I Havent Played BTD2 But This Looks Fab!

WAAAA THIS IS ADORABLE I LOVE IT

Its the best way to start the day

They're lesbians, your honor

Ft. bonus doodles of BLD fan ships + the types of pajamas I think they'd wear (based on my own headcanons & an OC meme I saw a while back lol)

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

Seth/Stephanie, Max, & James ©️ @hotpinkmoon

Madeline ©️ @comedi-anne

Eve ©️ @cloudishmagma

Peony ©️ @hemlock-haven / me

Oooo, I thought of something maybe slightly cute! What about a yan Jing Yuan x Reader, but the reader tends to be much more affectionate with other people, and tends to be pretty formal with Jing Yuan?

Like...reader will hug and ruffle the hair of Yanquing and Yunli (much to their chagrin), but tends to be much more stiff with affection toward Jing Yuan, if showing him any at all. Maybe the reader thinks being affectionate with Jing Yuan would be considered inappropriate, considering he is the general and 'The Divine Foresight.'

The perfect distance

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the Seat of Divine Foresight as you stepped through the grand doors, a small satchel of medicine tucked under your arm. Jing Yuan sat at his desk, the usual stack of reports before him, though his gaze lifted the moment you entered.

"Good morning, General." you greeted with a polite bow.

"Ah, if it isn't my diligent healer." he mused, resting his chin on his palm. "Come to check on me again?"

"Of course. The healers at the Alchemy Commission insisted on a follow-up after your last mission." You approached, setting the satchel down neatly before stepping back, hands clasped behind you.

"Always so dutiful. You know, a little informality wouldn’t hurt."

"Respect is important, especially for someone of your standing."

He chuckled, but there was a weight to it. "Is that so?"

Before he could say more, the doors burst open, and Yanqing stumbled in, panting. "General! The—oh, Y/N! You're here!"

Your entire demeanor shifted instantly. A bright smile broke across your face, and before Yanqing could react, you reached out, ruffling his hair with a laugh. "Look at you! Did you run all the way here?"

"Hey—stop that!" Yanqing protested, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Jing Yuan's fingers twitched against his desk.

You only grinned, giving Yanqing’s cheek a playful pinch before turning back to the general—your expression smoothing back into polite professionalism. "My apologies for the interruption, General. I’ll ensure your medicine is properly prepared."

Jing Yuan hummed, his gaze lingering on you. "No need to apologize."

You were warm with everyone else—affectionate, even. But with him? Only proper distance.

-----

The Alchemy Commission was bustling as usual when you arrived, the scent of herbs and medicine thick in the air. Lingsha glanced up at you.

“Back again so soon?” she teased, setting down a mortar and pestle. “Don’t tell me the General’s been overworking himself again.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “You know how he is. I swear, if I didn’t bring him his medicine personally, he’d forget it entirely.”

Lingsha chuckled, but then her expression turned sly. “Speaking of the General… anything new with him?”

“New? Well, his recovery is progressing, though he still insists on working through fatigue. His blood circulation—”

She held up a hand, cutting you off. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then…?”

“I mean, anything interesting? You’re around him all the time, and yet you never have anything to say about him besides his health reports.”

You shrugged. “There’s nothing else to say.”

Lingsha gave you an incredulous look. “Nothing? You’re telling me that the man who half of the Luofu sighs over doesn’t warrant any personal commentary from you?”

You frowned, genuinely confused. “I don’t see why it matters. I’m just doing my job.”

“That’s exactly the problem! You treat us like family. But with him, you act like a soldier reporting to a superior.”

Unbeknownst to you both, a certain silver-haired general had paused just outside the doorway, having been on his way to greet you—until the conversation took an unexpected turn. Now, he stood just out of sight, arms crossed, listening with far too much interest.

You sighed. “It’s different with him. It would be improper to act casually.”

“He’s still a person, you know.”

Jing Yuan, still eavesdropping, nodded silently in agreement.

You shook your head. “It’s not that simple. I respect his position too much to overstep.”

“Is that so?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Jing Yuan stepped into view.

“G-General!” you stammered, immediately straightening your posture.

“Speak of the devil.”

“I had no idea my presence was so… intimidating.”

You swallowed hard. “Not intimidating! Just… respectable.”

“Respect is one thing. But treating me like a statue is another, don’t you think?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, unsure how to respond.

“Even he thinks you’re too stiff.”

Jing Yuan hummed in agreement. “Indeed. I was just passing by, but it seems I’ve stumbled upon quite the enlightening conversation.”

Your face burned.

Oh, this was bad.

----

The streets of the Xianzhou Luofu were alive with celebration—lanterns glowed warmly against the dusk, the scent of spiced wine and roasted delicacies filled the air, and laughter echoed through the bustling plaza. It was one of many festivals the Luofu held, but this one was special: a gathering to mark the General’s full recovery.

You hadn’t expected such an event to be held in his honor, much less to be personally invited. But when the summons arrived, you couldn’t refuse.

Dressed in simple but elegant robes, you arrived early, intending to help with the preparations. Yet the moment you reached for a stray decoration to adjust it, a familiar voice stopped you.

“Now, now. Must you always be working?”

You turned to see Jing Yuan standing behind you.

You quickly bowed. “General. I just thought I’d assist—”

“You’ve done more than enough,” he interrupted smoothly. “Tonight, you should enjoy yourself.”

You hesitated, but nodded. “…Understood.”

Jing Yuan lingered for a moment, as if waiting for something more, but when you said nothing else, he chuckled and turned away, disappearing into the crowd to attend to his duties as host.

Left to your own devices, you did what came naturally—you kept busy.

You helped a group of children untangle their kite strings, laughing as they tugged at your sleeves, begging you to join their game. You chatted with the servers, exchanging jokes and lighthearted complaints about the hectic preparations. And when you spotted a young man struggling with a heavy tray of fruits, nearly tripping into a table, you immediately stepped in, steadying him before disaster could strike.

“Careful” you said, helping him adjust his grip.

He exhaled in relief. “Thank you! I swear, these trays are cursed.”

You grinned. “Just take it slow.”

He smiled back, grateful, and before long, the two of you found yourselves sitting at one of the long banquet tables, sharing a drink and easy conversation. He was a junior clerk from the Sky-Faring Commission, you learned, and his stories about bureaucratic mishaps had you laughing into your cup.

You didn’t notice the pair of golden eyes watching from across the plaza.

Jing Yuan stood near the edge of the festivities, a cup of wine untouched in his hand.

How effortlessly you showed warmth to others.

And yet, with him, you still kept that careful distance.

Then, with deliberate steps, he began making his way toward your table.

The clerk noticed first, nearly choking on his drink when he recognized the approaching figure. “G-General?!”

“Mind if I join you?”

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up being whisked away from your conversation, but Lingsha had appeared out of nowhere, looping her arm through yours with a cheerful, "There you are! I need your help with something!" before dragging you off without another word.

"What’s the emergency?"

She huffed, adjusting the sleeve of her robe. "This sash won’t stay straight. Fix it for me?"

You sighed but obliged, fingers deftly retying the fabric. "You could’ve asked one of the attendants."

"And miss the chance to rescue you? Please. You had no idea what is going to happen next."

You paused. "…What?"

Lingsha waved a hand. "Never mind. Just—try not to look so approachable to random people tonight, okay?"

Before you could ask what she meant, she was already slipping back into the crowd, leaving you standing there, confused.

Shaking your head, you decided to find Yanqing and Yunli instead—familiar faces, easy company. You spotted Yanqing first, the young swordsman grumbling as he tried (and failed) to sneak a pastry from one of the dessert trays. You snuck up behind him and ruffled his hair.

"Hey—!" He whipped around, scowling, but the moment he saw it was you, his expression shifted to exasperated fondness. "Oh. It’s you."

"Miss me?"

He rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away when you playfully tugged at his ponytail.

Yunli, ever the composed one, merely raised an eyebrow as you approached. "Must you torment him?"

"Absolutely," you said, reaching up to adjust the slightly crooked pin in her hair. She sighed but allowed it, her lips twitching in amusement.

Meanwhile, across the plaza, Jing Yuan was surrounded.

People of all kind—all vying for his attention, some with thinly veiled flirtation. He smiled, nodded, gave polite replies, but his gaze kept drifting—past them, past the crowd, to where you were, laughing with his disciple as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The night had been a blur of laughter, music, and far too many cups of Xianzhou’s strongest liquor. You hadn’t meant to drink so much—truly, you hadn’t—but between Yanqing daring you to try the spiced wine and Lingsha cheerfully refilling your cup every time it emptied, you’d lost track.

By the time you realized you were swaying on your feet, it was too late.

The world spun pleasantly as you wandered away from the feast, the cool night air a welcome relief against your flushed skin. The lanterns blurred into golden streaks, the distant hum of voices fading as you found yourself near one of the Luofu’s tranquil ponds, the water shimmering under the moonlight.

You plopped down at the edge, legs dangling precariously over the water, and giggled to yourself.

Oops. Maybe too close.

You leaned forward—just a little—to peer at your reflection, but your balance betrayed you.

For a brief, dizzying moment, you felt yourself tipping—

Then strong arms caught you, pulling you back against a firm chest.

“Now, now,” a familiar voice murmured, “That would be a rather undignified way to end the night, don’t you think?”

You blinked up at him.

His silver hair glowed under the moonlight, his golden eyes crinkled in amusement. He looked unfairly handsome, and in your drunken state, you saw no reason not to say so.

“Wow,” you breathed, reaching up to poke his cheek. “You’re really pretty.”

His eyebrows shot up.

Then he laughed—a deep, rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Is that so?”

You nodded sagely. “Mhm. Like a painting.”

His gaze softened. “And here I thought you only saw me as ‘The Divine Foresight.’”

You scrunched your nose. “That’s stupid.”

“Oh?”

“You’re Jing Yuan,” you declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You laugh at bad jokes. You forget your medicine. You let Yanqing win sometimes even though he definitely doesn’t deserve it.”

“I see alcohol makes you rather… honest.”

You sighed dramatically, flopping back against him. “I’m always honest. You just never listen.”

He hummed, shifting to steady you. “Then perhaps you should tell me something else.”

“Like what?”

“Why,” he said, voice dropping to a murmur, “you treat everyone else with such ease… but with me, you keep your distance.”

You frowned, struggling to form a coherent thought through the haze of liquor. “Because… you’re important.”

“And that means I deserve less of your kindness?”

“No!” You huffed, frustrated. “It means I can’t mess up. If I’m too casual, if I say the wrong thing—what if you realize I’m not as put-together as I pretend to be?”

The confession tumbled out before you could stop it.

Jing Yuan went very still.

Then, slowly, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “That’s what you’ve been worried about?”

You pouted. “It’s a valid concern.”

He chuckled, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “Silly thing. Do you really think I don’t know you?”

“I’ve watched you scold Yanqing for skipping training,” he continued, amused. “I’ve seen you trip over your own feet in the halls. I know you sneak extra sweets when you think no one’s looking.”

Your face burned. “You—noticed that?”

“I notice everything,” he said, “Especially when it comes to you.”

Your drunken brain short-circuited.

Before you could respond, he sighed, shifting to lift you into his arms. “Come on. Let’s get you somewhere you won’t drown.”

You whined but didn’t protest, too busy marveling at how nice his chest felt to lean against.

Somewhere in the distance, Lingsha watched the scene unfold—then smirked and turned away, deciding some things were better left uninterrupted.

>The Morning After<

Your head pounded.

Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow, willing the world to stop spinning.

Wait.

Not your pillow.

Your eyes flew open.

This was not your room.

Oh no.

Fragmented memories flashed in your mind—Jing Yuan’s arms around you, his laughter, your embarrassingly honest rambling—

You sat bolt upright, then immediately regretted it as your skull throbbed in protest.

A cup of water and a small vial of medicine sat on the bedside table, along with a note:

"Drink this. We’ll talk later."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you scurried into the Alchemy Commission, still nursing the remnants of your hangover. The moment you arrived, you grabbed the nearest healer by the sleeve.

"Switch shifts with me. Please. I'll owe you forever."

They blinked at your desperate expression but shrugged. "Uh… sure?"

You nearly collapsed in relief. Perfect. Now you could hide behind the counter, avoid all human interaction, and—most importantly—never have to face him again.

-----

The General of the Luofu was distracted.

Reports lay unfinished on his desk, his usually sharp mind clouded with thoughts of you—your drunken confession, the way you'd curled against him, the way you'd finally spoken to him without that infuriating formality.

And then you'd vanished.

His fingers tightened around his brush.

Did you regret it?

Was it just the wine talking?

Or worse—had that clerk from the Sky-Faring Commission caught your interest instead?

The brush snapped in his hand.

"…I see."

He exhaled slowly, setting the pieces aside. He was Jing Yuan, the Divine Foresight. He did not lose composure over such things.

…Yet here he was, standing up, cloak already swinging over his shoulders as he strode out of his office.

Fine. If you wouldn’t come to him, he’d find you himself.

----

You were safe.

Hunched behind the counter, pretending to organize herbs, you let out a slow breath. Maybe if you stayed here long enough, he’d—

"Where is Y/N?"

Your blood turned to ice.

You ducked lower, praying that he wouldn’t see you.

"They, uh… switched shifts?" the other healer said nervously.

Footsteps. Moving away.

You nearly sobbed in relief.

…Until a shadow loomed over you.

"Hiding, are we?"

Slowly, painfully, you turned your head.

You swallowed.

"G-General! I—uh—was just—"

"Crawling away?" he supplied helpfully.

You winced.

Before you could react, his hand shot out, gripping the back of your collar like a misbehaving kitten. "Up."

You yelped as he hauled you to your feet.

You knelt before him in the empty side room, hands raised in surrender, face burning with shame.

"Explain."

You gulped. "I… may have acted inappropriately last night."

"Oh?" He tilted his head. "How so?"

"I—I drank too much. I said things I shouldn’t have. I embarrassed myself—and you—and then I ran away like a coward—"

"So you do remember."

You nodded miserably.

"And yet," he continued, voice dropping, "instead of facing me, you chose to hide?"

You flinched. "I thought… you’d be angry."

"Angry?" He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. "I was worried."

Your eyes widened.

"Now," he said, stepping closer, "come here."

You blinked. "Wh—?"

"I can’t hear you from there."

You hesitated, then shuffled forward on your knees until you were right in front of him.

He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his voice a low murmur.

"Now. Tell me again—why did you run?"

"I… was scared."

"Of?"

"Of… you realizing I’m not as composed as I pretend to be."

"I already told you—I know you."

You bit your lip.

"And," he added, fingers brushing under your chin, "I rather like the real you."

"So no more hiding," he murmured. "No more formality. Understood?"

You nodded weakly.

"Good." He straightened, offering you a hand. "Now get up. We have work to do."

You took it, your face still burning.

After The Incident (as you now referred to it in your head), things… changed.

Not drastically—you weren’t suddenly clinging to Jing Yuan’s arm or calling him by some ridiculous nickname—but the stiffness in your interactions had melted away.

You still bowed when necessary, still addressed him with respect, but now…When he made a terrible joke during strategy meetings, you rolled your eyes instead of forcing a polite laugh. When he "forgot" his medicine (again), you scolded him openly instead of couching your words in deference. And when he teased you—which was often—you gave as good as you got.

Jing Yuan, for his part, seemed delighted by this shift.

But there was something else, too.

A lingering glance when someone spoke to you a little too familiarly.

A casual step closer when a visiting diplomat eyed you with a little too much interest.

A look—one that had even Yanqing gulping and backing away when he tried to drag you into another ill-advised sparring match.

At first, you thought you were imagining it.

But then Lingsha smirked at you over her tea.

"You really don’t see it, do you?"

"See what?"

She just laughed.

Whispers spread through the Luofu.

"Did you hear? The General personally reprimanded that merchant for overcharging them."

"He reassigned three clerks just because they were rude to Y/N in passing."

"I heard he nearly leveled a training ground because someone accidentally knocked them over during drills."

(That last one was an exaggeration.…Probably.)

It hit you one evening, as you sat across from him in his study, reviewing supply reports.

He was leaning back in his chair, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed from running a hand through it one too many times. He looked… relaxed.

And then it struck you—

He likes having you here.

Not as a subordinate.

Just… as you.

Jing Yuan noticed your stare and raised an eyebrow. "Something on my face?"

You shook your head, smiling slightly. "No. Just thinking."

"Dangerous habit" he teased.

You threw a crumpled piece of paper at him.

He caught it effortlessly, grinning.

No one dared to mistreat you.

No one dared to overstep.

And no one—absolutely no one—dared to flirt with you within Jing Yuan’s line of sight.

(You weren’t sure whether to be exasperated or touched.)

But when you mentioned it to him, he merely sipped his tea and said,

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

You snorted.

Liar.

-----

I'm currently facing writer's blockkkkkkkkkkkkk.(╥﹏╥)

Shinigami Raincode

I came back here just to post this art haha

FR LMAO

I swear this is basically how it went

Hii, Ik I'm not a moot but I just wanna ask, what do you used in your Uriel and nokka fanart?? Like which marker or pencil color brand you used, its really pretty and I wanna by some if you don't mind spilling, if you don't want to tho it's fine, just ignore this!!

I used watercolours from the Van Gogh brand, I did the line art with sakura bla k pen 02 and did the gold details with golden ink pen from sakura too.

I've had this mats since like 2019 and they are quite good. Nonetheless those colours can also be achieved with cheaper watercolours.

oh snap

prompt: You've been so good for me. Don't ruin it like this.

cws for yandere, self mutilation, imprisonment, mentions of past violence/abuse.

-

You were tired of being good.

Tired of painting on smiles every morning at your vanity when all you wanted to do was scream, cry and curl into a ball. Tired of leaning into his touches even though it made your stomach twist and turn in the worst way. Tired of pretending as if you didn't loathe him with your entire being—as if you wouldn't rather die than have to spend another day isolated with him.

Alhaitham regards you with a placid look, and you tighten your hold on the jagged shard of glass in your hand. It easily slices through the skin on your palm--and it hurts, it stings and burns and you immediately want to throw the cause of your pain away and cradle your hand to your chest, but you don't. You grit your teeth and tighten your grip, wincing when it cuts in deeper, droplets of blood making a pitter patter sound as it hits the hardwood floor beneath your feet.

Alhaitham's expression changes then, but not by much. Someone else—someone who hadn't been forced to learn everything that made him tick out of necessity for their own wellbeing—wouldn't know what to look for, or even if they did, they wouldn't be able to spot it.

But you could, even if you wished you couldn't.

Alhaitham wasn't a man that was easily angered, never giving others enough power in his life to do anything besides mildly annoy him, but somehow, you were an exception. Ever since he had brought you here (where, you still weren't sure), gagged, bound, and drugged, it seemed as though his default emotion had been anger.

It was largely due to you, as he so often told you, but you failed to understand how that was your fault exactly. He had tricked you, taken you from your home —Mondstadt, of all places, the city of fucking freedom— and he had just expected you to accept your new life without any complaints? Tough fucking luck.

You couldn't win against him physically, but you had tried. His advances were fended off with kicks, punches and the dragging of your nails across his skin, and when you had been unable to use your limbs, you had even resorted to lashing out with your teeth. You never won these shows of strength, of course, but you had always felt a bit better after whatever transpired when you could see the marks of your anger littering his body.

After all the fighting and screaming had gotten you nowhere, you had decided to take on a different approach. You had became exactly what he wanted you to be; sweet, pliant, respectful, docile, weak.

Everything was 'Yes, Alhaitham', or 'Of course, Alhaitham', 'I'm sorry for hurting you, Alhaitham', 'Yes, I love you, too, Alhaitham'. It had been nauseating saying those words, and some days you feared you'd spew up vile with the way your stomach seemed to churn, but it had been worth it.

Despite how intelligent Alhaitham liked to believe himself to be, he was still a mentally disturbed man who longed for your affection, for reasons you couldn't even begin to fathom, because really, you were nothing special, or at least nothing special enough to abduct and keep locked away like some invaluable treasure.

"Are you planning to use that on me?" His eyes flit down to the shard that's steadily cutting into your palm, and with the way his jaw tightens and his eyebrows crease, you grow curious and want to check as well, but you don't dare take your eyes off of him. He's fast, quiet, nimble, and he'll be on you in a second, and then all those days you spent being his mindless doll will have been for nothing.

"No." You would have tried it when you were first brought here, but you knew now that you couldn't outfight or outsmart him. "I'm going to use it on myself."

The floorboard creaks underneath his weight, and before you could even finish your sentence, he was dashing forward with an outstretched hand, but you had been anticipating that. '

The glass is warm against your neck as it pushes against your throat, and Alhaitham freezes in his spot, Adam's apple bobbing and eyes rapidly blinking as he takes a step back. "You're being ridiculous."

"Fuck you." His eye twitches.

That would have earned you at least two days in an immediate "timeout", which consisted of you being locked into a windowless room with nothing but an hourglass filled with sand to keep you company.

"Threatening to mutilate yourself in an effort to make me let you go? That's such a stupid idea. You cry like a child at the least severe punishments, and now I'm supposed to believe that you'll slit your own throat if I—" He abruptly cuts himself off when you begin to drag the shard across your throat, and Gods--it really does hurt. Just like with your hand, it burns and it stings and you want to throw the cause of your pain to the side and allow yourself to be bolted in that miserable room. You know that he'll patch you up and stop the bleeding, and you almost relent, but you don't, you can't, so you push the shard in deeper, even as you cry out and sob, knees knocking together as you stumble back into the wall.

"L-Let me go. I want to go home." You gargle out, hands shaking and vision blurry as you blink away your tears. "I want to go home!"

"This is your home."

"No, it isn't! I live in Mondstadt! My home is in Mondstadt—" Talking disturbs the wounds on your neck, and you moan and groan at the pain, letting the pressure up just a bit. You had been fully prepared to off yourself if this final lunge for freedom fell short, but you hadn't anticipated just how much it'd hurt. It burns, it really fucking burns.

"Your home is—"

"Shut. Up."

"—here. With me. You'll always be with me. There is no leaving, no matter how much you've deluded yourself into thinking that there is. You're not going anywhere unless I take you there."

Alhaitham had once said that you were weak-willed. You couldn't remember what you had did that resulted in the attack on your character, but you think he may have been correct.

His words are spoken with an absoluteness that chills you to your core, and for a few seconds that horrible burning can't be felt. You're not leaving. He'll never let you leave—you failed again—this was foolish, just as he said—you won't be able to go home, not now, not ever—you really should just drive the shard in until you can't think anymore, but you're weak-willed, just like Alhaitham said.

Your hand is pulled away from your neck, and then the shard is carefully freed from your fingers before you hear it shatter on the floor. Something thick is pressed against your throat --a piece of clothing, you realize-- and hot tears race down your cheeks as you're led to the bathroom.

"And we're right back to square one."

-

Summoning ritual did not work, he did not come home so Im reblogging my pain in hopes that he will later

Idia chilling in the underworld

“My little seashell “

I wanna keep drawing fanart of either existing charcaters or OCs with pokemon. Pls do send recommendations

I loved doing redacted too much