Loud. Daft. Charming in the way a lit match is charming—
Bright, warm, and a little too chaotic for anyone’s long-term safety.
He flirted, he joked, he ran headfirst into danger with the grin of a man who’d never truly been afraid.
And Price, Ghost, Gaz, they all figured they knew him better than anyone.
But even legends keep small, human secrets.
Soap’s secret lived in a cottage tucked against the Scottish coastline, where the hills rolled like sleeping beasts and the sea wind carried the smell of salt and heather.
The cottage was small, weathered by storms, with lavender lining the stone path and a stubborn chimney that always seemed to sigh white smoke into the air.
Inside lived the person he’d married in quiet.
You were everything Soap wasn’t—
Soft where he was sharp, plush and warm skin and eyes that could gentle a storm.
You had a laugh that filled a room and hands that could coax beauty from anything they touched.
And you loved him. Madly. Fiercely.
And without question.
Which was exactly why almost no one on earth knew you existed.
———————————————————————————
The team never questioned why Soap always volunteered for Scotland-based leave.
Why he never brought dates, or never committed to the women who were more than willing to try and tame him.
Ghost teased him once, “What’re you hiding, Johnny?”
Soap only smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Ghost rolled his eyes and walked away, assuming the sergeant was just being a menace.
Price assumed it was restlessness.
Gaz assumed it was family.
None of them assumed it was a marriage license tucked inside a drawer beneath a pile of your sweaters that smelled like vanilla and the faintest hint of the soaps you made yourself.
———————————————————————————
When Soap reached the cottage door, the entire world always seemed to fall away.
He’d enter and you’d be there, apron dusted with flour, figure wrapped in soft cotton, smile splitting your face like sunrise.
“Johnny!” You’d exclaim, dropping whatever you were holding to rush toward him.
And his arms would fold around you effortlessly, as though built for your shape alone.
God, he adored you.
Adored the softness of you, the way your body fit to his broad frame like you were meant for him.
Adored the warmth you brought into his cold world.
Adored the way you kissed him like you weren’t afraid of anything—
Even though he knew full well you were terrified every time he stepped out on a mission.
“Missed you,” he’d whisper into your hair.
“You always do,” you’d tease, but your voice trembled with relief.
Here, he was not Sergeant MacTavish. Not demolition expert. Not 141.
Here, he was simply your husband.
The one who fixed the roof. The one who cooked breakfast terribly. The one who kept you warm at night, his calloused hand splayed over your hip like he couldn’t bear to let go even while asleep.
———————————————————————————
Price could have protected you. Ghost could have. Gaz, too.
But Soap knew too well what happened when enemies learned what a soldier treasured.
He’d seen it. He’d lived it. He’d sworn it would never be her.
So he kept the secret not out of shame, never shame, but out of devotion sharp enough to bleed.
He told you once, lying together beneath thick handmade quilts while rain drummed the windows—
“If anyone ever hurt you because of me…I wouldnae survive it.”
You cupped his face, thumbs tracing the scars the world had carved into him. “You don’t have to protect me from your life, Johnny.”
But he did.
And you let him.
Because loving a man shaped by war sometimes meant letting him keep his armor, even when he was home.
———————————————————————————
It happened during a particularly brutal stretch of missions.
Weeks with little sleep. Soap pushed too hard, too fast.
Ghost dragged him into the barracks one night after a firefight gone sideways.
“Sit down. You’re losing focus,” Ghost snapped, pressing a medkit into Soap’s hands. “This isn’t like you.”
Soap’s hands shook, not from injury, but from fear.
He hadn’t been able to call you. Not once.
Not in eighteen days.
Ghost caught the tremor. His gaze sharpened.
“Johnny,” he said slowly. “Wot are you worried about?”
Soap opened his mouth, then shut it. His chest tightened. His breathing hitched.
Ghost stilled.
“…It’s someone, isn’t it?”
Soap didn’t confirm. Didn’t deny.
Ghost waited. For once, he didn’t push. Just nodded.
“Whoever this person is,” Ghost murmured, adjusting the bandage on Soap’s arm, “you’ll get back to them.”
Soap swallowed hard.
And that was the first moment someone in the 141 realized he was a man with someone to lose.
———————————————————————————
When the mission finally ended, Soap made the trip home half-dead from exhaustion and full of desperation.
He opened the cottage door quietly, as though afraid you might vanish like a dream—
And he held you like the world had been trying to take you away.
Your hands explored his face, his arms, his chest, checking for wounds, checking he was whole.
When you kissed him, it was trembling and grateful and full of every fear you hadn’t spoken into the empty nights.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” you whispered.
“I’ll try,” he whispered back, because he could never promise more than that.
You forgave him with a softness he didn’t deserve, curling into him on the sofa, his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat like a man who needed it more than air.
———————————————————————————
The 141 still didn’t know your name.
They didn’t know your laugh, or the warmth of your embrace, or the way you could quiet Soap’s fury with a single look.
They didn’t know the way he breathed easier when he saw you, or the way he held you as though you were the only thing in the world that made him human.
They only knew that sometimes Soap returned from leave with a peace around him that no amount of war could break.
And Soap?
He knew that as long as you stayed safe, tucked away in their quiet cottage, wrapped in softness and safety, he could face anything.
Because the world could take scars from him. Could take sleep, blood, pain.
But it would never take you.
Not while he still drew breath.
Secret spouse reader but make it soap instead of price/ghost >:)
Does this count as angst because this is how I felt writing this:
Imagine you’re a young demon prince who knows you’re going to one day become the king of your territory. Ever since your uncle (who you loved dearly) tried to off you, you’ve never trusted anyone else ever again. Everyone is out to get you, and you can never let your guard down or you’ll be hurt, or worse, disappointed.
You grow older and one random day you kill some random humans. However, one of them somehow survives and latches onto you, like a pathetic insect and begs you for mercy.
You allow him to live, because someone as weak and useless as him is too hilarious to even bother with. You faint from injuries.
He could’ve killed you. But he doesn’t.
He saves your life. Multiple times.
You wait for him to let you down, to betray you.
He never does.
You grow to become fond of him. And worse of all, you trust him. Because he’s the only one in your life that has earned it.
And then he tells you he’s leaving.
Against all odds, he has the audacity to NOT leave you behind to die and instead, saves your icy, useless butt again. And THEN leaves.
You don’t understand. You don’t understand this strange human, and you most likely never will.
But you know that you need him. You need him more than you’ve ever needed anyone.
You do everything you can to find him.
Once you do, you’ll do anything to make sure he stays this time.
ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ SYNOPSIS :: your jealous about your boyfriend, shoto’s under armour athletic wear ad and it turns into a cruddy argument
ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ TAGS :: (model-prohero!)shoto x (insecure)f!reader ᯓ angst with happy ending ᯓ tooth aching fluff ᯓ h/c ᯓ swearing ᯓ y/n lowkey is bitchy ᯓ deliberate provocation ᯓ comforting angst ᯓ wc: 3.5k ᯓ proofread! ᯓ story ᯓ
ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ AUTHOR’S NOTE :: someone brung to my attention that this post is very similar to another fanfic made with katsuki bakugou and a calvin klein ad. i wanna make clear this fanfic was requested by annoymus with very specific characters and plot standards. if the owner of the original post feel as though i copied them and ask me to take it down i will do so 100%, my apologies everyone!
never would you have thought “helping out” with your boyfriend stepping out of his comfort zone would backfire on you so drastically. news reports, podcasts, tiktok edits, fan girling, billboards, it was all driving you insane. all because your boyfriend’s dumb under amour athletic wear ad broke the internet.
it was completely absurd. his video was more popular than the chocolate-covered strawberries video on tiktok. at first, when you saw him on the biggest billboard in japan, you were excited for him. but then the attention only led to obsession, stalking, and audacity.
you liked the advertisement at first—truly you did. you would always find yourself giggling at the “congratulations…annabelle, get them” or “God, i see what you do for others” comments you would get whenever you posted you and shoto together. but after that fiendish modeling gig, it quickly lead to “she doesn’t even deserve him” or “i could treat him way better” and it got under your skin so profoundly, because who the fuck did they think they were?
yes, he may have gone viral, but for all the wrong reasons. the fan girling was too extra, too lustful, too thirsty, too messy, too disrespectful, just too fucking much. you pressed ‘uninterested’ to every edit with his athletic wear, you reported people’s vile comments, and you even had to limit your comments on your own social media accounts because the only thing people were commenting on was about shoto.
you tried to ignore the situation as much as a humanly sane person could, but you couldn’t last long knowing you were a jealous person. you didn’t know why, you just were. your boyfriend never gave you any reason to be jealous. in fact, he found it funny whenever you were jealous due to the fact he never showed any other women attention, ever. but i guess that’s the delirious price you have to pay for dating an insanely attractive man.
even if you tried to run from it—which you’ve tried many, many times, you couldn’t. it was everywhere; shoto wearing a black compression under armour shirt with matching joggers. his biceps were practically bursting out of the shirt and the joggers were what felt like purposely trying to expose the tent in his pants. couldn’t they have made him wear any else pants?
along with the ad, came with him modeling for the specific clothing. there were many slides of him posing for the clothes. one of them was an unexpected photo of him wiping his face with his shirt, capturing his exposed tight abs and him looking into the camera, all at the perfect timing.
the stupid fucking photo only came from the small snippet of him drinking water, and the water trickling down his fierce adam’s apple, and he just had to wipe his mouth with his shirt. and that is what especially made people go crazy. over that? unbelievable!
you laid on your shared bed while you continuously switched from the under amour website, to tiktok, to twitter, to instagram, and repeated that for the last hour. every time you refreshed the under amour website, the view count in the corner of the page increased every second. “SHOTO TODOROKI” ended up being the most commonly searched prompt on all social media platforms with hashtags of his name trending everywhere.
you scrolled through countless edits. there was not one edit that you came across that didn’t have more than 100,000 views on it. not only that, your phone was blowing up since you had your boyfriend’s instagram account logged into your phone. he gained 500,000 followers in a span of 48 hours and almost 1,000 new messages requests. you off-loaded all your social media apps because if you had gotten one more notification from anything regarding shoto you were going to lose your mind.
you scoffed and slammed your computer shut and tossed your phone over to the other side of the bed—only to have to grab it seconds later when you got a text from your boyfriend.
mylove❤️
i just left my mother’s house. i’m on my way to you now.
you thumbs up’d the message and turned your phone right back off. you knew it was wrong to be mad at him, especially since you were the reason why he’s now on the front cover of the under armour website, but you didn’t think it would go this far. you thought it was just be a silly little fun gig to do, i mean it wouldn’t kill him to live a little.
you jumped out of bed, grumpy and moody, but still going to the kitchen to cook the food you planned to make for both of you. did he deserve to be fed though? actually, yes, but you wanted to tell yourself no so desperately.
you weren’t mad about the fact that he’s a fan girling sensation currently, but because you're the reason he’s a fan girling sensation. you couldn’t put the blame on shoto even if you tried. it was all your fault. maybe he knew this was going to happen. maybe that’s why he denied it the first time you brought up the idea to him.
you opened the refrigerator and grabbed all the ingredients to make the chicken-fried rice that leaves your boyfriend asking for seconds—thirds—hell, even giving some to his mom when he goes and visits her.
you started to cook the rice first and chop up the chives. you hated how you felt at that current moment, ugly and bitter. you didn’t like the feeling of being mad at someone you shouldn’t, but why did it bother you so much? why does everyone have to obsess over your boyfriend? why can’t people take the hint you’re his and forever will be?
being caught up in your thoughts caused you to knick yourself with the knife, letting out a sharp, agitating grumble in your throat. you held onto your hand and quickly ran your finger under the faucet water. a warm tear streamed down your face. you placed your head down as you sniffled away your tears. you’d hate to admit it, but you were a complete wreck right now.
just imagining the thought of “shotosrightbicep” or “todorokisbabymama” possibly being a better girlfriend for shoto that you sent you off edge. what if they could make chicken-fried rice better than you could, or could massage his back better than you could, or even wash his hair for him better than you?
your head rose up and eyes darted towards the door when you heard keys jingling outside the door. you quickly wiped your tears and turned off the running faucet.
when he opened the door, he closed it back up and locked it while neatly lining his shoes up with yours. “hi babe, how was your day?” he asked, his back turned away from your saddened expression.
you cleared your throat before you spoke, trying to disperse your teary eyes by wiping your eyes with the fabric of your shirt. “it’s going well.”
he walked closer to you, walking around the island counter and waiting till you finished drying your hands to give you a hug. you could sense him waiting for the hug, so you slowed down your movements to grab the paper towels and dry your hands.
that’s when he grabbed your hand softly and pulled you in for a warm embracing hug, a hug that he could obviously tell you needed, but wasn’t going to engage in. “you’re upset.”
those two words made your heart drop for some reason. he could always tell when you were upset, even if you didn’t say it—you sure showed it. “i’m fine,” your throat betrayed you enviously. talking felt like someone was kicking sand down your throat.
he grabbed your hand and took you to the couch. he sat down first before his hands led you to sit on his lap, his arms snaking around your waist and caressing your back.
“what’s wrong, baby?” his voice was gruff but filled with care.
you looked up at him for a second, then looked away, contemplating whether to just give him the lousy “i’m fine” bullshit, or actually tell him what was wrong.
“it’s the stupid under armour ad…” you mumbled while looking down in embarrassment.
he turned his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowed. “what’s wrong with the ad? i thought you liked it. just yesterday you were showing me the videos people were making about me.”
“i was, but now everyone is fan girling over you and saying they’re better than me, and it’s just so annoying.” your voice cracks, a lump swarming in your throat.
“those people are probably little kids. don’t let them get to you love.” he gave you a small kiss on your forehead and pulled you in for a hug.
you fell into the hug, re-thinking about everything. yeah, maybe they were just a bunch of little kids commenting. and even if they were adults, they wouldn’t have a chance in the long run.
“i guess i was doing a little too much…” you sighed.
“yeah,” he subconsciously agreed, and for some reason, that made your face scrunch.
you pulled back instantly, “so you think i’m doing too much?” your voice snapped at him.
his eyes widened slightly when he realized what he agreed with. “well, no—i was just agreeing with your statement is all,” he quickly explained to himself.
you got off his lap and returned into the kitchen, even more upset at how easily he let you leave his grip. you’re angry, all for nothing. you just want a reason to be mad, but at the same time, the only thing you really wanted was a one-up on him. he sighed before he got up and followed you to the kitchen again. he leaned himself against the counter while you were in front of him. he was about to say something until you turned around to face him.
“oh and just to let you know, the guy who went to shiketsu high school, inasa yoarashi, just followed me on instagram! texting all about how he can be a ‘true man,’” you bragged in a bratty tone, feeling evil and childish all at the same time.
you only said it to make him mad, and it worked. the softness in his eyes fell quickly. shoto’s jaw immediately clenched, his eyebrows furrowing, and his eyes narrowing into a fierce glare that made your stomach drop.
you both knew that comment was way below the belt. you could feel the jealousy, but it didn’t feel as good as you imagined it. shoto has hated that guy since high school, and his hatred only conjoined further when a month ago, he was on an interview saying how you needed a ‘real man’ to take care of you after you were injured from a villain attack.
and you being attacked was shoto’s biggest nightmare that came to life. he wasn’t able to be there to save you, and he never forgave himself for it till this day. it was unexpected. nobody would’ve thought a villain would be inside a grocery store. that day, you left with a broken arm and a cut under your right eye, along with five other people injured.
his eyes nearly twitched, the twitch that only comes about when he finds himself about to say something his negligent father would’ve patted him on the back for.
“that was too far y/n.” his voice was low and sharp—so sharp his words could cut you in half, and it did. “it’s not my fault people are commenting stupid shit all the time. i didn’t want to do the ad in the first place, so for you to be mad at me and throw something in my face like that was just relentless.”
he ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking away from yours like he couldn’t even look at you. “you know how hard i’ve been trying to forgive myself for what happened to you. you know that, so why would you throw it in my face like that?”
the silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was loud with regret, anger, and the kind of pain that doesn’t leave easily.
your throat tightened.
to him, you said it like you meant it, like telling him that had been something sitting on your tongue just waiting to be spoken at the right moment. “i didn’t mean it like that,” you spoke quietly, but it sounded pathetic even to you. “i was mad, and i—i don’t know, i just said it, i wasn’t thinking.”
he didn’t say anything. didn’t look at you either.
you took a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm rising in your chest. “i know you’ve been trying. i’ve seen it, and i’m sorry i made it seem like that wasn’t enough. but you hurt me too, and i didn’t know how else to get through to you.”
finally, his eyes met yours, and they weren’t angry anymore, just disappointed. “so we just hurt each other now? that’s what this is?”
your heart cracked along with your voice. “no,” you muttered. “that’s not what i want, but maybe i didn’t know how to ask for what i do want.”
“so what do you want?” he asked, his eyes filled with a quiet ache, the kind that sits just behind clenched teeth—hurt flickering beneath the surface, love still tethered to him even as your words echoed like a bruise.
you looked down and shrugged, regret eating you up inside. “i-i don’t know…”
he didn’t respond. just shook his head with a bitter breath, jaw clenched, and walked off. you flinched at the sound of the bathroom door shutting a little too hard. the water turned on not long after, and the silence that followed was somehow louder than the argument. you stood there for a moment, staring at the space he left behind, then moved to the refrigerator in silence.
your hands began working on autopilot. rice, chives, chicken, eggs, something simple. something he’d still eat even if he was upset, his favorite. the sizzling pan and the stove fan buzzing was the only things that were filling the quiet now, and even that didn’t drown out the heaviness sitting in your chest.
you decided not to wait for him to get out of the shower, which was probably the best option. you sat the food on the table, only keeping the stove light lit, and climbed into bed with a quiet sigh. the sheets were feeling colder than usual, and your shared mattress was lighter than normal. your back faced the door, not expecting much. just waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come.
after a while, you heard the bathroom door creak open, soft footsteps leading towards the kitchen. the dining room light turned on and brought a little bit of light under the bedroom door, the gentle scrape of the chair pulling out. then silence again, except for the quiet clink of chopsticks.
he was eating. that alone made your chest ache in a different way. you listened to his movements like they were soothing white noises to you. you could hear the tv being used as a background noise for him as he ate, the occasional sighs after every sip of his drink, and the chopsticks clinking against the bowl after every bite.
once he finished his food, he pushed in his chair and turned the tv off. he washed out his dish and put it inside the dishwasher. the light from underneath your door went away and footsteps started to lead to the bedroom. for some reason, hearing the crack of the door opening made your heart race until the mattress dipped behind you as shoto climbed in.
you stayed still, unsure, almost playing fake sleep just to see where his head was at. he didn’t say anything at first, just laying there. breathing, warm, near, but not touching.
then— “you said you didn’t feel enough, why’s that? what part of us did i neglect that made you feel like this?” he murmured, voice low, but softer now.
you turned to face him, letting out a hard swallow. “you didn’t do anything wrong, actually,” you paused, eyes tracing the shadows on his face. “i was just being immature and insensitive, and i guess i was just scared of there being someone better for you.”
he didn’t respond at first, just turned on the light to get a better look at you. his gaze stood on everything else but you, jaw still tight, like he was holding something back. “you really think i’d want someone else?”
“i didn’t say that,” you whispered.
“but you thought it,” he bit back.
you sighed, your voice shaky. “i don’t know what i was thinking. the internet was blowing up over that ad, people calling you ‘hot’ and ‘husband material’ like i wasn’t even in the picture. i felt invisible.”
“you’re not invisible to me though.”
you blinked, trying not to cry. “i know that, deep down, i know that, but i guess it just… it messed with my head, and i took it out on you. i let my jealousy turn into something ugly.”
he turned toward you slowly, eyes dark but soft around the edges. “is that why you said what you did? about yoarashi?”
you winced. “yeah… and i’m sorry. that was the lowest thing i could’ve said, and i knew it the second it left my mouth.”
his brows furrowed. “so you knew it would hurt.”
“i did," you admitted, "and i still said it. i just—” your voice cracked, “—i was mad and embarrassed and insecure, and i wanted you to feel even half of what i felt, even if it was for the wrong reason.”
shoto exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. “i wasn’t there when you got attacked. that already kills me every day. but to have you throw it in my face, like i failed you as a boyfriend—”
“no, no—” you cut in, your hand reaching for his arm. “that’s not what i meant. i was trying to hit below the belt and i crossed a line. you didn’t fail me. i was scared, and you weren’t there, but that doesn’t mean you failed me. you’ve never failed me, shoto.”
his eyes opened again, locking on yours. “then why do you believe someone else could be better for me?”
“i don’t believe it,” you crooned, desperate for him to hear you now. “i just… got caught in my feelings. i see the way people look at you, and then i look at me, and i start wondering when you’re going to wake up and realize you could have anyone.”
“i don’t want anyone,” he growled, his voice low and steady. “i want you, even when you’re insecure, even when you say stupid, hurtful shit. i chose you, and i'll keep choosing you.”
a silence stretched between you. heavy, but different and softer. you swallowed again. “i’m sorry for hurting you. i was scared, not just of losing you, but of not being enough for you.”
shoto leaned forward, his hands caressing both sides of your cheek. he looked at you for a moment, giving you a small reassuring kiss on your forehead before his voice dropped to a whisper. “then stop running from me every time you’re scared. just talk to me, y/n.”
you pursed your lips inside your mouth, a tear slipping past your lashes but shoto’s thumb catching it. “i will. i promise.”
“good,” he murmured, “because i don’t care how loud the world gets. you’re the only one i’m listening to.”
you felt something unclench inside you, like a knot finally loosening.
“you mean that?”
“i wouldn’t say it if i didn’t.”
and suddenly, the tension cracked—everything softened enough to let you both breathe again.
shoto then turned the lights back off and wrapped his arms around you as you two settled on the bed. he leaned in slowly, and he met you halfway, his lips brushing yours gently and grounding. there was no rush, just a quiet promise that the worst had passed. when he finally pulled away, his hand found your waist under the sheets, pulling you in until your head rested against his chest.
“i love you pretty,” he said, his voice no louder than a whisper.
“i love you more,” you kissed him one more time before you cradled into his chest.
then silence fell again, this time, the kind that was filled with healing and love.
Howdy. Here I am again, this time I'm not talking about a movie. I'm talking about Hazbin Hotel, the Amazon Prime series, even though Amazon is the devil. More specifically "The Vees" from Hazbin Hotel, and boy do have opinions.
Let us not forget that "The Vees" are all awful, horrible, little whiny babies, as well. They're bad. And before somebody comes up with an "erm, actually, they're in hell, of course they're bad" I want you to walk outside and get struck by lightning. I know that they're in hell, and they're in hell for reasons, that doesn't make them good or enjoyable characters. And yes, I also know they're specifically the antagonists. I watched the whole show in one day less than a week ago, it's fresh in the brain cage.
I'm saying that "The Vees" are not interesting characters as they are shown, sure Vox has a sort of interesting backstory, but it really isn't that interesting. And his two personality traits are 1) Hating Alastor and 2) wanting to be *so so so so so so so* famous.
And Valentino's personality is: pimp. Nothing else. Just pimp. That's not an enjoyable thing to watch, and yeah, I know that "not everything has to be enjoyable to watch" but a compilation of Angel Dust being injured is just egregious and unnecessary. We got the picture about the whiny little dick hole after the first time he showed up, we didn't need a montage.
And Velvette is actually the most well rounded of them in my opinion, but she's still an awful person that I don't want to ever perceive. She has a personality besides hatred and violence, which is literally all she has going for her. And before someone says "oh, but Valentino also has a personality besides hatred and violence" you need to go outside and be struck by lightning.
The only other thing Valentino does besides spew hatred and commit acts of violence is what? Screw his boss? NOT THAT BIG OF A CHARACTER MOMENT THERE, BUCKO. And yeah, in the last episode some stuff happened and Velvette as well as Valentino helped save the day, I DO NOT CARE. IT WAS NOT SOME BIG REDEMPTION ARC, IT WAS A MOMENT OF BEING EVEN A LITTLE BIT USEFUL TO AVOID AN AWFUL DEATH.
Anyways, thanks for reading if you did, I guess. Toodles Doodles.
uhhhhh, happy pride month!!! i think i am new to this community ...
uhhh, anyway, my here's them both again
they just woke up from napping, (trust me) and they're already kissing...
idk what else i should say, uhh bye bye :³
(english isn't my main language btw, also, the characters names are: "moth" for the one on the left, and "turitio" or "tu" for the one on the right, i will try to participate artfight with both of them btw, idk bye bye again)
There's that, I guess. I apologize that I wasn't able to post yesterday 〒▽〒 It just so happened that at the time I'm posting this, yesterday was my birthday ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ So I decided to enjoy it first before continuing this. Another thing I'd like to say is that I'll only post near/during weekends because I have a life outside of this platform (obviously, haha). I do hope that I can continue to expand on the story rather than creating comics that don't have strong premises…… but hey, only time can tell, right? But even then, comics like these do take a long time to make, even though it doesn't seem as such. Ah well, I don't think I have anything more to say, other than the fact that likes and reblogs are appreciated :) Again, I'm not expecting much, but just knowing that even a few people appreciate my work makes it all worth it!
Whenever that moment occurs, that moment when I realize I am dreaming and so take control over the dream, the first thing I think is often: "If that's so, I want to fly!", and so I face upwards, and with a little effort I lift up into the air without physical aid, then go around exploring the dreamscape. Bro, you have no idea how incredible that feels, it's liberating, sublime even.
