I didn't really draw on paper in a long time (a decade, almost). Last time I did was when I was still in school, during classes instead of paying attention I drew whatever I had in my mind at the moment. I guess it will take some time to get back to where I was back then. Sadly cannot show examples, my family put them on fire because 'it is trash' to live with their words. But I guess I got over that finally, and started with who else than Vulpes Inculta?

Not the best or most detailed, but I am still proud of myself for being able to overcome a decade of inactivity. First step was starting to draw on my phone, second and more important step is drawing on paper.

hello my love!! could you maybe show us what bedtime is like in the kbd universe? thank you, you’re incredible <3

kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader get their small family ready for bed. 3k

“She looks so pretty,” Avery whispers. 

Steve struggles to pull the hem of his sock over his ankle, crossing his legs to match her as she snaps an apple slice in half with her fingers, the juice wetting her pyjama top, her torso swaying as his knee bumps into hers. “Who?” Steve asks, blinking. 

“Wren,” Avery says, leaning back to let Steve see the baby where she’s napping in her bouncer. Avery shoves a chunk of apple in her mouth. “She’s pw-ery.” 

“Try not to talk with your mouth full, you might choke.” 

Avery nods, closing her mouth to chew up the rest of her food with chipmunk cheeks. 

Steve draws a little heart into her knee. She has a bruise from falling up the stairs a few days ago like a purple ink blot just under her kneecap, but she hasn’t complained. She didn’t cry when she fell, she just got back up and asked for a Capri-Sun. Steve’s surprised she’s so hardy, but she’s getting older. He’d sort of been hoping she’d want him to kiss it better.

“She’s pretty like her big sister,” he says. 

“I’m glad she’s stopped crying all the time.” 

“Me too.” He takes one of the smaller slices from her plate to eat, wiping juice from her cheek as he does. 

She grins. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You all done?” 

“Yep.” 

“Not hungry anymore?” 

“Nope.” She grabs her plate before he can. “I’ll put it in the sink.” 

“Thanks, beautiful.” 

She jumps up with her empty plate and does a spin, saying, “Who, me?” 

Steve laughs like an idiot, still chuckling to himself as the sound of her plate hitting the kitchen sink reaches his ears. Wren, finally out of her sleep regression (for now), doesn’t wake. All good signs of a good night. 

Steve lets his head fall back onto little legs. “What about you?” he asks Dove, the second youngest daughter, where she sits behind him on the couch. 

She hums under her breath, her hands quick to weave into his hair, petting it away from his face. He waits for an answer he doesn’t get, closing his eyes and turning his face into her knee. Her giggles are treacle sweet. “Don’t sleep,” she protests. 

“I’m tired.” 

“It’s not bed time.” 

She’s not gonna like what Steve’s about to tell her, if that’s the case. She had a screaming tantrum last night about bed time where she threw herself on the floor and whacked her hands until her palms turned bright red. He’s not wanting a repeat. 

“It is bed time,” he says gently, though it’s not for another half an hour, “but, I was thinking, because you’ve been so good today you’d stay up extra. Maybe even have hot cocoa before bed.” Steve turns to meet her eyes. “How’s that sound?” 

“Really?” she asks, her eyes blowing wide with excitement. Steve is starting to wonder if she’s not as mini-me as he used to think, growing into sweeter features as she leaves the baby-toddler stage and starts to look like a kid. He loves it. 

“That sound fun or what?” 

She dives at him. He has enough sense to have twisted and catches her before she can break any of his teeth. “You are the best daddy ever!” she declares seriously, almost tipping over his shoulder. 

He lets her dangle for a second, then yanks her back topside. “You’re my best girl, that’s why. Let’s go make the drinks. Actually, we better go see who else wants some.” 

You and Bethie are attempting some last minute crafts at the dining table, and you’re very interested in hot chocolate but Beth doesn’t like it and so, doesn’t want any. She does seem interested in a glass of milk with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, so it’s nearly the same thing. “Careful,” he says, putting the half a pint of milk down in front of her birdhouse cautiously, “you don’t wanna spill that, baby.” 

“Who says she’s gonna spill it?” you ask. 

“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns. 

You smile to yourself. You’ve a spatula for PVA glue in your hand, skins of glue dried to your fingertips flecked with splinters of wood. Lollipop crafts felt like a good idea when he’d suggested it, but then he didn’t actually want to do it, and you’d been kind enough to step in. I’m sick of mess, he’d confided. 

Well, you’d said, somewhere between a quick kiss pressed to his shoulder and your hand rubbing it away, you probably shouldn’t have asked me to have so many kids. 

I love mess, he’d corrected immediately. Love to make more of it someday. 

“We’re nearly done in time for bed,” you assure him now. 

“I told Dove she could have an extra half an hour.” He winks at you clumsily. 

“Oh, really? Well, maybe Beth and Avery should get some extra time too.” 

Beth dunks her cookie into the top of her cup. “No thanks. I’m tired. Can I sleep with Avery again?” she asks, milk dribbling down the sides of the glass to darken the coaster underneath. 

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Steve says. “Wait, where is she? I thought she was in here.” Something grabs him by the legs, a sudden clutching that activates a heat in his eyes and spine he can’t explain. He flinches sideways into a cabinet and almost steps on a rather small limb. “What the fuck.” 

“Boo!” Avery says, laughing brightly as Steve rights himself on the counter. 

“Avery! Did I step on you? I’m sorry,” he says, immediately bending down. “What were you thinking? I could’ve really hurt you!” 

“Daaad, I was just pulling a prank,” she says. 

He checks over the arm he was so sure he’d stepped on. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” you say. “Yeah?” 

“I’m fine!” She hugs his legs again. “You said a super bad word.” 

He was hoping everybody missed that. “Dove–”

“Dad,” Dove interrupts, kicking her little feet exactly where he left her sitting on the dinner table by your left, “bad words make me cry.” She says it all clunky and clumsy, having heard it enough times. Her Aunt Robin has a potty-mouthed girlfriend, and Steve can’t do damage control quick enough sometimes.

“No, it’s when you say bad words daddy cries,” Avery says. 

“I didn’t say one!” 

“I know! I just mean it’s not when dad says it.” 

“What?” Dove asks. “He did says it.”

You’re grinning. You love when Dove confuses herself, all kids go through it, where half the time they don’t know what they’re saying until you help them along, but you love Dove’s new phase especially because she’s always been so serious. “What Avery is telling you, baby, is that daddy doesn’t get upset when he says bad words because he’s a grown up.” 

“So when we’re older we can cuss too?” Bethie asks. 

Steve’s jaw drops. “No, Beth! No, none of you need to say bad words, and I don’t either, and I’m really sorry. Can we forget about it?” 

Steve makes hot chocolate and helps you clean the sorry mess you’ve made on the table, and, after some light teasing, everybody forgets he’d reacted so violently to Avery’s surprise. Well, almost. Dove is the first to succumb to a case of the sleepies despite being otherwise reluctant to give in, sitting on his thigh, marshmallows still whole in her drink. She’d barely managed four sips. 

Steve cuddles her to his chest, covering her ear where she nuzzles against him from the sounds of your and Avery’s giggling. “He went pale,” you’re saying. 

Beth offers Steve half of one of her cookies. “You didn’t,” she says. 

If he didn’t have his arms full of Dove he’d scoop her up. “Thank you, Beth. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Alright,” you say, twining your fingers and sliding them behind your head, your neck and back clicking audibly in the quiet of the Harrington house winding down, “I think it’s bedtime. Are you done with your drink?” 

You rinse the cups. Steve ferries Dove upstairs, has her down and tucked in in record time, soon enough to catch you as you and the rest of the girls make your way upstairs. Beth and Avery are beautifully silent, weary of their sensitive baby sister where she’s cradled to your chest. 

You attempt to put her down in her crib in your room, but Steve gets the feeling you aren’t successful when a crackly cry breaks out. 

“Oh, no,” Avery says. 

“It’s fine. Let’s go brush our teeth, okay? Mommy has it.” 

They brush their teeth. Steve wipes their faces down with a damp hand towel and has a moment of gratitude just touching their faces. They both look so loved, the way their eyes crinkle, the way they lift their chins, all too happy for Steve to do it. He loves these moments of being a dad most, he might say, second only to getting to talk to them, especially now they’re both holding conversation. They talk to each other none stop; Beth talks to Avery ten times as much as she does anyone else. 

“Are you having a sleepover again?” Steve asks. 

Beth turns to Avery pleasingly. “Can I? Please, please, please.” 

“Yes!” Avery says, big sister extraordinaire. She wraps her arms around Beth’s shoulders, taller, more aware of herself as she presses her cheek to Beth’s and mumbles, “Of course you can. I love you. I want us to have sleepovers every night.” 

You emerge from the bedroom victorious, heading into the bathroom as he and the girls come out. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” you say. 

“Gonna get Beth changed.” 

“Okay, I put her nightie on the foot of her bed earlier.” 

It’s routine but not without enjoyment. He makes sure they’re both comfortable in the night's sleepwear and takes care of their hair, before giving Avery’s room a quick half-clean and shaking out the sheets on her bed. Avery has the second biggest bedroom, though Bethie’s is nothing to turn your nose up at, and it gets Steve thinking as they climb up into Avery’s single bed. 

“I think it’s good for you guys to keep your separate rooms for now,” Steve says tentatively, “but what do you think about sharing?” 

The plan was that Dove and Wren would share, but if Avery and Beth are getting along so well, it might not hurt to ask. 

Beth gasps. “Our bedrooms?” 

“Like, you and Avery could both sleep in here. You have a bunk bed, or we could get you a big one to share, and you could share teddies.” 

“I don’t want to share my teddies,” Avery says. 

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you.” Steve squints at them both. “Bad idea?” 

“I want to share,” Beth says immediately. 

Avery has a better understanding of what that will mean. “Maybe.” 

“You don’t have to,” Steve says. “Your rooms are yours, okay? Maybe we can just get you a bigger bed anyways, Ave. You’re so tall now, in a couple of years you’ll be ten feet tall and we’ll have to bend you in half to get you to school.” 

This is the funniest thing a man could say, apparently —both Beth and Avery burst into girly giggles that ring down the landing. Beth sounds like she might be sick. She laughs so much, falling into Avery’s side as her big sister says, “Dad, that’s silly!” 

“I can show you, if you want. We’ll practise making you into an Avery flavour pretzel, c’mere.” 

She squeals and climbs over Beth’s legs to huddle in the corner of her bed. Steve doesn’t so much as touch her legs and she’s laughing again, panicked, hyper laughter like she can’t decide if she wants to be folded or not. He presses his finger over his smile. “Shh, shh, we can’t wake the babies.” 

“Sorry,” she laughs. 

“My fault. Don’t be sorry.” He gives her leg a squeeze. “How about we start to tuck you in, girls? Do we have everything we need?” 

Beth wants a few things from her own bed, but besides that, they’re ready. Well, they’re supposed to be ready, but Steve wound them up and it’s his own fault, he can’t even complain when they beg him to watch a movie. What’s the harm? he decides, turning on Avery’s TV and pushing their favourite tape into the VHS player. 

“The effect FernGully has on the new generation is amazing,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’ve changed into pyjama pants Steve’s sure you’ve had since you met him and a tank top with straps falling down your shoulders. He wants to pull them back over the curve of your shoulder, but he’s trying to be less smothering.

He fluffs the pillows behind the girls’ backs. “It’s the boy. What’s his name? Dennis? Daniel?” 

“Neither.” You put a fallen teddy back on the bed and turn on Avery’s star-shaped night light before flicking off the big light above. The TV glows green on their legs. 

“Gonna lie down?” Steve says, gentler now, easing them in. 

Avery flops back. Beth curls in on her side, and it reminds Steve of you and him. He can sleep any which way. You’re slightly more particular, but you’re happier curled on to him. He really loves how close they are as sisters, and he has to give Avery some credit, because while Beth is exceedingly easy to love, she’s a clinger, she worships her big sister, which must get heavy from time to time. 

Avery pulls the blankets up over them before Steve can do it himself. He sighs, tucking them both in. Blankets pushed gently under their sides, hair brushed back from their little faces, he says, “Love you, Ave. Love you, Beth,” kissing their foreheads in swift succession. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

“Love you, daddy,” they say at the same time. 

You touch his arm gently before leaning in for your own kisses. You’re slower than he’d been, turning their faces in your hand one after the other to place identical kisses on their cheeks. “Love you, sweetheart,” you say to Avery, and, “Love you, baby,” you say to Beth. Steve holds your back as you do. “Have good dreams, okay? And don’t mess with the TV. One movie tonight is enough, you’ll wake up with sore eyes.” 

He steals another kiss from both of them and then you’re closing the door behind you, the house much darker and quieter than it had been only ten minutes previous. 

“You want a glass of water?” Steve says. 

You catch his hand. “I got you one.” 

Neither you nor Steve bother with anything but bed. He draws back the blankets and you climb in, only stopping momentarily to make sure that Wren’s alright in her crib. You curl in the middle of the bed and wait for Steve to force his way beneath you, which he does, your face resting on his shoulder, your leg stretched across his. Your hip is a lump in the blankets. He lets his hand fall atop it, whistling a tired breath through his teeth. 

“Mm,” you agree, stretching out, curling in tighter. 

“I know,” he says. Can’t forget his best girl, can’t not think about how much he loves you when it’s you and him alone. Mostly. “You alright?” 

“Fine. Tireder than I thought.” Your eyes close, lashes brushing his chest. “H?” 

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine, honey. Was just asking you,” he mumbles. His pillow feels like a cloud beneath his head, the mattress even better, and the sheets are a brushed cotton that’s amazingly soft on his skin. 

He turns his nose down onto you for a not so secret sniff. 

“Feels too good to be true.” 

“My turn tonight,” he says. 

“No, baby, it’s my turn.” 

“That’s fine.” He’s not as tired as you, or at least not half as achy. If Wren wakes up crying (not definitely going to happen) or Dove has a late night startle (even less likely, though not impossible), he’ll take the burden tonight. “I wanted babies and I got ‘em.”

“I want them too,” you say. 

“Of course you do,” he says, rubbing your forehead with the tip of his nose affectionately. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Less when they wake me up,” you joke. 

Steve feels up your side to your shoulder for a sleepy cuddle. You don’t realise how soft you can be, how warm you are pressed against him like this, how grateful he is to hold you. Maybe you can read his mind, or maybe as just pure evidence of such a feat, you cup his upper arm in your hand and begin to draw shapes over his skin, breaking the pattern with fleeting scratches. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, honey. I’m sure. You go to sleep now, okay? It’s Saturday tomorrow,” he whispers tenderly. “You don’t have anywhere to be.” 

“‘Cept here,” you whisper back. 

“Love you.” A brush of his lips to your eyebrow. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he says. He swears he’s gonna stay up for a bit and count your eyelashes or something, maybe pen you a love poem, write a note about your lips and how they pout when you’re nearly sleeping, but he forgets to when you press your face into the curve of his neck and kiss it clumsily. You fall asleep at the same time, the girls laughing in whispers just a few feet away behind the wall.  

Image description: A black and white illustration, designed to look like a book cover. On a decorative ribbon, the title at the top reads “External Memory”. A scroll work border of leaves and flowers divides the illustration into three rounded panels. The largest panel is in the center and shows a caravan surrounded by greenery, puddles and potted plants. The two smaller panels beneath it show a cartoon cat and mouse respectively, facing each other. At the bottom is another decorative ribbon with the text “a diary comic by My Murphy”. After the cover follows an 8 page comic. The style is cartoonish and the colours are soft pastels. Page one: An orange cat waves and says “Hello! I’m My.” The cat holds up a white mouse and says “This is Mouse, my girlfriend.” Caption: My name is actually My, but Mouse is a nickname for comic and privacy purposes. Caption: When I started this project, me and Mouse lived on a little island off the Swedish coast. The panel shows a stylised, tiny island with a lighthouse, spruce and birch trees, leaning houses and a little dock with a row boat tied to it. The cat and mouse are standing on the cliffs and a swan floats on the water in the foreground. Page two: Caption: Now we’ve moved to Ireland where we live in a caravan in the middle of nowhere. A small caravan, surrounded by greenery, overgrown trees, rocks, puddles and potted plants. The caravan has two windows and the cat and the mouse are looking out of one window each. Caption: We lived on the island to be close to my family. A ribbon with writing on it separates and labels four characters: “mom”, an ermine, “dad”, a wolverine, “brother”, a marmot and “step mom”, a squirrel. The ribbon has been torn in between “mom” and “dad”. Caption: and we moved to Ireland to be close to Mouse’s family. Three characters are shown, each with their own ribbon label. “mother-in-law”, a deer, “sister-in-law”, a jack russell terrier and “brother-in-law”, a hedgehog. Page three: Caption: Me and the mouse are currently in our thirties. The cat lounges on an antique fainting couch and the mouse sleeps on a cushion on the floor. On the floor is an open bag of “let’s” crisps and a laptop. Caption: We’re both pretty decrepit in various ways, so for this comic I draw couches and beds as often as I draw people. Caption: Disability isn’t especially interesting to me, but if a fish made an autobiographical comic… A fish under water paints a four panel comic with a brush held in its mouth. The panels the fish has painted show bubbles, waves and splashing water. Caption: …it’d probably be partly about water, whether the fish cared about water or not. Page four: Caption: My memory has always been pretty crappy. If a friend asks me: “do you remember when...” The question is shown asked by a red robin Caption: I usually have to answer: “no, I don’t.” The panel shows the cat giving this answer while looking away and blushing. Caption: There are many things in my life I’d like to remember. Mom the ermine watches as the cat opens a Christmas gift in front of a Christmas tree. The cat is much smaller than usual, its tail is bushy with excitement and it holds up a big book, “Mort”, with a skull on the cover. Caption: This comic is my EXTERNAL MEMORY so I can capture some of those moments… The cat admires a butterfly hovering above its outstretched paw Caption: …great or small. Page five: Caption: I try to make one strip per day, give or take. Pages with dates written on them blow off of a daily wall calendar by a strong breeze. As they turn over, comic pages are revealed to be drawn on the back. One comic shows the mouse with long fangs, biting the face of the cat and then hissing behind a bat wing. One comic is a pastiche of Tim Buckley’s “Loss” comic and one features a portrait of Frasier Crane and the Seattle skyline. Caption: and on the days when nothing interesting happens A close up shows the cat’s paw drawing a comic panel. In this panel a smaller, rounder version of the cat runs happily in the sunshine carrying a backpack. Caption: I reach back and draw something from my past. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A coyote looks at the comic on its phone, strokes its chin suspiciously and asks “did that really happen?” Caption: the answer is always yes. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A monkey reads the comic in zine form and think “did they really say that?” Caption: the answer is usually yes. Page six: Caption: When a specific phrase is the point of the strip, it’s recorded verbatim. The mouse says “you’re marching to the beat of the potato drum.” Caption: is a direct quote. Caption: When the point is something else, I sometimes take small liberties to make the memory fit well inside four panels. The cat sits at its drawing table, holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a paper with two comic panels in the other. Caption: Usually that means I make myself or the mouse play the part of the straight man because it will improve a joke. The cat and the mouse, dressed as clowns, stand in a circus tent. The cat pulls the clown nose from the mouse’s face and holds up a pie, ready to strike. Caption: In reality, neither of us is much of a straight man, but all art demands some sacrifices. Caption: In every way that matters, this comic always tells the truth. The cat looks up at a large, glowing, winged sphinx statue version of itself. The statue and framing is a reference to the all knowing Southern Oracle from the film adaptation of “The Neverending Story”. Caption: I am doing this to aid my memory after all, so it wouldn’t be very helpful to make my life seem more funny, interesting or relatable than it really is. The cat draws a comic while watching paint dry on the wall. Caption: That would be a pretty cruel joke to play on my future, more confused self. The cat scratches its head at a drawing of themselves as the winner of a beauty contest, wearing a sash and crown, waving to the crowd and holding flowers. Caption: She’ll probably have enough to contend with… The cat looks suspiciously at its own reflection in the mirror, not recognising it. The drawing is a pastiche of a panel from the webcomic “Gunshow” by KC Green. Caption: Maybe some of my comics will be funny or interesting or relatable to you anyway. That would make me very happy. The cat smiles and presses its paws to its face in joy, seeing that a bear and a horse are reading the comic together and laughing. Cartoon hearts float over the cat. Caption: Some of the comics probably won’t do much for anybody but me, but that’s okay too. The cat presses a page of the comic to its chest, looking contented and protective. In the last panel, the cat and the mouse are floating on air with a blue sky and white clouds behind them. The cat is smiling and twirling around, holding a paint brush out like a wand. From the brush flows paint that swirls around the two figures and making shapes of green leaves and orange and yellow flowers. On two looping blue ribbons appear the last captions: This is a record of my silly little life. Good or bad, I’m glad I get to share it. End ID.

Here’s a little introduction to External Memory! It was fun to make a proper neat and full colour comic - it’s been a while ^^

(If you like this project, please reblog this post! You can also subscribe to my patreon where I post one comic every day ^^)

Fire Emblem Engage redesigns!

Starting a series where I redesign (hopefully) all playable FE Engage characters!

First up: Alfred, Etie and Boucheron

Some of my thoughts while drawing:

I'm going for a fairytale theme for the Firene characters! With Alfred being a classic storybook prince, Robin hood for Etie and Goldilock's for Boucheron (based on the bears; it's a little loose lol)

Etie probably has my least favorite design in the entire game. I don't think it says anything meaningful about her character. I even thought she was going to be the snobby hime type at first. I also have a personal vendetta against green/orange color scheme.

So I kept her main color green, but changed her hair to red; which I think fits her passionate personality way more. Also gave her some genuine muscle and a fit to show it off 💪🏻 but kept some femininity with frils and bows.

Alfred's design has a silhouette I really like, so I kept pretty close to it! I gave him a softer color pallette to match his friendly vibes. I also made his hair a little wavy just like his mom and sister.

Boucheron always gave me NPC vibes.. he is also cursed with the same dreadful color palette of orange and green! He's a very nice and approachable guy, which I wanted to reflect in a warm color palette. I also made him more top heavy to give him a more interesting silhouette

Little Red Riding Hood where Reader is Little Red but also a werewolf

Love Interest and rest of chain can be assigned however

(Cause I'm always down for a fairytale au)

I did a little twist on this. Idk if this was what you wanted. I had to ask doggo experts for how doggos act around each other. I am leaving this off on a small cliff hanger because I do want to write more of this.

Twilight didn’t trust the new person in the group. Well. It’s more like he didn’t know what to think of her. She came in like a hurricane running after the Shadow like it was her prey. Then when the dust settled and she calmed down the group quickly learned of why. The short of it being that for some reason the Shadow attacked her brother and she took chase. Which then led to her to finally agree to join the chain. Much to the Ranchers chagrin. However, he knows better than to start an unnecessary fight. Twilight could be civil.

Civility could only go so far.

Little Red, as Warrior’s likes to call her, noticed Twilight’s presence and slight unease of her and ran with it. Twilight couldn’t understand just why she was always running circles around him talking about this and that. It confused him to no end when she instantly would stick to him even when he was wolfie. He had to on more then one occasion threaten to bite Little Red’s hands. She never cared or backed away from Wolfie when he showed a bit of aggression. “He is going to bite you.” Wild warned her as he watched Little Red try to play with Wolfie.

She looked up at Wild while holding Wolfie’s face, “what? No the baby is just playing.” That comment only made Twilight growl more.

“Baby? Wolfie isn’t a baby.” Wild was torn between being completely amuse and helping Twilight out as he did know about his slight distrust of Little Red.

“No no no, Champion. This is a wolf pup. He has to be like…” Her attention draws to the wolf as she observes the good boy. “Man… I have to say maybe 10? He is very small even for that age. Wolfie is like an adult dog size but he is definitely a wolf.” She boops the snoot and quickly pulled back as Twilight tries to bite her hand again. This only makes her giggle more.

“I think your wolves might be just bigger than my Hyrules.” Honestly to Wild, Wolfie was the same size as most wolves, but he just shrugs and not questions that further. Twilight couldn’t understand why you were like this, he wonders if it was just an eccentric thing. He has met a lot of weird people in his life and Little Red might be one of them. After being free from your grasp he takes it upon himself to run away for now. Only because you don’t tend to grab his face while being Twilight and thats the most annoying part of being wolfie around you.

It wasn’t until they finally came to her era that he finally understood.

The village Little Red lived in was small, but cozy. It reminded Twilight of his own home. People tended to light up when seeing Little Red. But given the size of the group following them most villagers tended to just say hi and remarks that they needed to talk to her later. “My house is a bit further.” Little red said pointing to a path that ran into the woods. “It’s just me, my brother and Grandma oh and our cat. I’ll make sure to keep her out of your stuff. But we should have room to fit everyone.” She explains as the path slowly clears up to a cottage in the wood with a small garden. There was a small pup running around in the yard playing with said cat. Who was purely annoyed at ready to pap the puppy in the head.

Little Red’s eyes brightened “Link!” She calls out gaining the Pups reaction.

She dashes towards the house as the puppy starts running towards her. They meet halfway and the puppy shifts into a young boy. “You’re back! You’re back!” This Link giggles as he gets lifted in the air by his sister and spun around.

“I am! For now.” Little red nuzzles her brother’s face as she shifts her grips on her brother to put his weight on her hip. “Boy’s this is my brother. Link these are the adventurers I’ve been traveling with.”

She turns to the group with a smile. The chain was utterly confused and silent before Wind speaks up “Did he transform into a wolf?”

Twit cap: What if I went full TLOU ellie mode to protect my sister and u knew and didn’t tell the cops bcs u think I’m sooo sexy and sooo mysterious

ALOT OF DETAILS IF U WANT THEM UNDER THE CUT

Very very random spontaneous au moment!!

•Vander let’s vi/pow live in a secluded cabin in the woods to get them away from his shady lifestyle (he wants to quit but silco and Co. want him dead) anyway vi does her best to protect them both but unfortunately Powder gets kidnapped. (They want to use her as leverage against Vander) And well,, vi as said above, does what she has to do to get her sis back. Brutally. In her rage she fucks up and leaves incriminating evidence behind, so, desperate, she goes to the only other person she knows.

•Caitlyn learns abt this and decides to protect Vi and fuck up evidence to help vi hide. Vi feels guilty for letting Caitlyn get caught up in her mess but caitlyn tbh doesn’t gaf (we Stan a morally questionable woman) and she just wants silco and co captured./ they r wanted for. A numerous amount of things, drugs, murder, etc.

•(Also vi befriended Caitlyn a bit before this happened. I was thinking that the two met after Cait caught Powder practicing her marksmanship in the woods. Caitlyn is a detective for the local town and is curious abt the two. Although a bit moreso of the scary woman who looks like she’s never seen a bed in her life lol.)

-Was also thinking of giving Vander and vi a unstable/complicated relationship. ?

•Vi loves Vander like a father (classic he took them in at a very young age blah blah) but still hates the fact that her and powder have been dragged into all this, also he kind is bad dad (sorry) and doesn’t know how to give vi the emotional support she needs/she still becomes basically a mom for powder since he’s usually never home.

-Vander is trying his best, very much reflective of how he is in canon. The whole, ‘I’m trying to keep u alive but it’s not enough to keep ur innocence safe’ thing.

Also Vander is worried about the fact Silco now knows of his kiddos, and seems to have shown an interest in powder (while she was kidnapped she offed some guys which showed off her talent with a gun and silco was like wow cool I could use that)

-also silco was present but pow nor Vi saw him/ he was quickly hidden by sevika after VI started going ham on his goons.

•Powder(nickname jinx, she still has a lot of mental issues but she’s getting treated so she’s not ..that bad) takes a liking to caitlyn when she realizes that she wouldn’t rat them out to the cops and also the classic ‘they both can shoot!’ Thing, I’m sucker for caitlyn and pow bonding

(Also potential for powder trying to get vi and cait together because she wants Vi to have someone to rely on that isn’t Vander and also sees VI’s too nervous/self deprecating to make a move on her obvious crush) :p

Anyway that’s all I thought of rn!! Idek if I’ll draw more of this I just got carried away a little with the writing hahaha

now that kieran's champ look dropped, i could finally draw their mjverse designs for indigo disk. there's a 1 year timeskip between the 2 dlcs in my canon so i wanted to make them look a lil different to show that passage of time, ( carmine's not here bc i don't really see her look changing much. )

some info about what juliana and florian were up to during that 1 year gap under the cut! ⤵

JULIANA : after attaining her champion title and helping solve the team star situation, juliana's skills as a battler have become pretty well known around paldea. this new status initially ostracized her a bit from her peers, much like what nemona experienced, but she was able to show others that she was still just as approachable as she was before by tutoring some fellow students that wished to improve their battling skills. she's also realized that she really loves teaching others and is pretty damn good at it, too.

besides battling, juliana has also found a love of art thanks to hassel's art class. if you couldn't find her at the academy's battlefield, she'd most likely be working on a new piece in the art room. as a result, a lot of her clothes have speckled with paint ( like her favorite sneakers. ) seeing her passion for art and hoping to help her hone her skills, hassel took up the position as her mentor and is a great source of encouragement and support for her. juliana has also started dating penny soon after the end of post-game story.

FLORIAN : after getting back to mezagoza from his trip to kitakami, florian was a bit of an emotional wreak ( to say the least. ) he spent well over a month languishing over what happened with kieran, most of it spent moping around juliana and his shared dorm room while listening to heartbreak playlists. the rest was spent coming to the realization that his skills as a battler were still severely lacking. his last battle with kieran was an extremely close call, he only barely won with the skills he had gained during his journey through paldea. with how things were, there was no way he could fufill the duties of a pokémon professor if he couldn't effectively protect the pokémon entrusted to him, let alone himself or others he cares about. he couldn't keep resting on his laurels, he had to work towards improving himself.

so, for the past year, florian's poured himself into improving his battling skills with nemona and his sister's help. while he still isn't on their level, he's become quite the formidable battler. ogrepon, which he's given the nickname "pon-pon," has also become a staple of his team. the rest of his time is dedicated towards studying in the hopes of becoming pasio's next pokémon professor, being the most interested in mythology and terastallization. he still talks to arven frequently after he ( finally ) graduated, along with becoming friends with ortega and atticus. he even dated ortega briefly, but it was very clear that florian was still hung up on kieran so the relationship didn't last long, ( they're still good friends, though. )

when cyrano approaches the cavallari siblings and asks them to come to blueberry academy as exchange students, florian accepts the offer without hesitation. this could be his only chance to reconcile with kieran so there's no way he'd pass it up. juliana is happy to tag along since a school that focuses on battling sounds right up her alley, that and she's still peeved about not getting to go to kitakami. though, she's a little concerned for her brother and what may be waiting for him when they get there.

[ 💜💛🖤❤🤍💙]

+

(this is just my rambles , pls scroll if u dont want to read jdakjsa ;-;)

ok i'm not good at it, but i'll try to be more serious.

King Ohger is my first sentai after about…10? 11? years since i watch toku as a kid (for sentai, i used to watch shinkenger and power rangers dino force). I start to watch toku again last year because of KR Den-O, simply just bcs i want to rewatch one of my fav childhood tv program. And i cried a lot, not just because of den-o's story but also I remember that I still love toku as much as little me back then

after finished den-o, i crave for more toku to watch, then my older sister told me there's this super sentai that all of the sentai is leaders/kings ((SHE HAVEN'T WATCH KINGOH UNTIL THIS VERY DAY DESPITE BEING ONE OF MY REASON TO WATCH KINGOH, I HATE HER////jk i love u sis)). I didn't watch kingoh while it's ongoing, i binge watch it from ep 1 while it's around eps 20-25. And i regret nothing, i feel a lot of emotions, be it's the good one or even the bad one. I laugh and I cry. I didn't live for 2000 years like jeramie, but i relate to him about dealing with grief and keep everything to yourself bcs you don't want others to worry about you. And the happiness of finally found someone you can rely on, someone that won't say anything but will pat your shoulder and reminds you that they will be on your side no matter what.

I learn a lot of thing from other king too, i learn to be kind from gira and himeno, i learn that it's okay to not care about what people say and be myself the way i am from rita, i learn to stands for what's wrong and didn't back down like yanma, and kaguragi uhm…* shake hands with kagu * yes ur my buddy bro (i swear i have one thing i relate to kagu, i just don't want to tell what it is-)

people can call it 'childish show' (my friend said that when i tell them abt kingoh and kr ;-; that's why i stopped telling abt toku to others and just keep my excitement to myself) and they're still right, but still, kingoh is special to me.

I was ready to be alone on this (I always be), i draw fanarts because i want and i like them so much, and didn't expect at all that i'll found other people that excited about the same thing like me. thank you to everyone who liked, reblog, comment, send asks, i can't always answer everything, but pls know that i appreciate every single of you,

artist, writers, gif maker, friends, everyone.

one day will come the day that my interest maybe will fade away. Until that day come, I'll enjoy my time here and drawing what i want. (((actually this applied to my other fandom too ;-;))))

for you who read this so far, thank u again <3

+ pls have this happy spiders, they're my favorites from all of the finale moments ;-;

Hello! I got a new sketchbook and I decided to try it by drawing a Danny with my markers. I might try doing something with gouache too, because I honestly really enjoy the process and the look of painting with it.

I also have some things to ramble about under the line, which isn't strictly dp related, more so me comparing how I work with different mediums and being a little analytical about it, you know, as a treat to my brain because it needs it. •^•

So, to start with the Danny above, it's nothing overly ambitious, I was just vibing, but I think it looks nice. Here's the thing though, it looks weird to me, and the reason, probably, is that the process I use with the previously mentioned gouache doesn't translate well to markers.

Here's the process in question btw, a smol sketch to illustrate the way I work with paint but with markers:

See, that's a process that's clearly a bit more suited to painting imo. So it looks good but a little off with markers. And it's not just to markers. Here's what I mean:

This is digital. With the same process.

It's even weirder than the markers imo, but you can still tell that there's a process going on that's shared.

And the gouache version of this process looks like this: this is my most recent painting ( literally yesterday )

This was done in flat brush, and I think you can clearly see that the process I used across all these paintings started with my gouache work. Which also might be why Danny looks a bit different than them because I had to adjust my process. Rather than starting with colouring my canvas and starting the face with a contrasting colour, both Danny, and as far as I can remember the digital dude, started blank and I had to do the glow effect thing a lot less naturally - especially with the lack of brush strokes. The scratchiness of them is aesthetic. Like, brush stroke and direction is important guys, it adds a lot.

I think if I try to draw this Danny in gouache and explain my process better this would all make sense, but I haven't had the time to get back into art because of uni, and I rather like to. I especially want to try doing digital art again, but I've been doing it so rarely that I haven't really got a process anymore, so I'm a bit intimidated to do anything but portraits.

In any case, if anybody has good Sai brushes that could help me get that painterly vibe there, I'd be very grateful •^•

I want to start drawing and creating things for the Phandom again, but all I have currently are sketches, which I know aren't traditionally the easiest things to interact with visually, especially without colour. Still, I'm just going to share things I make and vibe, I suppose.

I have some interesting designs I'd like to try to make digitally, like that mermaid lady ghost from a while back, and her sister who I decided was Pariah Dark's fabulous ex. Still not sure on Queen's design, but I just want to draw a regal lady.

Yes, I am dumping previous designs here so I can share them again, partly to remind myself of them without scrolling back my Tumblr for a thousand years.

Also my Bois, the clones, who I still want to write into a story and don't know how, but like - I love them and want to show them to more people.

Well, that's all for now. Hope you all have a good day. •^•>💚💜💚

"What the hell did you just do?"

Part 2 of whatever. Continuing on with Tadfield Manor scenes, we get to the infamous "Wall" scene. I know it has been analyzed by many so far, but that's never stopped people in the world of literary analysis from spewing their own thoughts on well-reviewed texts. Also, I just want to.

Okay, so once they enter the manor building and see the management training branding, Crowley decides to "help out" and make all of the paintball guns into real machine guns. He snaps his fingers and points double finger guns at the passing "soldier".

Aziraphale is dumbfounded. "What the hell did you just do?

Such language, Angel! And no physical reaction to it like Crowley did when he said "Heaven's sake" in E6. Huh.

Crowley, meanwhile, is thoroughly pleased with himself. They want to battle? He's happy to oblige.

This plus the scare in the courtyard lets us see Crowley enjoying the few perks of being a demon. It's fucking adorable.

Aziraphale cannot comprehend how Crowley - who just miracled a stain away on his coat because it bothered him - could do something so thoroughly evil. And with a jaunty step!

If Aziraphale had pearls, he'd be clutching them so hard.

To which Crowley takes the opportunity to once again point out the flawed binary system of morality. We the audience will see this argument again in the Body Snatcher minisode, so it's fun to see how these two keep having the same old debates throughout time just with different causes with which to start from.

Pointing out hypocrisy while slinking down a hall? Crowley, you delicious tramp.

Aziraphale is still thoroughly horrified, but Crowley concedes with a sigh that everyone will, in fact, be fine. To me, his tone is a mix of disappointment at him not being quite as much of a bastard as he paints himself. He can't really hide his true self from Aziraphale.

I love how he can't stop moving his body. Snakes gonna slither.

Then here is it. The big moment. Smug little Aziraphale feels the need to mention how nice Crowley is underneath his demonic persona.

We now know that this is a reoccurring exchange, where Crowley must defend his title of Big Bad Demon in front of Azi's kind compliments. There's serious consequences to Crowley being labeled "nice" and Azi knows this by now. So why does he keep bringing it up? To provoke Crowley? To finally break him into admitting Azi is right? It's not like Azi can protect Crowley from Hell's wrath, but he pushes anyway.

I thought Crowley was the shit-stirrer in this relationship.

And now my favorite part. Sister Mary shows up and rightly implies these two are about to nail each other through the drywall. But when she recognizes Crowley, he stops her in her tracks.

The sass! It's off the fucking chart! Only an Angel could withstand such a display!

Aziraphale just straightens his clothes and lets the sass go unchallenged because he's still has a bit of self-preservation instincts left.

So I already talked about the "Luck of the devil" line from Aziraphale here, but it truly is a fun moment in the context of the whole scene. Crowley is worked up from the "nice" comment and Aziraphale's seeming refusal to stop analyzing him.

Horny Aziraphale is sassy and Crowley looks like he wants to bite through a door frame.

So, obviously, I've spent way too much time rewatching these scenes, but I do find it so interesting how we see so much of their relationship on display within just a few minutes. The different personality traits to draw them together while also pushing them apart.

The way Aziraphale knows how to work Crowley, who in turns knows how to indulge appropriately. (*cough* bullet catch *cough*)

The way Crowley happily taps into his demonic toolbox to spread a bit of chaos without actually causing serious harm. (*cough* Job *cough*)

The way Aziraphale reflexively tows the party line of Heaven even in the face of Crowley's demonstrations of humanity's instincts. (*cough* all of time *cough*)

And basically the way they bring out the best (and sometimes worst) of each other. Some might say they're a team. Or a group. A group of the two of them.

Связи (n.) connections - five

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Pairings: mob!bucky x reader Summary: “Did you think you could hide from us? That’s adorable, little one. There’s no where on this planet where you could hide from the Shostakov Bratva and even if you did manage to evade us, the Barnes Bratva would find you. Your связи, your connections, will always come back to haunt you, Y/N.” Word count: 2.5 k Warnings: cursing gaysindistress masterlist | four | series masterlist

He fucking called me by her nickname; Lisichka. 

As if forcing me to marry him, comforting me the way he used to for her, and then trying to lie to me by saying they were never together wasn’t enough. I know I told myself that I could let him love a ghost but this is too much. I can’t be her replacement. 

His eyes flash for a moment before he follows me and has a door slammed in his face. It immediately opens and the sight of him standing in my doorway pisses me off to no end. 

“Get out,” I grit out and my fingers itch for the department issued gun that’s locked in my nightstand drawer. 

Ever the quiet and observing man, he narrows his eyes at me and then scans the room before shouldering even further in. We both know I wouldn’t make it to my nightstand before he could draw his own weapon or tackle me. So I have to let him in even if it makes my stomach rotten at the idea of having him in the same room as me after calling me her pet name. 

“Get the fuck out.”

“Ask nicely.”

“We’re past pleasantries, your royal high-ass.”

“That’s an interesting nickname,” he chuckles. The sound is half mocking and half sinister. How my sister ever put up with him and how I ever had a crush on him is beyond me. 

“I have plenty more where that came from,” I snapped at him and then pointed to the door, “now get out.”

He makes a show of looking over his shoulder at the door before taking another step closer to me, “and I said to ask nicely.” 

“Maybe,” I start and step closer to him as well, “ if you weren’t the world’s biggest fucking asshole, I would but you are and I’m on edge so get the fuck out now.”

Amusement flickers on his face before it fades back into his usual stone cold expression. “Tell me why you stormed off and then I will.”

A sarcastic laugh explodes from me before I can stop it. “Like it really fucking matters to you,” I scoff and turn away to put as much space between us as possible. His cologne, his presence, his fucking stare is too overwhelming. “You can say you weren’t together but we all know that’s a lie. I know that’s a lie. You haven’t had any trouble telling me the truth even when it fucking hurts so what’s different now? Why can’t you just admit that there was something between the two of you and  just… just stop pretending that I’m her.” 

That last word is weaker and much quieter than I meant but he heard me. The whole penthouse could’ve heard me with how eerily silent and echoing it is. 

It's penetrative, the silence. All consuming and forceful as it finds a way into every square inch of the room and leaves nothing left untouched by its cold hands. Before I was adopted, I would pretend the silence and I were friends as I stared into the dark void of night as I laid in bed. The other girls were afraid of me because I wasn’t scared of the dark like them but it was due to their fear that I wasn’t scared. When you’re left alone with nothing but gut wrenching silence and aching isolation, it should be no surprise that you’d make friends with it. 

Now it feels like my old friends have turned their backs on me and taken the side of Bucky. What rotten creatures they all are. 

“You want the truth about nat and I? We were never together because of you. She knew that you had some stupid teenage girl crush on me and she knew that it would break you if we got together. She refused to let some guy, as she put it, get between the two of you. Believe me, I’m not pretending that you’re her.”

I suck in a shuddering breath. It feels like a punch to the face but it shouldn’t. I don’t care about him. I don’t care about this marriage. I shouldn’t care that his harsh tone makes me feel like a child again or that it was me that kept them apart. 

I shouldn’t care. 

“Now tell me why you stormed off.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I mutter under my breath. I drop onto my bed and fiddle with the unraveling end of a blanket, dragging it into my lap as I try to tuck it back into place. The blues, reds, and creams make me think Steve made this one but the shooty handiwork tells me that it was me with his guidance. 

Bucky’s footsteps are silent as he enters my view and crouches in front of me. Thank god he doesn’t touch me but his body still cages me in so if I tried to get up, I’d run right into his chest. 

“Lisichka.”

I try to suppress my flinch but he sees it. The deep sigh he lets out tells me that he was testing me and got the answer he wasn’t hoping for. 

“You can’t treat me like her and then say that you’re not doing just that.” I can’t bring myself to look at him so I stare at the blanket in my lap. “You’ve completely destroyed my life in a matter of weeks. The least you could do is treat me with some respect and leave me alone.”

“Is that what you want? For me to give you space?”

I break my fixation and find him already staring intently at me. 

“No. I want to put a bullet in you and watch you bleed out. Then I want to walk out that door,” I tell him with a shaking voice  as I point to the door behind him, “and never look back because I’d have control over my life again. I want to disappear into the world and have peace of mind knowing that you paid for all of the shit that you’ve done to the world, to my sister, to me.”

My cruel words don’t seem to affect him. “I’ll make you another deal; after all of this is said and done, I’ll let you do that. Tomorrow I’ll have Sam set up a fund for you so that you won’t have to worry about money.” 

I narrow my eyes at him as they dart between him, searching for any hint of his silver tongued ways. 

“I’m going to kill you, James Buchanan Barnes. Whether it be for business or for pleasure, I will kill you.”

He holds my stare as he accepts my promise, “and I’ll be waiting with open arms.”

Wanda is by far the most intimidating woman I’ve met besides my mother and sisters. She commands a room to be silent by simply clearing her throat and makes even the most egotistical of men shrink under her sharp gaze. She’s watching me with unwavering eyes as she hums along with someone on the phone. When she sets the phone back on the receiver, she rolls her eyes and rubs her eyebrow. 

“Why is it that everyone is so damn incompetent? Hm? Why can’t people just do their jobs without having to be babysat? I’m over it, y/n, I’m over it.” She sighs and leans back into her chair. “But you, you’ve always done what I asked and I wouldn’t hear from you until you gave me the report.”

“Why am I here?” I know better than to cut off her monologues but I don’t have the patience anymore. 

“I can’t move Carol off the case but I don’t want her anywhere near you. She’s a loose fucking cannon and I don’t want to deal with her overprotective attitude right now. I’m sending you undercover with minimal contact.”

Shifting in my uncomfortable chair, I furrow my brows at her, “what do you mean undercover?”

“Well obviously you can’t go in under an assumed identity but I’m orchestrating your public termination so you can do a deep dive and get the evidence I need to arrest Alexei.”

“My public termination?” I blink at her with mild surprise. “You're going to ruin my reputation and any chance I have to come back to a normal life after this if you do that.”

Wanda’s eyes harden, “y/n you’re so beautiful but so naive. This operation has been in the works since the moment you stepped foot in America. Every move that you’ve made has been because I made it happen. Every thought you’ve had has been because I’ve planted it there. Everything that’s happened from then to now has been my doing. Ive spent years plucking strings and pulling favors and I will not let you of all people fuck this up for me now. You’re going to be terminated and it will be all over the papers so that no one even bats an eye. You will find me the fucking paper trail that leads to Alexei’s shipments and connects him to Dreykov’s murder and you will do it with a fucking smile.”

I now have four people on my shit list; my father, my husband, my ex girlfriend, and this red headed fed. 

I can’t even be upset by yet another shitty revelation about how my life has been a lie. Just as she put it, I’m over it, Wanda I’m over it. 

A sigh isn’t enough to describe the way I push out all of the air from my lungs. I remind myself of a disappointed dad but then again my father is the disappointment in our relationship. 

“Anything else you want from me? My right lung? My kidney? My heart?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Wanda scoffs lightly and waves me off. “If I wanted those, I would’ve taken them already.”

“Well,” I click my tongue and push out of my chair, “if that’s all, then I’m going to use my savings to buy all the strippers and blow money can buy.”

Wanda gives me a bored and almost annoyed look. “Dont fuck this up and definitely dont do that. I won’t bail you out of jail or let anyone else for that matter.”

“At this point being locked up would be preferable to the shitshow you’ve made out of my life. At least there I could get some fucking peace and quiet.”

With that I walk out of her office and nearly run into the third person on my shit list; Carol. 

“Oh for the love of god,” I mumble under my breath and slide past her. She goes to grab my arm and before I can even realize what I’m doing, I have my gun drawn on her and the entire precinct is on high alert. 

“Y/N stand down.” Tony’s voice is uncharacteristically soft as he approaches from behind. His hands are out in front of me to show he’s not a threat and I immediately drop my stance to hand him the gun. My eyes are still on Carol as I let Tony disarm and cuff me. He goes to pull me away after the tight metal is around my wrists but I hold my position. 

I mumbled “пошла на хуй” before spitting at her feet. Tony gives my bound arms a sharp tug. The disgusted look on Carol’s face satisfies the Shostakov in me and I half stumble over myself to follow after the police captain. 

I catch Wanda’s eye on the way to Tony’s office. She’s pleased but is trying to hide it. 

Good. I just made her job that much easier. 

“You got yourself fired?” 

Rubbing at my sore wrists, I roll my eyes at Sam’s question. “No, I was actually promoted. I’m now the chief of police for all of the NYPD.”

“I could do without the sarcasm, fuck stick,” he grumbles back as he makes a hard left turn, sending me flying around in the backseat. 

“And I could do with the rude names and being thrown around like I’m a pinball.”

“Don’t be an ass to me then.”

“It goes both ways.”

“Enough both of you,” Bucky finally groans from the passenger seat. He twists in his seat enough to point at me, “and you need to cap your anger issues. The last few outbursts may have worked in your favor but it isn't going to go your way every time. Like it or not, you’re expected to be the face of my Bravta as my advisor as well as my wife.”

“пошла на хуй.”

Bucky’s brows furrow at the insult, “пошла на хуй? Seriously Y/N?”

“Oh was I not clear enough the first time? I’ll say it in English then; go fuck yourself.” 

Sam stifles a chuckle and is rewarded with a hard glare from Bucky. 

“Think about it; after being MIA for years, the lost Shostakov daughter turns up in the NYPD with an incredibly successful career and is known for working with the feds but now she wants back in? Doesn't that all seem suspicious to you? Everyone is going to be watching you and looking for a reason to kill you before Antonia does.” 

“I don’t need your advice, Bucky. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you though? Does that fed Wanda or your captain Anthony know what they’re getting themselves into?”

 “There’s a difference,” I spit out while years of unchecked teenage rage that was never released comes to the surface, “Alexei is my father. I know how his mind works. I know his weaknesses and his strengths. I know who he’s going to trust and who he won’t. I know how he likes his morning coffee. I even know when he’s going to shit for god's sake.”

Bucky isn’t impressed by me at all. But then again this is the king of being cold and indifferent we’re talking about here. He’s also single handedly the most attractive yet infuriating man I’ve ever met. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss someone as badly as I do him while also wanting to break his nose. It’s truly my worst nightmare. 

“Are you done?” 

My face screws up in shock and pure rage. “What the fuck kind of question is that? ‘Are you done?’ You Козёл, I should cut your fucking…”

Sam can’t contain his laughter anymore and lets it all out. My husband joins in with his own laughter and my jaw drops from their audacity. 

I’ve apparently lost the ability to intimidate people so I cross my arms over my chest and slump back into the seat. 

“I’m glad you two can find the humor in all of this.” 

Their laughter doesn’t stop but it lessens to mere chuckles and Sam even wipes a few tears away. Bucky turns to face me again and is greeted with a death stare to rival Nesta Acheron’s. 

“You called me a goat. You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t have laughed if the roles were reversed.” He says in a breathy tone. I only hardened my glare. “I’m sorry, okay? It wasn’t right to laugh at that but y/n, you need to watch your back. I need you to watch your back.” 

Quite frankly I don’t care what he wants or needs. I don’t care what anyone else thinks anymore. If I’m expected to play the part of Alexei’s daughter and Bucky’s wife then fine, I’ll do it but it's going to be on my terms.

Knight X Princess AU with Albedo

wc: 3,926

Ok so many many months ago I had made this post and the lovely @witch-hazels-musings decided to pick it up and turn it into a series. Back then I had little interest in actually writing fanfic but now I'm dipping my toes in it. And I have the inspiration for knight Albedo so I tried to write. And it ended up pretty long lol

Um there are some author's notes at the end. And Hazel if you end up reading this, your writing is truly such an inspiration. You completely have my blessing if you wanna use anything I wrote here in your own knight series❤

Once upon a time, you’re the youngest princess of Mondstadt.

At the tender age of seven a strange woman approaches your father with a proposal. You watch secretly behind the grey stone wall as this foreign woman talks to your father, the king. The woman’s hands are resting on the shoulders of a child beside her, a little golden-haired boy about your age. You're too young to make out any sense of the conversation they're having. And it isn't until your older brother spots you, and rushes you away that that little boy looks behind him to catch a glimpse of you.

 This mysterious woman not only convinced your father to take this young boy in but also that he will be your future personal knight. 

Your father stands behind tiny you as he introduces you.

“ Y/N, this is Kreideprinz, he’ll be training with the knights of Favonius. You’ll be spending a lot of time together when you're older.”

Albedo’s piercing icey blue eyes seem to look right through you. He barely moves, only taking a low formal bow with “Princess.” as his introduction.

You extend a curtsy back towards him(or at least try to, your sister has been desperately teaching you how to perform one right)

Your gruff father’s voice cuts through

“His mentor told me he’s developed a skill for the arts at such a young age. Just like you Y/N.”

This moment marks the start of a fond habit the two of you will share in the many years to come. Given parchment and colorful pastels by your father you and Albedo draw together out in the open courtyard. And although he doesn't say much and you’re a bit too nervous to say anything towards him, you make a small attempt. 

“Kreidepr-”

“Albedo.” he cuts you off with an unchanging neutral expression.

“Please call me Albedo, your highness.”

From that moment forward you two become a familiar presence in each other’s lives. When you weren’t being taught your sixth lesson by your governess and when he was done with training with the order of the knights, you two played together. He would show off his newly learned sword stance or a raw material he was gifted by his teacher in his alchemy lesson. You quickly learned he was a curious child. Not afraid to pick up the creepiest of bugs or tornest of plants.(You even watched him eat a spider much to your shock.) He would tell you random facts about the stars, the weather or flowers that grew on the castle’s grounds. You rarely saw him smile, his expression always remaining so indifferent. It was like he hadn’t learned how to smile yet. 

Meanwhile you shared with Albedo the juicy gossip you overheard from the visiting diplomats or a map you stole from your father’s collection of newly discovered lands from outside your kingdom. You two developed a love of drawing together whenever you both could escape the pressures of the adults. It's peaceful, drawing together on a large piece of paper. Of what you hoped your futures to look like, what countries you’d like to visit, what new foods you’d like to try.

When you’re about 15 years old it's when he officially becomes your guard. You’ve noticed as you’ve grown older Albedo seems to keep his distance from people. Except you, as he’s quite forced to be your shadow. It really feels like nothing has changed at all except now he wears the royal uniform and he’s the first face you see when you wake up and the last before you retire for bed.

You don't quite understand his love for science but you indulge in his hobby nonetheless. You listen to him ramble about experiments and data that just go right over your head. But you really do try to pay attention! Because you consider him your friend now. Plus his voice is so calming, you could listen to him talk about anything for hours. 

On the occasions you are able to, if you find a rare preserved bug or rock said to have fallen from the sky, you gift it to Albedo. (Even if on occasion he says a bit sheepishly “I already have one of these in my collection” he still accepts it from you regardless).

You’re the first one he shares that he’s been gifted a vision. He tells you way too calmly for having been blessed with such a powerful item but you get excited for him.

A few more years pass and Albedo could actually count on one hand how many times he’s actually had to defend you. He’s grateful really, that’s it's been so little, that his job is relatively boring. He’s thankful that so far your life has been safe. 

He does remember although, the first time he ever saw you truly fearful. A few years back when you two were still teenagers. A siege from a neighboring kingdom, one who wanted more power, marched right up to the city’s gates. You and your siblings were barricaded in an enforced room deep within the castle. “If the enemy starts to breach the outer room of these walls, I want you to take my sister and run, escape from here through the underground passage.” Your older brother had told Albedo secretly earlier.

Albedo had never seen you genuinely afraid before that day. As the sounds of screams and combat can be heard from within this room's thick walls. Your clammy and tight grip on his hand never leaves him as your other hand clenched at the fabric of your dress. 

The sound of cannon fire shaking the walls has made you jump in surprise and even has shaken Albedo’s usual calm demeanor.

“We’ll be alright.” He reassures you although his slightly nervous tone betrays his words. He squeezes your hand “I promise we’ll survive this.” 

And it's through your closest friend’s unwavering certainty that you find it in yourself to give him a weak smile and nod. 

And as if the gods hold true to Albedo’s word, the battle never reaches inside the castle. Your loyal army causes the enemy to retreat. Its safe again at last. But when your siblings start to exit the room, You find yourself breaking down. You were trying desperately to hold it together in front of your family but now just in the presence of Albedo tears being to fall. He stops and moves right in front of you, his hand now resting on your shoulder as he tries to brush the tears from your cheeks. A rare look of concern and worry on his face as he quietly calls your name. 

“I’m sorry.” you sniffle and try to regain some composure in your voice. “I’m sorry. Look at me crying while everyone else is relieved. I should be stronger than this. A royal should be stronger than this.” 

As he glances back at the doorway waiting til it's just the two of you left in this room, he embraces you, in this brief quiet moment he holds you close. 

Yes so far you’ve been kept safe. Even skillfully dogaging a marriage proposal or two. 

That is…until the curse catches up to you.

You see there’s been a long past down story that your family will one day suffer from a curse. But that’s all this is right? A story? A story of some ancestor of yours angring a deity or magical creature and getting cursed that one day your royal bloodline will die out. But that’s just a fairy tale right?

It starts with your father the king. But he’s already old and frail so his death, while heartbreaking, is not all too unexpected. Albedo is still there at your side as you lie a flower down on your father’s tomb. 

Now your oldest brother inherits the throne. You’re happy to see him in power, your family has been very close. He’s only about seven years older than you and healthy for his age. 

So two months after his coronation, when he falls ill. It's a shock to you and your two other siblings. The royal doctor has no answer, you call for healers outside your borders, offering huge payments in return. But within a week, your dear brother is gone. 

Albedo watches as you try to put on a strong facade for your sister and brother. But he can see the trembling in your hands. This isn’t normal, this shouldn’t be happening. Let alone to someone as undeserving as you. 

Now Albedo is no doctor but there must be something he can do, some way he can help. He scours the castle library for every book on rare illnesses and even dips into your family’s genealogy. When nothing there serves his pursuit he ventures out into the city, even to the outskirts of Mondstadt for any scrap of information that could help him. 

And within this short time Albedo is searching, your older sister takes the throne and a month later she is dead. 

Albedo watches as you attempt to reassure your last remaining family member. “It's the curse isn’t it?” your brother replies with paranoia. 

But it can’t be. Albedo tries to convince himself. He has studied magic extensively, curses aren’t unheard of but. To think this tragedy would touch you? The only person in his life he considers a friend? 

Albedo is a man of science, of tangible proof that you can hold in your hand. A curse that was placed on your family for some unknown reason, generations ago by most likely some being or person that’s long since passed? He thinks back to when he was 15, glancing to his side as he kneels before the king to take his vow, to see you trying to hold back a gleeful smile as you watch him take his oath to serve by your side till his last dying breath. 

A curse? He will not just bend it but break it completely. 

He neglects you a bit again during this time. So into his research as he has been many times in the past. He reassures you this time it's to help you. Your brother only makes it two weeks before he’s caught a fever. Albedo closes his book, leaves his lab, and returns to your side as you say your last goodbyes to your brother. 

The young man feels as if the world is crumbling beneath his very feet with how fast both of your lives have changed in such a short amount of time. He wants to return to those carefree days of when you two drew together out in the courtyard, not to now where he has to watch the joy leave your eyes, not one where he has to watch you bury your family, where he’ll have to watch you be-

No no no he can’t think like that. Not now. Not when there’s still time to change the future. But he just can’t bring himself to leave your side right now. Not now when your skin is growing pale, you're losing your appetite and your eyes grow tired. You two are friends. He understands this, you taught him what friendship is, what it looks like, feels like. But recently with this suffering that has fallen to you, he can’t feel but feel a new emotion, one he can’t comprehend. Recently he’s had such a strong desire to embrace you more often. Hold your hand. And when you're standing too close caressing his cheek, kiss you. But is this love? Could something that’s not even human grasp such a raw emotion?

“Albedo…” you weakly beckon him closer, offering a piece of charcoal in your hand. He knows why you're doing this. But it won't be the last time, he swears to himself. 

“Remember when we were kids,” you start with your horse voice “I drew us climbing to the top of Dragonspire, that’s what I saw in our future.” you smile nostalgically as you brush off loose charcoal off your paper. 

“We can still do that.” He says unwaveringly. “When your strength returns to you I’ll take you up there. As I’ve done myself many times in the past.” His vibrant blue eyes hold a conviction that you admire so much about him. It's surely one of the reasons you’ve fallen in love with him. All you can do is smile a bit pitfully back at him “Keep your promise.” 

Once you become bedridden he can not will his legs to leave your side. Only once the inconvenient pain of hunger or sleep pulls him away from your side. Although he can not bear to be in the room with you as you dictate your will and last testament to your royal advisor. 

The next morning as he just barely got enough sleep, as he’s making his way to your bedroom he hears faint crying and fear just takes hold of his heart. His trembling knees almost give out at the sight of you lifeless on the bed, your attendants weeping besides you. His mouth dry, eyes wide with dread.

 “She’s alive but she’s asleep…” the priest standing over your bedside says. “Nothing we do will wake her.”

 Albedo stays by your side attentively the next few days. It's true nothing he does or gives to your body will wake you. There’s only the steady rise and fall of your chest and quiet breathing. The image of the princess’s most loyal guard resting at his knees beside your bed with his hand in yours, this image is forever stuck with the servants and remaining court who catch a glimpse of it behind your door. 

“Are you sure about this Albedo?” Jean questions him with concern as she hands him his last supply bag. Albedo sits on top a sturdy horse, at the city’s gate, early in the morning when the sky is still a mix of orange and purple. The sun illuminating the back of the castle, casting a large shadow over the city. It could be the last time he ever sees his home, the last time he ever sees you. “Absolutely.” he answers the grand master. 

This is not an aimless journey for Albedo. He has leads, names, places of interest that have ties to your family’s name. In the beginning he felt immensely guilty. You could have passed away one, two days after he left Mondstadt. He doesn't know how long he’ll be away from your side. He could return to a kingdom in disarray, a power vacuum left by your passing, he could return to see your name on the family tomb. He travels farther and farther. Past the neighboring kingdom Liyue. On a boat to Inazuma, where he watches the leaves fall and snow dust the ground. He’s quiet during this time and single track minded. He rarely interacts with the people living in the lands. Except for when he overhears your name or family's name spoken in a conversation. Then he stops said person and with an impassive expression demands they tell him more. 

On a boat to Sumeru is where his next hunch takes him. As he counts the consolations in the night sky on the rocking ship, he finds his mind drifting back to you. When he sees a woman with your same hair color out of the corner of his eye, he thinks of you. When he sits at his campfire late at night, bathed in an orange glow and sketches, he thinks of you drawing at his side. When, with just the little tools and materials he carries on him, he’s able to transform one element to the next, he thinks of your face of innocent amazement as you applaud him for what he believes is a simple feat. Archons he misses the sound of your voice. 

With nothing to show for his efforts in Sumeru he treks through the sweltering hot desert for Fontaine. Catching a small boat to the port he recalls a memory from your shared childhood. He remembers as children you two would talk about traveling to vast unknown lands when you were older. Now he has slain so many alien beasts, came face to face with ancient deities that have been around since the stars formed, he’s walked through lands that didn't even feel real, like he was walking through a dream. There’s now a deep white scar from his wrist to his elbow. He wonders if, no when, you see it will you scold him for being so reckless. He imagines you tenderly tracing the raised skin as you tell him to “please don't be so reckless for my sake”. He smiles. The only time he smiles is when he thinks of home or you. 

He silently promises you that he’ll recount every adventure and monster slain to you when you’re awake. 

By the time he reaches Snezhnaya the usual snow has melted, breathing spring into the once fridgen landscape. Outworldly Albedo looks defeated. His eyes are so tired. And he just misses you so much. He never thought his pursuit to awaken you from your endless sleep would take him so far from the city of freedom. He used to think himself so smart and capable. But even in Snezhnaya every written or spoken word of your family’s curse brings him no closer to the truth. No matter what god he begs to or monster he strikes down he still gets no answers. He recalls the court alchemist telling him “You’re a curious student Albedo. Your perseverance for the truth will lead you far in life.” 

But now as Albedo sits at the far end of a dimly lit tavern, he feels like such a disappointment to you, to the one his heart yearns for. He should have told you he loved you. He should have told you so many months back. But at that time he was still coming to terms with what “love” really felt like. 

If Albedo wasn’t so lost in thought he would have picked up how the tavern’s bard is singing an all too familiar song. Lyrics about a mysterious and silent knight who is on a quest to bring his beloved lover back to life. But Albedo’s mind is ruminating about the past. 

It's only after the music has stopped and the boisterous tavern has quieted down does Albedo take his leave. Although once outside to the oddly soundless streets he hears a voice. 

“You should return home loyal knight.” It's the bard that was singing inside the tavern. His dress and accent oddly Mondstadtan. “This act of love is enough to save her. I felt your devotion long before you arrived here.” 

Yes…maybe it is time to return home.

His journey back home is heavy. As the spring turns into the hot and humid days of summer. But he is returning home empty handed. No real world proof that this curse is even real. I have failed the only person who has mattered to me the most. At this point Albedo desires nothing more than to let his dreary eyes close as he rests at your side, so he can at least tell you he loves you in your dream. 

He’s grateful to see that Mondstadt still looks the same. The castle still stands in the distance. And as he nears the city he overhears the townsfolk speak of you as if you’re still asleep. So all my effort?...All my research?...What good was the pursuit of knowledge if it could not return to him the one he holds dear to his heart. 

At least he can see you one last time. 

As he arrives inside the castle's walls he sees a cluster of favonius knights huddled together, discussing something with vigor. And when a familiar face notices Albedo’s tired and weary figure, they spirit over to him. 

The pure astonishment on his colleague's face is the only thing Albedo’s mind registers as the person word dumps onto him.

All Albedo catches through his hazy thoughts are 

“It's you! You’ve really returned Kreideprinz.-”

“We thought you were-”

“-amazing! Just an hour ago-”

“-she asked for you. First word she said-”

And that’s all Albedo can hear as his feet move on their own to your room. Where all the castle’s attendants are congregating outside your bedroom door, weeping joyfully and thanking Barbados. 

He pushes his way past the crowd and despite his disheveled appearance he’s recognized and allowed to enter. 

He feels like he just stepped into a dream. A beautiful, idealized dream. There you, awake, standing, walking. Talking to one of your ladies before your eyes meet his. So much time has passed. What if you don't recognize him? What if you don’t remember him at all? His own voice caught in his throat as he watches you bring your hand over your mouth. And with pure disbelief in your voice “Albedo?” and that’s all he needed. 

It's as if he’s moving through the haze of a romanticized storybook page, he runs toward you and takes you into his arms. He holds you like you might slip through his fingers at any moment. It's a dream, it must be. Maybe some ghastly creature killed him some time ago and this is celestia. He would happily embrace it.

“Albedo.” you call his name through a broken sob. It's tender, and it's all he wants to hear for the rest of his life, as hot tears roll down his cheek and disappear into your hair. 

And for you? It's like walking straight into heaven, back into your knight’s arms. You’ve missed the touch of his blonde hair and the smell of his clothes. You dreamt about him, over and over again. Even through the endless darkness of your nightmare. Your heart clung to every precious memory with Albedo as if absolutely refusing to forget him. 

He lets out a deep sigh as you can hear the smile in his quiet voice “This is a dream, I’m dreaming.” it’s whispered against your neck. 

You let out a laugh and not even angels above could compare to the sound. 

“I’m real Albedo. I’m right here.” You run your fingers through the loose strands of his hair. “I’m right here.” You prop your chin on his shoulder so he can hear you clearly. “And I love you.”

Ah you beat him to it

All throughout his life you’ve been a consist. You’ve remained by his side even when he’s pushed others away or neglected them. 

Under normal circumstances Albedo would never be this brash but with your warm body under his fingertips he can’t think rationally anymore. 

His lips find yours, and it's all passion and yearning. And a little clumsy, as it's both of your’s first kiss. 

“I love you.” He can finally tell you as you are awake to repeat it back. 

…..

Now, up on top Dragonspire peak, there lies a piece of paper, held down by four rocks on each corner. On the paper is a child’s drawing, depicting a girl wearing a crown and a boy wearing the royal guard seal. They are holding hands, standing triumphantly on top a mountain. 

….

….

Oh and now instead of Mondstadtians telling stories of your family’s curse. Every mother tucking their children into bed, every old storyteller over a bonfire, is now recounting the story of a devoted silent knight, braving the seven corners of Teyvat, all to save his true love.

A/N: So when thinking of what situation to throw knight Albedo and princess reader in, I thought of childhood friends to lovers because it felt so natural. I don’t know, I could totally see Albedo falling for his childhood friend where one day when he’s older he just realizes “oh my god its you. Its always been you.” Thoma would make a great childhood friends to lovers now that I think about it lol. Also thinking about what foil to pit him against. I was thinking ok he’s a scientist. Let me pit him against something he can’t understand, something that can’t be solved with equations or facts, but only by the arbitrary logic of some ancient deity that casted a curse on you. And as a lover of Grimms and Anderson’s fairy tales this was fun to write.

I'm bouncing around a larger post about Nishiki and the mortifying ordeal of being known, but in the meantime I'm thinking about Nishiki and Kiryu and how the clothes make (or don't make) the man. Like, beyond my visceral horror that Kiryu begged Nishiki to pick out a safe and boring suit for him in Y0 and then said he was envisioning something purple with gold stripes.

I'm thinking about Nishiki's incredible sensitivity to image and his need to control how he's perceived. I'm thinking about Kiryu's inability to let go of the past. I'm thinking about how KIryu dresses like who he thinks he is, and Nishiki dresses like who he thinks he wants to be.

There's some interesting incidental dialogue between Nishiki and Kiryu in Y0 while they're en route to the men's suit store. I wish it wasn't so easy to miss, because there's a lot to unpack here. (I'm just transcribing the English in-game subtitles here; I don't speak Japanese so I have no idea how loose vs. direct the localization is in this part.)

NISHIKI: …now that I think about it, you've been dressing like an old man since we were kids. KIRYU: Have I? NISHIKI: Yeah. The few times we got to pick our clothes, it was always like, "you're choosing THAT?" NISHIKI: I wouldn't say you're a plain guy…You'd pick shirts with weird prints though. KIRYU: Guess I forgot all that. It's weirder to me that you haven't. NISHIKI: Well, confession time. You're why I started caring about fashion. I swore I'd never go out dressed like you. KIRYU: Come on, I'm not THAT bad. [we have already discussed why kiryu is, in fact, that bad.] NISHIKI: [laughing] Aww, did I hurt your feelings? NISHIKI: Well, this time you've got me with you. I'll see my bro gets taken care of. KIRYU: Heh. What an honor. NISHIKI: Leave it to me.

Nishiki doesn't bring up Sunflower Orphanage much; when he does share memories of his childhood, those memories are kind of painful (see: "do orphans not get to dream?"). Kiryu's surprised that Nishiki remembers how they dressed as kids, but it makes sense that wearing a limited selection of hand-me-downs stuck with Nishiki so strongly. His clothes announced his poverty, and they weren't even his -- he had to share them with the other orphans, so what he wore showed he belonged to yet another stigmatized group. And I'm sure people picked up on those visual signals, especially other kids. Kids can be vicious, and appearance is an easy and immediate target! We don't know for sure how young Nishiki interacted with his peers and teachers, but given what the Morning Glory kids go through in Y3 (and given, like, everything about Nishiki), he probably didn't have a great time.

Kiryu frames his childhood as poor but loving, and places much more emphasis on the latter. There might be some rose-colored glasses at work there -- let's look at the flashback where Kazama tries (and fails) to violently dissuade Kiryu and Nishiki from joining the yakuza.

KIRYU: I owe you everything, but this isn’t about that. [...] We’ve looked up to you for all this time. Your car. Your confidence… The way everybody bows to you. We idolized you. I want that life, too. Is that so wrong!?

Nishiki doesn't really speak in this flashback, but like, Kiryu uses "we" enough for us to draw some obvious conclusions about Nishiki's own motivations. That being said, I don't think Kiryu's being dishonest or disingenuous when he describes his childhood as happy, and himself as well-loved. He's not ashamed of his upbringing, and he doesn't hide where he came from. Nishiki seems to have the inverse view. It's not that he doesn't love (at least some of) the people he grew up with, but what comes up first for him is what he didn't have. He didn't have money. He didn't have respect. He didn't have a cure for his little sister. He didn't have a lot of choice, right down to the clothes he wore.

(There's a whole other essay here about why Kiryu's and Nishiki's perspectives diverge on this, but I'm trying to limit the scope of this post. Suffice to say that, while I don't think game canon gives a timeline, I do think Nishiki was a little older when his parents were killed -- old enough that he actually remembers them, at least.)

The same mindset fuels Nishiki's interest in fashion. Yeah, part of it is that he's ribbing Kiryu, but I think it goes deeper than Kiryu wearing ugly shirts. Nishiki doesn't want people to look at him and see what's missing. Fashion isn't a means of personal expression for him, really. It's a message. It's the interplay of knowledge and resources and presentation: knowing what clothes read as successful and trendy and expensive, being able to afford those things, and convincing people that your successful important outfit makes you a successful important person. And he's not wrong about the social dimensions of fashion.

NISHIKI: Try sporting a suit that runs 500 grand for once. Trust me, you’ll see the world in a whole new light. KIRYU: Fashion’s not my thing. Besides, Kazama-san never wore flashy clothes. NISHIKI: You do realize he’s the family captain, right? Number two in the whole Dojima operation? You get to that level, you can wear whatever you damn well please. But for the rest of us, “flashy” is part of the business. KIRYU: So that fancy new car you bought was just “business”. NISHIKI: Yeah, and that fancy lighter of mine, too. Which you still haven’t given back. KIRYU: You want to play the rich guy, quit being so stingy. NISHIKI: But you get what I’m saying, right? People see the expensive car, the designer jacket, and the gleam of that little Dojima pin, they pay attention. A yakuza’s only as good as his image. [...] Take your buddy today. These squeaky-clean idiots, borrowing money just to blow on tits and booze… Nobody in this town gives a crap about substance. What you see is what you get.

That's our first take on one of the major themes of the game: what does it mean to be yakuza? Again, there is truth to what Nishiki's saying here, particularly in terms of the ethos of the eighties. I'm not an expert on the bubble era, but the worldbuilding in the game speaks for itself. People hail taxis with 10,000-yen bills. You punch money out of punks during random street battles. Nishiki keeps a personal bottle of high-end booze at a bar he's visited twice, mostly because he "can’t stand being taken for a bum." The act of spending is important, not what you're spending it on.

Nishiki's outfit in Y0 is perfectly suited (heh) to that outlook. And look, I might be inviting controversy here, but in context, I think it's a werq. Yes, it's loud. But the silhouette -- squared shoulders, single breasted, thinner peaked lapel -- is right on trend for the time period, and it fits him well. The colors look good on him. The bold pattern (no, it's not animal print) under the solid maroon is a risk, but he pulls it off. And excess aside, he knows when to pull back on the accessories. It's bright and confident and memorable, and boy would Nishiki like to be all of those things.

Also -- and importantly -- Kiryu would never go out dressed like that. Because we can't talk about Nishiki and Kiryu without talking about Nishiki's Mt. Fuji-sized inferiority complex. Mastering image doesn't just make Nishiki stand out; it makes him stand out from Kiryu. Let's go back to the beginning of the game.

NISHIKI: I’ll admit, though, you’re finally starting to look the part. You make a pretty convincing yakuza. You’re done with collections today, right? KIRYU: Yeah. NISHIKI: Good. That should put Kazama-san’s mind at ease a bit. KIRYU: Heh, dunno about that. But he always knew all I could do is fight. You’re the one who’s good at the dance.

Nishiki then calls attention to the "rags" that Kiryu's wearing, which...is not an unfair assessment. (TUCK IN YOUR SHIRT, KIRYU. HEM YOUR PANTS.) As the two of them walk around Kamurocho, Nishiki offers Kiryu plenty of hot tips, from meeting girls to making big bucks to cozying up to the brass. But even when Nishiki's opining on his area of expertise, there's a competitive edge to it. "You asking me to pick out clothes for you means you admit you have terrible taste," he tells Kiryu on the way to the suit shop. Kiryu tells him to shut up, but there's no actual hurt behind it. Kiryu doesn't really care that his taste in clothes sucks. Fashion isn't important to him. Most of the things Nishiki knows so much about don't really matter to Kiryu. And that makes Nishiki feel more insecure! Because if Kiryu rolls out of bed looking like a yakuza, if Nishiki's image counseling sessions aren't helpful or meaningful, if Kiryu can skip the dance and get to the top on the strength of his fists and convictions, then who cares about Nishiki's 500 grand suit or his hourlong hair care routine? If image isn't what makes a yakuza, what does that make Nishiki?

At the end of Chapter 6, Nishiki tries to look out for Kiryu again -- this time, by granting him a merciful death before the Dojima Family drags him to the Hole. It's one of my favorite scenes in the game. Nishiki's crying too hard to aim the gun properly; Kiryu tells him to man up and shoot. Finally, Nishiki collapses.

NISHIKI: Can’t do it… How could I shoot you!? Without you, I’ll always be nothing. Can’t make it as a yakuza… No. I wouldn’t even still be alive now if I didn’t have you beside me! I’m just… If you’re not with me, I’m useless! Nothing means anything!

Mastering image hasn't granted Nishiki anything of substance. At the end of the day, Nishiki's playing dress-up, and he knows it.

And I'm almost certainly getting into overthinking-this territory now (if I haven't gotten there already), but I kind of like the spin this puts on Nishiki ripping his expensive suit off in Chapter 14 when he decides to fight the Dojima Family at Kiryu's side. Like yes, ripping off your outer layers to get at the naked (so to speak) truth -- your irezumi, and what it represents -- is just Yakuza Storytelling 101. It's decisive, it's kind of dumb, it's great, it gets me hyped every time. But I like that Nishiki's honest answer to "what does it mean to be a yakuza?" isn't about looking the part. I am genuinely trying not to end this paragraph by saying that Nishiki must become like a dragon, but like...you get where I'm going with this.

Of course, Nishiki's back to playing dress-up in Y1/Kiwami. I'm not the first to call the Patriarch Nishikiyama look a glow-down (though I like the patterned white tie). Like, fashion-conscious Nishiki would look good in a Hedi Slimane/Tom Ford-esque skinny black suit. But he picks a silhouette you'd expect to see on a much older man, torso-swallowing pants and all. The slicked-back hair doesn't help. He's just so transparently trying to look bigger and broader and older, and he doesn't pull it off. Big Bad Patriarch isn't a good look for him, in any sense of the phrase.

A final thought: Kiryu's clothes, and Nishiki's commentary on them, are the subject of their first conversation in Y0 -- and of their last. Kiryu's costume progression in Y0 is a pretty obvious commentary on his journey, to the point where Kiryu and Nishiki explicitly call attention to the color connotations in their final exchange. As a Dojima grunt, he wears black, and it doesn't look good on him because "brutish thug who keeps his head down and does what he's told" isn't a role he's comfortable with. He wears white when he works in real estate, but the change in color isn't enough to sell anyone on his transformation into a civilian. Although it's a little rich for Oda "Red Clown Shoes" Jun to chide someone for not wearing a proper suit. At the end of the game, Kiryu's in his classic grey suit, and well, the game spells it out:

KIRYU: I’m not feeling black or white these days. This is where I’m at right now. I chose it myself. I’m making it a fresh start. NISHIKI: Fine, fine. See if I care! Wear it the rest of your life!

Nishiki, dismayed, tells Kiryu that the grey suit already looks dated, but for Kiryu, "fresh start" doesn't mean "on trend". His image might be out of step with how other yakuza view themselves, or want to be seen, but if he's always going to look like a yakuza, he might as well stake his claim on what being a yakuza means. Still, it's telling that, even as a young man, Kiryu looks like a throwback to an earlier era. As the series progresses, the games hammer this home more and more. How many antagonists tell Kiryu that he's out of touch with the modern world, that he represents a version of the yakuza that no longer exists, that it's time for him to make way for the next generation?

"Wear it the rest of your life!" is a funny little in-joke, yeah, but...it's a little sad when you think about it, isn't it? Kiryu gets new outfits from Y3 on -- and in every game, he ultimately puts the suit back on and heads to Kamurocho. It's exactly of a piece with how Kiryu views being yakuza. We, and he, can debate the exact extent of his retirement from the Tojo Clan's affairs, but the yakuza isn't a career for Kiryu, it's a set of beliefs he carries with him. He wears the suit the same way he wears the dragon on his back: as an indelible part of his self-image.

My dad’s neighbor is a dilf

Chapter 4

Joel Miller x You

Summery: You had decided to spend your summer in Austin with your dad. You used to spend almost every summer there, but hadn't spent a summer there since you were a teenager. Which means you hadn't seen a certain Joel Miller in years..

Warnings: abusive ex is back. Verbal abuse and physical violence (not against reader)

You roll over in your bed with a groan and stretch your arms. Grabbing your phone you check the time 10:03. Early for you. You decide to hop in the shower before your dad can ask you to help pick up fallen branches in the yard from last nights storm. You let the scolding water hit your body and you draw in a deep breath. Tomorrow was Monday which meant your dad would be back to work and you wouldn't have anyone to talk to or hang out with until 5 o'clock. Rinsing the soap from your face you contemplated just what to do with tomorrow, in fact you were beginning to wonder how to make use of your summer in general. The last couple weeks of doing nothing had been a much needed reprieve from your busy life, but you were starting to get a little stir crazy. You turned off the water, still deep in thought when you heard your phone buzzing. You tiptoed over to your bedside table and saw Joel's name lighting up the screen. "Why is he calling me?" You pick up the phone ...

Hello Hey sweetheart didn't wake ya did I? No no I've been up...for a few minutes (Joel chuckled) Well hey listen, one of my coworkers was looking for a sitter for tonight. He and the Misses are going out and their regular girl can't make it. Any interest in an easy job for the night? Oh yeah I can definitely do that. God know I've got nothing else going on. Okay I'll send you the info! Thanks darlin'

Obviously he wasn't calling just because he wanted to chat with you. It was a stupid thing to even hope for. The rest of the day went by relatively slowly, but when 6 o'clock rolled around you put some snacks in your back pack, a phone charger, and a book you had been trying to finish for several weeks now. The babysitting was easy. It was one kid, she was four years old and for the most part did whatever you asked. The parents told you they would be out late so when 11:45 rolled around you weren't surprised they hadn't come home yet. The house was quiet...too quiet. You never much liked this part of being a baby sitter. It was different when you did it for Sarah. The millers house was always warm and full of life. Those nights when Joel did get home a little later you felt safe curling up in on his couch with the TV on. Most of the times you would fall asleep like that and Joel would drive you home the next day after making you and Sarah breakfast. You smile at the memory. The sounds of the house settling are enough to snap you from this daydream down memory lane. "Fuck I really don't like this huge, quiet house. What if I call someone to keep me company. Dad will be asleep, so would mom and my sister. I bet Joel Miller is awake..." you stare at your phone and contemplate this next move. "Fuck it" you mutter and tape his name. The phone only rings a couple of times before you hear Joel's husky voice. A twinge of guilt shoots through you as you fear you've woken him up.

Hello? Everything okay? Hey, yeah I'm so sorry did I wake you? I was just restin' my eyes that's all. I ain't in bed yet. Well I just- I really don't like being in these houses all by myself. It sounds stupid but it's kinda scary I guess. 'S not stupid. You want someone to talk to-keep ya company? Yeah... and I figured you'd be awake still, but I guess I figured wrong You're all right honey, I really don't mind. I needed to get off this couch and sleep in my bed any how. But how 'bout you tell me about your day? My day was pretty boring honestly. I played with the cat, ate some ice cream and watched TV Wat'd ya watch? Love island What in the hell is that?

You laughed and proceeded to tell him all about the show. A little while passed and then you heard the lock click and knew the parents were home. You told Joel you had to go to which he responded "alright let me know when you get home safe. Can call me if you want." Back home you pondered whether or not you should call Joel. It was late and you were feeling tired, but you wanted to talk to him. After slipping into your pajamas you felt like you could hardly stay awake much longer, but you were determined to take advantage of this invitation from Joel to call him. So you tapped his name and watched the phone ring. You put it to your ear and your heart sank with each unanswered ring. When it went to voicemail you resolved that he had likely fallen asleep and you decided to do the same.

The next day you woke up early (ish) at 9:00. Your dad had already left for work. You roll over in your bed to check your phone and your heart pounds.

Missed call from Joel Miller 36m ago

You're hoping he's not at work yet and call him back quickly. "Hey sweetheart" he picks up within a few rings. "Sorry I missed your call last night. I ended up falling asleep and didn't hear the phone." It was so nice to hear his voice first thing in the morning. "Oh you don't need to apologize. I didn't really need anything, I just like talking to you" you could almost hear Joel grin as he said "well I like talkin' to you too sugar" you had walked down to your kitchen to put on a pot of coffee at this point when you say "hey why aren't you at work?" "Waitin for some parts to come in for this current job. Until they do there's nothin else I can really do. But the parts are supposed to be here by noon... so I'll get my ass to work in a couple hours" you notice a note taped to the fridge as Joel finishes saying all this. "I completely forget" you mutter to yourself, but apparently Joel hears. "What'd you forget?" "My dad left me a note reminding me that he's gone on a business trip and won't be back until Thursday." "Oh that's right. Your dad did mention that. Told me to keep an eye out for ya." "Did he really? "Yeah I mean you're going to be by yourself in that big house for almost 3 days" "I'm a grown ass woman though!" Joel chuckled. "No ones sayin you ain't, darlin. Dads worry and that don't change from when you're 5 or when you're 25" "I guess that's fair enough" you shrug. "I should get my day started here... might go on a run and catch up on laundry" "Well if you need anything the next couple of days just hollar" You hang up the phone with brief goodbyes and run your fingers through your tangled bed head. You groan as you massage your temple. "What the fuck am I doing?? I'm catching feelings for Joel fucking Miller. What's worse is that I'm flirting with him too"

Against your better judgement you decide to text Joel later in the day Hey what time you get off tonight? I should be wrapping up by 7...Why? You want to swing by for dinner? Nothing fancy. I'm just bored and I don't love being here alone in the evenings for long periods of time lol. Well I ain't gonna turn you down for some dinner. I'll see you at 7:30. Can I pick anything up at the store for ya on my way there? Well if you're offering... maybe some ice cream? And a bottle of rosè You got it

The rest of the day went by slowly. 7:30 couldn't get here fast enough. You were hoping for something to happen tonight with Joel, but you weren't sure what that would be. You hadn't decided if the lingering glances from him were just something you were imagining or actually happening. Around 6:30 you decide to hope in the shower and of course shave...because you never know right? After your shower you settle on wearing a simple, linen dress that's super comfortable and not all that fancy.  At exactly 7:30 you hear the doorbell ring. You jump off the sofa to answer it, your heart in your throat. But when you open the door, you're afraid you might be sick. It's not Joel Miller who stands there, but your toxic ex boyfriend ...Ben.

"What the fuck are you doing? You need to leave" Ben smirks. "Aren't you a delight. I just wanted to talk to you, and since you've block my number I had to take matters into my hands." Your heart was racing. Ben had never shown any physical violence against you, but you didn't know what he was capable and you didn't want to find out. "I thought I made myself really fucking clear that we are over" you said with a shaky voice. "Baby I just don't think you get to make that call. I mean I've done so much to make this relationship work. You can't just throw all that away. You know you're never going to find another guy who puts up with your shit." That was it. Something in you snapped. Something that had been brewing for literally years was about to come out. "No fuck you!" You shoved him in the chest with both palms and he stumbled back just a step, caught off guard by your motion. "Screw you! I don't need a guy to put up with anything about me, you asshole. You act like you're some fucking hero for tolerating the fact that I struggle with my mental health and stuff!" Ben was fuming now. You had never laid hands on him and you could tell the shove had lit something inside him too. "You have issues you know that?! You have fucking issues in your head!" He screamed at you getting up in your face and grabbing your arms tightly, pinning them to your sides. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Joel's truck coming down the street and pulling into your drive way. Ben was now shaking you and yelling "YOU'RE SUCH A BITCH.." he didn't get to finish his sentence because a firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him backwards.

If looks could kill...you had never seen such an expression on Joel. He looked like he could tear Ben to pieces right then and there, yet he maintained a calm composure. "I suggest you get the fuck off this porch and don't come back, son" Joel said in a low voice. Ben scoffed. "Get out of here, old man. This ain't your business" Ben spat. "Son, we can do this the easy way or the hard way." Ben let his head fall back and let out a chuckle that sent a chill down your spine. "Is that so?" Without warning Ben threw a punch and Joel and narrowly missed "Ben!" You shrieked. Ben straightened up sent another punch. Joel grabbed his wrist, mid punch and yanked him in close. Joel towered over him. "Do not make me repeat myself again. I said get the fuck off this porch, or things will get ugly." At this Joel shoved Ben forcefully away, causing him to stumble backwards. Ben still looked angry, but now there was a hint of fear in his eyes too. He gave you one last glare and then jogged back to his car.

As soon as Ben's car sped off. Joel sun around. "Are you okay??" He asked, grabbing your face in his hands. "Um yeah" you managed to squeak. "I mean that fucking scared me tho." Joel looked like he might be sick. "I am so sorry wasn't here at 7:30. If I got here on time- " "Joel come on you don't need to do that. It's not like either of us had any idea Ben would show up here. I'm glad you came when you did though." Joel massaged the bridge of his nose. He looked stressed and was probably imaging what would have happened if he didn't show up at all. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to rid himself of the notion. "Joel look at me I'm fine!" You said pulling his hand away from his face. Joel took your hand in his and stroked it with his thumb. "Okay" he said softly. "Did you get my ice cream?" You said trying to change the subject. A smile tugged at his mouth. "Yeah I did, baby"

You had made spaghetti for dinner, about one of the only dishes you were confident in preparing. You and Joel sat at the table in silence and you watched as he pushed his food around. "I'm sorry I'm not a chef...if you want we could just order a pizza?" You suggested. Joel looked up at you seemingly caught off guard. "No no no it's not that! The meal is delicious. I guess I just don't have an appetite. That's all." You pushed back from the table and the chair scraping against the hardwood made Joel jump slightly. "Baby I didn't mean to offend you it's just" you laughed as you reached for the shelf above the stove "Joel I'm not mad I'm just looking for something." Joel slowly walked towards where you were balancing on a stool trying to get the top door of the cabinet open. "Um...what's that?" You grunted as you finally got hold of what it was you were looking for. "My dad's red wine. It's gross too me, but he always says red wine gives you an appetite." You hopped off the stool and thrust the bottle into his chest. "Where's the wine you got me? I would like to get into that like asap." Before waiting for a response you went into the other room where the grocery bag still sat with the ice cream and wine and dug out the bottle. You hastily removed the top and began drinking. "Y/n...slow down what are you doing?" You removed the bottle from your lips and wiped your mouth. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Joel's face was laced with concern. "Okay that's enough. I'm calling your dad, you can stay at mine until he gets home. I'm sure he'll book the first flight back when he hears.." you didn't let Joel finish. He had tried to grab the bottle from your hands "no, fuck off I'm a grown woman. I don't need you calling me dad to tell on me or whatever." Joel placed both hands in his hair and squeezed his head "sweetheart you're clearly not okay! And for good reason... will you just let me help you? I'm worried about you. This shit wasn't in any of the parenting books I read before Sarah.." "you're not my dad!" "No no I'm not saying that I just" ... "is that all this is? You want to fill the void of not having your daughter at home this summer. So you come over here to parent me because my dad's not here? I don't fucking need that Joel I don't want you to see me that way."

...to be continued

GOOD! I'll now explain a little more about my absence on Tumblr, not that I think it was dramatic, but I did get a few reactions to it (why no analysis of the last chapter? Asks still unanswered).

I wanted to test on Twitter, in fact I was already expecting the conclusions I was going to draw from this experiment, but it all started with a discussion with my twin sister who told me that I had to test to see how my analyses in particular (there's no difference in the way fanarts are received) would be received.

Honestly, my posts went down well and I think it shows that on any platform many people are interested in digging into a manga, but unlike here where people will want to look for opinions on a chapter, posts on Twitter drift towards people who aren't interested (and they have the right).

But the insulting, even misogynistic part, the repeated meme, the often private RT quoted, it's anxiety-provoking.

And even when I wasn't posting, the arguments, the drama, the anxiety-provoking news loops, the nonsense all contributed to my bad mood.

Anyway !!!! I'm going into exam period, so I won't be as productive as usual right away, but I'm going to stay on Tumblr.

Not that I wanted to leave, but I didn't know if I'd be posting on Tumblr AND Twitter

Already time-wise, it's impossible, especially for someone who's trying to limit her addiction to networks.

And one last clarification: all my threads on Twitter were reflections I'd already written here, so you haven't lost any "content".

See you soon <3

Addendum: if I haven't made myself clear I'll probably quit Twitter and only stay on Tumblr!!!!

Another addition: CSM doesn't have the audience the work deserves, not because people don't like the work enough (I don't care about that) but because people refuse to believe that Fujimoto thinks his work, coherently and deeply

Ok you did rocky and nico but what about Mordecai with widow reader with three kittens? (bonus if you include aunty Serafine and uncle nico)ps I love your writing!

This one is a bit different from the other widow-with-kiddo asks but I hope its still to ur liking ~

Firstly! Regardless if you're working the Marigold Room as a bartender or musician, or you're in the gang directly, the kittens are often at the hotel. The staff knows them, the managers don't mind because they stay away from guests, other gang members are familiar with them and make sure they stay outta trouble. The hotel's back rooms and staff quarters are like an endless maze to the kiddos, and they know the whole place like the back of their hands. ... Kinda.

Not to mention how they're doted on by everyone - Asa gives them candies, Nico tosses them high in the air, Serafine is kind of scary but she gave them these funny bracelets (made of bones??? but theyre funny and she's pretty so it's okay!), various hotel staff cooing over how cute and well-behaved they are.

And then there's Mordecai. He's pretty scary to adults, let alone kids. When he sees them skittering around in the peripheral of his vision, he has to frown even more. Who let these wayward children in here? He hears them running about the halls and empty offices while he's trying to do accounting. And as much as Mordecai wants nothing to do with them, he's a figure of great interest to your kittens. Someone who isn't cooing over them? Whose in an office way in the back, only one light on? The one who follows Mr. Sweet and dresses in all black? Their little imaginations run wild, even if you've plainly told them that "Mr. Heller" is your colleague and to leave him be.

The oldest one approaches him first. Which is to say, she lingers behind the doorway, peeking in and thinking he can't see her tail and ears sticking out. He hears the younger ones shushing each other. As much as Mordecai wants to be annoyed, instead, a painful deja vu comes over him. Your oldest finally patters in with a nervous "Mr. Heller?". Before he can ask what she wants, she plops a candy on his desk and runs off, the other kittens right behind her.

As much as the shadowy cat doesn't want the trio bothering him, he's torn about them being so fearful of him. All three of them stir up painful familiar memories of his sisters, but the youngest especially reminds Mordecai of Rose. He tries not to think of how old she and Eshter are now, if they miss him the way your kittens miss you when you're away. It's hard for him to keep up his cold exterior when those painful memories bubble up to the surface.

So when the oldest comes by his desk, he finally sighs and says with a frown, "All three of you, just come in and show me what it is." And the other two shuffle in, with their big eyes and hand-me-down clothes and it's just. Very difficult not to dismiss them.

The two youngest have decided he's their "secret friend", even if you were well aware of how they liked to pester your overly serious colleague. You'll watch your girls draw him alongside other people they know (why does he always look so shadowy and sketchy, even in crayon form?) but you don't know they like sneaking their drawings into his satchel or desk drawers. They'll leave wrapped candies and pretty strings and buttons too, to his exasperation. Eventually Mordecai walks over to you and drops a handful of the little treasures at your table.

"Gee, Mordecai, I'm flattered. You know what a guy/gal likes."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm returning what your snooping progeny keep leaving me. Tell them to stay out of my things."

"Looks to me like they're trying to add some color to that depressing office you hole up in."

And so on, and so forth, you two really like to bicker, don't you?

(Oh, and Mordecai starts keeping the door shut and locking it, but then he hears giggles and sees them shoving the pictures and little things under the doorway.)

Now they aren't afraid of him at all, which means they want to run about Mordecai and get his attention. They'll giggle as they dart between his legs or "hide" under his coat. Their fur gets all over his black clothes. When they inevitably tumble and fall, he picks them up by the collar or under the arms and scolds them for running indoors. And he yanks them down when they get too rowdy and climb up furniture, or sometimes he finds the youngest one crying because she got lost and takes her back. If he catches any of the kittens with an unlaced boot or messy face, he stops them immediately.

"Stop! Lace up your boots immediately. You'll trip and crack your skull open. Don't run in the hotel lobby, either. This is an establishment, not a wild jungle you can traipse about in - keep still, what is on your face? Is that - syrup? Did you not think to wash your hands and face after - no, there will be no giggling about breaches of hygiene -"

(A few people are staring as Mordecai fusses over her, which he doesn't notice until a woman walks by and says, "oh, it's so hard at this age, isn't it? Don't worry, you're doing great." And he dies a little a lot inside).

He tried doing these things in secret, but inevitably one of the Savoys or Asa or you would spot him, and the youngest one loves prattling on about him. Asa, Nico and Serafine find "Nanny Heller" to be hysterical. He's going to throttle someone or plan a murder swear to god-

There's been several moments when you hear a high-pitched squeal that sounds like a scream, and you run over in a panic ... and oh, it's just Nico dangling one of the kittens upside down and pretending to lose his grip. False alarm - wait, why is Mordecai here too?

If you're a triggerman with the gang, it means you're keeping all sorts of odd hours. You've been with them for years and you're more than useful, so having the children set up in an empty office isn't looked twice at. They've got their bedding, some books and toys, and ... sometimes they're sleeping there more than they sleep at home, which you aren't proud of. It's not just the cost of childcare, but the odd hours and questions being asked about your job, especially if you're a woman.

The first time Mordecai came across this office was by accident, but he knew the children had to be staying somewhere. He walked up very quietly, and looking through the open doorway, saw the oldest doing her homework at the big desk while her two siblings slept under it, curled up with their pillows and blankets and stuffed toys. He didn't think he'd be affected so strongly, but it was painful. A very, very painful reminder, and maybe he saw himself a little too much in that girl, furrowing her brow and making sense of numbers.

You and Mordecai have had strange arguments about the the children, which was odd at first. You wondered why the so-called unfeeling triggerman cared at all. If he felt you were being too reckless during a job, he'd tell you as much, but there was more bite in his voice. He never outright said 'you have others depending on you', but it was in his tone. Many times you felt judged, or looked down upon - but a lot of these fights weren't about you specifically. It was the situation that upset him, the lengths one had to go to keep their family fed and safe in a clean environment. He was definitively projecting, and not always aware of it, or just in denial about it. Mordecai tried not to dwell on his own mother and sisters: what they felt when he didn't come home one day, when they read that letter explaining where all the money was hidden, when the realization sunk in for Eshter and Rose that their brother wasn't coming back. If they were sad, or angry, or resigned, or didn't think of him at all anymore. Or maybe they'd resent him forever.

Look he really doesnt want to be thinking about these things -

After long jobs, you'd wash the blood off and change shirts and tiredly walk all the way to the back rooms where your kittens were sleeping. Sometimes you stir the oldest awake so she can help you carry the other two to the car, but honestly, the only apartment a single parent with three children can get is pretty shit. So most times you just curl up on the floor with them, catching a few hours of sleep before you need to wake up the oldest for school.

You hold her hand as you walk through the back rooms and out the staff exit. Sometimes Mordecai sees you. You wear the same tired but persevering expression as his mother did, looking a mess compared to your well-put together daughter. He knows she washed up and dressed herself, and packed her own bookbag. She has that look of responsibility and eyes that are a little too old, and it's too familiar, so he looks away.

(Sometimes the oldest finds an extra sandwich in her bookbag, or new pencils and one time, a new pair of mittens. She feels like it's magic, so she doesn't want to tell anyone, otherwise the magic will 'break'.)

You and Mordecai already have a very strange relationship (can you call each other friends yet? You'd consider him that, or something more, but his feelings are something else entirely), and your kiddos would certainly add another layer of strangeness onto it. You might actually get to know him a little faster and closer than most do, or at least see a side that most people have never seen or even considered him capable of.