“Through the taking off and letting go”

average side character who floats around. :P

[everyday-castaway]

After blinking several times, I venture to call his name. "...Sh...Shiroya?"

He looks at me in a sluggish manner, and he is not smiling as he usually is.

Where did his cheerful smile go....? I feel as if my chest were being pricked by a tiny thorn.

"Ayame..."

—Shiroya's route, Destiny Ninja 2 (belongs to NTT Solmare/Shall We Date)

I played through a lot of Shall We Date's mobile otome games back in high school before many of them were shut down a few years ago. My second game was Destiny Ninja 2, and my first route within that game was Shiroya.

Shiroya has become one of my favorite fictional characters, and by far my favorite system that I've seen in fictional media (read about DID/OSDD for more info on what being a system means). I was so surprised by how an otome game company depicted the complexity and nuance of DID more kindly than I've seen in media in some other places.

I get that DID tends to show up as a character trope that writers in the past liked to tag on to people to amp up drama, especially in the mystery, horror, and thriller genres. It also sometimes shows up as a trope in the fantasy genre (in which, I think, Destiny Ninja 2 would fall). However, there's a surprising amount of care and depth that Shall We Date put into their system characters (those being Shiroya/Other Shiroya in DN2+, and Kagura/Homura in Ninja Shadow+). I have so much more I could say, but I'll save that for another place and time.

Anyway, the first time MC encounters Other Shiroya has lived so vividly in my brain for YEARS, so I've always wanted to try to illustrate it. I don't usually have energy to draw fan art, but I realized recently that I had developed my art skills enough to attempt drawing out this scene, and so here is the result. I'm honestly pretty happy with it. :) —🏵️

[nuvemzinhacorderosa]

Sheik and Tetra, they would make a great duo, I know it.

[lilyblossom-art]

All of the zeldas so far in order of release

This took me so long lol i don't even know why i did this but here it is :>

And also i have not played eow yet so no spoilers pls

1. Classic Zelda

2. Zelda I

3. Alttp Zelda

4. Cdi Zelda

5. Other cdi Zelda

6. Oot Sheik

7. Oot adult Sheik

8. Oot downfall Sheik

9. Ssb Zelda (i needed to get to 25 lol)

10. Oox Zelda

11. Fs Zelda

12. Tetra

13. Fsa Zelda

14. Mc Zelda

15. Mc stained glass Zelda

16. Tp Zelda

17. St Zelda

18. Ss Zelda

19. Albw Zelda

20. Hw Zelda

21. Botw Zelda

22. Ancient princess (named after Sonia from totk)

23. Coh Zelda

24. Aoc Zelda

25. Eow Zelda

[so-much-wine]

20y/o Tetra design yar har har

[shellshooked]

Christmas present for @/great_sea_aneki <3

I need someone to write a detailed fic of them together post game and until they grow old and all the adventures they have together as cool pirates and how they fall in love and eventually establish the new hyrule. I need it now actually

[bamber344]

amusing (irritating) to me that pretty much every depiction of the king of hyrule/zelda's dad has brown/tanner skin, and yet Tetra is the only iteration of zelda who also gets to have brown skin (and even that gets taken away when she goes princess-mode)

Her paleness (and tetra's tan) gets explained away by the fandom as being due to her royal lifestyle (and tetra's pirate lifestyle), but then why isn't the king also pale if it's simply a matter of being tanned from the sun? And zelda isn't always a royal, anyway. BotW and SS zelda probably spend more time under the sun than their fathers, and yet they're both as pale as can be. it doesn't make any damn sense. I get that genetics can be funky with this sort of thing but we all know it isn't because the zelda character designers were thinking about the weirdness of genetics when designing them.

(i know it's racism and colourism it's always racism and colourism it just pisses me off AND it's stupid grahg)

[finnicart]

[comes back to this account two years later with a brand new fixation] hey what's up guys. does anyone here like jumping up kicking back whipping around and spinning

[ythmir-writes]

Suitors and Smells (and sensations)

Alyn Crawford - you take in a deep breath and know his skin smells of freshly ground grains, flour, the crispness of newly chopped wood. Bread baked in a giant stone oven; the ticklish sensation of sugar and powder on the tip of your nose. Kneading. Crafting. The consistent patience of rolling of dough. It is the comfort of spices swirling into gastronomic harmony, of warm soups and hearty meals, of laughter by the fire and communal spirit and the tenderness that comes with family. You take in another breath and - There is steel and gunpowder and mud and wiremesh; the stench of sweat; of thundering onward and constant pushing to pierce front lines. Chaos. There is running and shouting and desparate need to win - or to save a life - there isn’t much difference now. You can hear roars of artillery, of everlasting marches and screaming, of souls taken apart by violence and blood (- there is just so much blood)

Leo Crawford - you take in a deep breath and know his skin smells of pages upon pages upon pages of knowledge; new and worn and yellowed and earmarked, and somewhat torn because he was reading too fast and wanted to know what happened next. His is the smell of books: leather-bound, hardbound, paperback, pages held inside a ziplock bag because he dropped it in the bath once. Encyclopedias, codals, annotated texts, forgotten tomes with hidden knowledge and secrets whispered from the gods. You take in another breath and - A hundred bodies shouting at the same time, screaming over one another, a battle of interests and bottom-lines, of insurmountable pride and extreme prejudice. It is the crushing weight of responsibility. You hear the pounding of the gavel and calling people into order but the voice is lost in the cacophony of ideals and principles and money being exchanged by well-meaning hands and well-meaning looks and (how dare you betray your family like this)

Louis Howard - you take in a deep breath and know his skin is dozens of perfumes and fragrances, of flowers in full bloom: dandelions, orchids, and yawning hibiscus and lush bougainvilleas, of woodlands and barks, of afternoons by the lake and its stillness. His is the scent of adoration and delicacy, of holding on to dreams, tempered - but only ever so slightly - of realism and practicality. His is efficiency and managements but with the tenderest of hearts. You take in another breath and - A musty bedroom, old and sagging wood, metal bars and grime coated windows; soot and dust - so much undisturbed dust - blanketing untouched linen, the bed, the room, the house. Cobwebs serve as curtains and each door creaks the way a child would but the crib had long been empty and the house long abandoned and forgotten and discarded and (you don’t know what being left alone feels like)

Giles Christophe - you take in a deep breath and know his skin is a coating of pastries and cinnamon and the sweetest powdered things sprinkled generously on confectionaries. It is fountains of chocolate, of stacked sugary delicacies that make you cringe in delight, and the slow dripping of honey from the tip of your tongue. It is soft cushions and even softer beds. You take in another breath and - Melted wax stamped on proclamation and decrees, of harsh words and harsher laws, of meetings held in the middle of the night and the unshakeable feeling of being constantly watched, hairs on the back of your neck standing on the end. It is ambition and hunger and power that comes with negotiating with a knife to your throat - only you can’t see it just yet. Plots, entrapments, and hidden machinations, of secrets sealed with loyalty or fear and (you thought I would never amount to more than this)

Byron Wagner - you take in a deep breath and you smell ink and parchment, hear them being shuffled into order, given and signed and taken away, a constant flurry of things done and to be done. It is the burning candles late into the wee hours of breaking dawn, of hands guiding you and teaching you the way of things. It is cool summer nights spent dreaming upon the stars; it is musk and privilege, silk sheets and luxury. A firm voice telling you it knows better things. You take in another breath and - The smell of almost rotting meat and flies; nature having its way with untended wounds. The stench of blood, spilled and pooling, and bodies dragged across stone slabs, of chains clasping against gasping throats, of panic and fear. It is submission, of opening yourself up entirely unto forces you cannot comprehend. You hear the gross sobbing and spilling of tears and drool, and absolute compliance to the haunting of ghosts, or else lose whatever it puny thing it is that you cling on and (I have no use for you now)

Albert Bruckhardt - you take in a deep breath and you smell fabric and cotton and tailored suits, and ever so faintly the smell of vegetables and greens, of freshly plucked apples and strawberries, and the diligence that is required to tending gardens and ensuring that all matters are in working order. It is freshly dug earth. It is grease in the cogs of an infinite clockwork, the constant hurrying about. You smell precision and detail and absolute unquestionable loyalty. You take in another breath and - You smell horses and leather and the distinct human scent that comes when skin touches a burning blade. Whips and swords and bloody morningstars and the smell of the earth, again, except hastily dug to ease the burden hauling corpses. It is rope to your wrists and manacles around your feet. The teeth-gritting sound of sharpening swords and the roughness of hands to your throat and (I told you! I told you! I told you this isn’t so!)

Nico Meier - you take in a deep breath and you smell early mornings and the warm chamomile tea. His is the scent of fresh linen and beddings, of waking up and finding yourself warmed by the tender rays of the sun; of fresh water drawn for a bath, of lathering soap, and oils on smooth skin. It is peeking through a flutter of eyelids, of delicate china, and the way you chew when you know you have a secret. You take in another breath and - The stink of sewers and muck and sludge and dozens of other things no longer useful co-mingled with people who have been forgotten and forsaken and bear the burden and shame of being born. It is the underbelly of the city. It is unwashed bodies huddled together to keep warm during winter, of longing and  desperation and feverish desire to live just one more day no matter what, to be something to someone or anyone or everyone and (I just wanted someone to really look at me)

Sid -  you take in a deep breath and you smell freshly squeezed lemon garnished on vodka, of old whiskey and scotch on ice. Alcohol tempered by an even head on more even shoulders. It is the smell of sunny days and running on vast and open fields. His is the smell of constant presence, of laughter and inconsequence of any action you take whatsoever. It is throwing the ball so hard and so far and yet knowing that it will come back to you because it always does. You take in another breath and - It is the smell of chloroform and gasoline, of clandestine meetings over spiked drinks, of leaning in to whisper only the darkest of secrets. It is the binding of wrists and the gag in your mouth and the shadows at the corner of your eyes. Money constantly passing between hands because loyalty is nonexistent. It is the lightning fast jab you can’t quite see, the paranoia of perpetually holding a dagger under your pillow and (I need you to leave me alone)

Robert Branche - you take in a deep breath and you smell a hundred different paints and a hundred different solvents, and a hundred different canvases on display. His is the scent of splashing watercolor, of mixing colors for rainbows, of standing still and taking in the landscape. It is kneeling down on one knee to take each of you hand to kiss tenderly. His is the scent of restlessness and voyage, the gasps of experiencing things for the first time, of constant change and you take in another breath and - You smell an old, heavy cape that has never seen the rays of the sun. Myrrh smeared upon two hundred seventy bones. It is the smell of rigidness, of unbendable will.  A thousand voices offering a thousand different advice, not even once considering that the ears that hear cannot bear the weight of the world. It is power thrust upon unready hands and (I did it to protect them, to protect you!)

[prinnay]

Morning Glory

[everyday-castaway]

Random 1 AM thoughts on Zombie Stage. Apologies in advance if my thoughts aren't coherent.

I think it's interesting that Zombie Stage is somewhat a continuation of where we left the characters in Alien Stage.

Mizi ended Alien Stage hollow, and that's how we see her current state in Round 1 of Zombie Stage. ZOMST Mizi is dancing and singing, but it's in a very doll-like manner, as though she's just playing the part she was assigned. When Sua holds her hand or kisses her, we don't see much of a reaction, like Mizi's awareness is barely there (if there at all).

Hyuna's there at the very start of ZOMST. Still on a rescue mission of sorts, I believe—right where she left off in ALNST before she died. I love that the ZOMST story is somewhat framed through her as she tries to infiltrate the circus (referring to the trailer). Reminds me of how Vivinos mentioned that Hyuna is a foil to Mizi in that she could have been the "true" protagonist.

ZOMST Sua is also interesting because it seems like ZOMST Round 1 is a bit of a reversal of ALNST Round 1. Sua still loses the round, but the MV puts ZOMST Sua in the position of where ALNST Mizi was, which can be seen in the parallelism of a lot of the MiziSua shots from both worlds. If ZOMST Mizi is hollow, it can be framed as a kind of "dead" state, which makes ZOMST Sua the "surviving" one of the couple this time. Sua is the one who's carrying their shared history and the conscious awareness of their present suffering in the context of the Zombie Stage world.

This leads me to wonder if in this AU will give more focus on the halves of each couple who died in ALNST (those being Sua, Ivan, and Hyuna).

(Also, I'm absolutely TERRIFIED of what Luka's solo performance as a finale is going to look like)

[blamedorange]

[oc] the rain saved her (and that green ray of light)

[andatsea]

Twenty summers past.

--

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[arcalaho]

columbina and sandrone redrsign except its not rly a redesign i just like drawing whatever tf i want cause i have artists free will

[prinnay]

Quick art

[avendell]

Inej Ghafa 🗡

[crow-keys]

princess Pomni and thief jax. Please

Some hetslop for ur Friday 🙏 thank you for the suggestion!!!!

[crow-keys]

Presenting the 10k raffle prize for the winner, @neeonsfanart ! They had the big brained idea of Jax n pomni doing graffiti together and I love when they both commit crimes so ofc I had to oblige. I’m extremely happy with how this turned out! I feel like I haven’t done a fully rendered piece in a minute. I also hid a lot of little references and Easter eggs in the surrounding area for funsies