#polandspringz

[createandconstruct]

because I only know Steiner as the stylized polygons he is as his model in the game I am incapable of looking at art of him when artists draw his hair or just him without all the armor on. It looks wrong. He supposed to look like Buzz Lightyear in my brain and art where he looks hot or like an actual knight makes me brain unable to CONNECT

Steiner is hot. Send Tweet.

I hope you dream of hot armor-less Steiner tonight. Perish in the cognitive dissonance

[yoichiswikipage]

I didn't know this blog existed until just now but omg I was so frustrated when I realized Yoichi didn't have his own page I was trying to find info on him to reference and it was so hard to do like??? Why did the mods refuse to give him one

short and objectively true answer: cuz they are utter cowards

longer but still true answer (link): officially unnamed characters can’t have their own pages, but that’s kinda bullshit so i guess someone is either way needlessly stubborn (most likely) or prejudiced against the first user (and some pets) (the certified Todoroki Conspiracy Theory)

(mod ant + a post from Mod Pocket)

[paperlandings]

Footsteps

@natsume-ss gift for @polandspringz! I had a lot of fun writing this! I really related to what you said about liking the more subtle, emotional parts of the series as it pertains to Natsume’s feeling of belonging, and I hope I was able to capture that in this fic. Happy holidays and I hope you enjoy!

TW: implications of bullying, emotional manipulation, and child neglect.

Word count: 1784

When Takashi was five years old, footsteps meant that his father was coming to tuck him in.

The house was big, and old, and sometimes cold, but it didn’t matter because his father would always be there with a warm smile, a gentle voice, and kind hands. At night, there would always be a book tucked under his arm, and Takashi would sit up excitedly in his bed, eyes sparkling in anticipation.

“Read me a story!” he would say.

His father would chuckle and say that he would probably find the book boring.

“That’s okay,” Takashi would reply, scooting over to make space beside him.

His father would sit down, tipping the bed over ever so slightly, and open the book to whatever page he was on. Takashi didn’t always understand what was being read to him but the fact that his father was there, a warm presence next to him, was enough to lull him to sleep every night.

He vaguely remembered the feeling of a blanket being draped over him and the noise of a screen door sliding closed, and he would fall asleep to the soft thumping of his father walking away.

When Takashi was six years old, footsteps meant that the monster was coming.

There was a monster at the end of the hallway who was always following him. But the monster wasn’t real. Uncle and auntie had said so. So when there was knocking on his room door in the middle of the night, Takashi would jam his pillow over his head and ignore it.

But the monster was there. It followed Takashi around the house and knocked on his room door at night. It stood next to him at the table sometimes and called his name.

“What does it want?” they would ask.

“It wants me to draw it a mouth.”

And then they would laugh at him. And then the little girl who lived with him would glare at him. And then he would feel so, so alone.

Uncle and auntie didn’t mean anything bad, he knew that. But he also knew that they thought he was strange and stupid and had too wild of an imagination. They cared for him but they didn’t care about him.

His father would’ve understood though. His father would’ve held him and told him everything was going to be okay, and that they were going to get rid of the monster together. His father would’ve believed him.

He missed his father.

He wonders if uncle and auntie would miss him as he stepped into the car, watching his new home get smaller and smaller behind him.

When Takashi was eight years old, footsteps meant that someone was angry.

Then again, auntie was always angry. And when auntie was angry, his cousins got angry at him too. It didn’t matter that he didn’t do the things that he was accused of, they got angry at him anyway.

They said that he was the one who broke the vase in the hallway even though he had seen someone else do it. They said that he was the one who ate auntie’s cake in the fridge even though the crumbs were at the corners of their mouths. They said that he was the one who started that fight at school and they were only defending him because Takashi was weird and they were so nice. Nevermind that Takashi had never actually been anywhere near that fight.

Auntie’s sandals made a different sound than everyone else’s. They were louder, the slapping on the wood floor more sharp. They came with a decisiveness that he had never heard from anyone else. They made Takashi want to run away and hide in a place where they would never find him.

And when they sounded like that, they were always coming towards him.

Takashi thinks he might have preferred the monster.

When Takashi was thirteen years old, footsteps meant that he had to be very, very quiet.

Auntie always came home late. Uncle says it’s Takashi’s fault, and he thinks uncle might be right.

The first time auntie came home late, Takashi came to greet her at the door. He laid out her sandals for her, offered to make her tea, and tried his very best to make her like him. And then she looked at him, kicked the sandals aside, and blew past him and into her room.

She smelled strongly of alcohol, and Takashi pretended not to notice.

Auntie kept on coming home late. Takashi kept greeting her at the door and laying out her sandals. She kept on kicking them aside, harder and harder until one day they flew straight into his face.

“Just stay in your room so I can forget that you ruined my life!” she had yelled at him.

The next time auntie came home late, her sandals echoing in the empty hallway, Takashi stayed quiet in his room. Auntie came home late every day from then on.

He heard uncle yelling one night, telling auntie that she couldn’t keep on blowing their savings on alcohol, that they had Takashi to think about, that if people found out they weren’t taking proper care of Takashi they could get into very big trouble.

Auntie stormed off and slammed the door to Takashi’s room open, yelling at him that everything was hard because of him. That they could barely afford to live because of him. That she hated him. Takashi stayed quiet and hoped she would think he was asleep.

“He can’t hear you,” uncle said. “He’s sleeping. You’re wasting your breath.”

The door closed and Takashi let out a big, shuddering breath.

Tomorrow, he swore, he would learn to cut his own hair.

When Takashi was fifteen years old, footsteps meant the cold.

He could tell auntie and uncle didn’t like him much. He could tell they thought he was a dramatic troublemaker and a nuisance. But they were nice enough, and their son seemed to genuinely like him, and so he needed to stay with them.

He couldn’t make trouble. Even when auntie deliberately denied Takashi a scarf on cold days despite her son’s insistence. Even when uncle repeatedly forgot to think of Takashi when he brought home treats from work. Takashi wasn’t stupid. He could tell they hadn’t really wanted to take him in the first place. He had to be grateful that they did anyway and took care of him as best as they could bring themselves to. Besides, his new older brother was nice. He would sneak sweets into Takashi’s room when his parents weren’t looking, and loudly proclaimed that he didn’t like a certain shirt anymore and Takashi should have it even though they all knew that he had only bought it the week before. He would help Takashi with school work and insist on walking home with him when they saw each other on the way.

It wasn’t so bad, really, but Takashi was tired.

He was tired of people disliking him before even getting to know him. He was tired of having to be alone all the time. He was tired of going to live with a different person every half year, all of which never wanted him.

Which was why he had to stand down. He had to keep his head down and not do or say anything that would make them want to send him away because he needed to stay here.

He started going on runs at night to keep himself from going crazy. To let out all the pent up energy and emotion that he had to keep bottled up day after day. He focused on the sound of his footsteps on the asphalt and the bite of cold wind through his clothes and just runs until all he could think about was to go to sleep.

He’s grateful no one notices, but sometimes when he comes home to deafening silence and chilling darkness, he wished they did.

When Takashi is sixteen years old, footsteps meant kindness.

The first night he came home with Touko-san and Shigeru-san, they fussed over him until his ears rang. They asked him if his head was still hurting after his fall, what kind of food he liked to eat, what kind of clothing he needed, if he wanted a bed or a futon in his room.

Takashi’s head hurt. None of his previous guardians had ever asked him this many questions before. Especially not about his preferences. 

He apologized and told them he didn’t know, and when their faces fell, he frantically added that he liked manjuu.

The next morning, he found a box of manjuu with his name written on top on the kotatsu in the living room.

Every night after that, right before bed, he would always hear the soft thudding of his guardians’ footsteps coming towards his room. Either Touko-san or Shigeru-san or both would knock at his door, poke their head in, and ask him if he needed anything. Takashi always said no, until the night his body betrayed him and he sneezed right in Touko-san’s face.

She made a small sound of surprise and promptly ran out of his room. Takashi stared at his door in horror, thinking that was it. They were going to send him away. That had been so horribly rude of him and they were going to tell him tomorrow morning that they couldn’t keep him anymore.

And then Touko-san ran back into his room, an impressive pile of blankets in her arms, and proceeded to cover him in four layers of warmth before smoothing his hair back with a smile on her face and bidding him good night.

Takashi sweat like mad that night, but he never took any of his blankets off.

They didn’t send him away when he ruined one of Touko-san’s pans trying to make breakfast to thank her the next morning. They didn’t send him away when he ran home screaming and collapsed on the entryway. They didn’t send him away when he came home with a failing grade, or when he asked to keep the strange fat cat he had found in a shrine.

They were ecstatic when he brought friends with him for the first time. Touko-san fed them until they were full to bursting and Shigeru-san regaled them with tales of his most impressive fishing exploits.

And every night, without fail, they would still knock at his door, asking him if he needed anything. And Takashi would smile, thank them for their kindness, and fall asleep with his heart more full than it had ever been.

When Takashi is sixteen years old, footsteps meant that his family was coming.

[rochichan]

I JUST READ BOTH CHAPTERS IN ONE SITTING AND ITS SO GOOD YOUR WEBCOMIC IS SO GOOD BUT OMG YOKO SAVE THAT BOI

LOL IM GLAD UR ENJOYING SO FAR Thank you so much!!

[kikuhikoo]

I was destroyed after the new episode, and I immediately sought out your art afterwards for comfort. It is the only thing that continues to make me cry but not from sadness but because ITS THE BEST

im gonna be mean and draw a lot of fanart for this ep bc the theater scene is one of my top favs im sorry im betraying ur trust

[kikuhikoo]

@polandspringz replied to your post “Softly slams fists on desk Who wants to send me SGRS prompts to draw”

Yota finding Kiku covered in blood after an accident or an attempt

..................u....u found my.....guilty pleasure.........ohno......................

[createandconstruct]

talk about ur love of final fantasy 9, idk talk about doctor tot or someone obscure that u love

HAPPY 22ND ANNIVERSARY FFIX. Guess it's as a good a time as any to answer all these waiting ffix asks I have waiting.

And poor Doctor Tootsie. Relegated to an obscure ffix character. But since you brought him up I'll give you my thoughts on the good ol' Treno Doctor. 

I sorta… hate him? NOT AS A CHARACTER. Idk it’s weird. Doctor Tot is a great part of the cast and I love his relationship with Garnet but overtime, while replaying and rewatching the game I’ve started to interpret him as a character who’s weak-willed and slightly misguided. I’ve gotten more critical of him and his actions over time which is why I’ve started to see him less as a fun loveable little eccentric guy and rather as a man who let those in power do as they wish. 

Tot is absent at the start of the story. We pick up from npcs in the library (if I’m remembering correctly) that he worked in the castle as Garnet’s tutor and recently left. When we meet him we learned that he left when Brahne began to become a bit unhinged and dismissed him. Now I can’t completely fault him, I’m not sure what this little top hat wearing guy would have done in the face of an unhinged queen but there’s a sadness there that, he left Garnet behind with a to-be abuser/leader-bent-on-war. She was just a little girl who’d lost her father and was now trapped with a mother who was quickly losing herself. I do at least forgive him for this because when Garnet comes to him for help with her mother he says one of my favorite lines in the game:

What I really have a problem with is that he watched on as Garnet, still Sarah at the time, was stripped of her identity as a child. He was one to find Sarah and her deceased mother when they washed ashore and while it was the King and Brahne who decided to cut off the little girl’s horn - mutilating her body - he never did anything with the information. He even let it slip his mind. My dude I know you're old but how do you forget that someone had a horn and then had it REMOVED. I'm concerned for your academia. He also tutored and helped raise the new Princess Garnet for years and allowed her to live in falsehood. The King and Queen could have adopted Sarah as a new daughter. They didn’t have use her as a replacement, but they did - perhaps for their grief or to hide that the actual continuation of their royal bloodline had died - and its a fact that makes me more and more existential whenever I think of it and how "Garnet" feels. She was stripped of her family, culture, identity, name, and literal anatomy. I can’t help but indict the bystanders of this act. Thus, Doctor Tootsie is included. He new of Garnet's origins, even though he did not associate them with the summoners at the time, and he did nothing with such knowledge. Leaving Garnet to discover it on her own, through tragedy.

But he’s got a little top hat, funny nose, and rat hands so I’ll forgive him.

[cat--girls]

the locked tomb for the ask meme (i just really wanna know who ur gonna assign scrunkly)

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

ianthe. and gideon.

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

harrow <3 <3 <3

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

jeannemary and isaac

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

judith . bless her gay little heart

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

ianthe again. shes the worst.

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

hmmmm no one i would torment theyve all already gone thru it

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

god