he's doomed, he's nothing. He has no myth to dissolve his identity in any longer, so he reshapes himself around the only other standard he's ever known. And it twists him and it breaks him into tiny pieces, because suddenly, the last thing he can bear to be is Kieran: Kieran, the downtrodden and meek boy. He has to flip on his axis; he must become the designated villain of his story by popular imagination, or else be subsumed in the fact that he's going to die someday without any place in the world. He has to play a part, because he's been consigned to one so long, and he can't think of anything other than heroes and villains, enemies and martyrs. He can't be the bad guy. Strength is now goodness; weakness is now evil. And he can't reconcile who he thought he was with who he must become, and as a result, all he can do is try to destroy the person who's destroyed his ideology.

[grand-line-shenanigans]

Yippee!!

[shakingparadigm]

It's a bit silly that found it unlikely for Luka and Till to be the final match back then. The more that I thought about it, the more it made sense. Sure, Luka and Ivan are incredibly similar in terms of personality and image, but in terms of circumstance Luka and Till are opposite sides of the same coin. I really couldn't envision a better matchup.

[onaperduamedee]

"I'm surprised you remember where your chamber is. How long has it been?"

[three-realms-archive]

Hello! We all know (or hopefully perceive the idea) that Satan would be a sweet romantic at heart! So imagine Satan x MC in an arranged marriage in TSL AU! For eg: everything was going well, they’re slowly falling for each other but MC has to keep secrets that hurts Satan! So MC tries gaining his trust by being honest, while Satan falls for MC again, as much as he denies it!

Of course, feel free to discard the idea, no pressure :)

Just A Small, Little Lie (TSL Arranged Marriage! AU)

(first request! i won't lie, i'm relatively new to the fandom and couldn't find any specifics for the tsl!au other than mc being henry and the demon brothers being the seven lords. but! i hope this suffices! all the tsl writings out there seem to have a more darker, sombre tone, too - so i hope that comes across :D but thank you so much, anon, for being my first requester! i hope its decently alright ahaha)

(Full fic under the cut! And feel free to plop ideas in the idea box :D)

Synopsis:

(Takes place in the TSL! AU - reader is Henry).

You used to be a knight serving the Seven Lords, popular amongst all in the realm. Then one day, without warning, the Lord of Corruption orders you to marry the Lord of Masks; of whom you had the closest relationship with out of all his brothers. However, the feelings for him that had once been growing in your heart turn sour as you're required to give up your knighthood, your life and your freedom for this arranged marriage.

Your husband gradually drops his mask, as he falls deeper in love with you.

And you gradually put up your mask, as you fall further out of love with him.

_

You don’t tell your husband that your fingers hurt, as you wind the stems of green willow between them into something that maybe, possibly resembles a flower chain. Fake green willow; because nothing survives here except him, you and the cats he allows to come and go from the castle. Fake green willow; with plastic that splits into sharp prongs that dig into your flesh when you bend it. Your husband’s flower chain is made with real green willow that has long since withered away; but today, for whatever reason he keeps behind the mask he wears, he’s decided to bring the flowers back to life by winding them into a chain. And, for whatever reason, he’s demanded you do the same.

Your flower chain looks horrible. His chain looks perfect. Like your perfect husband, with his perfect kingdom, and your perfect marriage.

The perfect, perfect marriage you never even asked for.

You don’t tell your husband much of anything, nowadays. You remember your days as Henry, the brave knight, who fights against evil and protects the seven, wise sages of the realm. You used to talk with the Lord of Masks before heading off on excursions, during breaks in military council meetings, over private, celebratory dinners… Anytime you could, you’d seek him out. You remember shifting in your seat the first time you had invited him to dinner, avoiding his gaze bashfully as you both had placed your hands on the table, fingers inching ever closer to touch. You remember he had taken your hand in his, lifting it to his lips. You even remember the exact knuckle where his soft, gentle lips had kissed. Such a romantic night; where you were free to speak and laugh and smile as you pleased. Free to possibly even fall in love with him.

… Free. You were free, until the Lord of Corruption had suddenly forced you over to the Lord of Masks as a prize. He had stripped you of your title as a knight, had forbid you from entering any other kingdom, and presented you to his brother with a shackle on your ring finger and a matching mask to wear.

So now, you do what you do best as a knight and steel yourself, putting up your guard. Everything you want to think, say or do… you keep secret.

_

The Lord of Masks doesn’t realise your fingers hurt, as you wind the stems of green willow between them into something that maybe, possibly resembles a flower chain. Fake green willow; because nothing survives here and he wanted you to have only the prettiest things which come close to matching your beauty. Fake green willow; which pales in comparison to the adorable expression on the face of his dear, beloved Henry, your tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. He, himself, doesn’t really know why he’s decided to come to your room in the middle of the night to make flower chains, but he tells himself it’s to keep his spouse entertained. Nothing more than his usual behaviour and cunning. To keep up the façade of an upstanding, untouchable member of society.

He marries Henry and keeps them happy.

He shares in Henry’s immense popularity and gets the knight’s military prowess at his disposal.

Such a good deal for Henry, the Lord of Masks thinks… ignoring the unfamiliar, warm heat spreading over his flushed cheeks when you hold out your finished flower necklace out to him.

A good deal for Henry - no, not himself - indeed.

He tells you too much, these days. He remembers talking to you: Henry, the knight - not Henry, his spouse. Faking his smile in the breaks between council meeting and pretending to care before you headed off on military excursions.

But then you had invited him to dinner for the first time after a victory. Then, he had seen expressions he had never seen you show anyone. Not even his brothers. The Henry that wasn't just the tool he could use to conquer territory; nor the Henry he could use to gain status. This Henry smiled at him. Stuttered and faltered and even blushed when he kissed their hand - like the princesses in the fairytales he pretended he didn't love to read, or the fairies illustrated in the bedtime stories he read as a child. Someone enchanting, perfect and loving in a world where's he's only known masks.

So he does what he does best and dons his own mask. Through his various connections in high society, he had covertly pulled the strings and had the marriage arranged himself; masquerading it as his idiot older brother's idea. It’s on-brand; a marriage proposal masked as pure business, so he never has to face what he really feels. But he can pretend. Pretend he was brave enough to get down on one knee, ring in hand. Pretend that his story was exactly like that of the heroes of his favourite tales.

Pretend it wasn't the prince, instead, who was hopelessly, foolishly, in love with his loyal knight.

_

The Lord of Masks smiles. If one looks closely, past the haze of the lamplight, they might be able to notice that the smile reaches his eyes. He takes the necklace made by his spouse and barely squeezes it over his head and around his neck. Green willow-shaped plastic digs into his skin.

You try to smile, too. You look at him and try to remember the man who had lovingly pressed a kiss to your hand on that night, small specks of emotion spilling out from under his carefully-crafted guise. You keep his true image in your eyes - that of your rage-filled captor - a secret. It’s the only way for you to keep up your own act… and maybe stop yourself from breaking the heart of the gentleman you once held feelings for. If he was even still there at all.

“I love you.” The Lord of Masks says, forgetting how tight the flower chain had felt around his neck only seconds ago. His mask slightly falls forward, loosely, as he leans his head against yours and gently nuzzles you - like a cat would. He even rubs his nose against yours, basking in your scent. Internally, he curses himself. His body is betraying him.

“I… I love you, too.” You say, the band of your own mask chafing painfully into the back of your neck. You're unable to move when your husband shows his affection and you ready yourself to play it off as nerves. But something in your heart - as you look at him and see the man who had leaned forward to kiss your hand - falters. Were you still holding out hope, even now? Internally, you curse yourself. You need to learn to be better at acting.

The two of you stay there a while: the Kingdom of Masks' happy, perfect couple. Your foreheads touch, your fingers intertwine and, yet, your hearts are far, far apart. Into the darkness, the two of you continue to utter that sentence:

"I love you."

It's a whole-hearted truth after a lifetime of hiding, for one...

… And one of many, many small, little lies, for the other.

(hello, anon, i hope you enjoyed this! i went kinda tragic love story route; with hopeless romantic satan and a trapped mc, though i'd like to think mc is still holding out hope that the man they fell in love with is still there. if you wanted something a little happier though, anon, please let me know and i'll write a sequel, this premise is one i really enjoyed!)

[wiihtigo]

these frauds

[xeruthana]

Masks

A doll with no true face! The face it was born into was removed long ago, at its request.

In place of a face, the doll wears many masks. It has a large collection; one for each of its emotions, and many others for blending in with common society.

Although the doll enjoys its large menagerie of masks, often spending hours carefully picking the right one for the occasion, it admits to its witch that wearing masks all the time is quite tiring.

The doll is most at home, and most at peace with itself, when it wears no mask at all. When the blinding abyss where its face used to be can shine its radiant light upon the world.

Its witch tends to agree. But she tells the doll that no matter what face it chooses to wear--even if that's no face at all--it is beautiful and valid.

[thepeacefulgarden]

Greetings, Kind Human

It's great that you're doing so much to help other people, make the world a better place, and fight injustice. Keep it up! But make sure that you...

Eat something

Drink water

Get rest and sleep

Take your meds

Take some time for yourself to do something you enjoy

Check in with your support system

Get some fresh air and sunlight

Take a step back from the news cycle and/or social media if you need to

Tell your inner critic to STFU

Set boundaries and make sure you're not spreading yourself too thin The cause(s) you're fighting for need you, and more than that, you need you. Take care of yourself.

[thermodynamic-comedian]

i am on the verge of falling asleep so don't blame me if i'm onto nothing but if you think about it val and carson are both nameless characters. but she had her name stolen from her and replaced with her purpose ("valuable") whereas he willingly gave his away in order to replace it with something that granted him more power ("press secretary"). and we never get to find out their real first names because the people those first names actually belonged to died way before either character was even introduced

[doctorwhogirlie]

so the empty child: if you were pregnant, and was turned into one of the gas mask zombies... would the unborn baby also turn into one?

[saucywendeee]

👑🐯 - 💦