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girlactionfigure · 12 days

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THE HOLOCAUST WAS IN COLOUR

I woke up today in Jerusalem to the sound of a siren marking Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day. The fucking Holocaust. This thing that's there. This thing that every Jewish kid has to learn about far too young. There’s no good age to learn about it. It takes away an innocence whatever age you learn.

It's a lesson of: actually - the worst shit can happen.

Actually - the worst shit did happen.

Actually the worst shit could happen again.

There is no objective proof of God - but Auschwitz did happen. It’s difficult to remain idealistic about human beings after that. If tales of individual acts of heroism that emerged from the Holocaust are supposed to give us solace and an after-taste of hope, the bigger question is what is it that makes these tales such anomalies?? What is it that prevented every person from being a hero? And why did it happen in the first place?

Visiting Auschwitz ruined part of me. It really did. Even before visiting, all that bullshit ruined part of me. I remember seeing images on TV as a kid and that ain't healthy. To see ghouls hanging on barbed wire. Piles of skeleton and flesh. I don't see how it can't ruin anyone if that's you and your kind they were gunning for. The idea that people murdered you because you were born you. The idea that your fellow countrymen turned round and said: actually you're not one of us. Or turned a blind eye, buttoned up their lips, gazed down in silence and left you to deal with it on your own. It's not like this puts joy in your heart. It puts something in your heart that I can't explain. It puts in your heart the sensation that some people don't want your heart to beat. And that's a confusing feeling for any heart: a nexus of emotions. A paralytic, existential moment. The loneliest heart, scarred by barbed wire and frost.

The fact that I can only trace my family tree back a few generations has always gnawed at me. I can only go back so far and then there's nothing. Just a black hole. Part of my connection with planet earth has been blotted out for good. I've been disinherited of my roots - from knowing the specifics of who I am and where I come from.

A few years back I visited Auschwitz - this massive shithole in Poland. And it's not like this death factory could have been a secret. There's no way. People knew. It's huge. It just goes on and on. And there's something weird about it. And you can't quite figure it out. And then you realise - it's all in colour. It's not in black and white. The images we're used to seeing of Auschwitz are black and white. And as horrific as those images are they provide a safe, historical distance. It appears a bygone world far removed from us. But it's here in colour and it's the same world we inhabit. The same air, the same trees, the same rain falling. And the human beings would have been in colour too, with red blood cells and capillaries and hearts beating like ours. They weren’t creatures from yester-year, they were modern human beings with the same body parts and feelings. And they were murdered by modern human beings who also had the same body parts and who probably loved their children and kissed their partners goodnight.

There's more I could write. I could write about mountains of shoes. I could write about piles of hair. I could write about buttons and cutlery and possessions that emerge from the mud in the rain. I remember having a stupid back and forth in my mind over some buttons I found which I put back into the mud. I had this stupid thought that maybe I should have "liberated" the buttons rather than leave them in that shithole - but then thinking that would be stealing? But would it be stealing if they'd been stolen by scum and were now being "taken back" in a spirit of love and solidarity by someone on their side? “Liberating buttons.” Stupid stuff. Ridiculous thoughts that you can somehow do something correct to rectify what happened here and bring some kind of harmony. In the end I left them. The buttons were stolen and they don't belong to Auschwitz - but they belong to the memory of what happened there - so they can at least continue to speak from the mud to anyone who sees them.

If I'm honest, part of me wishes I hadn't visited the place. I came away angry and it killed any absolute faith I have in human beings. As I say, individual tales of heroism and defiance aren’t enough to justify true optimism. They're a plaster to cover up the deeper sickness of who and what we are as a species. There's something worrying about human beings and our capacity for cruelty. A species whose children pick the wings off flies, combined with a propensity to herd mentality, is dangerous. It should trouble all of us. I don't know how we overcome it, keep it restrained, or collectively channel it toward a universally agreed direction that’s aimed at goodness.

If I have one reflection on whatever nonsense it is I'm writing it's this: I think there's a violence in human beings. There is violence in the human soul. There is violence and there is cruelty. But more than that there is fear. Despite our songs and poems, I'm not sure love is the most powerful force on earth. There’s a strong argument to suggest fear is the primary driving force behind the actions of the animal we call a human being. It's fear of freezing to death that causes us to build shelters. It's fear of going hungry that causes us to stock food. It's fear of being ostracised that causes us to ostracise others. It's fear of ridicule that breeds conformity. It's fear that causes people to keep their heads down. And when the moment of danger comes? When the tyrants enter? When the bullies arrive? It's fear that causes people to not speak up. To turn a blind eye. To let someone else take the bullet. People can bombastically jump on the bandwagon and say "never again" but it’s tough to find your voice when face to face with a bully. People can say never again but it’s tough to square up if someone has raised their fist and shown they will use it. It’s tough to be brave when the moment comes and there's so many thoughts going through your mind and your brain and adrenalin decides it's best to shut down and stay quiet for the sake of self-preservation. It’s tough to do good things in this world because the bad things are loud and scary and intimidating. It’s tough for people to rise above fear. There’s a reason why heroes are called lone heroes. They’re uncommon.

That's why it's good to be writing this from Israel where Jews are once again in their ancestral home, the place they forged an indigenous civilisation many thousands of years ago before the Babylonians and Romans forced them into exile. A place where they can ensure that "Never Again" is not left in the hands of a species that pulls the wings off flies. Google the Evian Conference - visit Auschwitz yourself - survival is not a game to be left in the hands of others or based on the strength of promises. Because there's always a chance that when the chips are against you and you call out to friends or others for help, you could be left hanging around wondering when they'll arrive?

And the answer might be:

Never. Again.

So. Anyway. It's 5pm. I need a piss. Then I'll probably eat some bread. A siren went off this morning. Just one final thought before I have a wee. I say that any absolute faith I have in human beings is lost. And that's true. Yet every day I experience such joy at existing. I love walking about, talking to people and connecting with souls cut from the same cloth. I like nature and I like looking at things and if I didn't love science so much I'd probably be a new age nut hugging trees and trying to kiss ants. Being alive is the most beautiful thing I've experienced to date.

And as embarrassed as I am to say it would you look at me trying to finish on a positive note?

Maybe there is something stronger than fear?

The persistant impulse to seek blessings in a world full of curses. The sheer chutzpah of life. The defiance. Not to vanquish the darkness, but to live in spite of the darkness. I can handle a world where Auschwitz took place if I also get to live in a world where there are people I love. I can handle a world where there’s horror if I also get to laugh now and then. And the fact that love, laughter and happiness can blossom in a world where the worst can happen - and has - must count for something. Deep down the impulse to go in search of life’s blessings is within all of us. It’s part of who we are. It’s why we get up each morning. We have to have faith that all will be well even when logic, history and common sense says otherwise. Actually it’s not even a question of faith. We have no choice. I think hope is hardwired into all of us. Deeper than fear. We are a creature that hopes. And sometimes, with the right wind behind us, at the right tide, we make those hopes come true. Sometimes, if you will it, it is no dream.

Lee Kern

This was written in Jerusalem in 2015 on Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day

#yom hashoah #Auschwitz #Lee Kern

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 6 months

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Prompt: "You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror."

Pairing: Dire Crowley and GN!Prefect/ Yuu/ MC

Genre: Yandere (platonic)

TW: Yandere Dire Crowley, crow man's delusional and literally does not give two fucks, just generally creepy vibes all around.

AN: I am so, so, so sorry for what you are about to read now lol. If you get too confused in the middle, don't worry, I was just as confused writing this but my brain just wouldn't rest until I finished and posted this so here we are. The basic summary of this is that Yuu or the Prefect is trapped in an endless cycle because Crowley overblotted. You might have to read this twice or thrice to understand the how and why <3

He knows.

From the moment he sees them, he remembers.

He remembers and he watches as they do it again.

And again.

A puppet, unaware of their being handled by someone else, someone kinder and gentler who just wants to keep them safe and sound.

Even if it means trapping them in an endless cycle.

Even if he is the only one who sees and notices and remembers.

Dire Crowley cuts an imposing figure as he stands in his office, facing an ornate mirror. Not the Dark Mirror, no. This particular mirror has its roots in mystical arcane magic, from the times of Jupiter and when the Titans roamed free. Dire has a faint memory of his mother, the Crowley Matriarch, telling him to be careful with it, to pass it down to his heir as she had, to him.

Crystal clear, it beckons to him to reveal himself. To bare himself, imperfections and flaws laid out in the privacy of his office for it to see.

A selfish, sadistic desire to pick apart every carefully constructed lie, each bejeweled facade to show the utter mess of a man that lies beneath it all arises in him; he finds himself indulging in it more often than he likes to admit.

The masked man removes his mask for what is not the first time, and most certainly would not be the last. Sharp golden eyes look on as black ink, once held within the confines of his mask, drips down his face. Times like these make him wonder and marvel at how he has not met his demise yet.

Fingers adorned with golden claws rise and touch the blot, marveling at how cold it feels as it stains his skin. Lesser mages would have been dead long ago, Crowley knows this. Slight dread rises in him at the thought, knowing that his magic reserves are long finished; he lives on borrowed time and magic.

But then again, who cares? As long as he can have them here, where they belong, safe and sound-

A knock resonates through the room, startling the headmage. He quickly puts the mask on his face again and clears his throat, saying, "Come in."

He watches as they walk in, no doubt to complain about something, or to talk about their financial situation. Perhaps he should increase their allowance? After all, it is their being, their magic that sustains him, and allows him to live through these lifetimes watching over the unassuming, now magicless human he had imprinted on and the students they had endeared themself to.

Crowley watches as they speak, unable to stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He hems and haws and lies through his teeth about not being able to find them a way back.

He sees the light in their eyes dim; it is a small change, one that doesn't stay for long. But the magicless human is precious to him, and so he observes them. He watches them leave his office silently, a stark contrast to when their impatience and indignance have them cursing his name to the skies. No outcome, no outburst of their emotions will be able to move his cold, frozen heart to thaw, however; they belong to Twisted Wonderland, as Twisted Wonderland belongs to them.

In their first lifetime, Crowley recalls with the fondness of a father thinking of his grown-up child, they did possess magic; far different in nature, but magic nonetheless. And powerful too, considering the aura of it radiated from their being even as something stopped them from being able to use it.

Crowley wonders if it was so that he could see how invaluable, how indispensable they were.

How the entirety of Twisted Wonderland was made for them.

He did try, the first time, to find them a way back home. Endless efforts were dedicated to researching the existence of universes and multiverses. Of course, such exhaustive research would take time, time which he saw them spend getting close to the students of Night Raven College and fighting overblots.

Seven overblots, in the span of one year.

A record untouched by any other being, mage or otherwise. A record they kept making each and every lifetime they spent in the loop. A record that became his new normal, so much so that he no longer gives more than a cursory glance to the overblots and their aftermath.

He knows how it all ends, after all.

In their first lifetime, his efforts had bore fruit. His studies revealed a way to connect the Dark Mirror to their plane of existence, through the use of the very mirror that was hidden behind his back. His blood had run cold at the revelation, and he spent the next few weeks? months? looking for alternatives. For other ways to be able to send them back.

Until one day, the Prefect found out.

As they angrily interrogated him for the reasons behind his silence, asking him why he would not send them back even though there was a way, he realized exactly why he was hesitant about sending them back.

Crowley had no spouse, no children. But the mirror, the mirror which had been in his family for generations, needed an heir. One who could gain control over it, rather than have it control them like it did with so many of his ancestors, including his mother.

Surely the one dubbed a beast-tamer could tame such a dangerously powerful magical artefact?

He desperately begged and bargained with them, trying to change their mind. Trying to entice them into staying forever in Twisted Wonderland, as his heir. He offered them gold and silver, riches beyond what one would expect a man like him to have. He offered them the immense honour and prestige that came with being a deity that the entirety of Twisted Wonderland bowed to.

But they... they refused to stay. The only thing that was in their mind was to go home. Why couldn't they get it through their head that Twisted Wonderland was meant to be their home?

The aftermath of that argument... Crowley's memories are hazy at best. He remembers waking up in a pool of blot, the sticky ink covering his hands and the top of his face, dripping constantly. He remembers the mirror glowing as he dragged himself to it like a mindless moth flies to the flame even with the risk of getting burned.

Words had slipped through his mouth like the prayers of the devout at the altar of their deity, the faint and familiar hum of magic accompanied by a slight crackle of dark miasma.

"Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor... My proud, beautiful flower of evil. You are truly the fairest one of all," he had spoken, not knowing exactly what spell he was casting. All he knew, was that he was succumbing to the mirror, the same way his mother had; the same way all of his ancestors had, giving into the madness that such unchecked power and magic could create.

"O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat... Reveal unto me the visage I seek.." A vision of them, standing on the other side of the mirror, had Crowley try to reach out to them. His hand grazed the solid glass, before passing through it. He watched as their eyes widened and they took a step back.

"You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror." A shiver of thrill ran up his spine as they gingerly placed their hand in his after giving his words some thought, even with all the doubt in their eyes. He curled his fingers around their warm hand, and pulled.

He later found out that, during his overblot, he had managed to trap a significant portion of their soul in the mirror that was his family heirloom. The mirror rejected their magic, foreign as it was, and somehow those powers transferred themselves over to Crowley.

The words Crowley spoke, was the way to invoke their soul and bring them back each time they left Twisted Wonderland. A reset button, if you will.

Every time they show the slightest hint of wanting to leave, the slightest glimpse of understanding that he is the one they need to defeat in order to go home, he resets. Memories get wiped and Twisted Wonderland moulds beneath his gold-plated fingertips to what it was before. They say time waits for no man, but then again, Dire Crowley is more monster than human now. And so it bends to his will, but not without taking away his memories as well.

But then he sees them.

And he remembers.

#ice write #twst writing #twisted wonderland #twst #twst crowley #dire crowley #gn!yuu #gn!prefect #twst yuu #yandere twst #yandere dire crowley #platonic yandere #gn!reader #gn!mc #dire crowley twst #yandere crowley and gn!prefect #i dunno what this is #but it is something

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

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IDCNTLIKEDARKNESS MILESTONE EVENT ★

request; hi love ! so i saw someone request “jj x reader where they are making out and her lip stick smudges on her face and all over his lips, and they’re just so in love” on another page and i was wondering what your version would look like.. <3

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings; shotgunning (smoking), fluff, making out

authors notes; after i did that headcanon yesterday of what jj was like as a boyfriend i decided to do an entire blurb of just shotgunning, i hope this little twist i added is okay !!

masterlist — jj maybank masterlist — milestone masterlist

Neither of you knew how you’d gotten here.

How you are seated at the far end of JJ’s dirt bike, and his back is to the steering handles— facing you. Knees grazing the others, helplessly waiting for the release between JJ’s fingertips. Or maybe it could be described as an escape, a painless one at that. The tight space in John B’s front yard was ideal, and JJ is taken aback that he hadn’t thought of sooner.

His girl, his weed, his bike, and his beer.

His only necessities in life.

Though you are first on that list, his priorities lie with you. Even if there wasn’t another ounce of weed to spare on this planet, you were his remedy.

And he was content with that.

Chasing the love you give him was enough of a rush in itself.

Willing to run forever until he’d gotten enough— and he’d never have enough.

The initial escape, is a blunt and it’s sitting pretty between his knuckles. Aligning together to uphold it at an angle, all the power of nothingness in such a small load. Thankfully he’d be stuck in that nothingness with you. JJ’s neck is somewhat sunburnt, as he’d given you the more shadier side of the bike, guarded by the overpowering tree at the Chateau. He’d never mind though, his girl deserves nothing less. He’s admiring you like he met you an hour ago, like it was the first time. What stuck out most though, was the seductive lip stain adorning your mouth a dark brown accentuating the curvature of your cupids bow and a cinnamon red blotted in the middle. Tinted and emphazing his most favored part on your features.

The shotgunning that’s too commence was a shared hobby between you and JJ. Bonding over it after he’d stepped foot in the local shop you worked at, coming in to buy rolling papers. Though JJ knew full well that they weren’t sold there, he just couldn’t get your image out of his mind upon buying a six pack earlier that week. An exceptional beauty behind the cash register.

Hell, he still has the first blunt the two of you shared locked away beneath his pillow in a small baggie— an emblem of the relationship.

And the rest was history.

“Gonna’ have to open real wide for me baby.”

He reminded, though is wasn’t necessary. What he was really after was seeing your mouth all slack for him, agape and awaiting his sensuous smoke to enter your lungs.

Quite the sight for ravenous eyes.

“I know,” you deadpan. Giving him a pat on the shoulder, as if to say ‘you achieved nothing with that sentence’. Even still he’s offering a shit-eating grin, weight shifting on the bike to reach the zippo lighter in his cargo-shorts pocket— with one swift movement the blunt burned with fire.

JJ encloses his pair of lips on the bud, expertly letting a cloud of smoke flow to the back of his throat, reserving the remainder in his mouth for you. Hallowing his cheeks, his hands form a ‘come closer’ motion and you inch forward on the bike— it was unknown how much more room was still left between the couple after being this insanely closed in and harmoniously integrated.

He curves his index finger beneath your chin— putting it out, unable to waste one drop as he was planning on basking in this moment; talent like because this was second nature. His mouth parted open along with yours, delicately blowing the milky white smoke to the back of your throat. His eyes darkened, watching such a tasteful scene unfold before him.

Allowing you a second to inhale it and feel it deep in your lungs— the sharpness of the weed daggering at your throat causing a cough or two. He desperately rested his hands around your waist, luring you into his eager lap. Smoke-ridden lips feathering loving pecks to your jaw, giving way for you to sulk in the nourishment that the joint gave you.

“Doing so good, pretty girl.”

Large hands centered about your neck, tightening around and grasping onto it with no sanity. Your breath hitches at the suddenness, he hungered for a raw make out session—he was going to get exactly that. Anticipating, with wandering bodies ravaging one another. His tongue searched your bottom lip, licking it with rigorous notions as well as countering the lipstick painting your lips. It was like the cherry on top before his mouth molded with yours, slowly and all at once. His grasp on your neck, cutting off air flow but still you wanted more— you wanted to keep going.

“Fuckin’ love you baby.”

He groaned forward, meaning it but more of confessing it into the kiss so that you could feel it in your bones, continuing to turn his head to meet with yours. And still he lingers, adams apple bobbing, lips attacking yours fully. Teeth biting down on your bottom lip, showing it attention once again. So full of affection he can’t contain it. Pairs of lips intact, moving with the rhythm of the wind until you let go to press your forehead against JJ’s coming up for any granule of air. Chests heaving, his bright eyes take in the sloppy, and smeared lipstick that’s littering your lips.

So fucking messy, but still the prettiest thing he’s seen.

The evidence that you were on his lips was there, the rest of the printed red indented into his plump ones. Pouted outward at the no contact.

“You got a little something there.”

You confirmed, tracing the lipstick shade to his mouth, adjusting your hips in his lap. Sharing sentimental kisses and sharing endless weed with his girl on his bike, again, he’d wished he’d thought of it sooner.

“Lick it off?”

“M’not licking lipstick off of your face JJ.”

Aware that he’d find some notorious way to coerce you into doing so.

#outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank imagines

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allmightskitten · 1 month

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10 Things You Should Not Do At a Warlord Meeting:

A Dofuwani Fic

Rating: E (probably E++ eventually, there’s smut in every chapter and it only gets more unhinged)

an extract:

Doflamingo chewed on his bottom lip, expression flitting between that familiar simmering anger and something else.

"That's just the start though, isn't it?" he snapped. "First it's this conference, then you'll say we can't be seen by your fucking crew on your ship. Then it'll be that I can't come to Alabasta because people will speculate now. And you don't even want to visit my place. Isn't that how it's going to go, Croccy? I know you, I know the way you think. I know how important your image is to you and that this isn't worth risking it for."

Crocodile took a sip of his coffee. It was every but as dark and rich as it smelled, a little sweet under the bitterness.

Well, Doflamingo had a point. He hadn't considered that far ahead yet, but it was quite fairly what he might have done.

"So our arrangement may actually end. Why do you give a shit?"

The taller warlord gripped his cheap paper cup so tightly that a good deal of the dark liquid overflowed in a second, getting all over his hands. Even though the coffee was hot, he didn't so much as flinch.

Crocodile observed him from the corner of his eye, watching his response carefully. He knew Doflamingo was volatile, but he wasn't sure anymore what would come out of him.

"I'll change your mind."

Well, it wasn't that.

"What?"

Doflamingo glared down at him, setting his half-empty cup aside on the counter. He loomed over Crocodile with his big feather coat like a shadow blotting out the sun.

"I'll convince you not to end it. If I need to be the best you've ever had then I'll prove that I already am. I'll become something you can't do without."

Crocodile stared at him like he'd grown a second head, which honestly might have been easier to digest than this.

"What the hell are you yapping about? I'm not your goddamn lover breaking up with you to warrant those embarrassing theatrics. You can live without just one of your fuckbuddies. There's no need to act like it's the end of the world when all we are is–"

Doflamingo trapped him bodily against the counter, face so close to his as he interrupted him with a snarl.

"Is that all we are?"

Crocodile stiffened.

#dofuwani #dofladile #donquixote doflamingo #sir crocodile #crocodile one piece #one piece fic #ao3 #idk how to share my fics over on tumblr but that is a thing I am doing now!#doflamingo one piece

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welshoot · 3 months

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Twisted Wonderland and The Black Cauldron

This theory honestly seemed so far-fetched when I first came up with it before Twisted Wonderland got localized, but I felt like writing this so here we are.

There might just be a connection between Twisted Wonderland and The Black Cauldron (film or novel). Before I get into the wild theorizing/analysis I would like to say that this post will contain major spoilers for the book and film of The Black Cauldron as well as for Twisted Wonderland, so proceed at your own risk. Also, this is going to be very long, so be forewarned

This entire theory comes completely from this image:

This is the mirror chamber from Twisted Wonderland, a room we seem to keep coming back to in terms of potential lore importance. I don’t really know why, but when I saw this image for the first time my mind immediately flew back to this:

I guess it’s something about the green stuff coming out the thing up top that reminds me of the titular black cauldron from one of Disney’s worst performing films, The Black Cauldron (1985).

Now, The Black Cauldron (1985) is a bit of a dark spot on the history of Disney’s animated movies. All in all, it is generally forgotten and most everyone likes to pretend it doesn’t exist because of how poorly it performed when it came out compared to the amount of money Disney sank into it (at a $44 million it cost more than $40 million budget of The Little Mermaid [1989]). But, notably, The Black Cauldron (1985) also contains one of Disney’s most terrifying villains. The Horned King.

Now, if you’ve never seen the movie or read the book, the Horned King intended to use the titular black cauldron to unleash an undead, immortal army and intends to become “A god between mortal men” (quote from the disney wiki page for the man himself). Interestingly, considering he’s wanting to amass an undead army, the Horned King is quite skeletal himself. Outside of that, there is very little known about this character. He is very mysterious, very evil, and is implied to have magical powers though he hardly ever uses them. An additional point of interest for the sake of this theory is the fact that the castle of the Horned King is in horrible shape. Sort of ramshackle if you will.

The film version of this villain is very different from the book version. The book version is not the primary antagonist, rather he is the antagonist's champion warrior until death. With that said though, he is still quite ominous. No one knows his name and his title comes from the horned mask he wears. In the book he doesn’t seem quite human and is rather bestial. Another potentially interesting point is that, in the film, his goons are identical to Maleficent's and he is connected to dragons.

Now, for this theory, the Horned King may or may not come into play, but the black cauldron itself is important. In both the book and the movie, the only way to destroy the black cauldron (and it is evil and needs to be destroyed so that the undead/immortal army can’t be made) is for a willing sacrifice to go into it and die. While in the movie, the sacrifice is saved this is not the case in the book.

Now, the whole undead immortal army thing makes me wonder about the overblot monsters. We know from Ignihyde that the blot monsters can exist after the death of their host which makes them a sort of undead immortal monster. They also seem to be wholly obsessed with magic, and the magic mirror of NRC is suggested to be incredibly unique and very magical. So, if the green thingie under the mirror is the cauldron, it might be possible that the overblots are happening to form an undead/immortal army that will obey whoever holds that mirror simply because they themselves want the magical power of the mirror. In such a case, the only way to stop such an army would be to destroy the cauldron (i.e. give it a willing sacrifice). The only question is, who?

In the Disney film, the willing sacrifice (who was brought back to life because it is a kid’s move, albeit a sort of creepy one) was Gurgi. He sacrificed himself so that the protagonist (Taran) wouldn’t sacrifice himself to save his friends. Gurgi was, simply put, an ever hungry, greedy about food, cowardly, and cheerful but annoying sidekick to the lead. It’s never really explained what, exactly, Gurgi is but h had blue eyes and was small and fluffy. Here’s a picture:

Now, we have to consider Grim here. Small animal companion, constantly hungry and greedy for food, fairly cheerful but with a penchant for being annoying, has blue eyes, and we don’t really know what he is. If the theory that each character in Twisted Wonderland has two inspirations (one heroic and one villainous) is true, then Gurgi may very well be part of Grim’s inspiration. And if that’s the case he would be a likely candidate for the willing sacrifice. If that is the case, the situation would probably have something to do with stopping the Prefect from sacrificing themselves (or something).

In the book version of things the sacrifice is the jerkish, second prince Ellidyr. He is not revived and he sacrifices himself as a way of making atonement. Character-wise, he is the edgy character for the book, though notably he is also a more complicated character for the series. He is also incredibly strong for unexplained reasons, has a deeply hidden sense of honor, and if he sets himself a goal he will see it through. And, as a final character note, he is the foil to the protagonist of the tale.

Now, Ellidyr’s character can match up with several different individuals in Twisted Wonderland, making it hard to say who any other potential willing sacrifice candidates might be. It could be Leona, a rather jerkish second prince, but he would need a specific reason. It could also be a tie-in to whoever’s hand the player took at the start of the game. However, there is one final option who is present simply due to the virtue of their placement in the story. The Prefect.

While everyone else has shades of villainy, the Prefect is implied to be the most upstanding person at NRC, though they may manipulate others if they feel forced (Octavinelle Chapter and forcing Leona’s hand into helping). As such, their position as outsider in a world with no identifiable way home and resident nice person does unfortunately put them squarely on the chopping block as a sacrifice. Especially since it is implied that they are becoming friends with the various characters at NRC.

There is also the idea of: does someone even want to create any army of overblot monsters? And, to be honest, I really don't even want to consider the implications of such a thing or go into to trying to figuring the who and why of that question, plus this post is already pretty long.

In the end, this is just a wild theory that I thought was rather intriguing since I personally think it would be very amusing if Twisted Wonderland made use of Disney’s black sheep movie in such a pivotal way for the plot. With that said, I highly doubt such a thing will come to pass, though I would find it incredibly amusing.

#Twisted wonderland #The black cauldron #Twst #Twisted wonderland theory #analysis #The black cauldron (1985)#Disney movie #Disney #theory #mywritings #The Black Cauldron book #Chronicles of Prydain #disney tw #The Horned King #Gurgi #Prefect

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thatwildnya · 1 year

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Pov: you look and dress like Rika from Pokemon

no idea how tall Rika is but for these hcs imma say you’re 6 feet and just for fun you also have a clodsire named Muddy Buddy

notes: female pronouns used, images of Rika and clodsire at the bottom

Idia

he is winning in life and knows it

you are hot and cute and handsome and sexy all in one

does not believe in love at first sight but when y’all first met he might have changed his stance cuz dAMN YOU LOOKIN’ FINE AS HELL

happy he can hide behind you without having to bend down so much

loves the gap moe you have

your neutral expression makes you look so cool and dignified

then you see something cute and the way your face lights up makes his heart go into overdrive

Ortho also loves and adores you and Idia loves watching you interact

please please please do something hot like kabedon or use a finger to make him look up at you he will melt

just make sure you have access to a fire extinguisher at hand just to be safe-

he loves your big goofy looking buddy too

finds the big goof fascinating and a joy to play with and likes to use him as a portable AC when it’s scorching outside

he used to lay on him then he discovered that Mud can make some of his bones shoot out of his back after he let out a sneeze

thankfully he didn’t have his whole body draped over him-

dress up in a butler cosplay for him he will be foaming at the mouth

Epel

has a love hate relationship with your looks

on one hand you look so cool and awesome

but on the other you look so cool and awesome

he wants your gender give it to him

everytime without fail people confuse which is the girl and boy between you two

you do your best to help him pick outfits that will make him look more masculine

unfortunately you somehow always end up picking outfits that just make him look more feminine

it’s very weird and frustrating to both of you how does this keep happening

appreciates your height he can hide behind you when needed like Idia

you are the only person who can come up from behind and pick him up without warning

you have an unspoken agreement of how y’all cuddle

if you’re laying down he’s the big spoon but if you’re sitting up he’s snuggled into your side

met Muddy Buddy before you, his mama sent over his weekly crate of apples and he dropped some

Mud happened to be nearby and since Epel didn’t want them to go to waste he let him eat them

Mud would be waiting for him every week when he came to pick up his goods to get his share

Epel is more than happy to feed the big goof more often than not there are always some leftovers that go bad

Riddle

did not realize you were a girl until the post blot battle

why you ask? because your shirt got torn and part of your bra was on display

the speed of him tying his cape around your chest would make a nasa race car envious

it’s a bit awkward after that but it gets worse after he fixes your tie during chapter 2(correct me if I’m wrong-)

he gets a nice close up of your face for the first time and realizes you are very attractive and it’s all downhill from there

his crush is very obvious and everyone is teasing him about it left and right

how do y’all end up an item? well when he heard you were staying with Leona cuz your dorm had been snatched he left so fast there was a dust cloud left behind in his wake

he’s all winded from his sudden marathon but that doesn’t matter

you are promised an actual bed and no chores

unfortunately for him it’s the night before azul’s overblot so you have to stay where you are for one more night

he was going to put you in his room and let you use his bed

once y’all finally get together you become a powerhouse duo

gotta do 14 stacks of paperwork bigger than grim? ha you’ll be done before dinner

you cannot tell me Riddle prefers to be the little spoon

he likes to snuggle into your chest and curl up

same as Epel you are the only one who can pick him up without warning and not get your head chewed off

Muddy Buddy is your son and is spoiled rotten between the two of you

Riddle makes he always gets a share when dessert is involved

one time he went to a study group with the other second years and Mud tagged along cuz you were busy

Kalim brought a cake (made by Jamil) to share during break but to Riddle’s horror there wasn’t enough available for Mud to get a share

as any good parent should do, he gave half to his son

Mud was delighted and to say thank you he gave his pops a big hug

study group was cut short due to Riddle almost dying of suffocation

Vil

you are the envy of every fashionista couple in the world

if the dictionary had a picture next to gender envy it would be you two

the moment you walked into the room for ch.5 auditions he knew you were going to be apart of the group whether you liked it or not

in this timeline Grim is the manager not you

y'all'd've slayed the competition but since Vil has to loose during the overblot fight you sprained your ankle or somethin’ or whatever idk you just don’t get to dance oof

you went to one of his modeling gigs and immediately got roped into doing a shoot with him

he 100% knew this would happen

now you are making bank and don’t have to rely on the crow for money

Crowley did bring up rent once but immediately retracted that after when an angry mob of teens showed up outside his office

his favorite thing to do with you is clothes and makeup shopping even if you whine and grump half the time

let him run wild every once in awhile he loves styling you up

has a love hate relationship with your pet to be honest

yes he is very sweet and cute but he is so messy dear seven

the derpy baby is not allowed inside until he was been rinsed and dried, has to be hand fed since food will get everywhere otherwise, and under no circumstances is he allowed anywhere near anything that holds Vil’s precious Gucci and Porsche clothes

one time Mud got a bit too excited and accidentally ruined a pair of his heels

naturally Vil got mad and in the heat of the moment yelled at him

of course he apologized once he cooled down but poor Mud was now scared of him and this broke Vil’s heart

he knows how much you love your derpy blob of a pet and that if he can’t fix this the two of you would end up separating

so he sets a master plan in motion

you get a distressed call from Epel about Vil having lost it and when you arrive you find that your beloved has turned an area of the dorm into a huge mud filled paradise complete with a pond and sprinklers

and to top it all off Vil has designed clothes specially made for him to play with Muddy Buddy

in that moment you knew you were going to marry this man

oh and he collects Mud’s poison but nobody knows what he does with it

Azul

power couple tm

you are the classiest couple in the school

loves that you’re tall he is 100% a clingy sleeper and there’s plenty for him to grab on

you help out with duties at the lounge ranging from paperwork to serving to bartending

he has 100% noticed an increase in sales whenever you're serving. the reason? you look damn good in the uniform it shows off all your best traits and your personality only increases your attractive meter

this was a win for him until customers started flirting with you and kept you in one place for longer than you should be

you were moved to the bar but that was even worse

the last straw was when one of Those kind of people got a bit too cocky and thought it would be a good idea to give your buttocks a slap

whether or not the twins were there to step in didn’t matter neither you nor Muddy Buddy were going to put up with that

nobody knows what the two of you did to the student since you dragged him into an empty room but he had transferred out before the end of the week (this happened on a Thursday)

and speaking of Muddy-

Azul has adopted him as his son and baby talks him but will never admit it

any leftovers goes to him without question

always buying him new toys to slobber over and gets him little hats to match with both of you

even tho he refused to let you do anymore serving it wasn’t a huge loss

thanks to your child both of you are making bank

one of the VIP rooms was cleared out and turned into a room made specifically for spending time with Mud like some animal cafes have

because Mud is smart and loves his mama he only cooperates if 75% of the revenue goes to you how sweet~

Floyd constantly gets poisoned by him because he likes to squeeze him and Mud does not appreciate this so Azul forbids him and Jade from being left alone with the baby

why is Jade not allowed to be alone with the baby? you found out he was secretly collecting your son’s poison and he refuses to tell you the reason

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kalechipslives · 8 months

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sorekara setting design

Here are some notes on the development of SOREKARA's style and presentation. If you couldn't already tell, SK takes a lot of inspiration from 70's/80's anime, Nobody's Boy Remi being the reference point for much of it. I've always respected Dezaki for his monumental work so I've always wanted to pay tribute to it (especially the early stuff). I don't think I was as successful as I'd like to have been, but alas! There is still more to come! So without further ado!

I was just talking about Dezaki , but now I shall talk about something completely different. To set the tone, I created the cat and the trolley setting first. The Girl's design should be plenty obvious (lol). But the background here I paid special attention to... I find the paints of Night on the Galactic Railroad to be very unique. They have a line less, airbrushed quality to them that blends in surprisingly well with the characters. I did some research and studied 児玉喬夫 Takao Kodama's work, as they were credited with setting design for this film as well as Genji Monogatari. Actually, if you look at Genji Monogatari's backgrounds, they have the exact same airbrushed quality! I had never done a background like this before (I am certainly not an environmental artist) but I think I did a fairly good job of it.

...I immediately switched gears and without thinking, went back to Dezaki works. I can't say I was very faithful at all. The night sky is easy to paint, with it's notable color spray and paint blots, but I diverged quite a bit with the watercolor textures. Shichiro Kobayashi is the artist I looked to the most, and this project made me appreciate him more than ever before. Just looking at his paints gets me emotional... The vibrant colors, the dramatic angles, you can just feel his reverence for life overflowing from the work. There really isn't anyone better. I need to study more if I'm to capture even a fraction of his skill. That being said, I did make sure to animate the backgrounds slightly with the sparkles on the water-- The reflection of light on water is my favorite to draw! Also, flowers are a very important motif (for various reasons, ohohoho). Kobayashi seemed to love drawing flowers, the paint around the edges give is a delicate look. Actually, if you look at the textbox...

Instead of full-color CGs, I opted to use "postcard memories". This was a technique Dezaki used where he would show a detailed, scratchy-lined illustration to highlight important moments instead of fully animating them. It creates a really memorable image that draws out all of your emotions! I tried to emulate them (the more single-toned ones, that is) for the game. It was 1/3 Dezaki worship, 1/3 time-saving technique, and 1/3 excuse to draw lots of scratchy lines. I love scratchy lines. This way, I could make a lot of memorable shots that were visually interesting without overworking myself.

As another note, I looked to Akio Sugino's character art when drawing. The characters don't really look like Sugino characters, but I was emulating his shading technique with (once-again) the scratchy lines. Ah, I was in heaven. Looking at his older work, the linework is hardly ever clean-- but the rough, hand-drawn edge gives everything a tactile quality and the strong anatomy makes everyone so gorgeous. It's like an engraving come to life.

Finally, the anime effects! On the left you can see soothat before his values are adjusted (very dark, isn't he?) and on the right you can see he is in-game, values adjusted with a more appropriate "anime" look. This is because anime cells are put onto a CRT screen, so they end up looking very different. I created an auto action in CSP to adjust the color grating and line quality of every asset before popping them into the game for the chromatic aberration to take effect. The lines are slightly crunched a blurrier compared to the original. It gives it a more "physical" look. The colors are fixed up-- you'll see there is no pure black. If you look at a physical anime cell, you'll see they more often than not do not include pure black. There is usually a tint of green or red in there.

The chromatic aberration filter... I don't know how noticeable it is to the average player, but the game actually has a built-in filter that creates a slight "chroma" effect to emulate the look of frames through a crt/light. This means the red + blue + green values of the entire screen are split up and adjusted to layer slightly off from each other, giving it a little visual interest. It was AN EXTREME doozy to put in, with my poor programmer coding it and re-coding it until the end. It seemed simple at first, but there are parts where the game zooms in which totally broke the filter! It made out eyes bleed! But it was repaired in the end, so blessing upon you, Sandy. You saved my life.

The reason why I looked to Ie Naki Ko/Nobody's Boy Remi specifically is because that's where I feel the most "pure" energy from. It is a show that leans incredibly hard on it's techniques to get by but because of that it really embodies what I love about old anime-- It has a selfless reverence for its subject that drives you to watch and surrender your heart. Dezaki's powerful directing, Sugino's gorgeous drawings and Kobayashi's majestic paintings come together to make a work that shines. The setting is truly at the forefront with the characters getting lost in the grandeur. That's the attitude I had with SOREKARA: "There are things much greater than us, so isn't it wonderful that we are able to see them side-by-side?" There are many animation techniques that are cost-effective while still being utterly beautiful, I would love to copy them someday but I wasn't able to go that far yet. At least not in the demo. There's still time, I suppose... Studying limited animation from old anime is actually extremely useful when creating visual novels. Understanding the placement of cells and their layering/movement has given me even more ideas for stories!

I ended up going on a rant about anime again ^^" But it's so beautiful, you must now understand my heart going into the work. I always think of my characters and their journey, of course, but before that I think of the setting. I want the player to experience beautiful and mysterious things alongside their traveling companions. There is still so much more to make. I hope to incorporate more Dezaki-style techniques in this and future works. Please remember the true message of my works.... Not that love finds a way, or that your connections can transform your world...it's that....anime is very, very cool.

Thank you for reading 🙇🏽‍♂️

#game dev #sorekara end of a journey #visual novel #vn dev #indie dev #dev diary #osamu dezaki

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nostalgiachan · 1 year

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Once more, it is time for 100 OCs! As always, new images up top, earliest images down below, and detailed info below the cut.

#41: Belphegor, Lord of Sloth Idea: Queen of Sleepy Bitch Disease Story: Death Guard

Since I did actually make basic designs for the Deadly Sins (for a polymer chess set I was trying to make as a college portfolio project), I could draw each and every one of them. But honestly, I don't really want to waste the character slots on them, especially when I don't really have an earliest image for most of them.

But then there's Belphegor, who I actually caught the design bug for back in 2008.

Belphegor, Lord of Sloth, member of the Church of the Seven, as it was called. She offered to open a door to the world of your dreams, and all for the price of the life of a child - for who was more full of dreams and imagination than a child? Of course, as with all of the blessings bestowed by the Church, there was a hidden cost: while your mind was off in dreamland, your body would fall comatose and die a day later, after which your soul would belong to Belphegor and you would be tormented by your greatest fears for all eternity.

As one can imagine, being the Lord of Sloth, Belphegor spent much of her time asleep, usually only rousing when summoned; in her dream world, she's much more lively and active, almost childlike and playful. When called to fight, her personal armor, like Belial's leather-and-lace getup, resembled medical apparatus intended to keep the body forcibly upright and functional - in the modern day of our heroes, this means an oxygen mask, various full-body braces, and steroids to combat muscle atrophy. She also fought with a pillowcase full of bricks (because I thought it'd be funny...and also because I couldn't think of a more fitting weapon).

Of course, even though her braces don't quite hinder movement like proper ones would, she's still not a very good physical fighter. Instead, she prefers to attack enemies - when else - in their dreams. While she can't directly kill someone like she could if they'd summoned her, she can still visit terrible nightmares upon them, breaking their morale and causing them to lose sleep. And if your opponent's too tired to think and function, they're too tired to avoid a pillowcase of bricks to the head.

#42: Sydan III/ Sydan Silkka Synkka (the "Canon" holder of the name) Idea: Bookish, quiet mage with darkness powers Story: Dragon Tavern (browser game turned personal story)

This entry hit the post character limit on its own, lmao, so here's images of the preamble to the Dragon Tavern characters from the OG Discord posts:

Our first team is the Champions of the Deadlands (new name TBD), led by one Sydan Silkka Synkka, a Black Seer from the Sepsus Order of the Eclipse (new name TBD). Black Seers are practitioners of what's essentially shadow magic powered by souls , and they may or may not have an ultimate goal of blotting out the sun. But don't you worry, Sydan's just about the nicest spooky-magic user around. She lived with her parents and younger brother, Selien Ommel Rumilus Synkka (one of their parents liked unwieldy names, apparently), until she was scouted by the Sepsus Order at age 13, at which point she left home and moved to what I've determined is essentially Death Magic Hogwarts - though she wasn't happy when she learned that she wouldn't be seeing her family again. The majority of her next decade was spent studying the dark arts - which had a side effect of bleaching her black hair white and giving her eyes a sensitivity to sunlight that would only prove to get worse the more magic she used. In addition to learning the arts, she was taught public speaking and civics, as Black Seers frequently became people of some influence in Deadlands society and it wouldn't do for them to be uneducated in how the world works.

Sydan was 23 when she was called upon by the Gate Council to lead a three-person team on a secret mission. Her partners would be Pierrot Douleur, a half-elf Dread Minstrel (whom she was almost immediately smitten with, though her self esteem wouldn't allow her to say as much), and what at first glance appeared to be a gangly, almost rabid Moon Elf man with one arm that was longer than the other - but turned out to be her very-much-human younger brother, Selien, who in the decade that she'd been away had become an Animator like their father.

His drastic appearance was just the first sign that some serious shit had gone down in the Synkka household while she'd been gone. The second was when Selien attempted to murder her on their first night of camping. Sydan was not nearly as squishy of a mage as Selien expected, however, and Sydan fought him to a complete standstill to show him who's boss. It wouldn't be until some time later in their journey that Selien would properly open up and tell her what happened: that their father had murdered their mother, crafted her into a flesh beast, and attempted to do the same to Selien before he managed to fight back and kill their father. It would be even longer before he'd reveal that the beast he kept with him was, in fact, their mother. Some part of Selien blamed Sydan for all of this happening, that if she hadn't left, their mom would still be whole and he'd still be sane, and he'd had a pretty bad break upon seeing her again.

And then, all the unwritten plot happens. They cross paths with the other two teams of Champions, find the remains of subtowers, and eventually all three groups converge on the tower, where one person goes through with activating the portal and unleashing T'akar Dum - and he styles hard on all nine characters. They barely manage to fight T'akar back into the portal and shut it off, and knowing that the world was not ready to try to fight this thing, eight of them stay around the tower in an attempt to hide it from the world. They each set to work studying it, dismantling it, and doing whatever they can to gather power in order to properly fight it.

For Sydan, this means getting even deeper into her studies; by this point, it's grown physically painful for her to look at much more light than a few candles can produce, but she can see almost perfectly in the dark.

Five years pass, and she ends up sequestering herself deep within a cave, the only place dark enough for her to study in peace. She also ends up isolating herself from both Selien, who's slowly recovering his mental health, and Pierrot, whom she may or may not have confessed her feelings for at that point, though both absolutely love one another. When the Seekers, the nine successor characters, finally come sniffing around their makeshift village, she's grown powerful enough to singlehandedly fight most of them without leaving her cave.

Also it turned out Dragon Tavern being dead was only temporary, they renewed the domain.

#43: Pierrot Douleur Idea: The Bard, but with less womanizing and more romance Story: Dragon Tavern

Out of the three Champions of the Deadlands, Pierrot has the least developed background, as while Sydan and Selien eventually developed the plot of their family issues, Pierrot was stuck at "the pretty boy and Sydan's love interest" for quite some time. But at least I can fluff things up a bit.

Dread Minstrels, the only actual bard class in the game, are musicians who are able to summon horrible noises through their instruments to strike madness and fear into the hearts and minds of enemies, and can pacify outbreaks of the uncontrolled undead. They also serve as the more standard kind of minstrel, and while in the game, their music serves to pacify the occasional outbreak of undead hordes, in the reworking, I decided that as the Deadlands' societal culture is uniquely centered on death, they just became popular performers in their own right without the secondary pacification effect.

Pierrot is an up-and-coming multi-instrumentalist, specializing in bowed string instruments, from the Bonekeep Gloombringers tradition. Some time before they officially met at the forming of the Champions, Sydan happened to see one of his troupe's performances in one of her rare outings. He was chosen by the Gate Council to join their group specifically to reduce how suspicious they may appear; just having a Black Seer and an Animator travelling together might look suspect enough outside of the Deadlands, and having someone like a Death Knight or Bone Lord along would make them stand out even more. Dread Minstrels, on the other hand, were a bit more known for venturing outside of their swamps to spread their particular brand of entertainment with the world, so at first shake their party would come off more like a performance troupe than a band on a mission.

Pierrot was more than talented enough to be an asset to the team, but he wasn't popular enough that very many Deadlands expats would recognize him - a fact which Pierrot dearly hoped would change by the end of their mission. He isn't a glory hog, but like most artists, he desires validation for his work, and it was his hope that once he was the hero of their nation, more people would want to come see him perform.

Well, by the end of the first arc of the story, he gets his wish...sort of. After the encounter with T'akar Dum, people do want to see him, but only so they can drag him and his party back to the Deadlands to answer to the Gate Council - in particular, a young Dark Puppeteer named Faid who happens to be a fan of his and may or may not be attempting to craft a corpse puppet in his likeness. For a time, while he mourns the seeming loss of his relationship with Sydan when she sequesters herself in her cave, he leaves the Champions' outpost to draw attention away from that area, secretly making an appearance at a party being held for Seekers, those looking for the AWOL Champions, and seeding rumors that they'd appeared somewhere far afield. I'll hammer out more of his personal details in time, promise.

#44: Selien Ommel Rumilus Synkka Idea: A flesh crafter what flesh crafts himself as much as his flesh beast Story: Dragon Tavern

Ah, Selien, easily my most developed of all the Dragon Tavern characters. In-game, he's an Animator, a class that basically makes undead monstrosities out of various corpse parts. But I thought it would be fun if Selien did as much part stitching to himself as he did to his creations; thus, he had elf ears, shark teeth, a two-fingered left arm made with various bits of dragon flesh, muscle, and bone, and God knows what sort of leg modifications to make himself taller, along with patches of various skin grafts to replace any lost in battle. He was creepy, kooky, mysterious, spooky, and altogether ooky.

And then I made him Tragic™️.

At some unknown point in the early 10s, when I first got to rethinking the character stories, I began to expand on the family history of Sydan and Selien. As stated in Sydan's wall-o-text, she was recruited into the Black Seers at age thirteen, leaving her younger brother at home with their parents. Their mother, while I never determined what she did for a living, if anything, was a kind, loving woman whom both Sydan and Selien loved dearly. Meanwhile, their father was an aloof and mysterious man who spent most of his time in the family's laboratory studying the art of Animation. When Sydan and Selien were young children, their father, while not the warmest man in the world, was still present and attentive to his children, but over time, he began to withdraw from the family. By the time Sydan left, he was only appearing at meal times, and eventually even that stopped.

One day, a few years later, their mother finally decided that something had to give, and she went to confront him in his lab. And she didn't return for a day.

When Selien realized Mrs. Synkka hadn't come back, he went looking for her. And unfortunately, he found something truly awful there: within a day, Mr. Synkka had surgically transformed Mrs. Synkka into near-mindless flesh beast. See, in my reworking, while flesh beasts are able to function at the command of an Animator, they don't have proper autonomy or an actual soul. Mr. Synkka had been spending the past few years attempting to create a flesh beast with an actual soul and sapience, but nothing was working and it was slowly driving him mad. Now, how turning his wife into a meaty monstrosity was supposed to create a sapient being, or if it would even count for what he was trying to do considering at best he'd just be transfixing a pre-existing soul into a different body, is anyone's guess. But either way, he didn't get what he wanted; if anything remained of Mrs. Synkka's mind and soul in that creature, it had gone dormant. But the point is, Mr. Synkka had lost his mind in his pursuit of necromantic science, and now he had turned his gaze to his then twelve-year-old son.

Mr. Synkka had gotten as far as knocking the boy out, jamming a cleaver into his mouth, and replacing all of his teeth with dragon fangs before suddenly, the creature that was once Mrs. Synkka, in a stunning display of seeming autonomy, attacked Mr. Synkka. The two battled for long enough for Selien to awaken, scream in agony at the sight of his mangled face, and in a haze of drugged stupor and blinding pain, he grabbed one of his father's scalpels, jumped the man, and went right for the carotid. He didn't stop stabbing his father in the throat until the man had completely stopped moving.

Over the years, Selien had done quite a bit of reading of his father's medical books, and had entertained notions of being an Animator like him. He couldn't have predicted that his first surgery would be to fix his own carved-open mouth.

Once he'd stitched his face back together, he had to figure out what to do with what remained of his mother. He knew he should probably mercy kill her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it; it may have been a terrible abomination, but it was still his mother, and it didn't seem to be in any pain. So, Selien's life goal was set before him: to become an Animator skilled enough to return his mother to her original state. But he kept his work on flesh creatures to an absolute minimum; instead, he preferred to perform surgeries on himself - his trauma-riddled logic being that if he can transform his own body completely with other parts but still keep his mind and soul intact, he should be able to do it for his mother, like a fucked up Ship of Theseus. Subconsciously, he also felt that if he could change all of his parts, he'd no longer be the same little boy who'd failed to protect his mother.

So, he spent the next eight years studying Animation like his father, eventually being accepted into the Sepsus Butchers Order. Shortly thereafter, he would be given the assignment of joining the Champions of the Deadlands, and be reunited with his sister; which, as I said before, went extremely poorly initially. The lingering trauma combined with the years of intensive study made Selien into a deeply cynical, bitter individual, and it takes the entire trip for him to begin to heal.

After the battle with T'akar Dum, Selien takes up the position of outpost physician, partnering with the Moon Elf Alriem to make medicines and generally care for the others now working to safeguard the tower. He once again begins to have conflicting feelings over what he should do about his mother, as he knows some part of her yet remains inside the creature, yet he's come no closer to figuring out how to restore her.

#my art #100 oc challenge #oc redraw #original characters #dragon tavern #body horror cw #pencil art #traditional art

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holocene-sims · 2 years

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👀 ❤️ and 🚂 for Grant, Paivi, Colm, and Shannon :)

thank you!! ❤️

👀 what do they see in this image?

first of all, grant and shannon would both absolutely have a GALAXY brain moment with this picture. if they were in the same room at the same time looking at this, they would look at each other and in unison, scream: "IT'S A SKYRIM DRAGON!"

colm would be a stubborn asshole and say, "it looks like a bug. they all look like a bug. what does it say if i think all ink blots look like bugs?" he would mean it 100% seriously but also LMAO dude think about it for a second longer

goth queen päivi would say it looks like a blood stain 💀

❤️ what’s their love language?

grant is a words of affirmation person first and foremost. and tbh so is colm. that's the top love language for both of them. colm likes to be complimented about really anything but especially emotional stuff (which seems like a surprise, doesn't it? LMAO) and grant likes to hear either "i love you" or anything that makes him feel like competent or that he's doing a good job.

shannon is a gift-giving person, not because she's materialistic but just because she's a lil dragon who loves to hoard cool stuff

päivi is an acts of service person. she's not super mushy gushy so that checks out

🚂 what’s their answer to the trolley problem?

grant would give you an annoying and unsatisfying "i worked in aviation and have an engineering degree" style answer, namely: "if you have a runaway trolley, your first approach should have been to find some way to stop it before the lives of people outside the trolley become a concern. if you're about to kill passersby, you've fucked up. a vehicle is never engineered with no way to stop it or derail it in an empty location. either you use your surroundings or you employ the vehicle's redundancies. like a car...if the brakes fail, you down shift, try the emergency brake, and use the guard rails. now, okay, listen, i don't know how trolleys are built, to be fair, but at the very least, if there's no emergency way to stop one, then find your outside advantage. land it in the hudson. metaphorically speaking."

okay, but what if all those things fail?

"then maybe it's your fault for not verifying the trolley was safe to drive in the first place. you have to check these things."

and no, it doesn't matter how little he knows about trolleys, grant is going to argue it should have never happened in the first place. and if it does...welp, come back with the list of details and he'll tell you again where it could have been stopped in the first place because "any accident results from a series of mistakes."

also i'm sorry but colm would also have an annoying answer LMAOOO. he questions everything. he would want to argue with you first about how certain you are that the trolley was going to kill any of these people. he wants the medical and statistical facts fjdksjfkdgfs. if you corner him into saying it's a 100% fatality rate, he's going to argue for diverting the trolley to kill the one person. but then he'll turn around and make a counter-argument for the other side by throwing out other hypothetical situations. he'll play devil's advocate. #justENTPthings

shannon tbh kind of has decision paralysis and does not like to even enthuse hurting someone so she might just jump out of the trolley and let it sort itself out...

"if i'm not in it, it's not my fault. not technically. right? oh no, am i going to hell for hurting them by proxy?"

päivi would unquestionably argue for diverting and killing the solo person. to her, it's just a numbers question and there's not much else to think about. one is less than five...and one person is a lot easier to clean up than five. but omit her comments on that because that's a bit, um, gruesome...

#asks #hlcn: oc info #hlcn: story extras #hlcn: grant #hlcn: päivi #hlcn: colm #hlcn: shannon

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bitbrumal · 2 years

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RAMBLING HEADCANON self-image / kaeya ↤ mental state :: DILUC ↩

a note that my diluc isn’t AS emotionally unintelligent as he comes across almost all the time,... there are things in his nature that make him Less Masterful at it, but that’s not the point of this post. this is about his severe inability to do anything re: kaeya that doesn’t make shit worse -- focussing around the blog canon with @ccaptain ( which features my go-to for diluc’s reaction to it all ). since we’ve done a teeny bit of our own baby steps toward reconciliation i am here to ruin canon’s good vibes with mental illness :3c

ever since That Night his inability to just handle shit with a modicum of sense has vanished under specific circumstances (= kaeya being in the vicinity): he has lost all faith in a) his own ability to be good & b) ‘good’ being a powerful presence in the world at all & c) the mindfuck is so severe he trusts absolutely nothing in himself to be able to tell him what’s what anymore.

diluc has become the trauma of his only lasting family,

& he literally cannot cope. it ruins him. & he doesn’t try to stop it- which is not ‘self-destructive’ or a bad coping mechanism: the fact of what he has done fundamentally changes his perception of himself ( realistically so ) & leaves him being something he cannot love, cannot respect, cannot trust. in the absence of a heart he can trust- the emotion he thinks drove him to extremes -he is falling back on clinical logic fuelled by an understanding of himself that leaves him suicidal.

he has become a man who will always be his baby brother’s nightmare. for reasons that were not right or good. it was a ‘mistake’, if you will, though diluc would never use that word meaning to erase his own guilt / what it says about him that he went to violence there. it was luck that kept him from taking his brother’s eye out, it was the fucking tsaritsa’s goodwill that protected kaeya. he was the villain & so cruelly so- kaeya’s own brother, & for what? -that he will never be able to stop hurting him just by existing.

the changes in kaeya are clearer & clearer. at first paranoia kept him from seeing his pain as anything but another mask - but as that slowly gets balanced out with normalcy... yeah. either everything is a lie, or... or one vital thing is not- kaeya loved him -& that----that actually makes things worse for kaeya. & so, because he does love selflessly despite his flaws, it makes them worse for diluc too. the intensity of relief felt at having truly been loved by someone in his family, & his best friend at that---made completely meaningless by how it worsens this crime.

as a result - the minute anything matters to him he is unable to find a way forward that doesn’t make him balk. there should not be a way forward where he engages kaeya. he should do the right thing & leave well enough alone; allow the poor man to heal, make what reparations he can but never again insert himself into the man’s life.

what the fuck does it matter that he loves him? that he needs him, needs forgiveness not because it was forgivable but because he’s pathetic & human & somehow, being unworthy doesn’t make him need it less - just more... but loving kaeya means he wants him okay, & ‘okay’ is what he cannot be around him. & so diluc is cold, & emotionally unavailable.

he is trying so hard to keep his own pain from being the thing he leads with. he has no right. no place.

all kaeya needs from him is closure. & then...

& then his absence.

selfishly, this understanding has crippled him so terribly he’s truly been unable to both keep his own tears out of this AND try to give kaeya closure. every single time they pussyfoot around it, his own bullshit resurfaces & it blots out all else - the mind actually represses letting go of kaeya because even like this, even with the way things are... & to know himself to be so fundamentally selfish toward someone who by all rights deserves his selflessness now more than ever... only makes everything exponentially worse.

tl;dr: ‘luc is trying to find the strength to do the right thing but kaeya is one of the only things that give him strength & the prospect of finalising their separation takes what is left of him. & that makes him hate himself worse c: diluc loves kaeya sm that he’s absolutely terrible at being nice to him.

#hc ✦ diluc #long post #i just think it's fascinating your honour #funny how your own perspective is the only thing that rules you & reality just... is a distant distant second LMAO #being human's being fragile af bruh

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girlactionfigure · 1 year

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THE HOLOCAUST WAS IN COLOUR

It's a lesson of: actually - the worst shit can happen.

Actually - the worst shit did happen.

Actually the worst shit could happen again.

And the answer might be:

Never. Again.

And as embarrassed as I am to say it would you look at me trying to finish on a positive note?

Maybe there is something stronger than fear?

Lee Kern

This was written in Jerusalem in 2015 on Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day

#yom hashoah #Auschwitz #Lee Kern

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disc-arch · 2 years

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The Crowleys + Family Lineage/Secrets

Put under a cut as it is image heavy and thus somewhat long

When it comes to the fae of Briar Valley, Crowley has been a widespread name for generations. While perhaps not the most high class of fae lineage’s, they were certainly well known and recognized as powerful despite the eccentric personalities their bloodline tended to possess. The Crowley lineage has produced many famous mages and warriors through out their family tree. Descendants of the Crowley line are easily identified by their crow-like appearances (When not glamoured to appear more human) and many by their signature piercing golden eyes. They have garnered enough fame and notoriety to be considered a noble lineages of Briar Valley.

When concerning our slice of the brady bunch of bird fae, the Crowley children are born to Aleister Crowley, brother of Dire Crowley, and his wife, Rosemary. Together, they have raised nine children.

Gwydion Crowley is the oldest. He is a graduate of Night Raven College, a former House Warden of Heartslabyul. Currently, he is serving as a healer at Night Raven College.

The second eldest is a sister, graduate from Nightingale Academy (Night Raven’s sister school)

The third eldest is currently enrolled at Night Raven College in his fourth year, member of Diasomnia.

The next in line are the triplets. All three are boys in their third year at Night Raven College. Everard is a member of Ignyhide, and his multiples are in Savanaclaw and Pomefiore.

Next is another brother, currently a second year in Octavinelle.

And of course the youngest are Keane and Nieve. Keane is a first year in Scarabia, and Nieve is a first year in the Ramshackle dorm. They have been raised as twins.

(Those with no image and name listed are listed that way because they are owned by my lovely writing partner Tea and I don't want to release information on them Tea might not be ready to release)

Each of the Crowley siblings firmly have their place in the family.

Gwydion is the parentified oldest sibling. He is the caretaker of the group who has gotten used to stepping up to take care of his younger siblings. He even took his job at NRC because it puts him closer to his siblings and gives him the opportunity to make sure they are okay and he is there if they need him.

Everard has the so called "middle child syndrome." Being both in the middle of the birth order, and the middle triplet, Everard has taken to feeling ignored by the rest of his family. Rather than fight for his spot in the pecking order, he instead has pulled in on himself. As such he is the most antisocial of the Crowley children, and is highly independent to the point of being resentful of help.

Keane is the golden child. His parents knew that would be their last pregnancy, and thus already had the mindset of "this is my last chance of having a sweet baby to coo over" causing him to be showered with the affections of his parents. Along with this, he excelled at magic from a very young age. His parents, noticing this, continuously pushed him harder and harder to "live up to his potential genius" causing him to frequently be overwhelmed with the pressure of hsi parent's expectations.

And lastly, there is Nieve. Even before the discovery of her hyper sensitivity to blot Nieve, while maintaining a fairly close relationship with all her siblings (though her relationship with her sister has some tension to it, but that is for another post) never managed to form a close bond with her parents, and especially not her mother. Her parents were always more focused on other children, more invested in the lives of her siblings. Meanwhile, Nieve was left on the sidelines. This was balanced, somewhat, by the close relationship she had with her uncle, Dire. These special visits with her uncle fueled her intense desire to one day attend Night Raven College and make her uncle proud. And of course, when she discovered her condition, all of those hopes and dreams of being a powerful mage like the rest of her family, of attending the same school as her brothers, of, in her mind, making anything of herself at all came crashing down. Her parents dutifully took her to her appointments, helped her adjust to all her medicine, and offered her support when she needed it, but never enough. Nieve always felt overlooked. Offered nothing more than a pat on the head and then pushed aside. Nearly all of her life was permeated with an almost palpable longing, though she could never put her finger on what she was longing for or why.

The truth of the matter, the family secret known only by their parents and uncle Dire, is that Nieve is not actually their sibling at all. She is their cousin. Nieve Crowley was born a few weeks before Keane Crowley. She was born to Dire Crowley and his mate, Nimue. However, shortly after her birth, Nieve's mother proved to be too weak to survive the birthing process. Facing the loss of his love, and fearing having to see her in the face of their daughter every day, Dire passed his daughter on to his brother and his pregnant wife who when she gave birth a short time after claimed that the babies were twins. Dire proceeded forward claiming that his child perished at the same time her mother did, and thus Nieve was raised by her aunt and uncle ever since. However, this secret has always hung over the heads of the adults involved, coloring how they interacted with Nieve and her siblings.

#✦ || ‘trust me they don’t know it yet but they are going to love you.’ ( muse; Gwydion)#✦ || ‘trust me they don’t know it yet but they are going to love you.’ ( muse; everard)#✦ || ‘trust me they don’t know it yet but they are going to love you.’ ( muse; keane)#✦ || ‘trust me they don’t know it yet but they are going to love you.’ ( muse; nieve)#death mention

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discivum · 2 years

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The Crowleys + Family Lineage/Secrets

Put under a cut as it is image heavy and thus somewhat long

When concerning our slice of the brady bunch of bird fae, the Crowley children are born to Aleister Crowley, brother of Dire Crowley, and his wife, Rosemary. Together, they have raised nine children.

Gwydion Crowley is the oldest. He is a graduate of Night Raven College, a former House Warden of Heartslabyul. Currently, he is serving as a healer at Night Raven College.

The second eldest is a sister, graduate from Nightingale Academy (Night Raven’s sister school)

The third eldest is currently enrolled at Night Raven College in his fourth year, member of Diasomnia.

The next in line are the triplets. All three are boys in their third year at Night Raven College. Everard is a member of Ignyhide, and his multiples are in Savanaclaw and Pomefiore.

Next is another brother, currently a second year in Octavinelle.

And of course the youngest are Keane and Nieve. Keane is a first year in Scarabia, and Nieve is a first year in the Ramshackle dorm. They have been raised as twins.

(Those with no image and name listed are listed that way because they are owned by my lovely writing partner Tea and I don't want to release information on them Tea might not be ready to release)

Each of the Crowley siblings firmly have their place in the family.

#✦ || ‘trust me they don’t know it yet but they are going to love you.’ ( muse; gwydion)#✦ || ‘trust me they don’t know it yet but they are going to love you.’ ( muse; everard)#✦ || ‘trust me they don’t know it yet but they are going to love you.’ ( muse; nieve)#✦ || ‘trust me they don’t know it yet but they are going to love you.’ ( muse; keane)

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

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The Demon Brothers + comforting a self-conscious MC/Reader

So a while ago an anon sent me the below ask

And I kind of adored the idea, considering I am also insecure, and chubby, and in need of some demon bro comfort. Hence, here we are.

Rather than bullet point, I ended up writing short stories for each brother. Hopefully you still enjoy 💕

Lucifer:

The eldest brother is not unaware of the way your eyes stray when the two of you are in public together—your gaze raking over the other inhabitants of the Devildom as you traverse the busy streets.

At first, he assumes the array of creatures—some far less human-like than he and his brothers—are interesting to you. Then, he notices the way you begin hugging yourself with your arms. As if trying to hide yourself away from any prying eyes.

It is indeed out of place for a human to be seen in the Devildom, and you do get some stares, but...he has a suspicion that the sudden shyness you exhibit stems from feelings that reach beyond what strangers may think of you.

He doesn’t like seeing you in such a state.

“Y/N,” he addresses you after tugging you into a small, scarcely populated side alley. One of his gloved fingers curls beneath your chin, and he guides your hung head to look at him. “I can tell you’re upset. Explain to me why.”

You glance away from him, cheeks heating up, and your arms hugging your sides a bit tighter.

“I just...you, and your brothers are all so beautiful,” you start by saying, causing him to blink in surprise. “And...whenever we’re out like this, and I see all of the other demons living here, I can’t help but feel like I pale in comparison...”

Lucifer’s features soften as he stares at you. You’re worried about such a silly thing?

“Y/N.” He steps forward, his thumb moving to hold your chin. He tilts your head up, guiding you into a kiss. It’s soft, and loving, and immediately your fingers are twitching against your sides—itching to reach out and hold him.

“You are perfect as you are, and I have never thought otherwise.”

He kisses you again, his free arm moving to curl around your waist and tug you closer. You feel your heart aching in your chest.

“Lucifer—”

“You need not compare yourself to others, because there is no one else like you—and you are radiant in every sense of the word. I give you my word as the Avatar of Pride that what I speak is the absolute truth.”

His voice is quiet, and tender, and full of adoration. You feel like crying.

“I love you,” you whisper the words against him, voice a little broken, and Lucifer smiles before kissing you again. He will try his best from now on to help you feel a little more comfortable in your own skin.

Mammon:

The second brother invites you to Majolish to watch one of his fashion shoots, and you agree despite knowing how self conscious it will make you, because you know it will make him happy.

So, you find yourself standing in the back of the studio, watching Mammon on the temporary set—which is composed of an oversized mattress, and colorful pillows. He’s wearing slacks, and a button up that’s not buttoned at all—revealing his toned body. Since it’s a group shoot, he’s surrounded by equally enticing male and female demons. And while the sight should get you going, considering they’re all so attractive, it just makes you feel...bad.

Biting your lip, a sick feeling rising in your chest, you end up stepping out into the hall. Mammon finds you there soon after, a look of relief on his face when he spots you with your back against the wall—arms hugged together.

“There ya are! I thought you had left!” He runs up to greet you, but his smile wavers. He can tell you’re upset—gaze straying away from him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He reaches out, hands hovering nervously. Had he done something? “I...if I did something wrong you can tell me...I didn’t mean to upset ya—”

“No, it’s not you,” you mumble, cutting him off. Now he’s even more confused. “I guess...I got upset seeing you and all the models. I know I don’t look anywhere near as attractive, and that thought started to gnaw at me, so—”

“What are ya talking about?” he interrupts you, head cocked to the side curiously. “I think you’re hot as hell.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, surprised at his words. “What?”

“I-I mean!” suddenly he’s turning red, hand lifting to sheepishly rub at his neck. “I’ve never thought that ya weren’t attractive, ya know? Ever since you came here my heart can’t help but flutter whenever I see ya…”

Your heart aches. “Mammon…”

“Listen! I just…,” his shy gaze turns back to you, and he reaches a hand out, cupping your cheek. “I think you’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

He leans in, but hesitates for a moment, so you’re the one who ends up sealing the kiss.

“Don’t worry about that kinda crap, okay?” he whispers against you, his arms lowering to wrap around your waist—holding you tightly. “Or else The Great Mammon will have to start knocking some sense into that silly human brain of yours.”

Tears blot your eyelashes, but you can’t help but giggle.

Levi:

You love Levi dearly, but he has an Akuzon addiction that needs to be addressed.

Recently, Akuzon had apparently expanded their clothing options—stocking more cosplay-like pieces—and Levi had thrown them all into his cart without second thought. Now that they’ve arrived, he’s begging you to come over.

Except, he doesn’t tell you why he wants you to come to his room until you’re already there—watching as he unpacks the multiple bags worth of questionable clothing.

“Ooooo~! This one is especially cute!!” He holds up something pastel, and undeniably adorable. You don’t disagree—it is cute, but...as you stare at it, an uncomfortable feeling settles in your stomach.

Can you even pull off something like that? You’re sure Levi is hoping that you’ll look like one of the cute anime characters in his favorite shows, and you don’t want to disappoint him.

As much as you would love to try on the clothing and model for him, you don’t believe you’ll be able to do the outfits any justice.

“Y/N?” the demon calls your name curiously, noting how you’ve gone silent. You’re no longer paying attention to him, your head hung as you stare off to the side—a perplexed look on your face.

“W-What’s wrong?” Leviathan drops the clothing held in his grap, stepping towards you. He knows that he can get a little overly excited about this stuff, but you’re typically tolerant of it…

“I don’t know if I’m the right person to model for you,” you end up saying, voice quiet. An array of negative feelings are swirling in your head, making it hard for you to say what you want to without vomiting all your worries at him.

“I’m not...built the same as an anime character, or the cute 2-D people in your video games. The clothing won’t look the same on me, and I don’t want to ruin the images you probably have in your head.”

“Y/N—,” he cuts you off, his hand grabbing your own. He lifts your hand until your fingers are splayed against his chest. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

When you glance up, his face is flushed.

“I...this is how I get every time I’m around you,” he tells you honestly. “Whether you’re in your RAD outfit, or pajamas, or just a t-shirt and jeans...I...m-my heart always beats l-like this.”

He looks like he’s about to phase out of existence—embarrassed beyond belief with everything he’s currently confessing to you—so you instinctively reach your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, cheeks aflame.

“I think you’re so cute,” he mumbles, amber eyes staring right at you. “You don’t have to look like Ruri-chan, or anyone else. I...I like you. So, please don’t think those things about yourself...”

“Levi…” There’s adoration in his gaze, and you can’t help but kiss him.

Beneath your palm, you feel his heart skip a beat.

Satan:

The Avatar of Wrath has recently become accustomed to inviting you out on little coffee dates. It’s a chance for both you and him to escape his brothers, and have a space to yourselves where you’ll be able to talk freely.

The cafe the two of you frequent is dark, and cozy, and right up Satan’s alley. So far, all of your experiences there have been pleasant.

Today, however, the stunningly attractive barista is throwing herself at Satan as he orders your drinks, and a familiar uncomfortable feeling begins rising in your throat.

Just great.

Chin resting in your palm, you watch the two interact—Satan maintaining his pleasant composure, even when she presses her arms beneath her chest and asks if he wants any company. You see him shake his head, and you assume he mentions that he’s already here with someone, considering the barista’s gaze strays to you. She looks you up and down, an unkind amusement swimming in her eyes, before she turns back to Satan.

...wow.

You face yourself away, feeling bitter, and anxious as you wait for the fourth brother to return to your side. That assuming he does. You wouldn’t blame him for running off with the Barista—

“Y/N,” two hands reach out and cup your cheeks, guiding your head to the side. You manage to note that Satan is now crouched beside your chair—barista abandoned—before his lips connect with yours.

“I love you. You’re absolutely stunning.”

“Wha—,” you flush red as he pulls back, shocked at his actions. Satan usually isn’t so open about his affections in public. “You...how did you—?”

“I was watching the barista when she glanced past me. The rude, yet satisfied look on her face was telling enough,” he says, a bit of anger slipping into his tone. However, it’s quick to melt away when his gaze refocuses on your blushing cheeks.

“Just so you know, I think you’re beautiful. I’ve always thought so.” He presses back to his feet, the tips of his ears turning red. “So...don’t mind what others say, and be kind to yourself, okay?”

At a loss for words, you reach your arms out and hug him around the middle. He blinks in surprise, but a chuckle leaves his lips—his hand petting against your hair.

“Do I need to start telling you how much I adore you every day?”

“I might die,” you mumble into his shirt, and he feels his heart ache. He’ll be sure to start expressing his affections for you more often. He doesn’t want you feeling down about the way you look, because he has never given it a second thought.

In his eyes, you’ve always been perfect.

Asmo:

Asmo is unfortunately stellar at reading your body language. So on the days where your self-confidence and self-image aren’t best, he’s right there, trying to subtly raise your spirits.

Today, when he notices you picking at your food during breakfast, a frown on your face, he knows it’s going to be one of those days. And he doesn’t like seeing you upset.

So, he invites you to come to his room for a nice, relaxing spa day.

You agree, although it takes a little bit of convincing on his end.

Soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of Asmo’s outrageously large tub. He’d prepared a milk bath for you—the white, swirling liquid thick, and heavenly smelling. You’re a little nervous to disrobe and sink inside—especially considering your current mental state—but...you end up doing it anyway.

Once you’re shoulder deep into the tub, Asmo knocks on the door, making you jump.

“Are you up for getting a scalp massage?” he questions, peeking his head in. There’s a kind smile on his face. “I’d love to give you one.”

It takes you a moment to answer—your gaze lowering to look at yourself. It’d be impossible for him to see you beneath the milk, so that helps you feel a bit better…

“Okay,” you say, and Asmo is quick to skip inside. He rolls up his pants to his knees, his calves dipping into the bath on either side of your shoulders. A moment later, you feel his fingers rub through your hair, and you can’t help but sigh.

“Feel good?” he questions, and you hum in acknowledgement. Silence falls for a short while—Asmo simply focusing on easing the tension from your body—but he can’t let his thoughts go unheard.

“You know,” he starts by saying. “I don’t understand why you’re so hard on yourself. I think you’re positively stunning.”

“Asmo…”

“No, I really mean it!” he pouts, getting the feeling that you think he’s just saying that to try and make you feel better. “You’re cute, and scrumptious just the way you are! And I’ve always thought so—since the moment I laid my eyes on you when you were summoned by Lord Diavolo for the exchange program.

“So just...take my word for it, please, and let me be the positive voice in your life when your silly brain is making you think otherwise.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and his hands move to gently hold your cheeks. After a moment, you reach up and place your hands on his own. Your chest aches at his words, conflicted, but more than anything, you feel grateful.

“Thank you, Asmo.”

“Anytime, darling. I’ll always be more than happy to shower you with the love, praise, and affection that you rightfully deserve.”

Beel:

Beel loves inviting you to the gym with him, because when he’s done working out, he’s starving, which means it’s a good excuse to go out and have a meal with you.

Most days, sitting on the sidelines at the gym, or hopping on the treadmill and getting a good walk in doesn’t really bother you. Especially because you get to watch Beel as he exercises.

Today, however, you’re feeling entirely too self conscious as you sit on the empty bench press beside the Avatar of Gluttony—watching the way his arms flex as he lifts the heavy weights.

You know that the gym is typically an accepting place—an area where people (or in this case, demons) of any shape and size can come to work out—but you just feel like you don’t belong. Not accompanying Beel, at the very least.

He basically looks like he was handcrafted by god himself (and very well may have been)—his face handsome, and body toned in all of the right places. And here you are, unable to compare to him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His voice reaches your ears, and you look up to find him staring at you in concern. You can only guess that you’d had a pretty sour look on your face while you’d been lost in your thoughts.

“It’s...it’s nothing, Beel.” You force a smile, not wanting to burden him with your current emotions. He frowns, regarding you for a moment, before he lets it go.

“Okay, I’m gonna change, and then we’ll go eat.”

“Alright,” you respond, immediately pressing to your feet. You head for the door without saying anything, intending to wait for him outside per usual.

A few minutes later, Beel exits the gym to find you sitting on a bench nearby. Your leg is bouncing anxiously, gaze zoned on the concrete at your feet.

“What’s wrong?” he questions again, taking a seat beside you. His tone indicates that he won’t be accepting “nothing” for an answer this time.

You knot your hands together in your lap. “I just...do you ever get embarrassed? Bringing me to the gym with you?”

He blinks. “Embarrassed? Why would I?”

“I don’t know, because I’m...not...up to par with a lot of the demons in there? Or, because you look like that, and I look like this, and—”

“I’m lost,” he cuts you off, looking confused. “Are you saying I should be embarrassed because I’m bringing a cute human with me to the gym? Maybe it is a little weird, considering this is the Devildom, but—”

“No, not just because I’m human. I meant—”

This time, he silences you with a kiss. His large hands cup your cheeks, holding you tenderly.

“I know what you meant, Y/N, but I disagree,” he tells you, uncharacteristically serious as he sits back. Then, a bashful smile spreads on his face. “I actually think you’re really adorable. Anytime I look at you I think of my favorite food. I love you just how you are, and will never feel embarrassed having you at my side. So, you should remember that from now on, okay?”

He reaches over and slots your hands together, tugging you to your feet.

“Now, let’s go get some ice cream.”

Belphie:

Both you and Belphie are aware that one of Belphie’s favorite activities is napping with you. Particularly, with his hands wrapped around you, and his face pressed between your shoulder blades.

Recently, you’ve been passing on all of his invitations to share a nap.

And he’s seriously starting to go crazy.

Had he done something to upset you? You always seem normal whenever you’re talking with him and his brothers, but when he sends a text asking you to come over and nap, you’re either busy, or just don’t feel like it.

Today, he decides to try and bring the nap to you.

He waltzes into your room mid-afternoon—pillows and blankets tucked beneath his arms. Without waiting for a response, he makes his way to your bed and sets everything up, making a perfect little fort for the two of you to nap in.

Once it’s set up, he crawls his way inside and then rolls over, turning to face you.

You’re stood at the edge of the bed, arm awkwardly held in your grasp. You don’t move to join him. Belphie sighs.

“Did I do something wrong?” he finally asks, wanting to resolve the issue if he has. He can’t take this anymore.

“What? No, it’s not you,” you tell him, surprised to hear his question. The demon blinks at you, now even more confused. If he’s not the reason you’ve been avoiding napping with him, then what is?

He fixes you with a curious stare—letting you know that he won’t be leaving until you tell him the truth—and you sigh.

“I just...haven’t been feeling too good about myself lately,” you admit to him, eyes glancing off to the side. “And because of that, I started thinking about you holding me when we nap, and ended up getting self conscious, wondering if I felt weird in your arms, or if—”

Before you get the chance to continue, Belphegor is grabbing your wrist—tugging you down against the mattress. With your back facing him, he’s quick to scoot up behind you, his arms wrapping around your midsection like normal.

“I never have cared about looks, or any of that stuff,” he mumbles, giving you a squeeze. “You fit perfectly in my arms, and always will, so don’t overthink it.”

“Belphie…”

“I love you for you, okay? I think you’re cute, and all that jazz. Now don’t make me say it again…”

Sounding embarrassed, Belphegor presses a kiss to the back of your head. You place your arms atop his own, smiling softly.

“Thank you.”

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep in his arms.

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