Behold, my wife
sorry it looks crusty as shit, the paper did NOT like my markers and my phones camera just sucks ass
I realized I didn't have an actual design for Cirrus so I made one real quick
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Thinking about how Diavolo’s feelings transcend time and how in the Nightbringer UR+ card Demon Lord’s Castle Tour this conversation happens.
When asked, “Do you wish to see your father?”
Diavolo responds:
“I suppose I do . . .” isn’t the typical reaction to how a child would feel about wanting to see their parent. Especially when said parent has essentially been in a coma for a year.
Along with how Diavolo describe his father.
It makes more sense why when you learn in Lesson 56 how Diavolo was treated by him growing up.
Diavolo can tell when others are lying but is unable to understand his father’s intentions.
Diavolo mentions that he lived a very sheltered life growing up. That from a young age his father never allowed him a chance to talk to anyone outside the castle.
His childhood friend was Mephistopheles. A demon literally RAISED to be his friend. Putting a barrier between the two because Mephistopheles would put Diavolo on a pedestal.
The isolating childhood he experienced riddled with his strict father constantly scolding him.
Despite everything MC is so important to him he wants to see his father again so we can meet.
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One thing that I always think about post-dungeon recovery Mithrun who got home is that people were probably used to talking about him while he was still in the room.
Misiril's squad used to that when he was still in their care. Questions towards him were quickly redirected to others when he wouldn't (couldn't) answer their questions -- where was the rest of his squad? what happened to the demon? how did he even end up like this? Asking or talking to Mithrun is a pointless effort. So they stopped doing that.
And Mithrun, he's gotten used to this set-up, not like he could bring himself to care.
When his caretakers and visiting family started doing it, he continued to be apathetic to them (although, the numbness from this large, gaping hole in his chest makes him think that he used to care).
The caretakers would do their duties, but behind his back, they would probably gossip about Mithrun's chances of recovery. Others think there is still hope, a lot of them think this is going to be permanent. Which is good, at least to their business, because Mithrun's brother pays a lot to make sure he is alive. And Mithrun...is not in the state to do that himself. They at least try to whisper when they're around Mithrun, keep their voices low or mention him under an alias or a codename. But Mithrun knows they are talking about him. He is the elephant in the room.
His visiting family is less nice. They take one look at him and weep -- not out of worry, or pity, or sadness -- but of shame. There is no way they can show him to others anymore, they bemoan. There is no way he can represent himself as a member of the House of Kerensil, they cry. He's just like his brother! And, once upon a time, that comment would've hurt Mithrun, a stab right into his heart. But all he feels is a gaping numbness that cannot be filled (It used to be full, he can't help but think).
I wish he had died, someone from his family said while he was within earshot. And Mithrun, barely alive but still breathing, cannot bring himself to care.
The only person that I think would be delighted to see him alive, at least, is his brother. I can see him visiting Mithrun whenever he can (at least in elf time terms). Talking to him as if he can respond, asking him about things when Mithrun can't bring himself to answer. At some point, Mithrun's brother stopped talking to him when he visits; instead, he would just sit next to Mithrun and watch the birds and the flowers. He would drink tea and Mithrun would do nothing.
But once in a while, Mithrun's brother would tell him, I'm glad you came home, I'm glad you're still alive.
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Sometimes, I'm sad about the hobbies I have abandoned or have been too intimidated to pick up. But... what good is it, to just beat myself up over that? My bass is sitting in the corner, patiently waiting, and so is everything else. My life isn't over, and I've got nothing to answer to. I'm wading through a sea of time, and I'll pick up the seashells that interest me, and it's okay to put one back in the sand. The current's waves will bring it back to me if that is to be destiny. I can not hate myself into productivity, so I must swim on.
I think the same can apply to anybody. It's okay if you have dropped something, such as a hobby or passion. Human beings are like that sometimes, it isn't reasonable for you to beat yourself into submission. You, too, can not hate yourself into being a well-rounded person. You must cultivate it like you would a garden - with patience, time, and care.
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Hottest woman in Nikke: Goddess of Victory, wish more gacha games gave us women in armor with big guns
nikke is really funny to me because it's one of the few things where I can accurately and confidently say I was filtered. so many good designs (given that I like uniforms, you can imagine why I'd appreciate a lot of the designs) but a selective aversion to live2d jiggle physics is an insurmountable skill issue
anyway I've gotta disagree, because even though I'm not the kind of pervert nikke is marketed to, I'm still a pretty horrible lesbian, and I like yulha
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Obsessed with authors like Naomi Novik whose books always seem to say “no, fuck that, there is another way than cruelty, and we do have a choice to be decent, and not choosing it isn’t a burden but a cop out.”
Authors like Neil Gaiman whose books seem to say “we are all simply human, and that is so valuable. This world is worth more because we are in it, when we choose to notice and care”
Authors like Brandon Sanderson whose books say “We are all a little broken, and there is strength in not turning away from us, and there is pain in healing but there is also strength and hope.”
Seriously, these folks do more for my faith and hope in this life than any religion ever has. I don’t have the words to describe it yet but just. Warm cup of apple cider held close to the chest on cold autumn night?? That’s the best I got
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