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chrollohearttags · 4 months

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I heard you wanted some muscian Eren thirst so I'll do my best:

What if Ms. YN (back before she & Eren got matching/couple tattoos) got a custom temporary tattoo of her man's name & placed it like a tramp stamp? What if that night when she's performing with her crew she posts some spicy pics flashing the fake tattoo waiting for Eren to notice.

What if he noticed & when she gets home home & starts to undress she feels his hand travel up her body, bending her over the counter as he lifts her shirt to see his name just above her ass? Now YN's gone & awaken his need to mark her. Poor thing, she didn't expect him to damn near break her but she plans to surprise him with a cute lil permanent "E" on her ankle if this is the reaction a fake tattoo got. She ends up walking funny the next day for sure.

OMG BABES!! you’re an absolute genius 😭 I love this so bad chdkhdkd

because imagine…you’re on tour, traveling the country or it’s your first time performing internationally. Either way, you’ve been apart from Eren for quite some time. Although dancing on stage and living the dream with your girls is amazing, you miss your husband! Neither of you are strangers to extended periods of separation due to work. Long nights on the road, weeks at a time in different locations that wasn’t the home you shared together. It admittedly took its toll, in many forms…

“Yes, baby..I miss you too. I miss you so much..”

“So come home already. Please, (y/n)..I need you.”

the shrill cries and whiny pleas spilling from your beloved, EJ. The sound of the mega star rapper’s moans pouring from your phone’s speakers as he stroked himself on the end. That tight fist enclosed around his cock as he played the very vivid imagery of your previous nights together in his mind. It was quite apparent that he wasn’t taking too kindly to his wife being thousands of miles away from him. Watching you vicariously through a phone screen as he surveyed that beautiful body. Once twirling on the pole half nude and shrouded in glitter and now, completely naked and on full display for him. So egregiously horny with no shame for his blatant submission. Drooling and bucking his hips up into his enclosed fingers..

“Baby..I can’t..soon as I get home though. You know imma take care of you, daddy. Imma give you what you need..”

a statement he intended for you to follow through on. Because in the days since that very salacious phone call, he’d hand nothing but time and unbridled obsession on his hands..carefully surveying and watching your Instagram account like that of a hawk. Breaking his very own conditions on social media just to get a peak of his princess..his gorgeous wife who was fresh off of a performance with one of his respected ‘colleagues’, who’d joined the tour as well. Spinning around that metal pole with six inch Pleasers twirling in the air. A sight that he loved to witness. But alas, Eren would be met with another one. One far more savory and the catalyst for his greed and lust. The same greed and lust he’d undoubtedly take out on you the second you touched down back at the shared Miami estate!..

“You gonna give me what I need, right? That’s what you said?..so do it, give me that fucking pussy!”

tearing and ripping you out of your clothes before you could even so much as reach the staircase! Folding you over the kitchen counter with a rough hand scaling the curvature of your back. His open palm smacking roughly against your plump ass with heavy slaps…he was relentless! However, the reason for his sudden aggression wasn’t just the fact that he missed you. No!..but rather, the aforementioned sight had awoken something serious in him. The need to make love..the need to mark and claim you like that of a primal animal!

“..Rennn! Okaaay, fuck! Take it, please..”

because what he saw was a rather interesting piece of ink riddling your skin. A tattoo…and one of his name to be more specific! Something he was blissfully unaware that you had obtained. The fact alone that you had did so and behind his back nonetheless had Eren ready to pound that that tight pussy and fill it with every spilling drop of his cum until you couldn’t even walk straight. “You’re so sneaky, baby. I like that shit..didn’t think I’d see it, did you?” taunting mercilessly as he begins to rut his hips into your backside. The thunderous claps of your asscheeks against his pelvis with fluid yet deep strokes, one sharper than the next. All you could do was maintain that perfect arch and grasp for the marble countertop with all your strength to bear the sharp thrusts. But it wasn’t a reaction of misery. You loved it! You loved seeing him become so riled up at the thought of having you stamped with his seal. Clawing his fingernails into your waist and tugging you back with sharp gasps hissing in your ear.

“Tell me it’s mine, baby. Let daddy know who that shit belongs to..” the pure sex appeal dripping from his voice like that of honey. But he didn’t have to take your word for it. Because after countless rounds of rough and filthy lovemaking in every inch of the house. Taking you from the kitchen, the staircase and even the upstairs balcony for all the nights of pent up sexual frustration, you’d find yourself stumbling lopsidedly to the tattoo parlor. The shop where he’d gotten countless pieces on his own body done. Sitting upright in a chair as the artist engraved a single capital ‘E’ on your skin; right next to the diamond tennis anklet with his initials on it. Simply smirking at the thought of his reaction…and you didn’t have to wait long. Because nightfall would come around and you’d find yourselves engaging in another bout of steamy sex. This time in the comfort of your bedroom with R&B faintly thumping from the TV..pale red lighting illuminating the room and his chiseled body hovering over you. Placing tender kisses along your calf as he hoisted your leg up to his shoulder. Those movements getting lower as his rings grazed your skin. He’d whisper sweet nothings to compliment those pecks, telling you how beautiful you were but his reaction would turn from merely elated to all but ecstatic when he spotted it…

“You like it?..”

being met with a toothy smirk and the faint glint of his silver slugs on the bottom row of his teeth staring back at you. That was most certainly an understatement because he’d prove to you just how much he loved seeing you rock his name. Both physically and metaphorically..

“..that’s my girl..”

and soon, everyone else would too!

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sant-riley · 1 year

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[ More task force 141 × OFC! reader headcanons] [pt2]

A/N: thank yall so much for all the love on the last hcs!! I hope these live up to yalls expectations <3 please tell me which ones are yalls favorites <3!!!

CW: She/her pronouns, Codename is Teddy, Simping, crude humor, Age gaps, cursing, British slander (if I miss anything, let me know!)

If you dye your hair, Ghost helps you dye it when y'all go on extended leave. The military doesn't allow unnatural colors so when you have a few weeks to a couple of months, he'll be the one to ask. "Cm'ere, I got the bleach already."

The guys like to go with her when/if she gets tattooed. Do they know what she's getting inked? Nope, but they like to keep her company and will go get her food if needed.

Teddy vocal stims,, alot. She has picked up on "Fuckin' hell" and it has yet to leave her brain and Ghost just stares in amusement. You can hear her echo it back to them once he says it on a mission.

Teddy is her codename but her nicknames vary from who's talking about her!

Ghost: Ted, Teds, Sweetheart, Runt

Soap: Bonnie, Rascal, Barra, Lass

Price: Rookie, Dear

Gaz: Love, Darling, Hun

They get on her ASS for being an American. They will poke fun at her every fucking chance esp if she speaks in slang.

Price shakes his head and tries to teach her the "proper" way of speaking but all she does is mock the accent. He has since given up.

The first time they see her off duty, it's shock. She looks so different when she's not in uniform, (if you have it: dyed hair, makeup) her normal civilian clothes. Soap is almost convinced it's not Teddy until she smacks him upside the head and calls him an asshole.

Being the first one to see Ghosts face because you're having a breakdown about all the murder and bullshit you've gone through, crying profusely and no one knows how to help bc everyone just shoves it down and represses it.

He trusts you, he knows he does so it doesn't take him much to take you into a secluded room and expose himself. He will say that seeing you silently stare up at him with awe made his feelings grow for you. He will not, but his heart definitely would.

Soap actively teaching you how to curse in Gaelic bc he thinks it's funny with your accent. Too bad you can barely understand when he tries teaching you so you're just kinda staring at him dead eyed.

Soap plays with your hair, alot. It soothes him to run his fingers through it or simply to yank it bc he's a little dickhead. He's the kind of person who'd let your hair routine and learn how to help you take care of it.

Ghost and Price straight up rustle your hair and thinks it's funny when you shove their hand away and get all huffy lmfao.

HELPING SOAP SHAVE HIS MOHAWK, there's no barber on base so you're the next best thing he has. Many of the team have walked in with Soap sitting between your legs bc he's way too fucking tall for you to cut his hair comfortably. Ghost walking in with you holding a razor to Soap's neck and just turning around and walking out immediately.

Price has given you a cigar to smoke, he knows for a damn fact you cannot handle it and laughs his ass off when you sputter. Top 10 favorite moments of his.

Gaz likes to give you British foods to try, he knows for a damn fact you will not like it.

"C'mon love, just one bite?" "I am not fucking eating beans on toast, you're insane." "It's a good meal!"

He gets so fucking mad when yall go to Las Almas and you devour the food there. Literally pouts bc he sees you with Alejandro and Rudy eating food and laughing together.

You play video games alot when on leave, please imagine trying to teach Ghost on the newer games that are out now. You make fun of him calling him an old man but he actually fucking wins potg/apex most of the time and looks at you smug as hell.

No one knows why you're called Teddy, so they all make up their own stories but you neither confirm nor deny. Soap says it's bc you're cuddly and cute like a teddy bear while Ghost says its bc you can maim someone like one. Duality of man.

Speaking of cuddling, it's not uncommon to have to huddle for warmth on missions. They all manhandle you to them and they all slightly do it differently.

Ghost sits you front to front with your chests touching While he sits up, arms around your waist with him playing with his knife, staring past your head and at the wall.

Price presses you into his side, a arm wrapped around your shoulders as he tells you stories about missions gone wrong, the smell of cigar smoke flooding your senses.

Soap also sits you on his lap with your back against his front while he buries his face in your hair. He tells you stories about his childhood and growing up with his mom, he wants yall to meet one day.

Gaz is usually the best prepared and has either a sleeping bag or a blanket, so he wraps it around yall making sure you're more covered than he is and sits close, yalls legs intertwined.

They worry so fucking much about you, you're young and while they have come to love and appreciate you, they can't help but wish you were anywhere else but here risking your life.

"You're too young to be here Kid." "And you weren't?" Ghost has to swallow down how much he wants to scream that he just wants you safe but he knows that's not his place, he isn't your boyfriend or husband.

Alejandro has doubts when everything goes to shit if they can trust you, since he hadn't seen much of you like he had with Ghost and Soap. But then he sees the way they speak about you and how these two burly strong men get a tender look in their eyes. He finds it funny but also feels great respect to you. It is not easy to get task force 141 to care so much about a new member but hey, you did it.

Alejandro takes you out dancing and drinking when you go back to visit Las Almas. He knows how to dance so fucking well and it's always a good time. He always has his hands on your waist and always makes sure you're okay with it. Perfect gentleman 10/10

Now Graves thinks that you're just some stupid kid but realizes quickly that while you can fight your own battles, you never need to. Just one look at Ghost staring daggers into his forehead is enough for him to swallow his tongue less it gets cut out.

Laswell treats you like her own kid, especially when she finds out if you have a bad home life. She always makes sure you're stocked up on necessaties at the base and invites you for lunch along with her wife often. She is the first one you call when you have anything personal to speak of and she is the mother figure you have while on missions.

Taglist <3 (If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!)

@tamayakii @teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel @marsbar127xx

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ceilidho · 9 months

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prompt: Soap being a funny, goofy flirt with his barista whenever he's on leave back home….super cocky and charming, then a couple months go by …. and he comes back sort of rougher around the edges after Las Almas. less trusting. a bit meaner when he talks to her….. [soap/reader] 2.5k; nsfw (on ao3)

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

He’s back again. It’s not a usual occurrence, but when it happens your heart kicks into overdrive. He appears like clockwork every couple of months, and then back to back over a quick succession of days. Like he’s in town one week and then gone the next.

You look up from where you’re organizing the muffins in the display case to find him grinning down at you from the other side. His hair is freshly shorn on both sides, the stripe of hair down the middle likely barely long enough for him to work his thick fingers through it. He’s got a cocksure grin spread across his lips. A fresh cut over his right eyebrow, a butterfly bandage over it.

“Hi John,” you say. It’s almost a struggle to say the words. Your hands shake a bit where they’re extended out amongst the pastries, fingers pressing into a carrot muffin a bit too hard. It dents beneath your fingers. You pull them out, rest the tongs behind you on the countertop.

“Hi kitty cat,” he purrs, folding his arms over the pastry case, leaning as close to you as he can. If it were anyone else, you might be tempted to scold them for smudging the glass. It’s you that’ll have to clean that up later. “Not Johnny anymore? Have I been gone for too long?”

Charm like butter spread thick over freshly toasted sourdough, already melting into the bread, dripping onto the plate between the pockets of air. You know he could ruin you if he wanted to, if you let him in.

You know it won’t be long until you fold. He hasn’t been subtle about it. “Sorry, Johnny, we’re all out of scones.”

“Aw, that’s how you apologize for tossing up my morning?”

You twiddle your thumbs. “Sorry.”

“‘Have to do better than tha’, kitty cat,” Johnny says, lips drawn into a faux pout that has your heart skittering in your chest like it’s been let loose from the stables for once. “I was waiting for those scones for near a month."

“We have cream buns,” you offer. He snorts.

“Not in the mood for anything cream filled just yet.”

There isn’t a shade of red deep enough to describe your face. “Pardon?”

“Ye fancy going for a bevvy tonight?” Johnny asks instead, evading the question.

You probably look as gobsmacked as you feel. It’s not like you haven’t been asked out on dates before, but Johnny is leagues away from any of the men you’ve dated. He’s cockier, back straight and chest out, flaunting the muscles strapped across his chest and arms. You think it’s reasonable that you’ve chalked his flirting up to habit, something he does with everyone; whatever distance you’ve put between yourself and your inevitable nervous breakdown has been built on assuring yourself that Johnny surely didn’t mean for you to take his flirting seriously.

Apparently, you were wrong.

“You want to take me out?” you ask, sounding a bit dumb.

“‘Course I do.” He cocks an eyebrow, leveling you with an obvious look. “Haven’t been shy about it; s’a bit tough when I’m all over the place these days, but I’m in town for the next two weeks, so we’ve got some time. When you getting off today, kitty cat?”

Johnny leans farther over the countertop, towering over you now that you aren’t standing on the raised platform by the pastry case. Palms spread wide over the granite; when your eyes flit down, you can’t help the way they’re drawn to the dark, livid tattoos crawling up his forearms. Dark ink like they’re new trophies on his skin.

His attention is always like the sun; your whole body burns under his gaze. There’s something about being stared at so intensely, blue eyes raking down the front of you, that makes you unsure.

He buys a croissant instead, tenner pressed gently into the palm of your hand. You're tempted to deflect, tell him you aren't interested.

“Seven,” you whisper instead, hands shaking when you hand him his change.

His hand closes around yours, callused fingers rough against your skin. “Got it. Pick you up seven sharp.”

When he leaves, you barely hear the jingle behind him, the blood pounding in your ears. You have a date.

Your chest is tight for hours, thinking about your date later that evening. He picks you up after your shift, just as you’re locking up; you thought you’d have a couple minutes to head back to your apartment and freshen up, but you find him waiting outside the coffee shop for you, clad in a black hoodie and the same jeans as earlier.

He’s as slick and gentlemanly as you might’ve anticipated, walking you to the pub with a hand nestled against your low back. You talk for what seems like hours tucked away in the corner. Johnny makes good conversation, but sometimes it feels a bit like an interrogation. He’s talkative, but there’s a faint edge underlying everything he does; he makes you wait for him at your table while he orders for the two of you at the bar, taking the seat facing you so you’re ensconced in his shadow, hidden from anyone else in the pub.

He insists on walking you back to your place, boots splattering through the puddles accumulating between the cobblestones. He makes sure you walk on the dry side. Every light you pass under sweeps across his face in a golden arc, illuminating the corner edge of his jawline, the plush spread of his lips, the furl of his ear like a nautilus shell. Brows that slope over deep set eyes.

When he leaves you off at the door, Johnny’s hand curls in the hairs at the back of your neck and tugs you up for a kiss that goes scorching hot. Fingers tangled in your hair, other hand coming up to cup your cheek, holding you in place. You feel trapped, helpless against the onslaught of him; a hot tongue flicks into your mouth and he groans, making your head spin. You feel it resonate through you.

“Johnny—” you mumble when he pulls away for a second, cut off when he leans back in to suckle at your bottom lip. His beard is bristly against the soft skin around your mouth.

You feel him smirk against your lips. He nips at the lower one. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, a’right, kitty cat?”

Johnny only looks the slightest bit disheveled when he pulls away. A thumb traces your lower lip. He briefly looks regretful, like he wants to bend down again for another one—you feel the intention when he presses his thumb ever so slightly past your lips—but then he pulls back, walking backwards down the street away from you. A hand raised in goodbye.

Then the next day, he’s gone. Vanished into thin air. You glance up whenever the wind chimes over the door jingle, but it’s never him, always someone with a different hat, a different face.

You thought he promised you two weeks this time. Your chest collapses when the door opens and someone else walks in. Apparently he spoke too soon.

Two days go by; you’re fighting the desperation to know. It oddly never crosses your mind to think that he’s ghosting you. Maybe it should. You hardly know him outside of the brief interactions you have every other month when he’s back from wherever he works (and you know that it’s all top secret, hush hush, you’ve seen the military tattoos and kept your questions to yourself), but it doesn’t feel—and you think this with no small degree of irony—like something he’d do.

On the walk home, you often catch yourself looking for the familiar shape of him. Wandering past the shops closing up for the night, people piling into the bars, raucous voices tumbling up into the smoky sky; you stand on your tiptoes on the other side of the street and peer in, looking for the broad shape of his back.

You never spot him. There is a cold gap in your life that goes unfilled. It smarts at the root of you; you didn’t think you could miss Johnny. You thought you could feel a twinge of regret every now and then for not indulging his flirting a bit more, but you had honestly shelved him higher than you could reach in your desires. Until he took you out and listened to you ramble on, listened deeply with his attention rapt, his cheek pressed into his fist as he leaned against the table towards you. Until he whisked you safely back home and held you in place while he sipped kisses from your mouth until your lips were swollen.

It’s months later when you hear it.

“Hi kitty.”

Your blood goes hot at the sound of his voice. When you whip around, Johnny’s on the other side of the counter like he never left. Black shirt that clings to the curve of his biceps, old jeans with fades around the knees and thighs stretched around his thighs.

When you meet his eyes, they seem charged, steadier than usual. Flat lips turned up just at the corner, one side only. Johnny’s not usually so still, so grounded on his feet; there’s usually a frenetic undercurrent to him, like catching a live wire. You don’t know what he’s like out in the real world, but in your world he looks like he paces and runs to work himself free of all the extra energy. Maybe other forms of cardio.

“Johnny, you’re—” You catch yourself before the words tumble out, before you make it known that you’ve been tossing and turning late at night wondering where he went. Blue eyes sparkle like they hear it anyway, the faint note of desperation seeping into your voice like a hoarseness.

“Fancy going for a bevvy tonight?” he asks you again. Less of a question this time.

You feel pulled to him on a string. He doesn’t leave you in peace this time. He waits you out, sits at a table in the coffee shop facing you. Customers you’ve known for years seem entranced by him, and how could they not? They don’t make them like him often—tall and blue eyed, roguish; ruggedly handsome when the mood strikes. Pretty boy until he turns the full weight of his stare on you and you’re forced to contend with the fact that he is, in fact, all man.

Your amity turns to enmity when someone stares at him for too long. Placated only because Johnny never so much as turns their way.

Dinner is a long, drawn out affair. His conversation is rougher than usual, punctuated by bouts of silence. His eyes are murky waters. Something’s changed, you think, salad speared on your fork, hovering just in front of your mouth, studying him. Something happened in the months that he was away. Whatever it was, it’s left Johnny a bit more calculating, less trusting. He sits facing the door this time, eyes flicking up whenever it opens on the other side of the restaurant.

“Sorry, angel, don’t have it in me to be sweet and gentle anymore,” Johnny says when he walks you to your doorstep. “‘Fraid it’s gonna be rough for you from now on.”

His words make you tremble.

The kiss at your doorstep doesn’t end there this time. Maybe this is all an extension of that moment months ago, the natural endpoint. You were never going to end up anywhere else but flat on your back under him.

“Pure gaggin' fer it, aren’t ya, kitty?”

Johnny’s voice is rough, barely a rumble over the sound of your own keening. Your whole body slides up the bed every time he ruts into you, thick cock spearing you open. Your hands slip over his shoulders where a layer of sweat has built up; your bodies slide together like you’ve been at it for hours, rather than just the thirty minutes since Johnny bodied his way into your place and made you guide him to the bedroom, shucking his clothes the whole way there.

“No, I would’ve—” You gasp on a particularly rough thrust, teeth clenching together, “—I would’ve w-waited. Oh god, oh god.”

“Haud yer' wheesht, bonnie, quit whining,” he grunts. “Dinnae act like you weren’t asking for a big cock in this cunt. Could hear her purring behind the counter. Needed it for months, didn’t ya?”

You knew this was in him somehow, this penchant for dirty talk. He’s always moved like it was in him. You feel swept away by it, scorching under his hands and tongue and dick. Tightly wound. Only capable of holding on, one hand clenched now in the lowest part of his mohawk while he ducks his head to suck your nipple into his mouth. When he gives it a mean bite, you squirm and cry out.

“Never thought you were s-serious,” you admit, whimpering when he nips again at the tender spot there.

Johnny draws back onto his haunches, still deep in you. There are scars across his chest that you didn’t notice before. New skin frosted over, deep gouges across his arms; what you think looks like a bullet wound. Your eyes go wide. It’s impossible to think what he must have been through.

He looms over you, hand coming up to curl delicately around your throat. Just enough to let you know that he’s there, that he’s got you right where he wants. Johnny smiles wide, wicked, white teeth stark in the darkness of your room.

“Oh, I’m very serious, kitty,” he laughs, deep and throaty. He thrusts languidly into your heat now, drawing it out.

He makes a show of it when he comes, fingers tightening around your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat. It strikes you in the moment that you let him in bare, trusted him despite months of absence and no real excuse for it. When he pulls out, you feel it leak from you. Frustration boils under your skin because you haven’t come yet; you feel almost betrayed, a whiplash reaction that has tears welling up in your ears.

“Don’t worry,” Johnny coos at the sight of your pinched face, “you’ll get yours, bonnie. Gonna treat this kitty real nice.”

You struggle against his hold when he forces your legs wide and slots himself between them, making his way down the bed. He tongues deep into your cunt to lick his own spend out. Your thoughts dribble out of you, head empty; there’s nothing left in you except bone-deep exhaustion and the feel of his bearded cheeks scraping against your inner thighs.

You flinch like you’ve been shocked when he sucks at your clit, hypersensitive. He laughs when you do, doubling his efforts. His hot mouth on the place where he still drips from you might make you lose it completely. The most wounded sound bubbles out of you. Your hand trembles in his hair, torn between pulling his mouth closer and pushing him away.

He doesn’t relent until you’ve come twice, your face flush with blood. When his tongue flicks over your clit again, it’s for the pleasure of seeing your legs spasm.

“Johnny, please—can’t anymore,” you beg, trying to press your foot against his shoulder to push him away.

His chin glistens with your juices. When he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, plump and swollen, you drag in a harsh breath. Maybe you could go again.

“Kitty, I’ve had a rough couple weeks,” he says, voice light but for where it descends into a memory, deep and dark. “Just let me eat your cunt and we’ll talk about everything later, okay?”

Your fingers tingle like they’ve fallen asleep in his hair. When you give in, it feels inevitable.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod soap #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap/reader #soap mw2 #soap cod #cod x reader #soap call of duty #soap mactavish

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chiprewington · 5 days

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Character Analysis on Chip Revvington, the Chainsaw Consultant.

Genuine Long Post Warning, as well as a LOT of images. This is going to cover literally everything we know about Chip and my take on what's provided In Canon (being his Cogs Ink profile, his Interview, the 1.3 News Article, and In-Game). This is my first try at an In-depth Character Analysis. Screenshots used are from the official Wiki.gg, In-Game, and from the Corporate Clash News Archive.

Prior to being brought on to lead the Deforester Force, it's shown he's clearly a confident Suit, and has a genuine passion for his line of work as a consultant. With his personal statement alone this can be seen on full display with how he writes about himself, including noting how he's not swayed by bribery in any manner. (also the fact he outright pokes fun at one of the bribes will never not be funny to me)

Not to mention his lack of discipline records throughout his 19 months having already worked for C.O.G.S. with his usual job as an external consultant, this plus the fact he has "positive remarks" from his previous places of work shows he's probably in very high demand and really does excel at his job.

This is also shown in his interview, where he also equally shows a lot of passion for his job and genuine interest with answering questions relating to it. Before we get into that though, I feel like it's important to also point out a couple other things that I think about a lot with his profile.

This, being referred to as the "Temperamental Terminator" in the 1.3 trailer, and considering the average age of a Consultant is ~40+ years (and I personally hc him as 48), I think it's safe to say Chip just always was a quick-tempered individual throughout his life. It's one of his less favorable traits that I personally find charming.

And these read to me like Chip's always been considered "scary" among other suits. His behavior isn't the issue (yet) though, he's just a massive guy who happens to have a chainsaw for a snout.

Which. Makes this very interesting. Jennifer, stated something similar above, but I feel as if her intentions are more... unaware than the actual company's. Jennifer sees a guy with a big Chainsaw and thinks "Oh! He can cut down trees with that!" Jennifer ily. The company on the other hand probably has had this idea of what Chip could be a candidate for. They hired him to lead the Deforester Force. His job consists of him sitting in an office. Nothing relating to physical labor in cutting down trees, he just oversees the process. "Chainsaw apparatus will be helpful [...]" suddenly takes on a much darker meaning, in my mind.

Which is how we get here. Chip being modified with a clearly experimental hardware which we all know as the Personality Override. The fact that it was only "partially successful" is a very fun thing to consider.

Note the fact that from a canon standpoint the Override was implemented "2 weeks ago". This will be important later.

(The toon who got the above screenshots is not mine!)

Another fun side-note is the fact that the Override is experimental. It's experimental hardware. Chip is the only one with it. They are using him like a guinea pig. And not to mention "Dealing with Toons far more efficiently" paired with the above company-sourced "Chainsaw Apparatus will be useful [...]", you can't make this stuff up. They turned this guy into a living weapon likely without him knowing the full scope of what would happen if he did get this position in the first place.

Okay. Now we can talk about his Interview. Which even through glancing at it you can see just how passionate he is regarding his work. He is driven and confident that his plans for the Deforester Force will work. He wants to believe that he'll set an example for the rest of the departments to execute a similar plan.

And then this question comes up. And then I have to remind you it's probably been only a couple days since he's modified. And he already has rumors circulating about him.

And the moment the subject is changed, he perks right back up into being passionate about his work.

I also feel like it's worth mentioning the fact he's been actively requesting and wanting Spruce (who recommended him to begin with!!!) to join him in the Deforester Force and keeps being turned down on it. The way this and something else I'm about to touch on are written feels like he's barely been able to see him. These two have a brotherly bond and they're being separated. He misses his brother, man.

That's not even getting into this. Even as I'm writing this I just realized the implications of something at the end of this and I'm going to have to pace around my house thinking about it. But also you can see that even though just the slightest amount of time has canonically passed since the interview, you can already see the toll the Override's been taking on Chip's behavior. While he was once passionate, he's now actively complaining about his job. It's not even about the job itself, it's about what's happened to him.

Not to mention, I feel it also displays his temper in full swing once again- even if he's justified in this sense.

I also need to pay special mind to this ending bit right here because the implication of this with everything else surrounding it fucking broke me. uugghhhhh.

Now this is something I feel is so, so, so important to his character. He actively does not like toons. He clearly shows a certain disgust for them and views them like Animals. Pests. He doesn't hesitate to proudly state his opinion on them. And then you see him in-game.

He hasn't changed his mind about toons at all. Ignoring the fact that "you critters again" insinuates this isn't even his first contact with toons (will get to this later), he's... Restrained. I don't know, this reads to me like he's actively restraining himself from blowing up. "You don't want to see what happens when I get angry." is a warning to just comply and leave.

And then because he doesn't remember he fired the rest of the Deforester Force (another thing I want to touch on), he actively gets upset and angry at the remaining flunky because of course someone as high-rank as himself wouldn't want a Flunky on such an important team. Once again, additionally showing his active temper. His active temper he just tried to restrain and bottle up.

And that's what breaks the camel's back. The Override most likely activates from excessive anger/distress, something that Chip Actively Struggles With. He has to bottle himself up because if he tries to be his usual hot-tempered self, which is who he naturally is, he's just going to lose himself. Lose himself to cog knows how long as being a lifeless machine that perfectly and efficiently complies with the commands its given.

He begs for help when he's able to partially regain control (emphasis on partially, considering the most he can do is speak and prevent Deadwood from happening), but like. Again, to me this reads as the fact he is currently Incredibly Fucking Terrified because he's completely aware the whole time the Override is active. He can see himself acting against his will. It's mortifying. He's willing to beg anyone for help because the Override is genuinely traumatizing for him.

Which makes this all the more harrowing. He can't keep the Override at bay forever (likely the only reason why he partially regained control is from the sheer amount of pain he put himself in by ripping out one of his bulbs. You can see him brace himself and wince when that happens). Once again, "save yourselves" in this context feels more like he's scared. He's terrified. Because the Override sucks. And the implication of "ALL RAM CLEARED" doesn't leave much room to assume anything other than the Override likely clears out Chip's memories in order to make more processing room for this janky hardware to run at a constant overclocked state. I wonder how much of Chip's memories have been removed because of that thing, honestly.

By the way did you know that a normal chainsaw runs an average of 12,000 RPM. Do you think about how the little RPM icon is his saw smoking as if it's overheating. What the hell is the Override doing to him internally.

Another added touch I think about a lot is how his battle as a whole is, for the most part, very predictable. You control what cheats he does. Even in technical battle terms, everything is out of Chip's control. As long as every gag hits, you're really just manipulating an enemy's AI to to make the most optimal choices to your benefit. The Override perceives "X", and responds with "Y". You're not fighting an actual individual, just a program.

Clearly, whatever it's doing to him, it's painful (not mentioning the agonizing scream he lets out during this). And thank Cog he was able to regain control at the last second because it's way too obvious that the Override's "final fallback procedure" likely involved some kind of lethal force when it lunges at the toons. (The Chainsaw Apparatus will be helpful.)

There's no sorrow in Chip's words, that's what I think. Everything here is bitter. It's numb, to me.

He's clearly been through this song and dance multiple times by now. He's pissed at the toons, at the company, and at himself. But he can't properly let it out. You know what will happen if he does. The most he can do is throw a chair and scream into the air. (which that line gets its own custom voice clip, fun fact!)

It's clear he's been isolated ever since he's been upgraded, and it seems like he's bitterly accepted it. The only thing he has left to lose is Spruce, which is why he tells the toons not to tell him. If he loses Spruce...

I don't think he'd have much left. It'd make sense why he's grown so restrained and numb and stilted in his speech. He's quickly grown to learn that he can't let himself express anymore, all because of the override.

The fact that everyone else around him views him poorly doesn't help. His employees fear him. Most of them probably don't realize something is wrong, spread rumors about him, or outright attack him through hatemail. Written in Cipher.

"Chip has some anger issues. I would be careful around him. Don't worry about the Cogs though, I'm sure they'll be fine. Might get demoted back to their initial tier, but that's what happens when you work with Chip. Good thing that Toons can't get fired-- or wait, they can, can't they? Do Toons LIKE getting fired? I will never understand those animals. And you seen Spruce around lately? I haven't. I wonder how his deforesting expedition is going. There is a secret message up ahead in Chip's room. Can you find it? If you are stuck, have you considered looking around your surroundings?"

"I can't stand Chip anymore. I know I'm a Yesman, but I have to say NO. He used to be cool up until his sensors flared off. After what he did to my fellow coworker, I don't know if I can continue working under him. Sure, he's one of the most organized managers I've ever worked with, not to mention the flowing passion he has for the Deforester Force. His personality issues can single-handedly cause all of our projects to collapse. One of my former coworkers had raised concerns about Toons taking over our buildings and ultimately undoing all work that was done on our end. That poor Pencil Pusher overstepped his boundaries with Chip when he admitted his failure to secure "our" project from the Toons. Up until this point, I have never seen a Cog fire another Cog. With a cannon."

"It grinded my gears when I saw that happen. Him and I worked nonstop for days straight, while this pile of bolts just sat there doing his paperwork. I wouldn't be surprised if he was just doing crossword puzzles or writing letters to his little buddy. If you are reading this Mr. Revvington, you are the reason for our decline. We are running out of Deforester Force members because of you. As someone who has gone through close-call battles with the Toons, I hope you experience what it's like to have boulders and anvils fall from above you. You can try to fire me with that shoddy cannon of yours, but you would have to track me down first. I've already left the area and was recruited to a new organization far more stable than you will ever be."

------

...I genuinely love Mr. Revvington. He's a Suit who's been dealt the worst hand he could possibly ever get in life. He was just like anyone else, and then everything happened ever since joining C.O.G.S.. He's isolated, he's temperamental, he's pissy, he'd genuinely be someone hard to get along with because of the fact he's struggling with all sorts of issues and would be incredibly difficult and annoying to even start talking to and forming a bond with unless you're both stubborn and have patience. He's awful, and I love him for it.

I genuinely believe he's one of the most complex, beautifully written, and depressing characters in Corporate Clash. Maybe I dive way too deep into things about him, maybe he's not that deep at all. But I like to think about him. He makes me emotional, but he also makes me happy. Thank you for making him exist.

#toontown #toontown corporate clash #corporate clash #chip revvington #corporateclash #ttcc #toontowncorporateclash #chainsaw consultant #character analysis #long post #image heavy #headcanons

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piratesfromspace · 4 months

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After the rain (141xReader)

Pairing: Reader x Soap (& implied Reader x 141)

Rated: Mature

Word count: 900

Summary: After being kidnapped and rescued, Rain needs to make sure Soap is still alive

Note: In the same universe as my "Rain or Shine" fic, it is the epilogue of the part 4. Some people requested this chapter, and I was happy to write a little something to offer some comfort to our poor Soap. Reader callsign is "Rain", she's bi and autistic (I am autistic myself).

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, aftermath of torture, medical setting, happy ending (kinda)

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

Rain has a hard time opening her eyes. She’s not quite sure where she is, she’s slow to wake up, her brain still foggy from the sleeping pills. But then she moves in the bed, and everything starts hurting. Her muscles are so sore, bruises are painfully blooming under her scratched skin. Her head is heavy, throbbing. She feels like she’s been run over by a humvee. With the pain, everything comes back to her in a second. She rises with a gasp, a shot of adrenaline wringing her guts to the point she thinks she’s gonna puke.

The light of day is peaking through the half-opened curtains of her room. She’s back on base, and everything is so vividly painful she’s sure it can’t be a dream. The memory of the past few days invades her - their capture, Johnny’s sacrifice to protect her, her crawling on the floor to rest her cheek against his bloody leg when their captor finally stopped. The sudden thought that Soap might not have survived the torture is suffocating her, she can’t breathe, it’s breaking her mind and her heart. Last she saw him he was laying on the heli floor surrounded by medics.

A flash of white in the corner of her eyes attracts her attention when she finally gathers enough strength to get out of her bed. There is a crisp white strip of paper on her night-stand. It only says “he’s OK” in black ink, and she instantly recognizes Simon’s angular writing. Soap has made it. Tears wet her cheeks without her realizing she’s crying.

—-

She tucks her fists inside the pocket of her hoodie. A black one that belongs to one of the boys, she can’t really tell which one. She keeps her head down, doesn’t want to cross the panicked gaze of colleagues at her face. She’s sporting various scratches, a mean bruise on the side of her jaw, her skin has a sickly yellow-ish undertone - she looks like shit and she knows it.

She crosses the base in a hurried bee-line for the medical bay. She probably should call up her captain for further instruction, report to debrief or go see a doctor. But the only thing on her mind is finding Soap. She had always liked him - it was hard not to, he was funny, kind, quite handsome, always laughing. But she knew that he was growing obsessed with her, and it had frightened her at first. Situations like those could easily delve into unpleasant territories for everyone involved. Except it was Soap, smart-ass Soap, kind-hearted Soap, and he made it work even when it was obvious he was sad Rain had chosen Simon instead of him. After Siberia, things didn't really change, they rather shifted. The group was tighter, Rain was not shy with her attraction to the other guys, with her attraction to him. She let Johnny more into her bubble, into her heart.

And here she is, the wet tracks of tears drying on her cheeks as she leaps through long corridors in search of Soap, when she should get checked for her own injuries, when she should maybe not stay alone like this. Her brain is still drowning in diluted stress hormones and the end trail of painkillers, the mix giving her a distant headache that will probably force her down in a couple hours. For now, she persists.

When she finally finds him, she’s simultaneously disappointed and relieved to find him alone. Ghost, Gaz and Price must be somewhere else, maybe they just went out for a quick break. She doesn’t know how much time she has on her own with Soap, before someone, a nurse, or one of the boys, comes back. He looks like he’s sleeping. Bandages are wrapped around all his visible limbs, snaking around fingers, his wrists, part of his right arm. Around his head also, his already short hair clearly shaved for access to wounds. One of his eyes is hidden by a plastic shell. His lips are swollen, split in a few places. Skilled hands have been at work here, in dressing his wounds, wiping out dried blood, setting up electrodes and drips. It’s easy to forget how simple it is to destroy, and how labor-intensive it is to heal. The regular bip of the heart monitor is the thing that prevents her from spiraling further down. Alive. Her sergeant is alive. No need to explore the devastating thought of him being gone.

She climbs on the bed, finds a place against him. His warmth makes her want to cry again. Her own scratched fingers hover over his cheekbones - the skin there is purple - then over his neck, she needs to feel his pulse under her scorched skin. Alive. She tucks her face next to his shoulder, tries to find the familiar smell under the antiseptic. Rain holds him the best she can without risking hurting him more, and decides that’s all she wants to do for the time being.

That’s how the boys find them when they arrive some time after that. They had been looking for her after Simon had discovered her empty bed. They weren’t really scared. They knew she would be here. Where else? They swore to take care of each other - and that’s what they will keep doing, no matter what.

MASTERLIST

#ghost x reader #cod fanfiction #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #poly 141 #141 fanfic #task force 141 #141 x reader #tf 141 #poly tf141 #polyamory #hurt/comfort #whump writing

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 months

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not what it looks like ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1812

request?: yes!

“Hi I was wondering if you could do one for colson, Where the r goes through his latest dm for a tik tok trend and it's megan flirting with him ,and so reader confront s him. They get into a huge fight like legit throwing stuff around the house ,and r stays in the guest bedroom but he wants to Apologize. So he finds the key ,and preferably make up with hot angry smut if your up for it. Thank you for your time - anon🪅”

description: in which she finds a suspicious message when she goes through his dms

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, hints of cheating but no actual cheating has occurred, fighting and yelling (no actual yelling and throwing stuff tho sorry), rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

You often found yourself wanting to try whatever couple’s trend was going around on TikTok, and Colson was always game. He liked how excited you got to show him, and how happy you were whenever e said yes to trying a trend. It was never anything you did to post online, you only did it for your own enjoyment. It was all innocent fun.

You thought this trend was going to be the same. Oh, how wrong you were.

Colson was basically expecting the question when he heard your phone go silent in the next room and your footsteps approaching. He turned to watch the doorway and smiled when you predictably appeared.

“Can I see your latest DM?” you asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that the trend, or should I be worried about where this is coming from?”

“No! It’s a trend!” you assured him.

He laughed. “Okay. Here.”

He passed you his phone. You took it and sat on the couch next to him. He turned his attention back to the song he had been writing as he let you do whatever you wanted to do.

The trend you had seen was simple: someone asked their partner if they could see the last text message on their phone. It always went one of two ways: either the last text was something mundane or funny, or it was something incriminating. You had no fears about what could be on Colson’s phone, especially when he was so quick to pass it over to you. So you decided to look at his latest Instagram DM instead. You figured it would be funny to see what fans had been saying to him recently.

What you didn’t expect was for there to be a message from a verified account. An account that you knew.

Megan Fox.

But it wasn’t the account itself that brought you pause. It was the message preview.

“I had a great ti - ”

You clicked the message without a second thought. The full message read, “I had a great time yesterday. Let me know when you want to do it again!” The message was followed by a ink emoji and a smiling devil emoji.

Your mind was running a million miles a second. What could the message mean? Well, clearly it meant Megan and Colson had met up at some point the day before, and planned to meet again. You couldn’t remember what Colson had told you he was doing the day before, so you couldn’t think of what possible reason there was for them to be together. Especially something that would require a wink and devil emoji. Unless...

No. There was no way. Colson would never cheat on you. He loved you and he was loyal to you. You had no reason to doubt that.

At least, you didn’t until you saw Megan’s message.

You were having so much internal turmoil that you didn’t realize how long you had just been staring at Colson’s phone. He looked over to find you frozen and lightly nudged you with his shoulder.

“Is the last message that traumatizing?” he teased. When you didn’t respond, worry sunk in. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

You held the phone out to him. He took it and started reading the message that was still on the screen. “What does this mean?”

His face didn’t show any signs of panic or guilt. You figured that should be a good sign, right? He wasn’t acting as if you caught him in a lie or anything. But then again, he could just be having a very good poker face.

“We had her in a video yesterday,” he replied. “It was crazy. You’ll love it when you see it.”

You nodded, but your mind was still distant. Had he told you he was filming yesterday? Not that he had to tell you everything he ever did. You were both adults, you didn’t need to keep tabs on one another. But he usually told you about his video shoots, or anything to do with his music. You figured he would’ve told you about having Megan Fox in one of his videos especially. That was a huge deal.

He gave you a look. “Do you not believe me?”

“I didn’t say that,” you said.

“You didn’t say anything. Babe, why would I lie?”

You didn’t point out the obvious: that he’d lie because he’s cheating. But he read your expression and said, “I’m not cheating on you.”

“You wouldn’t tell me if you were,” you blurted.

Colson looked at you. A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’d think I was cheating on you. I have never given you any reason to think I would, and now because of this one message that I already explained to you, you think I’m cheating?”

“Well what else am I supposed to think when I see a message on your phone from another woman saying she had a ‘great time yesterday’ and adding flirty emojis?”

Colson rolled his eyes and stood from the couch. You did the same, following him out of the room. “Where are you going?”

“Why? Are you afraid I have Megan hidden in the next room?”

“Okay, maybe I am overreacting, but can’t you see this from my point of view? You have a message from another woman saying you were together yesterday. That she wants to meet up with you again. How else am I supposed to take that?”

“You’re supposed to believe me because I’m telling you nothing fucking happened! We got Megan for a video shoot and the video had to do with her playing a crazy stalker. That’s why she sent the devil emoji. There is nothing between us!”

You stepped back at his raised tone. You felt a lump forming in your throat. Maybe you were being irrational. Maybe you should’ve taken the explanation that Colson gave you and believed him. But he didn’t need to yell at you like that. He had never yelled at you before, not even during past arguments.

You choked back the lump and said, “You can’t blame me for thinking the worst when I saw that message. It sounds flirty, like you two were together in an intimate scenario yesterday. And I know you’ve never given me any reason to think you’d cheat, but cheating isn’t an obvious thin, Colson! Cheaters don’t announce they’re cheating every time they leave the house. I’m sorry for accusing you, but you can’t blame me when I saw that message with no context, from a woman way more beautiful than I could ever be. Silly me for thinking you wouldn’t want to fuck Megan Fox of all people.”

You turned before he could say anything else and nearly ran up the stairs to your shared bedroom. Maybe you were childish for running to your room to escape an argument and cry, but now that you had voice your insecurities out loud, you needed to get away and allow your emotions to run free.

That was really what this was all about: your own insecurities. You had always been insecure about the women Colson was surrounded by. He was a famous rapper, he had gorgeous groupies throwing themselves at him at every show. He was linked with actresses and other female musicians that you found to be so much more beautiful than you. You were terrified of the day when he realized he could do so much better than you and broke up with you for one of the beautiful women he was surrounded by almost daily.

You were laid on your bed, the tears seeming to finally run out when you heard Colson’s footsteps approaching the room. You sat up and tried to wipe your face before he found you, but you were sure your attempts were for nothing. Your face was definitely puffy and tear stained beyond a quick fix. Colson stood in the doorway, looking at you with a hint of sadness in his eyes as well. You couldn’t look at him for long before you gaze dropped to your lap.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“No, baby, don’t be sorry,” he said. He walked over to sit on the bed next to you. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Like what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he meant.

“Like what you said about Megan being more beautiful than you. There’s no way that just suddenly came out of you just then.”

You sighed and shook your head. “I’ve felt it for...a long time.”

“Like how long?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It just started happening. One second I didn’t care about anyone else in the world, and then the next I was seeing the way other women looked at you and how they talked about wanting you. Then I started to notice how beautiful they all were.”

He gently took your chin in his hand and made you look up at him. “But you’re beautiful.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, but I’m not Megan Fox.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Megan isn’t who I want. Neither are any of the women who try and throw themselves at me while I’m on tour, or any models or actresses or musicians ever. I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and only you. You are the most beautiful person in the world to me and no one will ever change that. I would never hurt you by sneaking around with someone else. You are my everything.”

Tears were starting to form in your eyes again. You leaned into Colson’s arms, burying your head in his chest so he wouldn’t see you crying again. He put his arms around you and held you to him, allowing you to go through whatever emotions you were feeling.

You had been stupid to think he was cheating. You knew that even in the moment. But, your mind was so clouded with the message from Megan and your own insecurities that you weren’t thinking clearly. You felt silly about it now, but you were glad to have talked it through with Colson and to have cleared the air.

“What did you have Megan do you to that she sent you a devil emoji?” you asked when you finally were able to stop the tears and pull away from his chest.

“She tied me up and electrocuted me in a bathtub,” he responded.

You laughed. “What?!”

“I’m being dead serious. That’s just one scene. The whole video is her essentially just torturing me. She had a blast with it. I’m a little concerned that she’s so eager to do it again.”

You giggled and leaned into his embrace again. The two of you laid back on the bed as Colson recounted the shoot from the day before.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #rpf

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jqnehr · 3 months

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les améthystes du ciel | neuvillette — part 14

two individuals under pressure to marry. one has the hydro archon on his back, and the other has her matchmaking friend pushing her along. when the two meet at a ball, and both in dire need of peace from two meddlesome females, what better arrangement is there than their own betrothal?

pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader warnings : crack and (attempts at) funny ha-ha humour at the start (massive failure), ANGST (again, surprise surprise), ermmm idk what else, this is sfw. word count : 4.5k (another short one...) note : SOSOSOSOSOOOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT, school has been WHOOPING my ass (and love and deepspace is taking up all the remaining gb in my brain) and I've hardly had time (and motivation 😔) to write 💔💔 BUT ANYWAYS!! better late than never <33

! not proof read

! do not copy, redistribute, translate, or use my work with or without credit in any way. thank you.

part thirteen ⋮ masterlist ⋮ part fifteen

ao3 ⋮ playlist

...

“My goodness, Neuvillette, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with such heavy eyebags.”

Neuvillette releases a sigh through his nose and continues perusing the documents before him, not even glancing up at the Duke of Meropide. “How fortunate am I to have a friend that is unfailing in pointing out the obvious.”

“In all seriousness, though, are you alright? You look like you haven’t slept a wink for a week.” Wriothesley’s perceptiveness strikes again. The Chief Justice dips his quill into the ink jar and scribbles his signature on the dotted line of a paper upon some recently-overseen hearing. “I haven’t.”

“And you’re not your usual amiable self either. You know, if you’re worried about your wife, there’s a nice Inazuman restaurant that just opened downtown. The Tonkotsu Ramen is divine.”

“I don’t even know if she likes Inazuman food.” Neuvillette isn’t really in the mood to entertain Wriothesley’s company today, but the dark-haired man seems to be making no move to leave. The warden of the Fortress appears to be more than eager to give the Iudex some unsolicited love advice from the ‘love expert’—Wriothesley’s words, not his.

“Everybody likes Inazuman food. Oh, and did you hear that Lyney and Lynette’s holding a massive magic show in two weeks? Maybe you could take her along, have some fun.”

“Did you forget that this marriage is contractual? There isn’t any real reason to take her on dates, Wriothesley.” The Duke’s eyes widen in incredulity at his words. “You don’t mean that. I can just tell that the very cause for your lack of sleep as of late is the very woman you don’t have ‘any real reason’ to take on a date. Do you think I’m stupid? You’re like an open book, Neuvillette.” “The thing that I don’t understand is how adamant you all seem to be on making us into a happy, loving couple. Have you been colluding with Furina in secret?” “She’s had a few cups of tea with me, but that’s besides the point. Isn’t the Madame bedridden with an awful cold right now? I bought some of my favourite tea up here so you and I could share some, but maybe you could take it and have it with her instead. What kind of husband would you be if you didn’t help nurse your ill wife back to health?”

That worries Neuvillette. “Do you think she’d be offended by my lack of checking-in and visits? I already had some chicken soup made for her yesterday, though.” Wriothesley’s spirits lift once he sees he’s starting to get through to the clueless man. “If I was your wife, I’d be insulted, whether contractually married or not. And chicken soup, Neuvillette? How cliché. I bet you told her maid to not let her know you requested it for her.” Neuvillette’s subsequent silence was answer enough.

Wriothesley rolls his eyes. “Whatever happened last week that caused this rift between you two is just silly. So, tell me—what did happen?” “Uh…” Neuvillette’s ears flush red at the memories that instantly flood him. “N-Nothing much.” “Did you two kiss or something? Oh, yeah, real scandalous. It’s almost as if husbands and wives don’t do that kind of thing!”

“We’re husband and wife on paper and by arrangement only, Wriothesley. It would be going against the contract to initiate any kind of intimate contact with each other like that. And no, we didn’t ‘kiss’. It was just…” The Duke leans forward in anticipation for the Iudex’s answer. “Well?”

“…Well, we ran into each other at the beach in the dead of night and talked.”

“Did you two do the deed?” “No!” The Chief Justice’s entire face flares bright pink at Wriothesley’s innuendo. “Goodness, Wriothesley, how on earth did you come to that conclusion? Did you just come here today to bother me about such private matters?”

“Yeah. Anyway, you’re blushing like a maiden on her wedding night. If you just ‘talked’, didn’t ‘kiss’ and didn’t get it on, then why are you so hesitant to divulge what unseemly act you both committed on the beach that night?” “Alright, since you keep insisting—we almost did.” “As in, almost kissed or almost had se—”

“Kissed! Kissed—we almost kissed.” Neuvillette waves a hand in front of face in defeat, trying to ease his embarrassment. He didn’t want to think about how if they weren’t interrupted, it probably would’ve escalated way further. Archons, I sound like a right idiot. He shoots the smug man before him a look. “What books have you been reading? You’re making me seem like an airheaded teenage girl giggling about her first kiss to her gaggle of friends.”

Wriothesley looks almost offended. “The only things I have time to read are reports upon convicts and the management of the Fortress, Your Honour. And I’m sorry, but I really didn’t know you were so sensitive about this matter. As if I didn’t see how you carried her out of the tea party, all bridal style and everything. Looked way too real to just be an act. Isn’t that just so interesting?” Neuvillette purses his lips, throwing Wriothesley a side-long glance. “You have just as wild of an imagination as Furina. I’ll take up your suggestion about the tea, though.” “What about the magic show and restaurant? You could go dine at the restaurant after the show. Don’t you think she’d like that?”

Quiet, the Iudex stares blankly at the document before him, contemplating. Would that be overstepping my bounds…? Oh, to hell with it—I’ve already done so too many times to count. What hurt is a small date going to do?

“…Alright. Your counsel is sound, I suppose.”

“Of course it is. Oh, and do you know when the banquet will be?” “…In two weeks’ time. What day is the show?” “It’s on the Tuesday.”

“The banquet’s on the Friday. Are you going to attend?” “Furina’s…coerced me into attending. I’m going to be stampeded by frenzied mothers desperate to marry off their equally crazed daughters again.” “Careful, or—how do the youngsters call it these days?—she’ll ‘hitch’ you up with someone, too.”

Wriothesley gives him a look. “You sound like a ninety-year-old.”

Neuvillette side-eyes him in return. “And why do you think that is? I can never keep up with the ever-changing colloquialism of the kids these days.”

The Duke shakes his head in amusement, seeing he’s succeeded in his mission and thus can leave. “Alright, old man. Send my get-well wishes to your wife for me. And don’t tell her I sent the tea. It’s supposed to be all you.”

Neuvillette is too polite of a person to tell someone outright to get lost, so he opts to wave for the door. “Yes, yes, I get it, Wriothesley. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of things to attend to, or would you like me to assign you some documents to peruse for me?” Wriothesley instantly gets the message and hurries for the door before Neuvillette can follow through with his threat. “I’ve got a date with the Pankration Ring, so sorry. Have fun with your wife!”

His office door quickly clicks shut. Neuvillette shakes his head and continues on with his work, perturbed.

・・・・

Neuvillette debated with himself over whether he should deliver the tea to you anonymously, say Wriothesley heard of your sickness and sent it out of friendly well-wishes, or just man-up and go personally brew it for you.

Eventually, Neuvillette decided on the latter.

Now, he stands hovering outside of your bedroom door, hand raised to knock, but hesitance keeps him back. He’s worried you’re sleeping, and would disturb you—and that’s why you knock, idiot—or, if you’re awake, subject himself to even more embarrassment upon the remembrance of what almost happened a week ago. This is a bad, bad idea.

He almost leaps out of his skin when your voice calls out from behind the door, a slightly muffled: “Neuvillette, I know you’re out there. Stop dawdling and come in.” Resigning himself to his fate, he clicks open the door and shuffles in, embarrassed. “My apologies. I was worried you were sleeping and that I would be disturbing you.” You haven’t looked up from the book you’re reading. He recognises the book title with a start—The Soul of a Human. The box of tea in his hand almost slips out of his grip at his shock. “Well, you were fretting over it outside my door for five minutes.”

“I…apologise. Am I intruding?” He understands why you would be grumpy—your voice is awfully stuffy from the cold, and your face is pale. And lo and behold—you’re in the very same nightgown as you were that night. Neuvillette averts his gaze, ears burning. Ugh, what’s going on?

“No, you’re alright.” You pick up a bookmark to your side and slide it into the book, closing it, giving him your full attention. You look up at him, before your stare falls to the item in his hold. “What’s that you’ve got there?” “Oh, uh…” He glances down at it, searching for the right words. Wriothesley told me not to tell her he sent it… Neuvillette finally manages out, “…I brought some tea to clear your head. Care for a cup?” “How thoughtful of you!” An abrupt swell of pride at your thrilled affirmation envelops him, and confuses him. Ignoring it best he can, he ahems and turns for the coffee table. There’s a rustle of bedsheets and covers and you’re padding across the carpet for him. “Here, I’ll go ask Anaïs for a fresh pot of tea.”

“No, you must rest.” Neuvillette doesn’t even think before he’s already put a hand upon your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks for the door. You turn to look up at him in surprise, and he quickly removes his hand. “Erm—I can go and ask her. Just relax. You need as much bed rest as you can get, yes?” You stare at him silently, and he takes in your appearance. Hair unbrushed, up in a messy bun with wild strands of it flaring out, lips pale and chapped, nose red with your cold and your eyes are sunken with fatigue. I was a fool, staying out for as long as we did that night. But, despite it all, seeing your complexion bare and sickly, he’s rather struck with admiration.

He doesn’t realise he’s staring even more intensely than you when your quiet call of his name snaps him from his stupor. Blinking, Neuvillette takes a small step back. “Uh, sorry? Yes, I’ll go brew it.”

“That’s not what I sai—” But he’s already rushing for the door, leaving your hand outstretched in a feeble motion to stop him. Now it’s your turn to blink in bewilderment.

Man, he sure likes to stare. The bouts of chills you’ve been getting are traceless now, heat left in its place. You’ve never had someone look at you so appreciatively, and you’re sure you look like a gremlin right now. Neuvillette was dead silent and just studying you intently, like he was looking at the moon.

You move to pull open a window, disliking how abruptly hot the room has gotten. Should I do something about my appearance? He’s already seen you practically naked, and that thought makes you blush even more. Anxiously patting at your hair, you head for the bathroom and take a look at your reflection, almost recoiling in disgust. I look ghastly! You quickly run the tap water, splashing at your face, sucking in a breath at the chill of it. Goodness, no wonder he ran out of here! I look like something out of a nightmare.

You jump when the sound of your bedroom door clicking open reaches you and, with a rush of panic, you whirl around and shut the bathroom door. Soft footsteps pause, and Neuvillette’s voice calls out, “[Name], are you alright?” “Fine! Just—one moment, please.” You hurriedly pat your face and hands dry, then moving to yank your hair tie from your bun, wincing at the sharp pull. That’s right, I haven’t brushed my hair for a few days, I was so sick! It must be a rat’s nest, and I probably have split ends now! No matter how much you try to pry the tie from your hair, it won’t budge, and it hurts like hell.

Okay, stop panicking. Why are you even panicking anyway? It’s not like you can help looking so dreadful at present. What are you trying to do—impress him?

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” you softly whimper, bent over the sink awkwardly, gently trying to untangle the snag your hair tie has hit. You forget Neuvillette has exceptional hearing when three soft taps knock on the bathroom door.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You sound like you’re in pain.” He catches you by surprise, and you jump, hand still in your hair, ripping some strands out. Involuntarily, you yelp, cursing under your breath, arms sore from the angle. You hear Neuvillette’s polite, “I’m coming in” before the door clicks open.

Great. I wouldn’t blame him if he started laughing. One look in the mirror and it’s quite clear just how ridiculous you look right now. Hair flopping over your face, the end of it still tied together. Hot with humiliation, you rush to explain. “I…was trying to untie my hair, since it’s been up like this for a few days—” “Would you like some help?” Neuvillette shuts the door and approaches, hands reaching for your hair slowly, as if awaiting your permission. Seeing no other way, you nod feebly, your hair bouncing comically with the movement. “…Yes, please.” Neuvillette begins to remove his gloves; biting down on the material covering his middle finger and sliding it off smoothly. The action is so minimal, so natural—but you can’t help but find the sight extremely attractive. His eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head slightly in silent inquiry to your ogling of him. You look away, fidgeting. Things are starting to get out of hand.

At least there isn’t a hint of amusement in his face—he doesn’t seem to find your current state funny at all. You were expecting him to tease you, maybe chuckle at your silly state, but he’s perfectly expressionless. As usual, you suppose. Although, he does seem to smile a lot at you. His eyes are soft, too.

“Where is it tangled?” His voice is quiet. Neuvillette’s fingers wind into your hair, quickly finding the hair tie and observing the state of it. You have to keep your head bowed awkwardly—but you suppose it’s nice that he’s significantly taller than you, so you don’t have to lean over too far. You reach up and lightly grab his hand, guiding it to where it is specifically twisted. “There. It’s knotted, I think.”

“Mm, it is.” His fingers are gentle, never tugging or pulling, just carefully working away at untying the knot in your hair as best he can. “It’s not so bad it has to be cut, though. You are fortunate.”

Relief fills you. “I’m glad. I suppose you have to deal with such incidents yourself with your hair?”

Neuvillette chuckles. Gods, his laugh is so nice. “From time to time, yes. But I take very good care of my hair. Wouldn’t it be so silly if the Chief Justice oversaw a trial with matted hair?” “They wouldn’t let you in,” you laugh back, straightening slightly as your back muscles are beginning to ache. “Do you ever tie your hair up? Or try different hairstyles?” “I…can’t say I have.” Neuvillette shakes his hand, some strands of your hair falling to the floor, before he continues untangling your hair again. “I think I prefer it out, with just the ends tied.”

“I see.” You’re the opposite—having your hair down all the time gets in your way. So, you opt to have it up in a hair claw or gathered on top of your head in a messy bun. You really can’t fathom how Neuvillette gets around so easily without sitting on his hair or getting it stuck in doors. But then again, you suppose, he has been wandering around like this for centuries, so he ought to have learned how to manage it by now.

But the little girl in you always wants to reach for his hair. It looks perfect to braid and brush to your heart’s content, but you wouldn’t dare ask. All you know is that it’s soft and very well-kept, considering its lucent shine and the handful of times he’s picked you up and you had to hold onto his neck.

Such a train of thought makes you curious—what’s his morning routine? Nightly routine? Does he put his hair up in a net before sleeping? How long does it take him to brush it out each morning? Doesn’t it get bothersome at times? Has he ever had a haircut? And what are those blue things in his hair?

You voice that last question. “Neuvillette, what are those pretty blue ornaments hanging down from your head?” The movement of his hands in your hair freezes, and you immediately wish you could take your words back. You and your big mouth, [Name]! Haven’t you learned how to mind your business yet? Biting down on the inside of your right cheek, you move to apologise. “I’m sorry if it was a personal question, they’re just so peculi—”

“They’re, uh…” His quiet reply silences you, and Neuvillette begins to untangle your hair again. “I can understand why you’re curious. I can’t explain it, but they’re just…well…” “I dare say, they look like antennas,” you offer amiably, hoping to ease his clear awkwardness. “Or horns?” Then you giggle lightly. “Are you a dragon or something?”

Neuvillette swallows, beginning to sweat bullets. You just hit the nail on the head, and I can’t even tell you. He really can’t think of an excuse for them, but he isn’t about to indulge you in his secret. “I’ve been around for a long time, [Name], so surely it can’t be strange to realise that I may be some kind of mystical creature.”

“You said you’re not a vishap, so are you a dragon?”

“…Not exactly. I can’t really tell you, to be frank.” Sometimes, he wishes you weren’t so perceptive. It’s a valuable trait, yes, and he admires you for it, but it’s uncomfortable when he witnesses you practically unravelling his own secrets he’s kept very down-low right before his very eyes. Your quiet, observant demeanour is worth its weight in gold, but he wasn’t aware that you had been silently studying him also.

Well, it makes sense, if you think about it. You’re both married, and live in the same residence. It would be more logical to consider it strange if you weren’t curious about him—as he is you.

“Oh, I won’t pry, then.” It isn’t that factor that bothers him, he’s just a bit worried you’ll become suspicious, connect the dots—and it’s game over for him. If you haven’t already.

Silence reigns for a few moments, Neuvillette just gently unknotting your hair from the tie before finally pulling the band from your hair completely, holding it out to you. With the de-tanglement came a lot of pulled hairs, and a clump of some is still latched onto the tie. “There you are. Would you like to shower and wash your hair before joining me for tea?” “Uh, yes, I will.” Embarrassment fills you again. You glance at yourself in the mirror, letting loose a humourless laugh. “I look ridiculous.”

Neuvillette surprises you by patting your head, much like he does to the Melusines he’s so fond of. He’s smiling at you with that same gentle smile, too. “You look cute, if anything. There’s no need to be embarrassed. Things like this happen.” You stare at him. He thinks I look…cute?

Neuvillette appears to be perturbed by his own words. His eyes widen a fraction. “Uh—that is, there’s no need to put yourself down. Feel free to take your time.”

You, again, don’t get a chance to answer as he’s already whirled around and shut the door behind him.

・・・・

The bathroom door clicks open and you step out, towel wrapped around your head, hair up. You look and feel much more refreshed than before, face washed and moisturised. Neuvillette glances up from the newspaper he was reading and turns to you. “You look much better. I managed to keep the tea warm. Care for some?” “Of course.” You take a seat beside him, briefly shooting a glance towards the newspaper. And, as expected, the headlines are still going on about the announcement of Neuvillette’s marriage. One of the most notable headlines, Will There Be A Wedding? lines the top of the front page, along with a long string of columns holding articles on the matter.

“The Steambird is just eating this up.” You’re somewhat amused. You’ve, effectively, thrown the entirety of Fontaine into chaos. There’s a picture of you both at the tea party someone must’ve managed to snap just in time—Neuvillette’s lips upon your cheek, your expression perfectly surprised—displayed across the front page. You pick up the paper and begin reading the first few sentences of the article aloud, “For once, Fontaine has been graced with something much more exciting and shocking than the latest murder mystery resolved at the trials—the very man known for overseeing such hearings, Iudex Neuvillette, has recently announced his marriage to a young woman, Madame [Name].” It’s so ludicrous. Furina must be overjoyed.

You hear Neuvillette sigh from beside you, then the trickle of tea being poured sounds. “It gets better. The subtle slights thrown your way, in particular, are especially riveting.” Sarcasm drips from his tone. “I don’t recommend reading it. I’ve half a mind to send for them to halt publication of such an offensive article.”

“No need, I was prepared for this.” Society is fueled by vanity. Everyone likely expected Neuvillette, an unreachable, enigmatic figure with the face of an angel, to follow down a fairy-tale storyline. He would choose a woman equal to him in appearance, someone gorgeous and loveable, not someone who looks like every other person you pass by on the street. Not someone normal.

You’ve long grown a thick skin to scornful comments from those around you—commonly people you don’t even know, and who don’t know you—but it hurts a bit to be compared to the man next to you. So you opt to ask him what he thinks of your appearance.

“Well, Neuvillette, what is your opinion on me?” You brace yourself for the worst. But he’s too nice a person to give it to you straight. Perhaps his hesitance to confide in you of his true, maybe even superficial, views on you is a factor that could wound you deeply.

“Opinion?” He echoes, surprised. Neuvillette sets down his cup upon the saucer in his hand with a soft clink, mauve eyes rather bemused. “…Could you be a little more specific?” You have to choose your words carefully—you don’t want your deep-seated, pushed-down insecurities revealed, nor do you want to look like you’re fishing for compliments. For attention. You just want honesty, not flattery. “Erm…well, have you found that you would have rathered a more comely wife?” “I will be perfectly frank.” Neuvillette places his cup and saucer on the coffee table before you both, before leaning back and facing you fully. “I am not someone who goes for what’s on the outside. However, in this sense and our situation, I never had a choice anyway—not that that’s turned out to be a bad thing.” He, too, seems to be having trouble wording it right. “What I mean to say is, I like you. Your personality. And it’s very easy to look past all those superficial, facile ideals of beauty and appeal once you understand the heart of who you’re dealing with.”

Yeah, he should’ve been a poet. You want to tease him, but now is not the time. You also didn’t expect his words to comfort you so much. Beauty is a double-edged sword, and so is being average. Then it hits you—wait, could this be considered a…confession, of sorts?

“So, you’re saying…you don’t care about my appearance? Like how the entire country and Furina does?” “I never did. Why do you think I chose you? If I wanted a beautiful woman, I need only have taken my pick. I could send a letter to some nobleman with a particularly attractive young daughter and solved all his problems with marrying her off. But I didn’t. Although this situation is unromantic and unideal, that doesn’t mean I wanted it to be unrealistic.”

His words make you ponder. He had options, but he selected me. “…You could still say you had no choice, Neuvillette. The only reason I wound up here is because we danced and sent the ball rolling—a ball Furina herself put there, waiting for someone to kick.”

“Yes, you could. But you had a level head, could manage yourself under pressure, and you’re not the type to take much to heart. I needed someone rational, and it seemed like you were the only logical woman there.”

But it’s not like you were different from all the others. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, really. You give him a rather rueful smile. “You’ve misunderstood me once more, Neuvillette.”

“Sorry?” He almost flinches at your words. “Misunderstood you? How do you mean?” “I am not some sensation. We were both in sticky situations and we both appeared before each other in the nick of time. And I didn’t see you talking to any other woman apart from Clorinde that night. You didn’t try to seek someone out—it’s like you just hoped the right person would come along. And they did.” Neuvillette’s gaze drops, hurt flashing across his features. You feel pierced, like you just hurt yourself too, but you push that guilt down. This is not going how I intended it to. Miscommunication strikes again. And it’s the only thing you’re both capable of, because you have some silly little piece of paper to stick to and blurring lines to stay behind.

It’s frustrating, actually. You want to know more, but the contract says no. You’ve both come so close to breaking those rules you set for yourselves, only to pull away just in time. A chemistry you never asked for sputtered to life between you both, but it’s something to be adamantly—indefatigably—avoided. Why is it such torture?

Torment like no other. Ha. You’re talking as if you know what this is. But you don’t. And you won’t. All you know is that you can’t.

“I…” Neuvillette seems to be at a loss for words. “I’m not sure what to say.” “It’s alright.” You lean forward and pat his hand, which is curled into a tightly clenched fist. “You didn’t have a choice. This isn’t your fault.” But it will be your fault if this continues on and becomes something it shouldn’t. No matter how you strain to touch his face, you will be lost beneath the waves.

did I post this MINUTES after my announcement of how it'll be up today? yes. yes I did.

anyways HELLOOOOO AGAIN EVERYONE!! so nice to see you all once more <3 I hope you're healthy and well and don't have 4 massive cavities to be filled like I do!! 🥰

again, so sorry this took ten years. ive had other projects (love and deepspace) that I've been slaving away on and school assignments (that im procrastinating from) on my plate as well :((( BUT!! not to worry, for chapter 14 is here 🤭‼️

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! and recovered from the last one. cause WOW 😨 I need to seek professional help ☺️

taglist!

@shiroonekoo @just-here-reading @avyakaslana @eternal-dokja @confusedparticle @xitrinez @tanspostsblog @vcatson @sek0ya @loving-august @mxyarylla @ultigoblin @constantlyoverthinking @pvbbyb0y @lynettezzp @esthelily @furblrwurblr @sangoqueenkoko @lacunaanonymoused

#⌗ ༘ ⋆｡𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐒❜ works !#neuvillette #genshin #chief justice neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #fontaine #neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x female reader #genshin neuvillette #furina #genshin impact

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whatiwillsay · 1 month

Note

Girl I gotta tell you about the most batshit conversation I had last night. I should mention that we had weed/alcohol/❄️ in our systems so she very well could have been off her rocker and making half of this shit up, but it was so damn elaborate I had to share lol.

I Was at a party in New York and was talking with this girl who’s a friend of a friend. I wouldn’t necessarily call her a normie because she does have a bit of a following, but she’s definitely not a widely known person and has like a salaried job lol. Somehow Taylor comes up and the girl super casually goes “oh I used to know Taylor” and I’m automatically like ??? expand on that please.

She goes on to tell me she was working for Vogue at the time (2016) and was somehow involved with Taylor’s May cover. She said they got to talking and found out they had a couple mutual friends, one of which was ruby rose. She allegedly told Taylor about how she was going to Coachella with ruby and Taylor said she was going too and they planned to meet up there. She said she went to the house Taylor was renting for Coachella to party and she said Taylor got really fucked up and was talking shit about Calvin and todrick hall was like defending him or something and Taylor got extremely pissed off and started crying and made him leave???

Fast forward to the summer she said they became like casual friends and hung out a few times when Taylor was in New York. She said she went to a party at Taylor’s place and she had a tattoo artist there and taylor got a white ink tattoo of cherries in her bikini area and it looked like absolute shit.

She said that fall she was at another party at her place and taylor was on another planet and skinny dipped/made out with a famous girlie (not one that is speculated about in terms of Gaylor) in the pool in front of like a dozen people.

Cara Delevigne allegedly OD’d at the Cornelia St place and taylor had her security administer narcan and refused to let them call an ambulance. Her security team took Cara to the hospital and taylor kept the party going

She said she met Joe once and he was extremely quiet and sat in the corner by himself taking rip after rip from a bong.

This was funny but she said Taylor’s cat scratched the shit out of her hand one night and Taylor gave her a thousand dollars???

The girl ended up moving to Paris in 2017 and they hung out once or twice more when they were both in New York but kind of lost touch and she hasn’t spoken to Taylor since 2019ish, but Taylor did gift her really great tickets to rep tour and she showed me a photo of them backstage.

A few other things she mentioned - allegedly cokelor is real and at least back then taylor loooved the snow. She also smoked what she described as a significant about of weed and was always stoned. I asked about Dianna/Lily/Karlie - she said she didn’t know anything for sure but taylor was always open about being attracted to women at least sexually and that Karlie’s boyfriend was always around. She also said Karlie’s sister hooked up with Taylor’s brother at a party???

Basically her consensus on Taylor was that what the public sees isn’t what she experienced and that Taylor is a hot hot mess and a little crazy. Again I personally don’t know if I believe all this but she did show me some photos with Taylor/from inside her home, so I do kinda believe she did know her in some capacity. It was just too bananas not to share.

BESTIE COME OFF ANON LETS TALK LETS TALK LMAO

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eyedelater · 1 year

Text

noda-sensei's art peculiarities

(links are carefully selected example images from golden kamuy)

incredibly skilled with the human form; even difficult poses are rendered perfectly. (does he make everyone naked just to show off?)

babies are Not cute. they're ugly with puffy eyes and always look sleepy and disgusted.

clearly hates drawing teeth and the inside of mouths. notably just leaves the inside of mouths white most of the time. sometimes draws rough teeth, sometimes draws detailed teeth, sometimes implies teeth with shading, sometimes fills it in grey— it's not consistent at all. i think i've deduced that what he hates the most is calculating the position of teeth in the mouth.

despite the above point, he seems to always draw sofia's teeth because her tooth gap is an important part of her character design

sometimes zooms in and draws details (especially on hands) then zooms out and you can tell because now the line weight is a little different

3/4 view from behind (1/4 view?) of people's faces where you just see the funny bumps of their lips. and it always works

big round sweat drips that often have Texture and Shading.

incredibly skilled at drawing animals, even notoriously difficult ones like horses. though most of the animals die. especially horses.

amount of sparkle in the eyes is meaningful. more sparkle indicates the lightness of their spirit, and no sparkle indicates coldness or jadedness. best/worst example is reinvigorated tsukishima. asirpa is of course also a critical example. and i think ogata's eyes never have any sparkle his whole life.

he can draw wrinkles in the places where they would normally go on someone's face, and he can do it well. or he can decide to draw Other lines on someone's face, in any spot, and if someone questions it, the answer is that they're just like that, and you have to accept it. i really like this "they're just like that" approach to character design, and there are many examples in golden kamuy (e.g. ariko's square irises and pupils, ushiyama's forehead plate, tsukishima's nose)

really good at drawing the way strands of hair wrap over the top of someone's head. (look at tsurumi, ogata, hijikata)

he'll draw chapped lips that'll make your own lips feel real dry.

mouths are often shaped like that... but it works

eyes are usually black, but sometimes a character's pupils will get really small during moments of high tension and you can see their iris and it's light

this is just a hunch but i think he prefers drawing men over women

judicious use of lines going up from the corners of the mouth

he's not a coward: if a character's chest is exposed and the angle is right, he will draw that character's nipples, and that is right and just. he will apply the same principle to draw a character's butthole, which i don't have such a strong opinion about.

there are lots of men with very close-cut hair (bc it's the military) and that's not distinctive, so he gets creative with the hairlines. i think this is an underrated aspect of character design.

careful use of line weight on the corners of closed mouths has a powerful effect (of cuteness?) (look out for this next time you read the manga. it's everywhere and it's the best.)

consistently skillful use of ink splatter effects for blood; similar splattery effects used for snow

eyebrows and other facial hair are usually drawn as multiple long, thin lines together, and for an eyebrow with emotion, you put a couple of perpendicular lines at one end or both

strands of blood or hair extend and curl around in unrealistic ways for dramatic effect. this effect is omnipresent.

occasional really, really choice faces that were obviously drawn either from photo reference or while looking in a mirror

character design by actually giving everyone different facial features, as opposed to character design by assigning different hair and accessories to uniformly pretty people. the latter is much easier, but he chose the thorny path of his own will! thank you for setting a strong example, noda-sensei!

#golden kamuy #noda satoru #golden kamuy spoilers #i didn't bring you an example of noda-sensei drawing the butthole but look when they're all getting out of the outdoor bath

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withacapitalp · 1 year

Text

Countdown Pt 3

Part One Part Two

Tw: Slight suicidal ideation and general grieving

--------------------------------------

They only carry a couple things with them on the run.

Surviving the apocalypse isn’t pretty, and it’s easier to make a quick escape if they’re always traveling light. Essentials only, with a few sentimental items so they don’t completely lose their minds.

Nancy had her journals, Max had her skateboard (even if she couldn’t use it right now), Will brought a pack of colored pencils, and Steve was pretty sure Hopper had somehow saved a half a pack of smokes.

And Steve….Steve has a shoebox.

It’s an old thing, held together with duct tape and decorated with sharpie doodles. Wayne had given it to him right before he left town, along with the necklace that Steve kept around his neck every moment of every day.

He’s never let any of them look in it. They think he’s insane, but they’re not the ones with zeroed out timers.

This shoebox is all he has left of his soulmate.

What’s inside would seem like junk to most people. A handful of rocks of varying size, shapes, and colors. A leather cuff with spikes that Steve had immediately put around his timer wrist to hide it from view. A matchbook from a gay bar in Indianapolis, a Spalding bouncy ball. Some hand-sewn patches with logos he didn’t recognize, three different mini figures, a dozen faded beautiful photographs, and a single mixtape.

Only Robin knew about the mixtape. He had only told her in case they needed a song for him. That mixtape was the only thing in the world that had the song that could save his life.

But the most important thing in that box was the letters.

He read one every night. He had promised himself he wouldn’t read more than one. It was routine. When it was his turn to be on watch and the rest of their family was sound asleep, Steve would open his shoebox, pull out a letter, and read it.

The first one is probably his favorite. It was written in dark red marker on yellow construction paper, the edges ripped and torn with age. The marker bled through the back of the paper where the child who wrote the letter had pressed down too hard, and Steve could imagine the way his fingers must have stained from the ink. Blood red. The same way his fingers were stained when he died.

7/4/1971

TWO SULMAYT,

HI.

I AM EDDIE MUNSON. I AM FIVE YEARS OLD. I LIKE TRUKS. YU SHUD LIKE THEM TO. WE CAN WATCH THE BIG TRUKS!

WHAT IS YUR NAMY?

BIE

LUV EDDIE

P. S. I HAD A NANA FOR BRIKFEST. YUM.

There was a picture of two giant monster trucks under the words, and a tiny thing Steve assumed was a banana under the postscript. Steve keeps that one tucked in his jacket pocket, just in case he ever loses his bag or his precious shoebox.

He keeps the first in his side pocket, and keeps the last one in the breast pocket right above his heart

6/13/1986

Hi Love,

The first one says ‘Two Sulmayt’ but every one after that starts with ‘Hi Love’.

Steve can’t help wondering if Eddie would have eventually called him ‘Love’ if they had gotten more time.

Well, if you’re reading this, then I guess my plan to be the one that lived really didn’t work out. Damn, that sucks. Probably a little bit more for you than for me.

I don't know how you dealt with knowing we only had five days, but I thought it was kinda fucked. Like damn, really? Five? The universe sure has a funny sense of humor, doesn’t it, Love? Or maybe it just hates me. That is also a very real possibility.

Maybe. But if the universe hated Eddie, then it must hate Steve more for making him continue to live. For giving him other people to love, people to care about, people to force him to not give up.

Anyways this is how I dealt with it. If you only get five days to have me, I’m going to make sure you know me. Or know who I was at least. One letter a month for the last 12 years, and a bunch of random one off ones from when I was little. Before I lived with Wayne it was kind of catch as catch can with paper and stuff, and I was also like seven, so how many letters do you really want from a seven year old who still can’t spell ‘Difficulty’?

I know how to now, by the way. Mrs. D, Mrs. I, yada yada. Do you ever wonder why all those women are married? I think that’s stupid. Forced conformity, even in our nursery rhymes.

That joke always made Steve laugh. He’s read this letter so many times it’s starting to come apart at the creases, but it still made him pause and chuckle.

Anyways. This is yours. Eleven letters a year for twelve years is one hundred and thirty two. Adding in the ones from before, it’s probably around a hundred and fifty. It’s not the same as having me around, but if you spread them out, you might get thirteen years or so before you have to start rereading them.

Or read them all in one sitting. Do whatever you want.

Steve had counted. It was one hundred and forty one. He read one new one a night, because every single day they survived seemed like a miracle right now.

He only had seventy three more left.

Not like I can stop you, haha.

That’s probably not as funny to you as I want it to be. Sorry, Love.

It wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest. Steve wanted Eddie here, wanted him to tell him to wait. He wanted Eddie to write him more letters.

Oh, I also included a bunch of stuff I thought was too cool to lose, and a mixtape with songs that I wrote for my band. I thought you might want to get to hear my voice. It’s probably stupid, but you don’t have to listen to them if you don’t want to.

Steve listened to it. They had been forced to scrounge up new batteries for his walkman three times because it kept dying.

Everything in this box is yours, Wayne has strict instructions to give it to you. And, anything of mine Wayne doesn’t want is for you too.

Wow. A whole trust fund of trailer park trash. Some people leave their soulmates huge inheritances. I left you rocks and pictures and a shit ton of letters. Aren’t you lucky, Love?

He was lucky. He had seventy three more letters. Seventy three more reasons to survive another day.

After that…Steve wasn’t sure if he would be lucky anymore.

Now if you’re good at math- which I hope you are, because I’m terrible at it- then you might be saying to yourself ‘Is my soulmate an idiot? Does he not know there’s twelve months in a year?’

No. I’m actually incredibly smart, even though my grades don’t really show it. I rewrite this top of the box letter every year on my birthday, and then I burn the last one. It’s a fun, extremely morbid, tradition.

I’m 20 today, Love. I wonder how old you are a lot. I hope you’re close to my age at least. Maybe you’re like fifty years older than me, and I meet you when you’re on your deathbed, and that’s why we only have five days.

They had only gotten five days because Steve hadn’t just taken Eddie and run. He should have just told Eddie to go as far from Hawkins as possible the second he realized. Fuck the rest of the world, fuck stopping the apocalypse. The best part of Steve was already dead.

Two whole decades, but somehow I’m still in high school. I failed. Again. I wrote a lot about it in my letter last month, so I’m not going to talk about it again. Suffice to say I’m pretty bummed. I mean, c’mon, even Steve Harrington managed to graduate last year, and that guy barely even went to class during senior year.

That part of the letter always made his stomach turn. He hated the reminder of all the wasted time, the little nudge that always told him it was his fault they barely had any time.

If he had only looked up.

Oh, well. This one is it. ‘86 baby! I’d say I want this to be the year I meet you, but I really want to graduate, so maybe hold off for just one more year? Stay wherever you are for just twelve more months, Love, just to be safe. Then I can put a picture of me flipping off my principal in this box for you. I’ll add my diploma in too, just to prove to you I did it.

Eddie wasn’t going to get a diploma.

If you wait a year, I’ll give you twelve more letters. So just wait one more year. By then, I think I’ll know what to say to make this better. I’ll know what to do to fill the gap I know you’re going to have. I’ll have something to say that will fix all this. I say that every year, and I never do, but hey, ‘86.

Nothing anyone said would fix this. Nothing Eddie could write would fill the hole left in Steve’s soul. Nothing.

I’m sorry.

I say that every year too.

Steve didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want letters. He didn’t want a hard to hear voice on a single mixtape.

He wanted Eddie.

Well. Happy birthday to me. One more year without meeting you. Eleven more letters. You better be doing something just as nice for me in case it's you that bites it, or I’m bringing your ass back just to kill you again.

Steve didn’t care if Eddie killed him. Eddie could reappear right now and immediately shoot Steve and he would die happy. He just wanted one more minute. Just a little more time.

…Wait just a little bit longer. I’ll have better words next year.

Can you do that for me, Love?

P.S. You should read the first letter I wrote to you, just to appreciate how eloquent and charming I am in this one.

Eddie called him ‘Love’. Eddie asked him to wait. Eddie wanted to have the right words. He wanted to live long enough to save Steve from his own broken heart.

Steve wishes he had waited.

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parkerslatte · 1 year

Text

Songbird || ELEVEN

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.5k

Part Summary: Y/N works towards her album when things go drastically downhill.

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‘‘‘

TRACK ELEVEN;

DON’T ACT LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW

…

Y/N L/N: You know those times when everything is going almost too perfectly? Well I was having one of those.

…

It was early in the morning, about seven, and Y/N was at the studio having a discussion with Teddy. She was surprised when he had called her, she wasn’t needed at the studio at any point that week so she knew it must’ve been important.

“So what’s going on?” Y/N questioned.

“Well, I had a talk with the label and they agreed with me.” Teddy begins

“With what?”

“That it’s about time you cut an album.” Teddy says with a smile.

“No way!” Y/N exclaimed, “You’re joking.”

“I’m not joking.” Teddy says.

“Oh my god!” Y/N exclaims, hugging Teddy.

“Try and write some things over the next few days and then we’ll have another meeting to discuss everything.” Teddy says.

“I will, I definitely will.” Y/N says, a wide smile on her face.

When Y/N got back to the house, she was elated. She was finally getting everything she wanted.

“What made you so happy?” Warren questioned.

“I’m making a fucking album!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Are you serious?” Warren asked, smiling.

Y/N nodded and Warren gave her a hug. The two continued to sway in the kitchen for a moment, arms around each other. Y/N hadn’t seen much of Warren recently, every time she was around him, Eddie wouldn’t be too far away and Y/N wanted to avoid him as much as possible.

“You know what this means right?” Warren said.

“What?”

“We’ll be fighting for the number one album.” Warren says.

Y/N laughs pulling away from Warren, “I’ve had two number one singles, you’ve only had one, I’m already a step ahead.”

“What’s going on here?” Eddie questioned, suddenly appearing.

Everyone suddenly got quiet. The whole band knew that something had happened between Y/N and Eddie but no one had mentioned it, hoping that whatever it was would resolve itself.

“I’m making an album.” Y/N finally answers, “I had a meeting with Teddy earlier.”

Eddie nodded, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Y/N says, sensing the awkward atmosphere she cleared her throat, “I’m just gonna head to my room and work on a few songs.”

Y/N left in a haste leaving Eddie and Warren standing in the kitchen.

“Okay, man, what is all this about?” Warren finally asked.

“What’s what about?” Edde says, getting a beer from the fridge.

“You and Y/N,” Warren says, “One minute you’re all over each other and the next you won’t even look each other in the eye.”

“Nothing happened,” Eddie answered, “We’re fine.”

“Well you both have a funny way of showing it,” Warren says, “Whatever is going on with you two, fix it.”

Warren walked out the kitchen leaving Eddie alone.

***

Y/N L/N: I don’t think I left my room at all for the next couple of days, Karen brought me food when I forgot. I had ink staining my hands, countless pens scattered around the bin because I missed when they ran out of ink. I devoted all of my time to writing my songs, never taking a break for myself.

WARREN ROJAS: I was worried about Y/N, she wasn’t herself lately and she never came out of her room. I know that she was writing songs for her album but she just kind of forgot to take care of herself. I think it was only me and Karen that noticed.

…

The door to Y/N’s room opened and Warren stood in the doorway. Y/N looked up, bags under her eyes from lack of sleep.

“Get your jacket, we’re going to the movies.” Warren says.

“I thought you were meant to be at the studio?” Y/N says.

“Daisy and Billy had an argument about the album so Teddy sent them away,” Warren explains, “So we have a day off.”

“So take someone else to the movies, I’m busy.” Y/N says.

“No, I’m taking you,” Warren says, “You’ve been locked in here since you had that meeting with Teddy.”

“Because I need to get these songs perfect, Warren.” Y/N says.

“And they probably already are,” Warren says, grabbing Y/N’s arm and dragging her up from the bed, “Come on, you’re coming with me.”

Sighing, Y/N got to her feet and slowly made her way over to her closet and pulled out a jacket and grabbed her shoes. As she put them on she let out a long yawn.

“When was the last time you slept?” Warren says.

“I had a couple hours earlier,” Y/N says, “I haven’t had a proper night's sleep.”

Warren sighed before walking out of Y/N’s room, “I’ll meet you outside.”

Y/N nodded before she sat down on her bed to put her shoes on. Shrugging her jacket on, she stepped out into the hallway and directly into Eddie.

“Sorry,” She mumbled.

“No, it’s fine-” Eddie says, “Hey, are you okay?”

Y/N looked up at Eddie, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern. His hand was still gently holding onto her upper arm as he spoke and Y/N was fully aware of it.

“I’m fine.” Y/N answered.

“No you’re not.” Eddie says softly.

Y/N looked down and before she had a chance to answer, Warren’s voice echoed throughout the house, “Y/N, Eddie, come on, we don’t want to miss it.”

“You’re coming too?” Y/N questioned as they walked down the hallway.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “Warren asked me to come earlier. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine.” Y/N says.

Eddie simply nodded as the two met up with Warren who was waiting outside, “Finally, I don’t want to miss the movie.”

Y/N chuckled a little, “You’ve already seen it once.”

“Yeah, but it’s a fucking masterpiece.”

Y/N shook her head before she got into the van.

***

As Y/N sat down in her seat she couldn’t help but be fully aware of Eddie’s arm pressed up against hers. Despite still wearing her jacket her entire arm was on fire. By the time the film started, Y/N could barely concentrate on it, the only thing she could concentrate on was Eddie’s arm.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Eddie was feeling the same way. He constantly snuck looks at Y/N out of the corner of his eye, deep down he was hoping she noticed. His body was rigid and he didn’t move, afraid that if he moved, Y/N would become aware and move away on her own.

“This is the best bit.” Warren whispered into Y/N’s ear.

Y/N only nodded and continued to watch the film, although all the dialogue went in one ear and out of the other. She was too distracted. As the film ended, Warren was immediately up and heading to the bathroom, leaving Y/N and Eddie alone.

The two stood around waiting for Warren who was taking his time. Neither of them said anything but they wanted to say everything at the same time. As soon as the two made eye contact, Eddie immediately broke.

“Can we try to go back to how we were before, y’know like before everything?” Eddie says. Deep down he didn’t want to, all he wanted to do was pull Y/N in his arms and kiss her until he couldn’t breathe, but as far as he knew, Y/N didn’t want that.

Y/N sighed, “Eddie-”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but-but I can’t stand not talking to you. I feel awful about not talking to you after it happened and I regret that.” Eddie says.

“It’s okay,” Y/N says.

“It’s not and I know it’s not,” Eddie says, stepping closer to Y/N, “Can we at least try to get things back on track?”

Y/N paused, she wanted to, no she needed to. But there was something inside stopping her and she couldn’t explain what it was. She knew that no matter how hard they tried, nothing would go back to how it was before. The damage was already done. Whatever relationship the two had would never be the same.

“We can try.” Y/N says, offering him a small smile.

Eddie nodded, however he wasn’t fully satisfied with the answer.

“You two ready to go?” Warren questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” Y/N says and the three walked out the movie theatre.

***

As Y/N, Warren and Eddie stepped foot back in the house, Y/N felt a litle better than she did when she left that afternoon. Her relationship with Eddie was better, it wasn’t completely fixed but they worked on moving past everything and hopefully moving on. Despite this agreement, Y/N didn’t want to move on, she wanted to figure out her feelings because she knew that what she was feeling for Eddie wasn't normal.

“Honeys, I’m home!” Warren exclaimed, making his way to the living room.

“Hey.” Warren greeted Graham and Karen who sat on the couch, “You guys heard from Billy yet?”

“Uh no.” Graham says as the phone continues to ring.

“Is anyone going to pick that up?” Y/N questions.

Eddie looks at her before picking up the phone, “Hello? Okay…yeah sure, no problem. Mm-hmm. Be right there.”

Eddie places the phone back down and everyone remains in silence waiting for Eddie to speak, “That was Teddy.”

“What’d he say?” Warren questions.

“He says that he wants us at the studio,” Eddie says, “And to bring Y/N.”

“Me? Why me?” Y/N asks.

“I don’t know, he didn’t say.” Eddie answers.

“Do you think Daisy and Billy managed to write together peacefully?” Graham questions as the group exits the house.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” Y/N answers as they all piled in the van.

***

When everyone walked into the studio, Daisy and Billy sat there laughing together to the surprise of everyone. Y/N shared a look of shock with Graham. As the band entered, the laughter between Daisy and Billy died down.

Y/N headed over to the booth to Teddy, “Eddie said you wanted me here too?”

“I do,” Teddy says, a sombre tone to his voice, “It’s about your album, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of things written that I can’t wait to show you and-”

“It’s not going ahead, Y/N.” Teddy says.

The smile falls from Y/N’s face, “What?”

“Billy doesn’t want to play guitar on stage and he says that you’re a good guitarist.” Teddy says.

“I am but what does this have to do with my album?” Y/N says, her voice cracking.

“Billy doesn’t want to play guitar on stage and he says that you are a good guitarist.” Teddy says, “So I am asking you if you want to join the band.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Y/N says, anger lacing her tone, “You want me to join the band.”

“The label isn't putting any money towards your album, Y/N,” Teddy explains, “In their words, not mine, they don’t want to waste their time on a solo artist while they can invest money into the band. Billy wants you to join the band as the rhythm guitarist.”

“Wasting their time?” Y/N says, her voice harsh, “I’ve had two number one singles that people love and request to play on the radio all the time, they’ve only had one. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am and you’re what? Just giving up on me. Because I can tell you for a fact that Billy doesn’t want me in the band, this is all you Teddy for a way of sparing my feelings,” Y/N lowered her voice into a low whisper, “And that’s bullshit.”

Storming out of the building and into the fresh air, Y/N let out a scream of frustration. Everything she had been working towards had been just flushed away in the matter of seconds.

The doors opened and Y/N didn’t even bother turning around, “Don’t even fucking bother Teddy, I’m done.”

“You’re done?” Came the voice of Billy Dunne.

Y/N laughed but there was no humour behind it, “You are the last person I want to see.”

“Y/N just come and join the band.” Billy called out to her.

“You don’t even want me in the band, you don’t even like me Billy, why are you suddenly trying to convince me otherwise.” Y/N exclaims.

“You’re Camila’s best friend,” Billy says, “I’m only allowing you to join because of her.”

“Wow! ‘Allowing me?’” Y/N mocks, “How many times have I told you people that I don’t want to be a band, never have, never will.”

“You know most people would kill for this opportunity.” Billy says, stepping closer, “And you’re just throwing it away like it’s nothing.”

“I am,” Y/N says, “Because I know exactly what will happen, I will be pushed to the side, everyone will, and it will literally be the Billy Dunne show, like it always has been.”

Billy rolled his eyes, “Y’know you are an ungrateful bitch when you want to be.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Billy says, “You’re ungrateful, you’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter and you take it for granted.”

“I have not had everything handed to me on a silver platter, I would say that you’re mistaking that for yourself,” Y/N hissed, “Oh look, Billy Dunne doesn’t want to play guitar let’s get a new guitarist so he can freely prance about on the stage.”

Billy chuckled, “You want to know something, Y/N? You wouldn’t have the career you have now if it wasn’t because of me. I’m the one that gave Teddy your tape to listen to. Your number one singles wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for me. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be working in that record shop performing to the same ten people over and over again until you gave up and realised that you weren’t good enough.”

“I fucking hate you, Billy Dunne.” Y/N says, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

“Yeah, well the feeling’s mutual.” Billy says, “Now, if you don’t join the band, Y/N, your career isn’t going anywhere, the label is going to drop you. I’m giving you a chance here.”

***

As the two walked back into the studio, Y/N followed behind Billy. As the two entered all the attention turned to them. Y/N was seething with anger, but she didn’t allow it to show, she kept it bottled up.

“Everyone, I have an announcement.” Billy says.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Eddie trying to get her attention but she ignored him, she ignored everyone.

“Y/N is joining the band as our new rhythm guitarist.” Billy says a fake smile on his face.

Everyone around her broke into smiles and applause, but Y/N didn’t react. Everyone shared looks with one another and slowly Warren’s smile faded as he noticed the expression on Y/N's face.

“What about Y/N’s album?” He questioned.

When Y/N didn’t answer, that was enough of an answer for Warren.

“So, for this song Y/N, this is what you’re going to do…”

Y/N listened, though she continued to stare forwards at the wall, no emotion on her face. At that point in time she only thought one thing. I fucking hate Billy Dunne.

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emsgwenstan · 6 months

Text

Papers and ink

Larissa Weems x student reader (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of sh, blood, traumatic experiences?

Words: about 4K.

Idk what this is just came out, it is a lil bit heavy but very quick, a lot more details could have been said but I’ll leave that to ur imagination. I used ‘mum’ instead of ‘mom’ because one I’m Australian and two Larissa is English so… enjoy xx

———

Sitting on your bed with your so called diary; the one you criticised other’s for having because it’s such a cliche for a teenage girl to have, you drew on todays page, no words wanting to form from your brain to paper. Your doodling was interrupted by a knock at the door, if it were your roommate she wouldn’t have knocked.

“Principal Weems.” You said, moving the book and pens to the side and asking her to sit. “Afternoon y/n, how are you darling?” She asked, tilting her head down trying to catch your gaze. “Well, I suppose, and you?” You wondered, meeting her gaze with a superficial smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine, I wanted to check up on you.” She pressed. “Yes, a welfare check up on the poor depressed, sick, burden of a student, right?” You sighed, feeling a little guilty at your backhandedness. “That’s not funny y/n, I’m serious I need to know how you are, not as a care provider or principal, but as me, I need you to talk and confide your trust in me, you can’t shut down again, not after what happened last time.”

You dropped the sarcasm and caught onto her tone. Larissa was referring to a couple of months ago when she asked for students help with carrying some things to a classroom, but in the midst of moving a box, your jumper sleeve rode up and she saw the markings embellished in your skin, and the slivers of blood seeping through the material. Since than she makes it a routine thing to check on you every four days, as annoying as it is, you understand her worry and have come to enjoy her company.

“I’m fine, honestly.” You spoke through your teeth, pleading to what ever she would just leave it alone, you weren’t that lucky. “Show me.” She said. “What?” You were shocked, knowing exactly what the principal is talking about. “Your arms, I will believe you if you show me.” She calmly asked. “No.” You said avoiding her. “Than you are in fact not fine, sweetheart.” She said placing a hand on you knee.

After a while of silence you decide to lift off your hoodie all together, Larissa didn’t move a muscle, instead just waiting for where your going with this. You outstretched your arm and lay your palm face up in her lap. Larissa’s gaze went from the floor to your skin, blinking slowly almost as if it were painful to do so she was met with the familiar red raw lines that stared back at her in torment.

“When was the last time?” She asked, placing her fingertips round the raised wounds. “Night before last…. I’m sorry.” You whispered. “Don’t apologise, I understand. I cannot stop you but it’s disappointing darling, not that I’m disappointed in you, just how you have fallen to having the need to harm yourself.” Larissa’s voice broke and her eyes glazed over. “I’m still sorry though, I… I don’t want to hurt you.” You said with furrowed brows and a heavy bottom lip. “You aren’t y/n. I just wish I could take all of you pain away from you, but I will spend as long as it takes to make you feel better ok?” She curled her hand in yours and used the other to cup your cheek showing her sincerity.

You could see the internal debate with herself displayed on her face before she spoke. “I’d like to share something with you.” Larissa said stroking your cheekbone. “Ok…” You breathed. “when I was your age I shared the same illness, I was in a downward spiral for a very long time. I used to be someone that did everything for everyone and didn’t get a single thing in return, I had crushes and had enough courage to tell them and I was humiliated every time I was turned down. I tried my best in every aspect, academically and socially, every bit of my life and it never seemed to be enough, all parts just crumbled, at least that’s how it felt.” Her face contorted as she reminisced her dark past.

You placed your free hand on top of your already intertwined ones, trying to show your interest and support wanting her to continue. “So… I turned to harming myself.” Her words twisted in your stomach feeling the sense of dread set in, releasing how she must feel about you. Larissa readjusted the way she was sitting, removing her hand from your face to the hem of her dress, also revoking your grasp on her hand to shimmy up the fabric until it bunched around her hips and the tops of her thighs were displayed.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the faded lacerations that adorned her legs. Your mouth fell open as your gaze switched between the principles eyes and her legs. As if you couldn’t control your actions, fingers went curiously towards her scars, but snapping back to reality you slowed. “May I… can-“ you stuttered not exactly sure of what you want yourself. Larissa however, knew what you wanted, she hooked her fingers under yours and brought them to her old wounds.

The feeling of her healed but raised flesh was bewildering, tracing every line with astonishment, curiosity and admiration you didn’t know how to comprehend words. “It’s been a very long time, 26 years actually, but I won’t lie to you… I do have thoughts of doing it again, but I don’t because I have young ones like you I have to set an example for, but also because I don’t really need to either.” She admitted.

“So… how did you get better?” Your small voice hoping for a easy remedy. “I-.” She started before you cut her off by quickly searching your bed. Grabbing a pen you told her to continue. Regaining where she was up to with your question she began to speak again. “I had to let my self feel bad and try to help myself, find healthy coping mechanisms and get out more, socialise and do the things I enjoy instead of putting them off, anything to keep the voice in my head at bay, after a while it got easier, less feeling the need to hurt myself, more moving forward from the dark and into the lighter parts of life.”

You open the pen and with out asking started to draw little stars over her scars, Larissa knows you function and concentrate best whilst using your hands. “What made you do it in the first place? If that’s ok, you don’t need to answer.” You paused to look deep into her eyes showing your interest and wanting her to know your care. Larissa hesitated before speaking, it’s only now she comes to realise herself that this is the first time she’s ever told anyone about her history.

“It was a few days after the 1991 rave’n, my best friend was my roommate and also happened to be my first serious crush, I hadn’t mentioned I was interested in woman, partly due to the times, but because I thought I hinted it enough that she’d know, we told each other everything and were more like sisters than friends, so a couple of weeks before the night of the dance we were talking and I tried to ask her If she’d like to go with me, but she somehow assumed I wanted to go with the boy she liked. The whole situation spiraled out of control and I couldn’t find the strength to admit to her she was the one I wanted, things after that were strained to say the least, she switched rooms and hardly spoke to me, my parents at the time were quite forceful and invasive so I couldn’t turn to anyone, no family and no friends.” She took a long deep breath once she had finished her confession.

“I’m so sorry principal Weems, that must have been really tough, although I’ve had similar experiences to.” You said avoiding her gaze. “Would you like to talk to me about it?” Larissa questioned, hoping that her confession might have been an icebreaker too breech your own conflicts.

“A couple of months ago I finally admitted to myself that I liked girls… I mean i still like boys to but, I don’t know I just feel like because it’s such a common thing now, I don’t want to seem like I’m only saying it to fit in or try to be apart of something if that makes sense. I also understand the parents thing, probably more than most people you will meet, I’m a child of a divorced marriage as your aware and I’ve been manipulated and shaped since a young age, coming here is the only stability I have, I’m just grateful that I don’t have to go back and fourth between families and homes anymore, but also at the same time I feel more lonely than ever.” You spoke unabashedly, laying it out for her to understand, Larissa is your mother figure witch makes you feel safe enough to talk bout things you would dare tell anyone else, but because she’s not biologically a parent it gives you the notion that Larissa has no obligation to treat you like a small child but a daughter she’s never had.

Larissa stored the information amidst her heart as you spoke. “Have you told anyone else?” She asked. “No. Only one girl I had a crush on, but she turned me down and we haven’t spoken since.” You said with tears welling in your eyes, remembering the feelings attached to the time. Larissa was so touched at your openness to her she began to cry. “Oh sweetheart.” She tutted. “So am I the first person you’ve opened up to about this?” She asked shakily. You nodded in response. Larissa’s flood gates opened as she embraced you in the tightest hold of your life.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” You said in a delicate tone, sincerely sorry for making her emotional. “No darling girl, I just- I love you so much and I know that may be somewhat inappropriate, but it’s the truth.” Larissa spoke into your hair while stroking it. “You know, Your exactly the kind of mother I’ve always wanted.” You whispered. Larissa drew back and let out a watery chuckle as she tucked strands of hair behind your ears. “Than I shall do my best to be that person for you sweetheart.” You smiled and wrapped your arms back around her torso and buried your head in her chest.

A little while later, Larissa was still by your side, but propped up on her elbow with her shoeless feet tucked behind her laying on the bed listening to you explain some of you favourite things and how connected you are with art, she adores how passionate you are and how you find the underlying meaning behind the most simple of things like music, poetry, books and paintings. Larissa finds herself realising how similar you are to her and will never have a problem finding a topic to discuss.

Hours went by and she left before your roommate came home, telling you to have a wonderful rest of your night and she will catch up with you tomorrow before kissing your forehead and murmuring sweet dreams. You felt full of happiness after your heavy afternoon, you couldn’t help but decide to find every sharp thing you own and wander down to the large bins that were placed at the back of the academy, the second the things were disposed you took a deep breath and watched the sunset, knowing that you will never mark yourself again, a turning point, a new beginning you owe it to yourself and to Larissa.

———

Two months had passed and it was spring break, being back at your houses with your family’s was exhausting, already after only three days things started to fall back into pattern with them, however you decided that this was it. No more suffering to survive in a place that should be a haven. No more pleasing the unpleaseable. You have a voice and used it, the world did feel like it was coming to and end but it was only the beginning of a next chapter.

Collecting your belongings that you really wanted, you packed and said goodbye for the last time, no hug no forced physical affection, nothing. Both of your parents were to offended to care about your decision, leaving you with no respect for the pair whatsoever. Nevermore was your home, and Larissa was your mother. With the last bit of money you had left, a one way ticket to the academy was bought, with a pit stop on the way.

———

Arriving back at the empty school, your excitement mimicked the first time you drove through the iron gates two years ago, except now you know where you are and that this is the place you belong.

Making your way up the steps with three suitcases was a difficult task but with the determination of discarding them in your room and finding Larissa was all it took to power through the maze of stone.

The principal gave you her phone number not to long after your heart to heart conversation so you bring up her contact on you phone and called her whilst walking to her office. You knew she would be here she told you that and you’ve come to know she keeps her word in every aspect. The second it starts dialling, butterflies erupted in your stomach. ‘I’m coming’ you thought releasing your breath in a chance to settle the nerves.

“Hello darling, are you ok?” She picked up. “Hey, yeah I am, I was just wondering how you are?” You wondered grinning to yourself as you were approaching the stairs to her office. “I’m ok, I do miss you though, how are you holding up?” She sighed. “I will be very well soon.” You said. “Oh? Why’s that?” She asked. You knocked on her door hearing it both from your perspective and on the line. “Just a second, that’s odd someone’s here.” Larissa paced to the door and opened it holding her phone to her chest. Her face lit up at the sight of you.

“Oh y/n! Your here!” She squealed. You hung up and launched yourself towards her engulfing her in a bear hug, with your arms around her neck and legs around her waist. “My goodness, how are- why are you here!?” She giggled tossing her phone onto the nearest seat, wrapping her arms around you. “It’s a long story but it can wait. I missed you so much.” You mumbled into her neck, smelling her perfume that has become quite nostalgic. Hopping down you grab her hand and drag her back to the office chair whilst you sit on top of the desk In front of her. Larissa really let’s you get away with everything.

“I have a present for you.” You said excitedly. “for me?” She asked incredulously. “Yes, although I don’t know how you will feel about it.” It came out very weary, all of a sudden the nervousness set back in. ‘Fuck it’ you thought, pulling out the papers from your back pocket. “I got these on my way back in Burlington. I may or may not have somehow stolen them, because they wouldn’t just give them to me but… I have them.” You handed her the folded papers and bit your lower lip in waiting.

Larissa gave you the look after your statement, the look that you so desperately wanted for a long time, the look that says ‘really? Well your lucky I love you’ look. She slowly opened up the paper and gasped. You swallowed thickly, not knowing if it was a good thing or a bad thing. “Y/n.” Larissa breathed as she looked at you in shock, her hand came to rest over her gaping mouth. “Is that ok?” You wondered. She was silent for a minute trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

“Ye-… yes.” Larissa choked out. “You want… you want me to adopt you?” She asked. “I would want anyone else to be my mother but you.” You said as if it were the surest thing you had ever spoken. “So would you… want, to be my uhh…?” Larissa stood and opened her draw without saying anything and pulled out a pen and started to sign every page.

Putting the cap back on and tossing it back in her draw she turned to you and cupped your face. “I can’t think of anyone else I would rather have as my child.” She said kissing your hair and pulling you to her chest.

“I actually have a surprise for you to.” Larissa said taking a step back. “Really?” You asked. “Yes, we’ll sort of.” She began. “The pen you used to draw on my leg a couple of months ago was a permanent marker… and after a few days it was starting to fade, so I thought before it disappears I should make it literally permanent.” She says while pulling up her skirt. “I traveled to Burlington and had it tattooed.” You sat there in shock as you saw the stars exactly the same as when you drew them on there. “Oh principle Weems, I- I don’t know what to say.” Larissa chuckled and smiled down at you. “I will forever have a piece of you with me sweetheart.” You grinned and realised she really did love you as much as you love her.

“I was just trying to find the right time to tell you.” She stated. “Weren’t you telling me that you didn’t approve of tattoos?” You said cheekily. “Well… I’m a hypocrite, but this was special.” She said. You giggled at her words and flexed forward to give her a kiss on the cheek and thank her. “You know when this goes ahead, I was thinking you would like to stay with me?… as in live closer, I have a spare bedroom attached to the other side of my office across from my own quarters?” She quietly questioned, waving her arm in the direction of the room. “Of course!” You shrieked with excitement. “But um, do I still have to call you principle Weems?” You asked sheepishly. “Oh god no. Larissa it’s fine or mu-…what ever you prefer.” She cut herself of before she could finish the word, Larissa didn’t want to overstep due to the fact that she still doesn’t know the situation with your own family, but she doesn’t feel selfish to think that she could be a better mother than your own. “I like that.” You stared at her with a grin, she said cocking a brow hoping you’d continue. “Mum.”

————————————————————————

Obviously it’s very difficult to stop a habit like sh and it’s not always just an immediate stop but for the sake of this story I think it was wise to just put a graceful end to it. If personal experiences are revamped please be safe, love you and ur doing great xxx

#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #principle weems #larissa weems x y/n #wednesday #larissa x reader #platonic

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quillthrillswriting · 6 days

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sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?

yeah... me too 😌 my new fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.

also...cmon....how funny is it to switch zuko and aang's iconic dialogue to "you're just a teenager!" "...so are you?"

this idea was originally inspired by the talented @allgremlinart's aged up aang drawings, so please go show them some love!!:)<3

enjoy the excerpts from chapter three, that just dropped this morning!

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Katara watched Aang take one last, painful look at the temple, then turn to the sky ahead, lit up in shades of orange, pink, and gold. She swore she could see arrows in every cloud, arrows like the ones inked across Aang’s body, and the gentle breeze that carried the crisp night air towards them seemed to wrap around them like a loving spirit.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“...You have no idea where we’re going, do you?” Sokka sighed, turning the map that was held against Appa’s saddle with a couple of rocks toward himself. “I’ve been charting our progress, and it’s starting to look more like a scrap of paper a toddler is practising circles on than a navigational tool.”

“C’mon Sokka, I’m an Air nomad, travel is in my blood. I have a very strong internal compass. Besides, you’ll find that as a nomad, I’m a master of evasive manoeuvring.” Katara raised an eyebrow, looking up from her spot near the back of the saddle as she stitched a rip in Sokka’s pants. “Besides,” Aang continued, typical teenage boy overconfidence emitting from his tone of voice. “I know it’s near water.”

Sokka leaned over the edge of the saddle, eyes scanning the blue expanse below them that stretched as far as the eye could see. “We must be getting close then,” he scoffed, his tone dripping in sarcasm as he slouched back into his spot across from Katara.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Aang,” she said distractedly, “could you hold this for me?” She handed him the mirror.

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

She tugged out her hair ties, flipping her head upside down for a moment to make sure that it had all gotten loose, then she gingerly tugged a few tendrils of water from the nearby ocean and wrapped tiny streams around her hair, tugging out the crimped braid pattern and reviving her curls. Then, she carefully bent the remaining liquid back out.

She couldn’t see his face through her thick hair as she stood back up, but from his voice, Aang seemed impressed. “I get that you haven’t been able to learn any big combat moves, but for someone whose bending is self- taught, you sure have a pretty good handle on these smaller things.”

She properly flipped her head up now, curls and waves bouncing around her face. Her dark brown locks shone with honey-toned highlights, all different shades of caramel and chocolate sparkling as they framed her face. She reached up, gently twisting and clipping a few strands out of the way, but a few wayward pieces still fell forward, gently brushing against soft, full lips and smooth skin. Aang awkwardly froze for a moment, caught off guard by how different she looked when her hair was loose and free. He had a weird urge to tell her so, but bit his tongue, instead focusing on her answer.

“I learned most of the smaller things from helping Gran-Gran.” Katara’s eyes sparkled, clearly caught up in a vision of home as she reached up to brush up her hair. “ As she’s gotten older, her range of mobility has started leaving her. It’s not really comfortable or safe for her to stoop over to wash her hair, so I learned how to bring the water to her and wash it while she was sitting up, then I learned how to dry it for her fast.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Sokka yelped, his voice defensive and offensive all at once. “There is no way a bunch of girls in cutesy makeup and dresses managed to tie me up.”

“Awe, you think our makeup is cutesy? How sweet .” The girl's voice was crooning at first, sweet and gentle, but Katara could see from the way her muscles flexed as she held Sokka by the collar that there was venom hiding behind those words. She was right. “Throw him to the Unagi.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Katara, c’mon, we’re supposed to be sticking together, where are you going?” Aang tugged at her arm until she was facing him, looking at her earnestly as if he hadn’t basically been flirting with all of those girls back there.

The words came out before she could stop them. “I thought monks weren’t supposed to go around flirting with any random girl, and they’re definitely not supposed to go around catering to a village full of fangirls.”

Aang raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing in a way that made Katara want to splash the smirk off of his face in a wave of water. “You sure have a lot of opinions on what you think monks are supposed to do, considering that I’m the only one you’ve ever met.” He shifted his weight, leaning in a bit closer. “Matter of fact, maybe it's just that you have a lot of opinions on what you think I’m supposed to be doing.”

Katara stiffened at the memory of the words that Sokka had just said minutes before. “Why would I care what you’re doing? I don’t. ”

Aang shrugged, reaching past her to grab a papaya and biting into it. After swallowing, he reached into Katara’s satchel, his hand brushing her waist as he pulled out some coins and quietly thanked the vendor. “Keep telling yourself that, Katara.” Hearing her name from his lips did something to her, but she kept her gaze level, eyes blazing with flame until Aang backed off.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

♥ check out the three chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->

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meggie-moo · 8 months

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Why this thought still occupies my mind, what other hs fanfictions you'd recommend? You proved to have a very good taste

OKAY IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, but i wanted to make sure it was good!! :D and i had my thoughts sorted lol!! i would definitely recommend looking through the tws of each fic as well! :) but here it is >:)

(i mainly read for rosemary and davekat, but i throw in some other fun ones as well 🕺 i’m also new to homestuck, so i haven’t read that many yet. so most of these are the incredibly popular ones. which are very much popular for a reason!)

davekat:

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure by Wertiyurae (finished)

synopsis: h retelling of the romcom, “how to lose a guy in ten days” karkat has to write an article about how to lose a guy in ten days, and dave has a bet that he can find a guy to take to his sisters wedding. very silly :)

thoughts: there’s so many moments where i was cringing SO HARD. but it’s such a fun time, especially if you like cheesy romcom retellings. like karkat trying desperately to lose dave is so funny 😭 (you will see later that i am a big fan of cheesy romcom stories, so i’m sorry LOL).

Nothingbound by bluberi (unfinished)

synopsis: a retelling of the romcom, “you’ve got mail” karkat is a local bookstore owner, and dave’s brother is a chain bookstore owner, and is moving in across the street. the only solace karkat seems to find is in his online friend, who is actually his enemy all along. angst ensues, drama, enemies to lovers, slowburn etc etc. :D

thoughts: speaking of romcom retellings… this one is unfinished, but the chapters there are so much fun. i adore the art that goes along with it. and just how silly, and angsty it can be. the dave and karkat are SPOT ON. and same with all the other characters. i especially enjoy rosemary, and the ones who work at karkats book store :)

Doc Scratch's School for Supernaturally Gifted Adolescents by medical (finished)

synopsis: humanstuck superhero au. dave and his friends get a mysterious letter to attend a supernatural school.

thoughts: literally in my top three favorite homestuck fics of all time. this is so much more than just a davekat fic, like it’s a *whole* story. there’s also incredibly prominent rosemary, like they are not just shoved to the back. again it’s so thought out, and incredibly tropey. and all the characters are handled so well. it’s so incredibly fanfiction, but in the way where you can’t stop reading it. it’s popular for a reason, and very much deserves that popularity. i’m currently making my friend buddy read this with me <3

A Discussion On The Meteor (finished) (mspfa)

synopsis: short mspa story discussing karkats sexuality. i wanted to throw in a visual one for fun :)

thoughts: very sweet!!

Giving a Sweet Wretched Flying Fuck by strawberrystardust (oneshot)

synopsis: dave and karkat mix some sick beats on the meteor 🕺

thoughts: SO SO CUTE. i will recommend you try literally any fic by strawberrystardust, they are all incredibly, and they are such an amazing writer. please look into the tws for their other fics, but i literally cannot recommend them enough :)

rosemary:

YEAHHH, new couple time 🕺

Love Letters in Digital Ink by tactfulGnostalgic (finished)

synopsis: rose owns a popular occult blog, kanaya is a fan. kanayas family moves in next store, and rose posts about her.

thoughts:

TOP THREE HOMESTUCK FICS AGAIN. this one is SO SILLY, it captures everything about rosemary perfectly. the cringe fail of it all, the rose thinking she’s a therapist but instead just over sharing her family’s issues online. it’s so funny, and well written. and i say this as someone who HATES first person pov in fics. it is done incredibly well. like, this author manages to pull it all off. rose’s blog post are so funny, and it will have you smiling like a fool the whole time. this and doc scratch school, and house of dirk are definitely like fics id want you to read the most out of this list!! :)

Kiss Her You Fool by Paech (oneshot)

synopsis: rose tries to get kanaya to kiss her

thoughts: incredibly cute, i love them so so much. rose lalonde will forever be a mess, and i love that for her <3

courses of action, best and otherwise by MisPronounce_and_MisAccent (oneshot)

synopsis: rose is convinced she’s in a war with dave, of which one is “gayer” to win she fakes dates kanaya.

thoughts: ajdhajhshej, this one is so 😭😭 like vrisrezi is also there and they are all failing, they are all a mess. the synopsis makes it sound more serious, but they are in meteorstuck, and it’s just very very funny LOL

miscellaneous

this is for fics/other fanworks, that are either 1. a couple i haven’t read enough for them to have their own category, 2. stories focused around non-romance!!

if you’re looking into getting into some mspfas, i’d recommend these :) (though i haven’t finished them myself lol!!)

Act 8 (unfinished i’m pretty sure) (mspfa)

synopsis: basically a, “what if” different ending to homestuck. what if, instead of winning, they let their alpha selves win, and they had to stay in paradox space for the time loop? etc

thoughts: i have not finished it, but it’s honestly so well put together. it really gets you feeling bad for characters, like gamzee?? poor little guy etc. the art is amazing, and it really does just feel like a continuation of homestuck!!!

Karkat Goes to a Convention (unfinished?) (mspfa)

synopsis: just like the title says, LOL.

thoughts: i’m not sure if this story is really my jam, that being said, it’s put together WONDERFULLY. like it’s incredibly popular for a reason. you can tell so much work went into it, and just a really big love for homestuck and it’s community. while also being really creative :) (i also haven’t finished this one either, so maybe my thoughts could change!)

House of Dirk by imarriedacherub (unfinished) (visual!)

synopsis: sitcom of dirk and caliborns life as a married couple. and their son/son in law is coming over for dinner. shenanigans ensue

thoughts: OKAY, so i know this is the fic that prompted the ask, lol! which means i’ve already recommended it. but i decided to add it so i could post my thoughts! :D i did not have any feelings towards dirkuu when i first read this, but now whenever i see anything dirkuu i’m like, “omg…the sitcom couple…” ITS JUST SUCH A GOOD FIC. i keep overusing the word incredible in this post, but i will use it again. because this fic really is just *that good*. i made my friend voice act it out with me on call once, and it was very fun LOL. this is my final top 3 in my top three homestuck fics 🕺 again really popular, but popular for a reason. just so much thought went into it, and the execution was perfect.

Trying Something New by strawberrystardust (oneshot) (jaderezi)

synopsis: terezi and jade go on a picnic date! :)

thoughts: have i ever thought about shipping terezi, and jade before? admittedly, no. is this fic absolutely adorable?? yes, very much so!!! literally they both deserve the world, and it’s so cute to seem them interact with each other. again just a very very sweet fic :)

homestuck v2 (mspfa) (ongoing!)

synopsis: different new generation kids!! davekat fanchild comes in and messes up timelines.

thoughts: the art is so good!! i’m really looking forward to where the story goes, and i love the designs. davekat having a child named, “mary-su” is hilarious as it is genius. also babe coelho seems so beloved!!!

—————

i’m sorry this was so long!!! and maybe a tad bit ramble-ly, lol!!! but i hope you enjoy these, because imo they are all very good and fun (i mean i did recommend them, it would be funny if i didn’t think that LOL), like people are so talented and skilled. it’s honestly amazing. everyone who makes fanworks are truly outstanding :) thank you so much for the ask, and again i’m sorry it took so long to answer, but i wanted to be thorough >:)

#meg’s incoherent thoughts #🐌 🐈#homestuck #davekat #rosemary #jaderezi #long post #fic rec

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