#is it obvious that i love drawing characters reading to each other

[logan-the-artist]

they’re in my head 24/7. obsessed with them. in love with them.

#is it obvious that i love drawing characters reading to each other #my art #drawing #art #sketch #sanders sides #thomas sanders #remy x emile #emile x remy #romantic remile #ts remy #remile #emile picani #remy sanders #log's art

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (16)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, dirty talk, breeding kink, description of wounds and trauma, remorse ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He remembered little of their journey back to King's Landing; it seemed to him that his conversation with Daemon, and before that with Aegon, had been a dream, and that it had all not really happened. Throughout the journey, he kept his cheek pressed against his wife's temple, feeling great relief but also fear.

He was sure she would run away.

He was sure she would let him down again, and some part of him wished she would.

Why?

When they reappeared in the Red Keep there were only a few hours left until dawn; he instructed his guards to convey to his brother as soon as he woke up, that he should call a meeting of the Small Council where he would be able to give a brief report of what had happened.

Afterwards, he and his wife both retired to his chamber, stripping out of their riding attire, speechless and exhausted. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, feeling a tightness in his throat, wondering why he felt tense, why he was not rejoicing.

He swallowed loudly as he realised that he had expected a betrayal on her part, because it would make things a lot easier for him.

He could then turn his back on her and her family once and for all, shed his illusions, become who he had been for eight years again.

It frightened him that now, when it was obvious that she had proved her loyalty to him, that she had chosen him at last, so many things remained unsaid, silenced, repressed.

He felt her uncertain gaze on him as she stayed in just her nightgown, heard his bed creak quietly under the weight of her body.

"My love?" He heard her soft voice and grunted, staying in only his breeches and linen shirt.

She twisted towards him as he lay down beside her on his back, placing his hands on his stomach, sighing heavily with exhaustion.

He shuddered when he felt her warm, soft hand on his – their fingers began to trail and rub against each other in the air, just like when she had come to him that first night after many years of separation.

"Speak to me, Aemond. Don't lock yourself in your mind." She said calmly; something in her words, in the fact that she sensed his anxiety made him swallow loudly, opening and closing his mouth several times, unable to get anything out. He finally shook his head, closing his eyes, deciding there was no point.

"Say it. Say all the things you've always wanted to say to me. Even if those words will only cause me pain. I want to know."

He opened his eyes, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, a shiver ran along his spine.

"I will never understand how could you leave me then." He finally said in a voice filled with regret and venom – he felt her twist next to him restlessly, drawing in air loudly.

He didn't look at her, but he felt her hand tighten on his.

"That was never my intention."

"Then why?"

"My mother then told me to let you rest and calm down. That the guards wouldn't let me visit you anyway by order of the Queen."

"What a nonsense."

"I am speaking the truth. When I wanted to pay you a visit a few days later, Criston Cole sent me away."

He felt his heart stop at those words; his whole body tensed, his breath stuck in his throat as he finally looked at her with wide-eyed expression.

"What?"

He felt her thumb stroke his palm, her eyes looking at him pleadingly.

"I swear, five days after what happened, I came to pay you a visit. I came every day after that, but he always sent me away. He said you didn't want to see me." She mumbled, and he snorted in disbelief and amusement, shaking his head. He looked at her in shock, wanting to see anything in her face that could confirm that she was lying.

He swallowed hard, embittered, leaning the back of his head against the back of the bed.

"It doesn't matter. I needed you when it happened."

"I needed you too. When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother's guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that's how you felt." She said with weariness, sadness and indifference from which he felt an unpleasant squeeze in his stomach; he felt his lips part involuntarily, a hot, overpowering wave of shame surge through his body.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, just breathing, not moving or saying anything, her hand still on his, warmth and reassurance in her touch.

For the first time in eight years, they spoke honestly about what had happened.

"Why didn't you ever write me back?" She asked at last, her voice trembling slightly, as if the very thought of it made tears of regret rise in the corners of her eyes.

He clamped his eyelids shut, sighing heavily, this time it was his fingers that stroked her hand.

"I've tried. I tried so many times. But I was unable to fill the parchment because no words seemed to describe what I was feeling. I couldn't put my thoughts into sentences. Everything that came out from under my hand was the ramblings of a madman and ended up burning in the fire. Then it was too late. I didn't see the point." He said, not believing that these words had left his mouth; he glanced at her uncertainly out of the corner of his eye, a single, solitary tear ran down the side of her face.

"You didn't even let me explain myself. You didn't give me a chance despite the fact that I've never let you down before." She muttered, and he swallowed loudly, feeling an unbearable tightness in his throat.

"I know."

He took his hand from her grasp and put his arm around her – her body immediately clung to his, entwining with his like a vine, her face sunk into the hollow of his neck, his hand roaming lazily down her back while his lips placed warm, lingering kisses on the top of her head.

They fell asleep for the few hours separating them from dawn in their tight embrace, not like lovers, but like they used to when they were children, holding hands, their foreheads touching.

He felt how, as she awoke, her fingers stroked his cheek gently, her lips placed a warm, soft kiss on his, which he reciprocated with a low murmur of satisfaction, without even opening his eyes.

For the first time in eight years, he felt at peace.

For the first time in eight years, he felt relief.

His closest friend was by his side again.

They were both just dreaming of sleeping on when Criston Cole walked into his chamber announcing that the King had called an immediate meeting of the Small Council in accordance with his wishes.

He sighed heavily, rising slowly from his bed, ordering his servants to prepare a suitable tunic for him. He turned, looking at her over his shoulder, his broad hand stroking her bare calf with a soft, lazy gesture.

"Accompany me. Be by my side."

The sight of her walking behind him as the door of the chamber in which all those gathered sat opened before them did not satisfy his grandfather or his mother.

He pretended not to see their warning glances, instead ordering one of the servants standing nearby to place a second chair right next to his, where he took his seat, placing his sapphire ball in a niche in the stone table.

"Speak, brother." Aegon began without undue politeness or introduction. His mother, his grandfather and Criston Cole were all opposed to their idea, however Lord Lannister and the other houses supporting them were far more accepting of the news that perhaps the whole matter of succession would be resolved without a bloody, kingdom-destroying war.

"Our uncle is as brazen as I remember him to be, however, despite his misgivings, he has not declined our offer. He will certainly pass on our words to our sister. We must wait." He replied truthfully; his mother sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands.

"What if no son is born to you, Aemond? If it is officially the sons of Rheanyra and Daemon who become heirs, they will kill us all for treason." She said with impatience, grief and horror – he opened his mouth to reply, however his wife forestalled him.

"You may have killed the child in my womb who could have been the heir we so need now. We will never know, will we?" She sneered, and he felt an unpleasant shiver run down his back.

His hand clenched into a fist at the mere memory of what had happened and what she had done next. He looked at his wife's face out of the corner of his eye and swallowed hard, seeing in her expression strenght, determination and confidence.

Just what he needed.

Complete silence fell, his mother lowered her head, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"As I said, we have to wait. We have done what we could."

The fact that Aegon had agreed to try to come to an agreement over the succession did not mean that either of them were going to give up preparing for a possible war, so they spent the rest of the meeting discussing what they would do if that plan failed. The King then asked his wife to leave; she rose and left without a word, touching his shoulder with her hand beforehand.

Something had changed between them, he could feel it.

As he watched the door close behind her, he realised that after she had decided to come back with him instead of running away with Daemon, after what he had confessed to her the wall that had been piling up between them since the night he had tamed Vhagar had finally collapsed.

When he returned to his quarters he did not find her there, so he headed for her chamber, informing the guards that no one was to disturb them. As he stepped inside he noticed her figure sitting by the window, bent over the embroidery of the Arryn family crest; the sun was beaming down on her face, he could feel a pleasant summer breeze all around her.

She lifted her gaze to him and smiled in a way he knew, one he remembered well from when they were children; what touched him in that look, in that smile, was the confirmation that she felt the same as he did, that she knew that something had finally changed between them, had set in on the right track.

He approached her slowly, involuntarily extending his hand towards her cheek; he watched as she pressed her face into his skin rough from holding the sword and sighed quietly as her lips placed a soft, warm kiss on his palm.

Gods, how he loved her.

He took the cloth from her hand and set it aside, grabbing her waist and lifting her, seating her in front of him on the top of the old wooden table. She stared at him with her eyes wide open, surprised, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath, betraying her uncertainty and excitement; he took a step towards her, so that their faces were almost touching, cupping her cheek in his palms, so soft, so warm.

She smelled of vanilla.

He looked at her, at her bright, warm gaze, at her gentle face, which had so much of that childishness of many years ago in it, while being more mature, more girlish, more tempting; her dark lashes shone in the sunlight as she closed her eyelids feeling his thumb run slowly over her fleshy, moist lower lip.

She was his wife.

What he wanted had truly come true.

She stood before him again, his childhood friend, his lover.

"Rheanys." He whispered and she opened her eyes, looking at him in disbelief; he saw her cheeks flush, her body trembled all over with delight. She raised her hand and he moved away immediately, horrified when he realised she wanted to grab his black eye patch.

"No."

"You're my husband. That's enough." She said regretfully and tiredly, taking his face in her hands. He looked down at her, breathing heavily, his eyebrows arched in uncertainty, in shame, in fear.

"Don't spoil this beautiful day for me." He said at last in a low, hoarse voice. She pressed her lips together as if his words caused her pain, her fingers sliding down his jaw, dropping powerlessly.

"One step forward, two steps back." She said softly, and he swallowed hard, feeling a squeeze in his throat at her words. He sighed loudly through his nose, licking his lower lip with his tongue, fighting with himself.

He didn't know what had happened, what had changed, what had brought him to reach up to his face, to grab his eye patch and pull it off with a sudden, aggressive movement, throwing it impatiently to the ground.

He saw her raise her shoulders high, frightened by his sudden gesture, her lips parted in disbelief, her pupils narrowed as she looked straight at him. He expected her to turn her face away at this sight, to betray herself with a stare full of disgust or fear, but instead her eyes turned red from the tears that had gathered in their corners.

"Come." She whispered, grabbing the material of his tunic with her hand, pulling him closer; he involuntarily took a few steps forward, shocked by her reaction, by her expression, as if what she had seen had moved her greatly, but not in the way he had expected. "Come here."

Her hand lifted higher, to his cheek – he closed his eyes, feeling his whole body freeze as her fingers ran gently over the line along which his scar ran.

"Oh, my dearest, you must have suffered so much. It must have caused you so much pain. For so many, so many months, you must have died every day. Forgive me." She mumbled out in a trembling, breaking voice, from which he pressed his lips together, himself touched for some reason, embittered and grateful at the same time, because for so long he had been waiting for that very look, that very touch and those words from her, just from her.

She kissed him in a way she had never done before – it was neither a child's kiss nor a lover's kiss; it was a caress full of warmth, moisture and care, a tenderness from which he involuntarily closed her in his arms, leaning lower to press himself tighter to her swollen lips.

Their mouths brushed each other lazily, slowly, unhurriedly, as if they had all the time in the world, their hands stroking each other's faces with gentle, calm movements, birdsong all around them, the loud conversations in the courtyard coming from behind the open window and the quiet, sticky clicks of their saliva.

He felt himself shudder each time his lips pressed against hers again, their arms holding them close together, his lungs filling with her scent.

Vanilla.

His manhood slowly began to swell and throb from those wonderfully this innocent caresses full of promise, something they hadn't done before but so desperately needed.

"Make love to me." He whispered into her mouth; she moaned softly, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, forcing them to join together again in a hot, lazy kiss, which he did eagerly.

Only after a moment did their tongues come out to meet each other, their tips beginning to lick teasingly making them both breathe louder; his hands slid lower to her gown, lifting its material higher, exposing her wonderfully soft, bare thighs.

He let her take care of him, undoing the buckles of his tunic and the tying of his breeches as he kissed with emotion her forehead, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her temple.

She was his.

It seemed to him that they had gone back in time, to that day when she had kissed him for the first time.

As if what they were doing now was an extension of that moment.

"Do you think we would have persevered until marriage? With staying in chastity." He gasped, sighing quietly in relief when her skilled fingers finally released his desire-sore manhood, his arm drawing her closer as her thighs spread eagerly before him.

He heard her giggle softly, when he lifted his gaze to her he saw pure joy, warmth and love in her eyes, exactly as they had been then, that day.

"If you want, you can believe it, uncle." She replied tauntingly, just as she always did, just as in his fantasies; he snorted at the thought, sinking his hand into her warm womanhood, already leaking with desire. She tilted her head back, sighing with pleasure as his fingertips ran over her throbbing, moist slit.

"What do you imagine would happen?" He continued on, teasing her with the movements of his finger, which slid a little between her tight, wet muscles, pushing them apart, rubbing her rough bud hidden just above her opening. A soft, sweet moan came from her lips as she swallowed loudly, looking up at him from under half-closed eyelids.

"One night, when I would visit you in your chamber, we would begin to touch. Innocently at first, but eventually you would understand what it feels like to clamp your fingers on the soft breast of your beloved woman. You would understand what pleasure lies deep between my thighs." She cooed sweetly; he gasped loudly, embarrassed by how hard his cock pulsed at her words, which did not escape her attention.

"You'd say you wish to feel me just for a moment −" She whispered, with a gentle flick of her hand directing his swollen, hard length between her thighs; they both moaned quietly as he began to push against her and opened her wide on the thick head of his cock with a soft, firm thrust of his hips. "− but we would both know it was a simple lie, spoken only to make us feel less guilty."

A throaty, low groan escaped his lips at that thought; his hands clamped down on her buttocks covered by the material of her gown, with a deep thrust of his hips forcing her to let him inside her. She whimpered, panting heavily along with him, looking at him with her mouth wide open, as if she didn't recognise him.

She put her hand around the back of his neck, the other resting on the table top, trying to catch her balance as he began to root into her with slow, lazy thrusts, sliding out of her almost all the way, only to sink back between her warm, moist muscles a moment later.

"− Aemond −" She mewled, closing her eyes, responding involuntarily with the rocking of her hips to his treatments – it seemed to him that they were both in a state of some kind of ecstasy that nevertheless had more to do with what they had shared when they were children than now, when they were united by fire and blood.

"− and what would you do? − hm? − what would you do if I put it inside you and told you I wouldn't stop until I filled you? −" He breathed out, involuntarily quickening his pace; she moaned pleadingly at his shameless question, her fleshy, hot core clenched tightly around his erection, sucking it inside her, their bodies slapping against each other with loud smacks of skin against skin.

"− I would beg for your seed −" She mumbled out; his hand tightened on her hair at her words, his lips clinging to hers in a greedy, hot kiss full of their tongues and saliva, in a caress not filled with hatred and aggression but pure, hot desire.

"− so fucking beg −" He growled into her mouth between their quick, loud kisses, their lips with a sticky click clinging and pulling away from each other as their bodies found their own pace to pleasure, his thick cock pulsing with desire slamming into her so deep and fast that he seemed to run out of breath, her cheeks and lips all pink with exertion.

"− please, uncle − put your heir inside me −" She whimpered helplessly and that was enough for him – he pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, holding her close in a strong embrace in his arms, with a few sloppy, sticky thrusts prolonging the inevitable to finally spill deep inside her. He feel a powerful orgasm shake her body, her head tilted back with a sweet cry of pleasure.

"− yes − yes, oh, gods, uncle, fill me −" She mumbled, her hands drawing him back to her mouth, their lips devouring each other in fierce, moist kisses as the last drops of his spend filled her womb. They both rocked their hips for a while longer with loud clicks of her wetness, panting quietly as they tried to calm their breathing, their hands roaming over their bodies, their eyes closed, focused only on the relief they both felt.

"− this is how I always imagined us − you and me when we were married −" She whispered, and he sighed, understanding what she meant.

Though united by passionate affection, regret, distrust and grief dominated their every approach.

"− my wife begging for my seed is indeed an important part of my vision of a perfect marriage −" He sneered, noticing the amusement in her eyes when she understood that he was teasing her.

That he had returned to her, that she had won him back, that she was looking at the boy she had lost that night.

Her lips parted in disbelief when she noticed that the corner of his mouth lifted upwards, gently, not mockingly, not maliciously.

He smiled.

For the first time in so many years.

He stroked her cheek with his hand as her eyebrows arched in pain, as her eyes glazed over from the tears that ran down her face one by one onto his warm palm.

They kissed again, then again and again, warmly, tenderly, innocently, devotedly, with the affection he had dreamed of for so many years and he thought, hiding this realisation deep in his heart, that this was the happiest day of his life.

The day he got his best friend back.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell #prince aemond #aemond smut #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #aemond the kinslayer #aemond fandom #aemond fluff #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #hotd angst #ewan mitchell angst #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #canon aemond #aemond x female #aemond x niece #aemond x strong!niece

[the-bar-sinister]

There's lots of gay subtext in Ace Attorney. 

But when looking specifically at subtext that might be intentionally put in the narrative by the creators with the intention that the character in question is actually gay, I think the main character with the most evidence behind this is actually Apollo Justice.

Our other main characters, Phoenix Wright and Athena Cykes both have obvious subtextually heteronormative romantic partners. To an adult, straight, culturally normative audience, Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey read normatively as an obvious romantic pairing. This is also the case for Athena Cykes and Simon Blackquill. In Great Ace Attorney the same can be said for Ryuunosuke and Susato. 

I repeat– to an adult, straight culturally normative audience, the romantic subtext between these characters is clear. If you showed these games to an American movie going public, that would be the obvious read by the audience.

Yes, each of these characters, Phoenix, Athena, and Ryuunosuke also have strong queer romantic subtext with another character. (Miles, Juniper, and Kazuma respectively).

However, that's not my point. It's not significant that each of the other three characters has homosexual relationship subtext.

It is significant that Apollo Justice does not have a character with whom he has heteronormative romantic subtext.

The closest thing Apollo Justice has to a "heteronormative romantic subtext" is Trucy Wright– whom we, the audience know is his sister.

And yes, you can make the argument that there is deliberate incestuous subtext between them– a kind of Luke/Leia style relationship with which the audience is teased by the narrative. Dhurke brings it up directly in Spirit of Justice.

However, this is still not a heterenormative subtext, because of its taboo nature. More taboo, culturally at this point, than homosexuality.

On top of the lack of heteronormative romantic subtext, Apollo also is on the receiving end some of the strongest and most overt of the homosexual subtext in the series.

There is of course the famous "meet cute" introduction between Apollo and Klavier– 

“I must say, I'm used to being inspected by the ladies... but this is the first time I've felt this way with another man.”

This is without question overt homosexual subtext.

However, there is another, even more subtextually clearly defined moment in Dual Destinies. Honestly, the subtext is all over Dual Destinies in the way Apollo reacts to Clay Terran's death (basically completely losing it) but there's one particular moment that deliberately draws your attention to the relationship in a queer way.

In one of the last cases of the game, everyone is delicately trying to explain to the judge that Aura Blackquill was in love with Metis Cykes (who was murdered) in a queer way. It's a big “they’re lesbians, harold” moment.

And then the conversation immediately turns to Apollo Justice and how he’s just had someone who was “important to him” murdered, too.

The narrative specifically draws you attention to the relationship that Aura and Metis had, and compares it to the relationship between Apollo and Clay.

You are specifically invited to speculate about what kind of important relationship Clay and Apollo had, and why Apollo has been affected so incredibly deeply.

So yeah. Between Clay, Klavier, and the lack of anything resembling a heteronormative romantic relationship for Apollo in the games, I think he has the strongest narrative evidence that he's actually being written deliberately as gay.

#apollo justice #klapollo #claypollo #ace attorney #ace attorney meta #queer subtext #queer reading #queer media #media analysis #media literacy #🔍⚔️

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina , Do you have a category for reread fics?How can I find them

Meaning fics I’ve read more than once? I don’t think I’ve ever made one—let me see what I can do.

Danger I Can’t Hide by CelticSky (E, 227K) This one’s got all the tension and drama you’d expect of a World War II story—life and death high stakes, friends and lovers unexpectedly torn apart, battles and heroism, plus the added stakes of classism and homophobia—then add a slow burn, high risk, scorching love affair spanning years. If you want a story that’s complex and fantastically researched, plus lovers to root for, read it. It’s long. But I couldn’t put it down. When I did, I immediately picked it right back up and read it twice more.

Hats Off To My Distant Hope by orphan_account (E, 21K) This was such a pleasure to read. The writing feels so effortless as the fic explores the deep emotions of these two characters. They’re stubborn and inarticulate and gentle and passionate and finally, finally open up to each other. I really wish I knew who wrote it because I’d love to read more of their work.

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy (E, 150K) I’ve read this one multiple times and still love it. Their bickering is so realistic, their resistance to their attraction to each other is perfect, the way the author portrays all of their weird quirks and differences but still makes it believable that they’d fall fo reach other is such fun to read….I love this fic.

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach (E, 160K) Probably my absolute favorite time travel fic. I’ve read it more times than I’d like to admit, and every time I love it more. One of the things I like most is how organically the author weaves in canon events…every little moment is an easter egg without it being so obvious that it pulls you out of the fic. Anyway, this one is so moving and so absorbing, I hope you like it if you give it a try! There’s an 18K companion piece to it as well, but you’ll see the link at the appropriate time when you’re reading the main fic (and when you read the scene that breaks your heart –– in the best possible way –– come and scream at me. You’ll know which one I mean).

Our Lives, Non Fiction by @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 114K) this is, quite literally, the best fic I’ve read in years. It’s so well written, clever, funny, emotional, and sexy. Its draw you in immediately and you’ll end up falling in love with these characters before you know it. Don’t miss this one.

Never Never Never Stop for Anyone (Sheylinsonverse) by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (E, 10-work series, 439K)Yes, here I am again, putting this series on a list. Probably 10 people in this fandom like it as much as I do, but I don’t care. I have read all 440K words more than once, and will likely do it a few more times. Yes, it needs editing, but even so…really well written, super sexy (if you like reading BDSM and can handle Larry + someone else), and such interesting character development. One of my favorite things about this fic is how the authors differentiate between the ways the different characters inhabit their Dom and Sub personalities.

Make Your Words A Weapon by HelloAmHere (E, 36K) I love everything this author writes. This one just really hit me hard for whatever reason. Maybe it’s the way they explore Louis’ anxiety and coping mechanisms and pain and the way he pushes people away and protects himself, but also wants someone to push back just a bit and love him despite all of that. And the way Harry is the perfect foil for all of it, while also feeling like a fully developed character himself. Yeah, it’s probably all of that. Plus soul marks!

Pull Me Under by zarah5 (E, 140K) One of the very first fics I read when I came into this fandom…and I’ve read it multiple times since. Zarah’s fics hold up every time. This one has it all, great pacing, ot5 friendship, banter, super sexy smut, etc etc. Plus, Louis being super jealous of Harry’s best friend.

Into The Blue by zarah5 (E, 117K) honestly, I love all of this author’s fics, but I think this is my favorite of theirs. Louis as a flirty scuba instructor? Newly single Harry who just wants a fling? Boys living on other sides of the world who only have a few weeks together? Heartbreak. Hot af smut. OT5 friendship. Please….give me all that shit.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor (M, 46K)This one is so sweet. I loved Harry's internal monologue... his insecurities and thoughts that he'd made Louis uncomfortable because he liked, him made me cry. Louis is so soft and supportive. It’s just a lovely fic.

Remind Me Again by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (E, 29K) Every sentence in this fic is so effortlessly beautiful. I love that the miscommunication between them is done in a totally realistic way. The fight and make up like real people do and that makes the angst more painful and the making up more emotional. One of my favorite authors.

And Touch Me Like You Never by runaway_train (E, 36K) I really enjoyed how this author handled Harry’s confusion and growing attraction and eventual sexuality crisis. That, along with the angst and very sexy smut, made it a really good read.

may we all have a vision now and then by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (M, 4K) This author is one of my favorite writers in this fandom and everything they do is infused with so much delicacy and tenderness. I literally cried through this fic because of how wounded Harry’s character feels. Read it and then treat yourself to their whole AO3 catalogue.

Seeing Blind by zedi (E, 47K) I really liked the way this author gave a twist to both Omega Harry and Alpha Louis’ characteristics. It’s a whole lot of smut and miscommunication and, of course, a happy ending.

Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 (NR, 209K) this fic will run you through the wringer, but it’s really a great read. I really like the way the author took the boys from enemies to friends to boyfriends, and how we got to see how protective and supportive Louis became towards Harry.

smell the sea, feel the sky by @lightwoodsmagic (E, 16K) This is the perfect summer pining fic. I love that they’re adults and still the same horny, pining fools for each other and it still works. It’s just very sexy, light, and fun.

we can take the long road home by @pinkcords (E, 46K) This was absolutely gorgeous. And it made me cry, damn it. Seriously though, the writing is so beautiful. I loved the characterizations and the way they both showed their vulnerability. I loved the slow pace and the hot smut. I loved this fic.

smile in slow motion by istajmaal (E, 24K) One of my favorite Daddy kink authors, this one is lighthearted and funny while also being super sexy. Plus it’s got great Zouis friendship.

all my love was down on a frozen ground by navigator (E, 16K) This is an old one that I didn’t have bookmarked for some reason. But it’s a favorite and I love everything this author wrote. This is one of those quiet, soft fics with a bit of angst and a lot of internal monologue and gentle conversations. I don’t know, there’s something so touching about it.

Thought The Song Was Sung by 100percentsassy (E, 13K) This is both a famous/not famous and a dating app AU. Plus, older Larry. Plus an author who writes great fic. And this one is just sweet and charming and I really like this one.

the way the storms blow by rbbsbb (E, 22K) What would happen if you walked in on your best friend in the midst of an orgy? Louis finds out and it’s pretty damn hot.

we can take the long way home by eleadore (E, 27K) this one is a canon divergent future fic where Louis is a “carrier” (basically, he would be able to get pregnant) and it’s just SO good. It’s beautifully written (like everything this author does), so well-paced, and I just find the way their developing relationship is written to be so touching and realistic.

The light to guide me home by Star_Henderson / @tommosgun (E, 65K) I don’t know what it is about this fic but I’ve read it so many times and I just really love the instant chemistry, the smut is stupid hot and fuels the character growth, and even with the angst, the whole thing is just lighthearted and sexy.

Speaking of Marvels by navigator, quitter (E, 101K) This was one of the first fics I read in this fandom, but I read it again recently and had forgotten how really wonderful it is. The writing is so lovely and the characters feel so well developed. I especially loved how the authors explored how differently the two of them would respond to their relationship given the different stages of life they were in. It made the romance and the attraction and the angst feel really real.

Constant Debauchery by Blake (E, 19K) Yes, yes, I know. I’ve probably recommended this 10 times. But have you read it yet? Anyway…Edwardian setting, uni ABO (Alpha/Alpha) fic. Gorgeous mood setting, I’ve said before that it reads like an Merchant Ivory film looks…just gorgeous. There’s a similar sense of repression and uncertainty about flouting societal expectations, and a character who appears one way on the surface, but underneath is quite different. I love this one, I’ve read it a number of times.

Lightening Strikes Twice by @dinosaursmate (E, 106K) It’s not often that I read a 100+K fic multiple times, but this one is worth it. It’s one of my favorites from this author, and a favorite all around. It’s an epic love story spanning decades and massive life changes. It’s sexy and well-written, and so touching, and so fulfilling in many ways.

precious little thing by mercutionnotromeo (E, 21K) I’ve read this one so many times…it’s got it all. This time the phone sex operator is Louis, and subby Harry is just beginning to realize his daddy kink.

Good Enough to Eat by objectlesson (E, 7K) This author always does such a good job with depicting young, queer love and the way their characters experience the overwhelm of realizing they’re not straight, realizing the’ve met their Person, pining, and giving in. I love a lot of their fics, but I think this is my favorite of them. Link is to a download.

One day to believe in you by mediaville (E, 8K) another author who always hits it out of the park as far as I’m concerned. This one is super funny and then super sexy. Louis gets cursed and has to tell the truth. No matter what Harry asks him. Read it!

like a bastard on a burning sea by vashtaneradas (NR, 21K) Heartbreaking, perfect writing. So well-written that the fandom hated real-life Harry for a while after this was posted. 😅

These Roads We Stumble Down by onewasturning (E, 18K) I adore this author’s writing and I’ve read this particular one multiple times. It’s just a little melancholy and very sexy and one of those fics that reminds me why I can read about the same two people falling in love 46372 times and never tire of it.

Empty Skies by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (E, 13K) I just started re-reading this the other day and it holds up so well. This author is always a pleasure to read. Their fics just are well plotted and the characters are nicely fleshed out. I loved Perrie as Harry’s bestie, the bitterness and angst is PAINFUL, and the ending feels well earned.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (E, 124K) One of the OG classics in this fandom. If you haven’t read it yet, you’re missing out. It’s just a great, original story. Plus, cowboy Harry, city boy Louis, bad guys to hate, nail biting drama, hot af sexual chemistry and smut, and a super satisfying ending.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (E, 135K) Everything about this fic is glorious. I’m always struck by how well the characters are fleshed out, how their behavior lines up with their backstory, how ridiculously hot the chemistry is, and how agonizing the angst is. So yes, no shocker, I cried buckets. Thank god for a happy ending.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry (E, 137K) High school Au, footie, enemies with benefits, so much sexual tension (and just tension), and really well-developed, complex characters. Most of the conflict in this (and in the companion fic from Harry’s POV) is straight up lack of communication. But, given the age of the characters, it’s forgivable (although sometimes frustrating).

In Dreams by dolce_piccante (M, 24K) This actually might be my favorite of this author’s fics, although I know it’s definitely not the most popular. It’s just soft and romantic and sweet and I’m a sucker for tattoo artist Louis winning over slightly uptight Harry.

Your Name Is Tattooed On My Heart my mcpofife (E, 87K) I reread this one recently and it's truly delightful. The characterizations are so well done. Harry is so endearing (I cried over his heartbreak). And the smut is both hot and really emotional. Love this one.

#my fic rec #Larry fic rec #re-reads #My favorite re-reads #Favorite re-reads

[midnightechoes]

Five years ago today, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power premiered on Netflix. I had seen a few preview articles about it, and liked what I saw. Those articles mostly focused on She-Ra’s, Adora’s, Glimmer’s, Bow’s, and Catra’s redesigns, and I thought they were fabulous. I loved Adora’s new red jacket and bouffant hair style. Glimmer’s entire redesign was inspired, and I loved that they made Bow black so we could have more diversity in the main cast.

It was She-Ra’s and Catra’s redesigns that caught my eyes the most, though. They made Catra an actual catgirl, and not just in the anime sense where she's just a cute girl with cat ears and maybe a cat tail. She was a full-on furry. It was a brilliant design choice. Honestly it’s no wonder that so many were instantly drawn to her.

And of course, She-Ra herself. I loved her new look, and her huge ass new Sword of Protection. In fact, I loved it so much that I drew this picture of her before the show even came out:

Then the show came out, and needless to say, I fell in love. And honestly, it changed my life.

I know, I know. That sounds very hyperbolic, and to an extent it is, but in a lot of ways, I’m absolutely serious.

Alright, I have to back up a little. Back when I was in college, and for a few years after, a couple of friends and I tried to make a webcomic called The Devil’s Gate. It was minorly successful but eventually floundered. Then I met some people and we tried to make a video game, which also failed. After those few years, I found myself on my own and trying to rework the concept of my webcomic. Making comics, creating stories, those have always been my dream, and I was desperately trying to figure out a story I could make work, something that I believed in. But it never truly got off the ground. By the end of 2015 I had given up on the comic, realizing that after working on it for years in different forms that I needed to step away from it.

I didn’t really know what to do after that. I was still doing my quick daily doodles, but I wasn’t writing, I wasn’t drawing anything of note. I felt emotionally and physically drained of my creativity. I was honestly getting to the point where I thought it might be time for me to give up on trying to be creative or making things all together.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power came out on November 13, 2018, but despite looking forward to it, I didn’t actually watch it when it came out. It wasn’t until that weekend that I decided to check it out.

I was instantly hooked. I binged through the entire season in two days, and did plenty of crying and cheering. And then rewatched it immediately. I was in love. I was obsessed. It had been a long time since anything grabbed me like SPOP did. I loved the characters. I loved the colorful, sci-fi-fairy tale world of Etheria. I loved how unapologetically feminine it was. And most of all, I loved how queer it was.

I hadn’t done a ton of shipping before SPOP. I’ve been down bad for harlivy for what feels like my whole life, and I was angry when Mika and HG didn’t get together in Warehouse 13, but more often than not I had just been conditioned not to look for queer things in mainstream culture, and even barely in subculture.

That is to say, when I was smashed in the face with Catradora I was surprised how much I glommed onto it immediately. I was absolutely taken with Adora and Catra and their relationship. Both characters were so relatable, and despite not quite being text (although the subtext was so loud and obvious it might as well have been text), it was impossible to not read their feelings for each other as romantic.

It wasn’t just Catradora, even if that was a lot of it. Spinnerella and Netossa being canon from the start was wonderful. How much Glimmer and Bow screamed “BISEXUAL DISASTERS” from the start was adorable. Scorpia’s crush on Catra was as cute as it was sad in its one-sidedness.

I had never really been in a fandom. That is, yeah I’ve liked things, loved things even, but I never found other people to talk about it at length, never found discords just for that thing, never read or wrote fanfic, barely ever drew fanart. 

But, I watched SPOP, and then I watched it again. And then I drew Catra. And then I drew Adora. And then I drew them again. And suddenly I was on AO3, a site I never frequented, reading Catradora fics. And then I had an AO3 account. That December I participated in Catradora Week 2018 (I’d never heard of this kind of thing) and drew two pictures for it and wrote my first fanfic.

By the end of February I had drawn more in the three months since the show had premiered than I had in the previous year. I was working furiously on a long, multi-chapter fanfic, and writing more words than I had in the previous couple of years combined.

I was inspired again.

In the 18 months that SPOP ran for, I drew more than I had in years, I wrote hundreds of thousands of words. I felt so rejuvenated and happy about my creativity and free for the first time in years.

It’s hard to put into words exactly how it felt. I was so close to giving up my art and writing, which honestly, would have been giving up a part of myself. An important part of myself. It’s not overstating that SPOP saved me, or at least my creative spirit.

I also learned about the wonders of being in a fandom and fandom things like fan weeks, big bangs, zines. And I made some wonderful friends that I cherish to this day.

Even as I inevitably moved onto other hyperfixations, my love for She-Ra hasn’t diminished. Plushie Catra and Adora sit next to me on my desk every day. Catradora art still hangs on my wall.

The inspiration that SPOP ignited in me hasn’t died either. It’s carried me through a tremendous level of creativity that I’ve been riding since the premiere. It let me create a ton of fan art for SPOP, and then RWBY and then the Witch From Mercury, and I’ve written a ton of fanfics for RWBY and Supergirl. And perhaps the best, that inspiration has helped me create more OC stuff in the last couple years than I had in a long time.

I owe She-Ra and The Princesses of Power so much. I am so happy that it exists and that it happened when it did. I’ll always cherish it.

And for real, Netflix, SPOP spin-off movies WHEN?!

#art #she ra #adora #catra #catradora #sk's art #shera #spop #she ra and the princesses of power #shera and the princesses of power #she-ra and the princesses of power #she-ra #fifth anniversary #netflix #netflix she-ra #wlw #lesbians #sapphic #lesbian love #lgbtq+ #lesbian

[whenmemorydies]

Preliminary thoughts on The Bear, race, power and privilege

I’m a non-Black woman of colour who has spent all of my life in the west…so I’ve consumed a lot of television media that is produced by and for the white gaze. The most obvious way that gaze plays out is when people of colour are non-existent in a cast, or when they are included, are tokenistic, bit players.

A more insidious manifestation is where POC are cast to play parts that could just as easily be played by white folks: characters that have no interiority or external relationships related to their cultural identities, wider communities or individual or collective histories (for example, Mindy in The Mindy Project for most of its run, or the characters of colour in Season 1 of Bridgerton).

I've had some thoughts about how The Bear (thankfully) avoids tokenistic and "colour-blind" representation. I also have some thoughts about how the show models meaningful allyship. I'm so keen to discuss this with folks and hear what others think about it too.

Unambiguous and unapologetic

The Bear is confined in its universe, particularly in season 1 where it’s focus is tightly bound to the physical location of The Beef as the setting for almost every scene. Episodes of The Bear are generally not very long, so time is precious (every second really does count). These factors necessarily limit how deep we can get into each character. But the show is so good at drawing on different means of communication: images, lighting, score, soundtrack, phrasing, callbacks to previous episodes, other cultural references etc, that each episode is like a jewellery box with gems waiting to be unpacked and pored over. I've said that I have started reading this show like a tarot deck because of how rich the symbolism in each episode is.

So despite the constraints of time and setting, characters of colour in this show are also so very rich in their realisation and portrayal. These characters are unambiguously and - this is important - unapologetically racialised: through language (see: Tina’s use - and occasional weaponisation lmao - of Spanish), physical appearance (see: Sydney’s two-tone braids and her stunning, prolific collection of headscarves throughout the show), culturally distinct names (see: Sydney Adamu, Ebraheim, Tina Marrero, etc), food (see: Carmy’s peace offering to Syd in ep 1x03 of Ebra’s family chicken suqaar - a popular dish in the latter character’s birth country of Somalia), etc.

GIF by @chefkids

These may seem like small and inconsequential details to some. In fact I’ve been seeing a lot of commentary from folks online saying that what they like about The Bear is that race isn’t mentioned at all on the show. But make no mistake: race is all over this thing. The examples I've given are only some of the many references to racialised histories and cultures that build out the broader fabric of multicultural Chicago here.

What is not present in The Bear is a script that is wasting time explaining the characters of colour and their rich inner and outer lives to white folks. Those things are just a given and we are invited to witness them being brought to vivid life by this cast and crew. And I am fucking here for it.

Respect and allyship

Another thing I LOVE about this show is the respect given to, and the recognition of, the experience, talent, drive and ambition of its characters of colour.

This is most obvious in the relationship between Syd and Carmy who are signalled as complementary equals in many ways. Others have written on the importance of the representation embodied by Sydney’s character and you should search out that analyses, especially when its authored by Black women. The only other thing I’d say about it is that I love Sydney’s character and I also love endgame Sydcarmy (even if it’s only hinted at in the last second of the last frame of the last ever episode lmao…I will take whatever I can get of these two 😭).

I also see the show’s respect and recognition manifest in The Bear's investment in its staff, particularly in season 2. Everyone who worked at The Beef has a role at The Bear and Carmy, Syd and Nat fund the ongoing training and upskilling of their largely racialised staff to make sure this happens. Ebra and Tina are paid to attend culinary school (Carmy also gives Tina his prized knife for her studies and beyond). Marcus is sent to stage in Copenhagen to develop his skills as a patissier. And then we have The Bear itself - what started as Carmy and Michael’s vision, is now the whole team’s baby, with Sydney literally being made the captain of the ship by Carmy at the end of ep 2x09.

GIF by @savagegood

Part of what was so tragic about Carmy's fridge spiral at the end of season 2 was that he didn't get to see how beautifully the team came through in a crisis. Instead we had him internalising, regressing and lamenting how he had let everyone down. This language centred Carmy as the be all and end all of The Bear (saviour vibes) when this couldn't have been further from the truth (particularly in a season where the man spent so much of his time not in the restaurant but chasing manic pixie no-last-name-having Claire....but I digress).

Carmy is his best when he checks his ego, takes a step back and realises that he is not alone. He is part of a whole chosen family supporting one another at The Bear. And I get the sense that the folks creating this show know that we need more white folks using their power and privilege to step back and facilitate access, and less gatekeeping white saviours taking credit where its not due.

After all, and paraphrasing Viola Davis, the only thing that separates people of colour from anyone else, is opportunity.

12/04/24 Note: I’ve amended this post because I forgot to mention the most pivotal example of Sydney along with her relationship with Carmy. Also made some slight stylistic changes to phrasing cos i fixate on errors lol

#the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #white gaze #critical race theory #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #tina marrero #ebraheim #marcus brooks #allyship #white privilege #power #chris storer #joanna calo #sydney x carmen #sydcarmy #carmy x sydney

[loomislover]

Puppy dog eyes ✧˖*

ethan Landry x innocent girly fem reader

in which the reader finds herself falling for someone she shouldn’t be .

tw: swearing, smut eventually, death , murder , loss of innocence, chad x reader ( kinda ) , cheating and more ! ( let me know what I forgot ) !! :) 🎀 thank you for reading

I don’t own scream or any characters mentioned! Thank you !! ( this is my first time writing ever please be patient with me !)

part 2 <3

The news of what had happened last night hadn’t completely settled in yet and after hearing what happened to Sam and Tara at the bodega you were only more horrified. “ I mean come on that asshole deserved it . you should of seen him last night “ chad says scoffing . “ still he didn’t have to die chad , he probably had a family who loved him” you say looking down . “ come on y/n your to nice , if that was me I wouldn’t care that Micheal was dead” Anika says shrugging looking over to where you sat between Ethan and Tara at the benches outside of the school . “ Chad and Anika are right y/n he had that coming to him” ethan says in response shrugging when you look at him with wide eyes do to the fact he would normally always take your side . “Alright nerds listen up” Mindy says standing up clapping her hands to draw your attention to her . “ as terrifying as this all is I’m actually glad I have a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time” Mindy says looking down referring to what had happened to them back in woodsboro . “ oh god here she goes “ chad sighs . You ,Ethan , quinn and Anika look at each other than at him confused before mindy continues her speech about how your all in a franchise. “ any of us could go at any time, especially Sam and tara .” Mindy sighs as your eyes immediately dart to the sisters. The thought of losing them makes your heart feel heavy and a unfamiliar fear lurks in your chest. “W-wait any of us ?” Ethan ask tilting his head . “ yeah” mindy says like it’s obvious before Ethan continues “ wait , am I in the friend group ?” Ethan asks raising his eye brows . “Yeah” Mindy reply’s again before Ethan says “ Am I like one of the targets- am I gonna die a virgin?” Your eyes widen at this as you both look at each other at the same time his eyes wide too. You never really thought about it like that . I mean sure it was something you wanted to do eventually but you just figured you’d do it when the time felt right . Who knew you might die before you ever got the chance to. You look to chad thinking of all the times something was about to happen between you two even something small and you just couldn’t do it something just felt wrong. “ that was a weird over share” Mindy says breaking your train of thought before she continued on “ but it brings us to our current suspects” Mindy says before turning to Ethan . “Ethan the shy dorky guy who no one suspects cause he’s so shy and dorky” . your eyes practically bulge out of your head at this . You look at her in shock “ ethan !?” You say in suprise . “Why’s he on the suspect list ? He hasnt done anything wrong” you say gesturing towards him as everyone raises an eyebrow at how defensive your being . “ yeah why am I ? cause I’m randomly chads roommate ?” Ethan says gesturing towards your boyfriend. “Roommate lottery’s can be juked , you could have fixed it to get next to us” Mindy says as ethan rolls his eyes and looks to you shrugging. “y/n !” Mindy continues looking at you now and your eyes widen . “Me!?” You say as she continues “ y/n ,y/n , y/n the sweet innocent girl who always sees the best in everyone… or is that just an act” she says and you can’t believe she would actually think it could even possibly be you . “ I mean Micheal is dead and you were pretty quick to defending ethan.” Mindy shrugs before continuing with the rest of her suspect list .

you sigh before sitting down next to Anika on sams couch . Sam coming in setting down pillows and blankets for you two so you could spend the night before going into the kitchen with chad, tara and Mindy . Everyone was here except Ethan he had left earlier but other than that Sam insisted on safety in numbers so you were all together . “this is all so crazy , the killings and ghost face” Anika says looking at you as you smile “ I know it’s so weird cause I actually used to love the stab movies me and my dad used to watch them“ you say looking down . “Stu was always my favorite” Anika says playfully nudging you and you smile admiring and appreciating your best friend as she was the one who introduced you to the rest of the group in the first place and you would forever be grateful for that . “Billy was mine” you say giggling “ a lot more weird tho when you find out he’s your friends dad” you say trying to make light of the situation . Anika smiles at you “ yeah I suppose it is pretty weird” she laughs and it seems for a moment everything in your life is gonna be fine , your all gonna be ok , but you know thats all to good to be true. And it is cause now You hear a bang come from Quinn’s bedroom door and you both jolt up from the couch and everyone else rushes into the living room it doesn’t feel real. The banging seemingly stops as chad steps in front of tara ,you look at him for a split second before thinking back to what Ethan had said the night before . But It didn’t matter now all that mattered was getting out alive. You push your self in-front of Anika and before she even has time to protest mindy screams “run!”. Quinn’s bedroom door bursts open in a thunderous jolt and Quinn’s body flys out in front of you . Everyone screams and you , Sam , mindy and Anika all stumble back as tara and chad run . “ guys come on” Tara screams as she runs out the door . But it’s to late ghostface is already upon you. “ oh fuck!” Mindy says as ghostface tilts his head tauntingly before running towards her and slashing her shoulder . As she screams out in pain ghostface looks to you and Anika . Everyone’s screaming and Sam is crying out to you to run as Anika crys for mindy . Everything goes fuzzy when ghostface grabs you by the back of your neck and all you can do now is close your eyes and wait for the pain. But it never comes you open your eyes as ghostface throws you aside roughly towards Sam and goes for Anika . You scream in horror and confusion as he grabs Anika throwing her down and wrapping his hands around her neck . “Y/n come on!” Sam says while yanking you up by your wrist . You both run into the kitchen and sam runs for a knife but there isn’t any . Someone took them , someone knew this would happen . You both look to each other in whore before both looking to the living room as Anika screams a blood curdling scream of pain. Sam thinks fast and grabs the wooden block the knifes once were. And all you can do now is put up the best fight you can.

You open you eyes head throbbing and mind foggy as you look around. Your laying on Quinn’s bedroom floor but there’s no more screaming and sunlight is streaming in through the window . You look down to your hands that are covered in blood but you know that it’s not your own . The door burst open and your surrounded but various paramedics and cops one you recognize as Quinn’s father. And that’s when the memories come flooding back. “What happened? Where are my friends? Where’s ghostface?” So many questions come from your mouth as a paramedic leans down to help you up. “ calm down y/n it’s ok just take a deep breath.” He say desperately trying to calm you . “Are you alright” he asks and you nod slowly. “ please just take me to my friends.” You say quietly.

Once you make it outside with the help of some paramedics you insisted you didn’t need you immediately lock eyes with Sam someone you beli d to be her boyfriend standing behind her . You run over and she wraps her arms around you . “Y/n your ok!” She says pulling you closer before letting go as you pull away . “ yeah something like that” you say playfully sniffling. “What happened to me last night ?” You say curious as to why you woke up alone in Quinn’s room. “ when ghostface got into Quinn’s room he pushed you out of the way to get to the window we were climbing out of” she pauses “when he pushed you you must have hit your head and passed out” she says and you don’t understand why he hadn’t killed you. You brush it off figuring there was no point in trying to make sense of it as You look behind her to only see tara, mindy and chad . “W-Where’s Anika” you choke out tears threatening to spill as you lock as with Mindy and the look on her face tells you everything you need to know. “ oh mindy” you say tears rolling down your cheeks as she hugs you before pulling away . “Chad” you hear the voice of Ethan as you turn around to see him walking closer to you . Chad runs over and grabs him roughly by his jacket. “Where were you last night” he yells at ethan . “ I had Econ you now this” ethan says defensively. you run over “chad stop let go of him” you yell pushing chad . “What’s your problem y/n he was the only one not there last night!” Chad says looking at you. “he disappears and Tara and my sister almost get killed” he says breathing heavy. “ dude I was in a study hall with 100 other people as any of them” ethan interrupts . “Fuck man” chad says before walking back to mindy and Tara . You look at Ethan tears still left on your face. Ethan hugs you tightly as he rest his head on your shoulder. “What’s wrong baby” he asks a hand stroking your hair. “Anika she’s dead” you Choke out ignoring his odd actions as another tear Rolls down your cheek and you pull away from him. Ethan walks over to Mindy and you follow “ mindy I’m so sorry” he says “step the fuck back” she Says looking at him like he’s a killer. “what is wrong with you guys ?” You say defending ethan once again “ he had Econ ! he’s done nothing wrong” you say gesturing towards him . “Why do you keep defending him?” Chad asks in response raising an eyebrow. “ he’s my friend!? And he’s yours too” you say to chad disbelief in your tone. “ yeah a friend” chad scoffs rolling his eyes . “More than I can say for you and Tara” you shout and you can’t believe you said it as everyones eyes widen. “ your crazy” chad says shaking his head in disbelief. “Whatever I’ll see you guys later” you say another tear rolling off your cheek as you walk away head hanging low half wishing chad would chase after you. And for a moment you think he does when you feel a hand on your shoulder but when you turn you see Ethan and he begins to walk away with you. “ hey I’m sorry about all that” Ethan says puppy dog eyes looking into your innocent ones pitifully. “Yeah it’s ok” you say looking back down . “Hey maybe you can come back to my dorm with me and I can cheer you up” he says looking at you with that same sweet look he always has but there’s something strange about it this time . Something else lurks behind his brown eyes…

an: I’m so sorry this is so long I was having so much fun writing this fr . thank you for 100 likes on part one and 10 followers I appreciate it ! :) 🎀 lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for the next parts !

tags ✧˖*: @iloveneilperry

#ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream 6 #ghostface #chad meeks martin

[neymiiie]

Eyes of the SEES members ~

I’ve always admired artstyles where every character has super unique and recognizable vibes, so decided to try it with the gang. Super fun, highly recommend!

In the process of designing these I developed headcanons for each of their eyes, kind weird but if you want to read me ranting about why I drew Yukaris pupils a certain way or whatever, feel free to click read more lol.

Makoto: I wanted him to look tired, so a lot of his eyelashes go downward instead of upwards, also eye bags because he has insomnia and you can’t convince me otherwise. I didn’t want his eyes to look hollow/empty, but I didn’t want to put super obvious highlights and I think it works? Idk. Also drew his eyes in a way that reminds me of the ocean at night (Atlus gave me a ocean/water motif and I run with it ok?). His eyebrows are kinda “messy” in comparison to the others but I think it makes his eyes prettier so it is in character to me.

Yukari: I wanted her eyes to look a little more intense and turned them a little to give them a slightly “angry look”. Yukari should have a light case of rbf imo. I feel like Yukari puts a lot of effort into her appearance, and she probably wears more makeup but I cannot draw that to save my life lmao. Her eyebrows are probably the least messy other than Mitsurus, for the same reason as the previous one. Also hard to tell, but I put hearts in her pupils because it’s cute. Really proud of these ones, they read like hers so well to me.

Junpei: Junpeis eyes were so fun to draw! I feel like he’d have pretty short lashes and slightly smaller eyes, but still very vibrant! I really wanted his eyes to look full of life but still pretty simple, and I think I did pretty well! They feel very expressive to me. Also I feel like he’d have naturally very thin eyebrows, so gave him that lol.

Akihiko: idk how I feel about these, but I guess they’re alright? Gave him a kinda intense stare ig. I gave him really long natural eyelashes because I feel like he’d have them (canonical pretty boy that he is) and I’m somewhat proud of them because I stuggle with making longer eyelashes look masculine so guess this is a win. Gave him an eyebrow slit because I was so sure he had one in p4arena only to find out he didn’t even have eyebrows in it. What.

Fuuka: I feel like Fuukas neutral expression would still look slightly confused/concerns so her eyes are a little droopy. Gave her short but thick eyebrows because I thought it would be cute. Her eyes kinda remind me of rain and I like that! Also sidenote love the fact that official art draws fuuka with teal eyebrows. The implication that she was either born with teal hair or is so dedicated to the dye job she even dyed her eyebrows is hilarious to me. I know blue is treated as a normal hair color in persona-universe but Fuuka is literally the only one with teal hair how is it not dyed but yosuke and chies is??

Mitsuru: I wanted Mitsuru to be pretty. I gave her thinner but crisp eyebrows and eyeliner. I was a little worried because before I started shading her eyes looked kinda evil?? Lol but they turned out better in the end. Didn’t do a lot of details in her eyes because it felt like it worked better that way, but gave her bright highlights in her eyes to make up for it.

Aigis: These are my least favorite, and the first ones I did. Not sure if thats awful, because I wanted them to be very different from the rest. I feel like Aigis doesn’t actually have this wide eyes but willingly widens them so you can see the whole iris. I feel like her eyes would look more normal at a distance, and most of her classmates just assume she’s got weird eyes because they’re an uncommon eye color (major “give her brown contacts please” energy). Made her eyes look like does target-thingys and slightly plastic-y.

Ken: I didn’t want his eyes to be to bright, but still lively and childish. I gave him round wide eyes + smaller and thicker eyebrows to give a more childish feel. His eyelashes are pretty short but made them point more downwards since they looked too cheerful when turned upwards.

Shinjiro: dunno how readable these are as shinji, but theyre fine. Made his eyes very dark and put bright highlights cause I thought it looked better than the grey he actually has. Also gave him major eyebags because man has not had a good nights rest since like. Last October (sorry)

#persona #persona 3 #p3 #aigis #makoto yuki #yukari takeba #junpei iori #akihiko sanada #fuuka yamagishi #mitsuru kirijo #ken amada #shinjiro aragaki #minato arisato #fanart #artists on tumblr #beating same face syndrome one body part at a time: #hopefully these are actually readable as the characters they are supposed to be to other people than me lmao

[thesharktanksdriver]

Blood's Thicker Than Water (Platonic)

Made this cause I love assassins creed and I hate how they left the plot point about Desmond having a kid from a one night stand. Like sure there’s a comic for Elijah but let’s be real, who here has read that comic?

Sorry if any of them seem out of character, I haven’t played the games in a long while lol

Also thanks to my friend for streaming the games so I can get back into them lol

You never really met your dad but from what your mother described him as he was….a troubled soul

Now to be fair you’ve never exactly met Desmond Miles yourself but from the stories she told it’s obvious he had his fair share of demons

Some of which seemed to spill from the cracks of his soul from the short time she spent with him

A bartender is what he was, until he suddenly up and vanished from said bar in 2012 and died not too long after

It didn’t really make sense then even to your young mind

The gap between his sudden disappearance and death leaving too much unsaid for your mind not to be annoyed by

But as a child you eventually put the thought away

Eventually you forget

Instead going on to pursue your next whim as you focus on the present, or in your case Learning about the past in the present time

Unlike your fascination with your father that went away, your love of history never faded with time

It just seemed to grow the older you got

Your not sure why but something about history just clicked with you

It was somewhere within the range of middle school and reading national geographic that you had realized you liked it

That despite how some areas of it were bleak and disturbing it was interesting

And it got even more so interesting as you delved deeper into the depths of libraries

Nose buried in books lined with dust and old parchment

Yellowed pages and old ink that you carefully decode from centuries of lost meaning and metaphors lost to the modern age

You studied from the ancients all the way up to Victorian

Easing your way though literal centuries of historical records as you soaked up information like a sponge

And it’s there you vegans seeing an odd…repetition of events that seemed to occur

Odd assassinations plagued each era you looked into, all of which connected somehow by people in odd dress

In some journals that had luckily stood the tests of time you uncovered more eye witness accounts

A solider’s log back in the revolutionary war talking about an odd man meeting with his superiors in the dead of night

The diary of a log master who wrote of an odd frequent visitor that had an odd blade hidden beneath his sleeve

The drawing of a Victorian child being freed from a factory that had a hooded lady and man on the rooftop

I’m one you found a symbol, one created from the bottom perspective of an eagle skull, something also commonly associated with these hooded figures

What’s odd as well is that with these hooded assassins you also find traces of another group

One well know to historians such as yourself

Oddly enough the symbol of the Templar knights keep showing up even after their annulment

It’s odd, but what’s more odd enough is that both seemed to be tied to other historical artifacts

Ones well kept in archives and from the public eye

Ones you shouldn’t technically know about if not for you sneaking into sections your don’t have the status to enter

Their always gold with odd symbols. Somehow always pristine and polished despite the fact their dated to be from before ancient times

They for some reason seem to call to you specifically

Tempting you with forbidden knowledge you wish to taste like Eve

But for now you choose to wait until you can do proper analysis on them without the risk of punishment

So you lie and wait

Admittedly you didn’t think anyone expected for you to be this good at your job

In their defence you were a university student here on Co-op and not an actual full time historian

Hell you were in first year for gods sake

But somehow despite it all

Despite the fact you had actual historians and people in the history program years above you here you quickly began to become an outlier

A shinning beacon within the large archive, so much so that you began being allowed in the restricted sections you already snuck into

Mind you, now properly allowed there with some supervision of sorts gave you much more flexibility in research

You got to touch these artifacts

Hold them in gloved palms as silk covered finger glide across its edges and ridges

You study them extensively decrypting and decoding the ancient texts and hieroglyphs

Jotting down what you found in both a report and your own personal journal

Your not sure why you do so but you chock it up to making sure no one takes credit for your work

And this continues to the point your eventually allowed alone with them

It’s great

You dedicate yourself to this task as you learn more and more

Soaking up knowledge like a sponge as you find out more of what was previously lost

Find new angles and perspectives on events

For history isn’t just a set time and date, it’s interpretation based on what we know from sources

And even then sources can be biased

Sources can lie and silence another person’s view on the event

Your more than happy to try make your own interpretations

Admittedly when you were asked to study what looked to be a necklace from these unidentified ancient artifacts you were ecstatic

How could you not be?

Intricate gold woven in something akin to Grecian jewelry

Yet also had hints of something akin to Egyptian

It also…glows? Or at least you swear you’ve seen it glow gold and pulsate a few times but that could be the sleep deprivation speaking

Either way it’s an honour

One you don’t take lightly as you study it

Spending countless restless nights and days trying to crack its code

An unknown source has been funding the archive and your research quite a bit

Betting big money on it much to your surprise and suspension

You get that this is potentially something big but it feels out of left field

Especially since no one knows the name of the company

It’s just under an anonymous donation every month

It’s sketchy

But you aren’t one to argue about free money to further your and your colleagues pursuit of knowledge

Not when this beautiful place used to be underfunded

Not when most historical records were donated by people with a good conscious

Not when this place was almost shut down

With a sigh you continue on your work

Diligently tact checking and writing up a storm

Your writing looks like chicken scratch but that was a commonality between all history majors

Well, along with being giant nerds

And it’s there at that desk at 3 am in the morning, tired and only running on 3 hours of rest you find something peculiar on the necklace

A sharp jaded edge that you absentmindedly prick yourself on by accident

With a groan you wipe the blood away on your pants

Then going up to get a bandaid

You swore to god if you died of tetanus you’d be positively pissed

Unknown to you the necklace starts to glow

When you get home your more exhausted than usual

Your limbs feel like their kade of concrete and your head is stuffed with tissue

Eyelids trying to glue themselves shut

You practically kick off your shoes before tumbling to the couch

Not bothering in changing clothes or showering for the sweet relief of sleeps embrace

So you flop down face first into the old leather cushions of your couch

Only putting in the effort of fishing a hand to grab a throw pillow and blanket from nearby that you burrowed yourself into

A comfy cocoon/prison you couldn’t will yourself to leave even as you swore for a moment you heard something in the house

But your mind writes it off

Your too tired to question anything let alone get up

All you want is sleep

And that’s exactly what you get as your eyelids shut

You fall into the realm of dreams, odd ones playing out in your mind

Blurred images of odd men

A weird void-like realm

The cries of an eagle overhead

A single word appearing in your head

Kenway

And then your eyes snap awake when the sound of arguing fills your ears

Yelling of several male voices jumbling up your already fogged up sense as you practically fall off the couch in a mixture of fear and confusion

Curses escaping your mouth when suddenly the voices go silent and your left in a realm of fear

Hair standing on end as the creaking of the house makes you more alert

Despite the fact you’d never fought a day in your life you will up the courage to grab a baseball bat and cautious cross to where you heard the commotion

Careful steps on the non-creaky boards of the home that you’d luckily memorized

And there you find several men in old garb

Accents of Red tying them together like a string of fate

Or a trail of blood fainting their very existence

they turn to you with sharp eyes

It’s the one in modern clothes that surprises you the most

The face of your supposed dead father staring back at you

Ocher brown eyes that had long lost their life now rejuvenated as they seem to find familiarity in your own features

Some of which mirror his own along with some of the others in the room

The bridge of your nose

A all powerful spark in your eyes as they flick between everyone and escape routes

The way your lip slightly twitches when you try to keep a brave face

Your posture as you decided what to do

It’s all too familiar to him and them in a way that isn’t just coincidence

Especially not when all of them are Kenway

Not when he had been able to prove to them that fact through the experience of virtually living through their lives up until his death

“I’m not sure who the fuck all of you are but get out of my house.” Your fingers twitch and flex as your palms grow sweaty, the wood absorbing the pressure and moisture “especially my dead dad look-alike”

You all but confirm his suspicions

Their suspicions

And it looks Ike for you tonight will be much longer than you anticipated

Turns out that artifact you were studying wasn’t just as normal one

Neither were the other ones you looked at

The way they explained it as was their “artifacts from dead gods”, a fallen civilization that engineered humanity into being their slaves

It’s a lot to take in

Even more so when your suspicions of something bigger happening throughout global history with those odd deaths were real

Oh, and these were you dead ancestors and dad somehow back from the grave and now in your home

…..yeah safe to say that’s a lot to take in after an already very long and tiring shift

You sit there as they explain this, half asleep, and half exasperated

Cause how the hell are you supposed to believe all this bullshit that for some reason feels correct

Something in you tells you that their right yet your mind is fighting that logic

You’d always been a logical person, when it came to most situations you used your brain instead of your heart

And in those cases things ended up fine

But now your faced with this

A situation where your heart is screaming for you to listen as your brain tries to take this all in

Cause logic is completely out the window at the moment

For now you have to trust them even if your still afraid

I mean, how couldn’t you be?

But you get the sense that they understand

At least a little bit by how their also thrusted into a new environment without much say

Perhaps that (along with your own apprehension) is helping comfort them as well

So for now they’ll stay

Your just thanking (the dead) gods that grandma and grandpa’s old home is big enough for all of them

Altaïr Ibn-La’ Ahad

The oldest down the line of your dad’s side of your lineage finds himself often reading through your books in your study

It was a bit of a surprise one day entering it to find him sitting in a spare chair but you don’t mind the silent company

Especially as he seems to find interest in your studies

Occasionally he breaks the silence and asks you a question about the subject he’s reading about

He’s by far the oldest (even if he’s back in the body of his prime) of them therefore he’s the one who has the most figuratively to catch up on

So you indulge him

And also asks questions as well that he seems eager in answering

Knowledge connects you both, scholarly intellect being the bridge between the two of you despite centuries of time apart

Typically he asks about thinks such as modern life and what is know about his home, what happened to it? What it’s known of his era

You answer as best you can

Especially since that era of time isn’t exactly your forte

But he appreciates it anyways

Appreciates that you try, appreciates that you passionately care about history in the first place

Admittedly your mom was supportive but never understood your love of history

She’d listen to your rants and long conversations with a polite smile but you knew she never understood what you were talking about

But he does

He does and contributes whole heartedly in just as much passion

It’s nice

What’s also nice is that he’s studied the artifacts you now study as well

So now your both constantly coming up and developing ideas together

A constant back and forth

Hypotheses, discussion, and testing

Delving deeper into discovery like you’ve wanted

But with this he also helps you see where passion and obsession mix together

After the loss of his wife and son he delved into studying as a form of escape

It drove who was left away

Made the pit in his heart deeper

He doesn’t talk about it often but he seems to see how you may go down the same path

And he warns you of it

Unlike his younger self (that he now appears as) he’s wise if a little rough around the edges

He encourages knowledge but not to the point where it’s an all encompassing and toxic obsession

Within the household he seems to take a somewhat neutral but quiet role

He helps out and offers advice and guidance

Much like a teacher and grandfather of sorts

Speaking up when he has to and making sure the house doesn’t end up in disrepair

He seems to have a fascination with modern appliances, or at least holds a thankfulness for them

Like a few others he sticks to his robes most the time but you’ve seen him sport more modern clothes once awhile

Stuff still somewhat reminiscent of what he wore before but with a modern flare. Things with hoods and draping. Silks and wool. Something with an accent of red mixed in

Sometimes when you fall asleep in your studies you find a blanket draped over you and a cup of tea at your side

He won’t admit it’s him but he’s the only one who knows your tea preferences

He keeps his worry for you deep down but it’s somewhat relived when seeing that you take his warning of not taking the pursuit of knowledge too far

“It says here there was something called the “French revolution”. Would you care to explain what happened here to me?” He asks making you pause your work for a moment, when he sees your smile he knows your answer. Sure he read some of this book and got the gist of it, but something about seeing your eyes light up at his inquiry makes him feel at peace for a moment.

“Would I ever!”

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

This man is quite literally all up in your (and everyone’s) business

Not in an annoy way per say but he’s definitely curious about the lives his descendants have led (both good and bad)

Ezio is very clearly a family man and it’s somewhat ironic to see since half of this household has some sort of familiar issue

Most of which is some sort of daddy issue stemming from either Haythem or Edward that trickled down the line to you

Something that Ezio is seemingly trying to wrap his head around

Out of the others he’s the one who opens up the most

Partially because you think he misses his immediate family and friends

It must be a lot to handle being away from home, now in a foreign land where everything has changed

Despite that though he keeps a brave face

Almost always flashing a smile as he drags you from your study to have some “bonding time”

You won’t admit it to his face but you don’t mind

Especially as he gives your poor hunched over back a break

And treats your pallet to some good old fashioned (literally) Italian food and not cup ramen once again

He tried it once and threw your supply out, saying he’d be supplementing you with food from now on

You can’t exactly say your disappointment or upset from the heaven that is fresh baked garlic bread and pasta

He cooks not only for you but for the others of the house as well, saying his sister taught him lest he piss off his future lady

Taking in their suggestions and cooking foods from their homes as a way of him offering comfort

Whilst he does these tasks he often hums in his mother tongue of Latin

You don’t have the heart to tell him it’s a dead language

Especially when he seems so happy that you can somewhat understand it

He’s happily rambling and teaching you words

Helping you sound out phrases and pronunciation correctly unlike your Latin professor

Some of his songs he lightly sings under his breath get stuck in your head since he has a good singing voice

But despite the facade you see the cracks

Sometimes you find him looking at modern objects mumbling about how Leonardo would have loved to see this or made something similar

Or how Claudia would’ve liked this book

How Petruccio would have loved this toy

It….leaves a bitter taste in your mouth

Once upon a time you felt this same type of longing for family

Once a time you thought of you dad before going to bed and staring at his old Polaroid with hope

One that would never come to fruition (until now)

It’s why you indulge him, to keep his mind off the deeper plunge of melancholy

Compared to the others he’s relatively open to modernizing

In fact he seems somewhat excited in these things

Raiding your wardrobe like a damn fashionista and critiquing what’s good quality

He also has a wide variety of looks, not sticking to something similar to his time of dress

Versatile and somehow up to date? Your not sure how but somehow he’s in fashion?

Like he must’ve found a copy of vogue or something cause there is no way he just guessed that this was the new trend

When you pressure him on it he replies that he’s simply that amazing

You call bullshit but have yet to find evidence

But in the meantime you ask get him to tell you about Da Vinci and you furiously jot down what he says

Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of Claudia’s quick wit

It makes him long for home yet as he looks at his descendants and ancestor he also feels….something

A small pit of warmth developing as he gets to know the inhabitants of this house longer

Meet Altair besides through a weird vision

His home is in Florence yet that feeling of comfort from the Villa is bleeding into these old (yet new) walls

“So this painting is his most famous work?” He asks looking at your computer with a bit of confusion, his scared lips quirking at the digital image.

“Yeah. This is actually probably the most famous painting in the world”

“Really? Of all his works this one is considered the best? I’m not doubting his skill but of all his pieces?”

“Believe me, I get it. It’s only this famous cause it was stolen”

“Stolen?!? Tell me who did it! I swear-”

Edward Kenway

For someone who was a feared pirate on the seas he’s surprisingly much less violent than you’d think him to be

Sure, he’s scary as hell still but at least he’s not stabbing you in the back and making off with your grandmas pearls or something

Still your a bit unnerved by him considering you did a project on him back in middle school and he’s now in your home

Munching on some god damn biscuits as if this was a normal situation

His son Haytham avoids his as best he can but he seems to bond with his grandson quite easily

Or more easily than he does with Haythem

It takes some time but you eventually go to him when you find him awake at the dead hours of night

A whisky bottle in hands as he occasionally takes a swig in silence as he stares out the window

You don’t talk

You don’t need to when he drinks in silence for awhile staring at the moon before eventually talking about the guilt

In his pursuit of power and gold he let people die

Greed woven into his soul as he sacrificed good men for his cause

He changed and did good yet his past haunts him

Hands stained red

Guilt eating away

A son who doesn’t want anything to do with him

At some point when he stops his rambles you speak

Reminding him that while his actions weren’t good he changed

It doesn’t wash the blood away but it stoped more from staining his hands

Though Haythem avoids him Connor is more than eager to fill his place

It doesn’t fix his overlying problems but it does help

In the morning he ends up talking with you more after this as your initial fear melts away

You end up seeing Edward Kenway, not the fiercesome captain of the Jackdaw

You see a man burdened by past mistakes and still wishes to do better

You see a human being at its core

With history it’s easy to forget the people your looking at was once alive and a breathing being

One who was just as flawed as you and I

But seeing a infamous pirate captain cry about issues pertaining not just time him made you remember that

He isn’t opposed to modernizing but seems to keep a certain sea-like touch to his appearance

Clothes for labourers and something loose is what he normally sticks to

He’s lucky though since he doesn’t exactly have traditional robes and can incorporate what he appeared in with a modern flair

Occasionally when he gets drunk he slurs out old shanties and talks about his epic tales

You might or might not have freaked the fuck out learning that James kidd was actually a woman

Mind blown

Ezio and Altair had to drag you away from your computer from writing an entire essay

Sitting on your countertop he holds a glass of whiskey in hand, one held out for you as you sit down beside him. The moon casts its gentle rays and lights the marble slab you both sit on. “I prefer Rum but this’ll do” it’s said in a playful tone that makes you nod and take a sip.

“I can grab some captain Morgan later…speaking of which, did you know him?

“No, but I did find a few of his things laying about “

“Care to tell?”

“Aye, sure thing”

Haytham Kenway

As the only Templar in this house it’s safe to say he’s definitely the outlier of the bunch

A relative lone wolf from the group that all hold some sort of Ill feelings towards him

From his father its confusion and sadness

The others it’s a mix of that and anger

From Connor it’s just plain…well your not quite sure how to describe it

The two’s entire family situation is just plain messy and thick with tension that their blades could cut through

But here’s the thing, in this house your also an outlier

A neutral zone so to say

Hell, the entire house seemed to be a haven of sorts from their whole Templar vs Assassin conflict

To be honest you don’t really care about this secret war

Well that’s a lie you are interested in these war of secret societies but you don’t specifically care to get involved in their politics

Not when you have business in interfering in it unless a fight breaks out and your telling everyone to calm the fuck down

So safe to say your kinda the only one who talks to Haytham

He is…well sometimes he’s a bit of an ass (in the British type of way) but at the same time he’s good conversation

Specifically when it comes to that of morals and philosophical beliefs

He is a conflicted man

A flawed one

But he holds his beliefs and morals despite the fact he’s been hurt and betrayed by a man he viewed as a mentor

He doesn’t talk about it much but he’s still hurt

Still seething with venom that burns his soul and flesh

Makes him want to lash out despite his upperclassman appearance and attitude

That despite it all he loves his son, so much so he willingly walked into what would be his death knowingly

That despite what happened he loves his dad yet can’t face him yet on account of what he became

What ideals and morals he still believes in even now

It’s perhaps he’s venting this to you rather than a journal because he knows you won’t judge him unfairly on the basis of what side your own

Your judging him as a flawed man and as an equally flawed person

It’s with him as well you open up about your own frustrations

How you still don’t know how to feel about this all

The fact that a lot of what you once knew was flipped on it’s head

Along with the fact your not even sure how to address your dad

It’s an entire mess but perhaps your both messed up together and that also draws you both to talking

To discuss your feelings of insucurity and confliction

To feel comfort that your not alone in not having your emotional shit in order

On some especially…emotional nights you both both have a cup of tea

He seems to enjoy that each time you use a different type, much of which used to be hard to obtain due to shipping and it’s prices

He hasn’t really yet grasped modern technology but your slowly helping him with it

It’s kinda like trying to teach a grandpa to figure out a phone, but now it’s him with the concept of a microwave

Like some of the others he’s yet to really also change his clothes to something modern

There has been a few times though he sported sweaters and vests

Your now working on helping his wardrobe since he prefers a sophisticated look

Occasionally he looks at the photos that line your walls, looking as you evolve through the ages

It’s…odd

With Connor he never had the chance to watch him grow

Never a snapshot to immortalize what he was like a child but now ones of you litter the walls like paintings

He feels melancholy

Yet at the same time he’s happy to get another chance maybe

One that is seemingly being helped by your gentle hand unknowingly

“I never thought about it until now but the stars are different” he says taking a sip of his matcha tea, he lets it pool on his tongue and experience the flavour. Not his favourite but not the worst

“That’s cause of light pollution here…though the stars do move so it it’s possible they’ve shifted position in the sky”

“Do they teach you about the stars in your schooling?”

“Yeah I took some. Not sure why, it just kinda spoke to me. Maybe it’s the Kenway blood”

Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway

Of the group Connor is the most quiet and surprisingly the one whom you connect with the best for some reason

Perhaps it’s cause your both socially awkward in ways that let you relate

Or the fact you’ve both been ostracized by society for various reasons

His company is that of a quiet one but one you accept it with ease as you both sit and enjoy each others company

A quiet kinship made of unspoken but understood words from one another

The reminder that someone else is there and your not truly alone

He is perhaps the one you feel you can understand the most

And it’s the same likewise for him

Your both people deeply hurt and still bleeding internally

People raised by only their mother in a cruel and harsh world

People who were let down one way or another by their father

People who are still mad and angry but use that to further their determination

It’s odd but you feel truly understood

Like your soul was peeled back to reveal at your core your still a lone spirit lost in the world

One clinging to what they know as their only lifeline in this confusing and jumbled mess of a situation

The hulking 6 foot 2 man shows you trails near your home

Taking to the forest paths you’ve know your entire life and helping you discover even more about them

And while he does this he teaches you more about the world as you both walk the old beaten path

He tells you how to identify what type of tree is which, which stones are likely geodes and what tracks belong to who

It’s honestly petty interesting especially since he adds snippets of stories from his heritage

In return you talk about what you know as well

Snippets of your own knowledge that he seems to store into his mind just as you do with his stories

An equal exchange of sorts

On these walks you begin to notice he takes you out on these when your at your most stressed

The times in which your mind is overworking and consuming itself with anxiety

The times in which you need to breath

Connor doesn’t seem like one to vocally express his care but he does so through action

Small inconspicuous actions that mean a lot more than what meets the eye

It’s seems that his towards you is helping you when you need it most

Taking you away to just take a moment for yourself

To just breath in the fresh air and let the sunset coloured leaves of autumn crunch under your boots

Letting the cold breeze take away your worries

It’s perhaps better than any type of verbal support

Yet another unspoken action of care and compassion through knowing and watching

Of watching and knowing when you need a break

When you realize this and give him a small tired smile as a thanks he seems to know

Only giving a small nod with a minuscule smile of his own

It only grows bigger when you begin to ask him if his traditions, of the stories and practices of his people that he’s more than willing to tell when he knows you ask out of genuine curiosity and respect

Connor is somewhat 50/50 in modernizing

He adapts quite well but still needs help with certain things as he navigates the situation

But like usual he is anything but resourceful as he watches what you do and figures it out

He helps the others quite a bit with what he’s picked up and somewhat takes pride in the fact he can help them

Whilst he’s privy to wearing his robes he isn’t against more modern clothes

The only problem though is sometimes finding stuff that fits him considering he’s not only a giant but also fairly muscular

But your both eventually able to find some stuff for him to wear that he likes

He really appreciates though that you try to buy clothes and jewelry from nearby indigenous peoples

It might not be his but he appreciates the sentiment and familiarity that the beaded jewelry give him

“I’ve lived here my whole life and walked down these paths a thousand times yet it seems more like your the local here” you say with amusement as you follow Conner through an area you’d be never been before.

He smiles, it’s small but there as he adds “just a matter of perspective. You see the paths your used to and I see ones you hadn’t noticed”

Desmond Miles

Yeah so this is entirely awkward for you

Like how the fuck do you emotionally deal with this and the fact your very dead dad who didn’t know you existed till now is now very alive

And living in your house with his very dead ancestors that are also now alive

Case and point you don’t, specifically you ignore the problem and act like everything is fine

You lock yourself away and try to avoid him like the plague

Somehow Scurry past him and into the kitchen to grab something before returning to your abode to eat

But then things got complicated

Things change

You began talking to the others

Slowly coming out the darkness of your study and joining the dinner table

But you still try to avoid him

It feels like the sight of him burns your mind, all those nights as a kid coming back to you

The hope and then disappoint in learning he died and that he likely never wanted you

Your mother never said this but the other kids did. They always teased and picked at the fact you were a mistake

It’s why you push so hard now to be the best, To prove them wrong (to prove to yourself that your worth existing)

The fact is that now he’s here and you don’t know how to deal with that

How would you even start?

What do you even say to him?

You quiet down when he enters a room because you don’t know what to do

Whatever your about to say dying in your throat like a caged bird and all that came come out are garbled noises as you evade him

Eyes casting down to your hands like a child averting their gaze from their parent when in trouble (he is your dad so it’s the same thing right?)

Leaving the room he’s in as quickly as you can once a take is done

The others notice quick, I mean how can’t they? A damn butter knife can cut through the tension

The whole thing with Haytham and Connor is less tense than this

But what can you even do?

How in thick do you talk to him and how can he even talk to you?

Your 18 and in university, he’s 25 and was a bartender in New York before apparently sacrificing himself for the world

He’s closer in age to being a big brother rather than your dad.

But even besides that he’s been long dead and gone since 2012

It’s been years since that point and more importantly he’s someone important and your not

He’s an assassin born to a bloodline of other assassins

Someone who was raised in this tradition with greatness not only in his origin but also in his death

And your you

A child born from a one night stand who’s only achievement is being good at knowing about old people

It hurts but it’s true

If he’s a star then your a candle compared to his light

A mere blip or spark to the greater picture

There had been times he looked like he wanted to say something but you scurry away before he can say anything

Sometimes you catch the looks and small gestures Ezio tries to make as if to encourage him to go up to you

How Connor sometimes brings up to you how he wishes for reconciliation with his dad and that perhaps it’s possible with your own

Altair not beating around the bush and plainly telling both him and you to talk

But it all feels for naught and dies when those feelings and thoughts return

But eventually he corners you

Well not really corners you per say but he catches you as you leave your study after a talk with Altair

“Listen I don’t have any grudge against you. For one you died, I’d be a dick if I blamed you for that or your decision to save the world and whatever. Second you didn’t know about me in the first place” you say briefly looking up at him before averting your gaze, he looks like he wants to say something but he can’t get a word out before you continue “but you don’t have to act like my dad or anything. You never asked for me, it was a mistake, I was a mistake and I’m fine with it.” (Your lying to yourself)

You leave before he can get a word out, and he’s left alone in the hallway. When he returns to Ezio he just sits down in silence. It’s enough for everyone to know I didn’t go the way he wanted.

Admittedly when you begin to notice odd figures at the achieves you write it off

I mean it could literally be anyone plus the supervisors aren’t making a fuss about them here

If anything their welcoming them and looking at them with hopeful eyes

Small glances full of opportunities in them

It��s odd but maybe their just some non-profit here to support the archive

Or even private benefactors of sorts

But then they turn their attention to you

Plastic smiles on their faces, artificial pleasantries as their main spokeswoman sits in front of you in a slick suit

Her stilettos tapping against the ground as your eyes trail to her bodyguards of sorts

They stand not too close nearby

Watching

Waiting

And then she begins talking

And slowly you grow more and more uncomfortable

Hands playing with one another, fingers twitching in your palm as crescent are indebted in your skin

They apparently are interested in your findings

In your research

But more specifically you

They’ve researched you…a lot

Down from where your mother was born to her great great something grandfather

And your father

…but that’s not public knowledge

It wasn’t even on your birth certificate

This….this isn’t

She smiles though now the darkness melts away into something more knowing

Dangerous and sadistic of sorts

And it’s there on her little pin showing her name you recognize the logo

Within your house you’d vaguely heard whispers of the others talking in hushed tones

You didn’t mind

The less you know the better in that sense

Out of sight and out of mind

But sometimes you’d hear the mumbles of a name that you didn’t put together until now

One spat with venom just as they did with the word of the Templar

Abstergo

You barely have time to react before your black bagged and sufficiently knocked out

Mind drifting to that of panic

What would happen to you?

What will happen when the others find out?

But then those thoughts fade away into the dark void of sleep

When you wake up things are odd

Everything is a sterile white and too bright for your foggy sleep tinged eyes

The room is blurred as is your senses as you weightlessly drift

Everything feels odd

And then it happens sharp and pure pain that leaves you writhing and screaming into the void

And that’s when you notice that white light had left and your in a void of sorts

Empty glitching effects all around you as your left to look around in confusion until you see something

A memory? Specifically one of your memories

Your staring at a simulation of sorts of your past self

A 8 year old in their bed with chubby cheeks pulled up into a melancholy smile

You recognize this moment, your small hands holding a picture that had long been put away into a scrapbook and forgotten

Your left wordless and confused

And then that bitch’s voice appears again and she explains

This entire thing is a simulation of your memories

And essentially their gonna go through your head picking through them to not only learn what they want but then use you as their lab rat cause of your bloodline.

Cause apparently memories of your ancestors could be accessed that way and it was generally easier to have a descendant rather than finding objects and artifacts

And it’s there in that simulation it feels like your mind is being ripped apart

Memories ripped from your mind to play out in front of you as she makes comments and documents them before their forced back in and another is ripped out

Like book having pages torn out and then crudely stitched back in

It hurts so damn much

Over and over

Your just left in screaming again on the ground of this simulated world as she makes idol comments

Left begging for it to stop

For someone to help

For the love of god someone help you make it stop

Of course this would happen to you

You’ve always had shit luck despite your whole family motto being “make your own luck”

What utter bullshit

You can’t make good luck from bad

Can’t just change things when the scales are already tipped one way

But then like a miracle from above she goes quiet and suddenly the memory is gone

And your left in the void still reeling from it all

Still on the glitching ground before once more white encompasses your view

Blinding and bright as your still recovering

And then an unfamiliar voice tunes in

“Your safe” it’s heavily accented, in an Irish twang that’s soft as he says these words to you. A reminder that your ok now, it’s over. “Can you walk?”

You try to look at him with squinting eyes yet they still can’t adjust, your limbs feel heavy like solid rock. Unmoving even as you try. With some difficulty you shake your head

“Aight, I’ll have you carry you then. Are you alright with that?”

“Just get me out of here…please. I just want to go home, I miss my family” it sounds pathetic but as tears begin to fall the stranger doesn’t seem to think Ill of you.

“Don’t worry, I get what that’s like.” The tone is sympathetic and like before is soft “you’ll be home I no time, I promise”

You think for a moment before responding “I trust you”. For a second you feel him go still at that before he picks you up.

For awhile there’s buzzing alarms and panic as your saviour gets you out whoever’s you were taken too

There’s not a moment of silence as he sharply runs and dodges past what you think to be gunshots

Occasionally he grumbles something but for the most part he seems calm

Composed despite the chaos of it all

So much so that it makes you wonder if this is an average Tuesday for him

There’s so much shout and yelling for your already pounding head

But sometimes the yells are silenced as the sound of a blade cuts it short

Footsteps far behind eventually stopping

Sirens getting more and more distant and allowing you and the man to breath

It’s there in the pocket of silence you learn his name

Shay

It sounds familiar, like really familiar yet you can’t put your finger on it

Either way your grateful because how can you not be?

Your away from that place

Away from the torture of having your mind picked apart like a lab experiment

Having the privacy of your memories looked at and prodded

But now your somewhat okay

Your eyes feel weird, your vision feels weird like it keeps switching between something

Your at least somewhat able to walk though it’s unbalanced

but Shay doesn’t seem to mind

He offers an arm that you cling to for support

A kind smile on his face as he makes sure you didn’t injure yourself further

And then you notice his clothes are….old

Like Haytham and Connor level old

And…shit

It’s halfway home through the trails you recognize due to Connor that your vision changes

The world feels bigger as if your third eyes opened or something

Shays figure and presence is highlighted in a clover green

And perched nearby is another green figure, one waiting for a good moment

Shay follows your sight before promptly having to duck out the way from a knife that flies at his head

He pushes you back behind him, you stumble back vision switch between monochrome and normal as someone else grabs you

Instinctively you almost yell before realizing who was now helping keep you steady

And the other person now attacking Shay

“Connor! He’s good! He saved me!”

“He’s a Templar!”

“So is Haytham and you haven’t killed him…again have you!”

At that Shay pauses, turning to look at you with confusion as Connor stops his attempt as slitting his throat

Ezio on the other hand helps you up but keeps a firm protective grip

Watching Shays movements like Connor in apprehension before the two settle down and stare at you for more detail

Both waiting on your word

“He saved me and today has been a long ass day-“

“You’ve been gone for 4 days”

You pause momentarily at that before adding “long 4 ass days of having my mind literally ripped apart. Can we please head back to the house and settle this there? Thank you”.

The moment you get back your almost immediately tackled to the ground by a familiar white and red hoodie wearing absent (dead) father

It’s….odd but nice

Desmond (still feels too awkward to call him dad) is holding you like a lifeline and you notice bags beneath his eyes

He looks like hell

But none of the others are any better either

They all like positively exhausted yet light up when seeing your safe

Your home

It reminds you of your mom when you returned home from school

The long work day evident on her brow but her smile lighting up the room at the sight of your face

It’s no different compared to then except for the fact they all (except Haytham) then protectively pull you away from the nearby Shay who’s being glowered at by Connor

Safe to say it’s a little awkward until you somehow pull free of Desmond’s death grip hobble your ass between the two lone Templars and Assassins

A long discussion having to take place between them all as you not only explain what happened but also it seems you all forget one crucial thing

It seems you forgot about your mom’s side of the family

Whoop de Doo you have more things to process and so does everyone else here

Specifically Connor and Haytham Because before apparently knew (or know of) Shay

Great, another complex relationship in this household like there needed to be more of that

But with this entire situation it also highlights something bigger

Your not safe

None of you are safe

Perhaps you never truly were

And that in turns leaves you with the difficult decision of what to do next

Because In this difficult game of politics between two ever warring groups your a neutral force

You wanted to stay that way but unfortunately fate had other plans

as your drug into this game your left with limited options of sides for not only yourself but for the others who seem keen on following you

Even the two (former?) templars seem to follow your decision

So When Des…er your dad suggests finding his old friends it seems like the best option

It’s either that or be kidnapped and prodded again and who knows what abstergo will do to everyone else (even one’s that once upon a time we’re on their side)

Besides, he says you’ll get along well with someone named Shaun so It can’t be too bad

So he sends out a message and you leave the home you find yourself look at with melancholy

It stopped being a home when mom died but now it seemed like it was just that again

Only time can tell what will bring upon you next

But….you think you’ll be ready for whatever is thrown at you when you have this odd group of family at your side

The expression of blood is thicker than water never really held much weight since you only ever had your mom until she was gone

But maybe you understand it a bit better now

#platonic #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed imagine #desmond miles x reader #ezio auditore x reader #ezio x reader #altair x reader #connor kenway x reader #haytham kenway x reader #shay cormac x reader #edward kenway x reader

[imhidingonceagain]

Slimeriana and QSMP fans, we need to talk (really, I'm going to talk about a few things).

CW: nsfw

Warning: long post.

At this point I think majority of you guys know what happened with Mariana yesterday (especially because the fliporiana community is small compared to other ones).

I'm gonna write some stuff Mariana said and I'm gonna be explicit about it because I want you guys to understand the severity of the situation (this is your warning):

Context: He was curious to see if people actually posted nsfw stuff about him (and poor boy, he really thought he wouldn't find any).

And I quote what he said after seeing some posts: "No, no, no! Why's Slime penetrating me?!" (He was probably looking at a fanart)

"I'm not doing role like that with Slime anymore. I thought you guys found it funny (he was talking about the sex role in the QSMP) but it only fills your minds with shit"

"I'm gonna say it in English because I know there's QSMP fans who do it as well: Don't draw hentai about me, don't draw us fucking, that's being a pervert, that's wrong"

Some months ago I wrote a post when we got the first warning in regards of this topic.

Mariana and Slime have talked about fanart before and at the time they didn't seem uncomfortable about it (though it seems like Charlie's girlfriend was).

So I wrote: it's not necessary to stop doing fanart about them. Just be careful with what you draw and where you post it.

To me even "suggestive" fanarts are "okay" (but with suggestive I mean the characters looking at each other like they want to kiss each other so bad, that's it). But when and how did that translate to some of you thinking that drawing real people having sex and not only having sex (because there's always ways to show intercourse without being explicit or disgusting) but also showing private parts is okay?

Because it's obvious Mariana saw something super explicit by the way he reacted (because he doesn't get bothered too easily). My poor man was distressed!

And let me tell you something. This is not only about Mariana and Slimecicle. This is a REAL PROBLEM within the fandom. Let me give you some examples:

I love reading fanfiction and months ago I was scrolling through the QSMP section on AO3 and let me tell you something: the amount of fanfiction written about the eggs and their parents in a non platonic way is CONCERNING.

Especially Wilbur Soot's fandom seems to have a lot of rotten apples who think that writing abusive stories about q! Wilbur and Tallulah is fine.

I understand some people write stories like that not because they're crime apologists, but because that's their way to deal with trauma (and dealing with trauma through art is okay). But PLEASE remember that while the eggs are fictional, their "parents" are REAL people.

Use fictional characters, please. Stop writing real people into pedophilic or highly abusive situations. THAT'S HORRENDOUS.

Another example is the following: Some weeks ago people were reporting a Twitter account and I clicked on the account (I personally don't like reporting people without making sure they deserved) and it took me like three seconds of scrolling to see more than 5 Ccs being disrespected (including Slimecicle, Quackity, Cellbit, Roier and Badboyhalo). Explicit Pictures, videos and fanarts were being posted about these creators.

You know what I think? I think Cellbit made his character asexual not only for the representation (it's clear by now that q! Cellbit is a sex positive asexual which is still representation yay!) But because he has been on the internet since around 2011 and he knows how disrespectful people can be. I think he knew that his and Roier's ship was getting too popular and that makes them both unprotected to shit like this.

Sadly, it's clear that it didn't matter that Cellbit made his character asexual, people can't seem to respect that detail about his character and about himself as a real person.

To some people it doesn't matter if the Cc is ambiguous or completely clear about their boundaries, they still don't give a fuck.

Please remember that behind each character is a real person. I understand sometimes you guys want to see your favorite characters fuck -me too, honestly- but for people like streamers that's out of the questions because not only they're real people, but because their work is related to social media and the possibilities of them finding EVERYTHING we write and post about them are super high.

I don't know how to feel. It's obvious that Mariana has not been feeling the same about the server since Juanaflippa died. Maybe this will make him feel even worse about the QSMP but I hope I'm wrong.

#el mariana #elmariana #slimecicle #slimeriana #fliporiana #qsmp #elmariana fanart #qsmp fanart #wilbur soot #cellbit #Quackity

[trungles]

Processing Process, and More Processing

I made this post free and publicly readable on Patreon, but I'm reposting the whole thing right here too because, well, it's a free post, and I don't want to make you click away from your dashboard if you don't need to. But also if you want to support my work, here's the link to the post.

It's a little bit about cartooning, a little bit about drawing, and then it turns into a eulogy for a chicken.

I wrote “process” more than once, and now the word looks funny and is beginning to lose its meaning to me.

This post is about a few things, and it’s a little bit on the sad end of things. Nothing dire! No worries. There’s just a little mention of death, just as a heads up.

Before we get to that, though, I’ve been doing some work and had some thoughts.

I’m often asked about how I draw the noodle hair on my characters, and the answer is typically that I draw each and every line with my hand. But there are considerations of movement and volume that go into it beyond its texturally decorative purposes. I love being able to convey shape and motion with it. It’s less evident, I think, in my illustration work, but I think it’s much more obvious when I do sequential work. In the above image, you can see me working out a sequence of Angelica having a series of thoughts. Her head sort of moves, and her eyes follow. You can see I’d planned out the general shape of the hair and how I’d like it to move.

I wound up moving the drawings a little bit so that the readers eyes will actually follow the character’s eyes as it moves gently rightward on the page. The hair is there to accentuate the movement, like so:

It’s a consideration I employ in all my drawings, but especially when I’m drawing hair and fabric. I don’t use a lot of action lines, so this becomes an important way to give the reader the information that someone is moving through a space. Resistance, gravity, and motion are all things I have to keep in the back of my head when I’m doing these little drawings. I think the planning actually takes more time than the inking, which can happen pretty quickly once I map it all out.

In other news, I’m starting to take my extracurricular artistic development a little more seriously in the silliest way possible.

You wouldn’t know it, but I studied painting college—a medium I switched to after the printmaking professor and head of the Art Department at the time told me I probably shouldn’t be an artist (he gave me a hard candy for my trouble). I recently bought a bunch of little dolls, dressed them up, and am returning to my painting roots. It feels really nice to work in big blobs of color instead of lines. It’s an exercise I came up with in response to a common lament from art students.

One of the more aggravating generational tensions described to me by art school students is when professors describe a student’s portfolio as “too anime” without much explanation. I know what the professor means. They’re trying to get at how referencing your favorite anime or cartoons means that your style becomes a simulacrum, an imperfect copy of a copy, and you never learn to develop your own sense of judgment about where a line or a shape needs to go. And we can tell. It’s a way of working that is perfectly fine for cartooning because cartooning is closer to hand-writing than it is to drawing. I always turn to Charles Schulz’s work for an example. Those figures aren’t literally depicting children—with their little chessboard-pawn proportions and bread-loaf feet—but we read them as endearing children because we’ve come to a consensus between us, the readers, and Charles Schulz, the author, that those shapes mean those things. There are no whiskers or paws in the shape of the word “CAT” but you look at those three letters together, and you know the thing to which it refers. That’s an aspect of cartooning, too. Of course, what elevates it from mere writing is, in part, due to the fact that those little figures do not lose their meaning the more you depict them.

To really draw well, though, you have to do those fundamentals. You have to draw from life. There’s no way around it. It helps you develop a stronger sense of where you like to lay down your lines and shapes, no matter how stylized you like to work. It grows your judgment, and every artist’s best tool is their own well-honed sense of artistic discernment about their own work.

But that doesn’t mean you have to surrender the stuff you like or the things that inspire you to make art! I tell students that if they want to hold fast to their anime style AND hone their fundamentals to develop their eye as an artist, they should buy little figurines and toys of their favorite characters, prop those up against a light source, and draw them as still life objects. Like, yes, do the vases and the figure drawings and all those, I still think those are important. But if this is what you need to keep you interested in drawing from life, having some toys around is a great way to do it! Also, bless those sculptors and toy designers. They’re the best.

I think there’s something to be said about remembering to imagine the physicality of the things we draw, in all its dimensions and in the way it catches the light or casts a shadow. It helps sentimentalize things, too. Makes them feel more real, even emotionally.

Edwina died on Tuesday night, after a few final snuggles, surrounded by her favorite treats. She was about five years old, which is old for a chicken, and she had a very comfortable life. We buried her this morning. She was a good hen, J’s personal favorite.

It really feels like the end of an era. She was the last surviving member of our very first flock. After the other hens died, she really seemed to prefer the company of people over other hens. She is survived by Snooki and Nelly, our two other young birds who get along quite well together, actually.

A baby chick costs between three and five American dollars, typically. An egg-laying hen could be between twenty and fifty bucks, depending on the breed. There are roughly 26 billion chickens living in the world today, about 518 million of them here in the United States. They come pretty cheap. And a part of me was moved to cynicism, entertaining the thought that it might be strange to feel sadly over a little animal that, at most, might be roughly equivalent to the price of a fancy lunch and a coffee.

I watched the 1974 musical version of The Little Prince recently, and I remember it mostly because Bob Fosse was in it and scared the crap out of me as a kid—he played the snake that would take the Little Prince back into the sky when his body gets too heavy to take with him. Gene Wilder plays the Fox whom the Little Prince befriends and tames among a garden of roses. The Fox explains that he is like any other fox in the world, but he is changed—made special and particular to the Little Prince—with time, effort, and patience. So, too, is the Prince’s little flower special to him. Out of all the flowers in the universe, she was the one he watered and protected under a little glass jar. And that’s enough.

I knew my little hen would not live that long. It could be very easy to take a broad view of the life expectancy of a hen and distance myself from it by virtue of its mortality and its commonness. People who raise livestock do it all the time. But I also think it’s wonderful that we should all be capable of loving very small, very brief little things. Edwina is not, to my mind, the rough equivalent of a fancy lunch and a coffee. She was our little hen. For her whole life, she was ours. And I’m so happy she was here.

#cartooning #drawing #patreon #cw death #cw pet death #comics #trungles #artists on tumblr

[juuuulez]

i sound rlly weird asking but can u make a part two of the jerk!ng off head cannons for carl 😇😇

literally of course my man ALWAYS deserves to feel good

this is short and sweet, also strayed away from headcanons and did a little bit of a fic….actually loved writing this

NSFW under the cut, all characters depicted are 18+, MDNI.

It was a hot summers day in Alexandria, resulting in a group of teenagers making their way down to a nearby lake, intending on cooling off and having some fun.

Usually, Carl considered himself more… mature than his peers. There was a war actively brewing, and that’s not to mention walkers, so he didn’t see the value in such a meaningless activity.

Yet, you’d convinced him to come.

“Please, Carl. It’ll be fun!” You’d pleaded, “What else were you gonna do all day? Read comics?”

At the time, he’d protested, made some excuse that he was helping his father. But he wasn’t, and you were right.

So here he was, sitting on one of the large rocks lining the lake, flannel still cast over his shoulders.

The few other teens, yourself included, were enjoying the cool reprieve from the heat. Splashing around, throwing handfuls of sand at each other.

Carl was trying his hardest not to look at you.

Now, he’d never actually seen.. so much of a woman before. Sans those lewd comics, but this was different.

Your bikini was tiny, spaghetti straps wrapping over your shoulders, little triangle cups covering a portion of your breasts. Though the bottoms didn’t match, they were equally small, riding up your ass cheeks and showing a sliver of your inner thighs.

“Carl! Come in!” You’re suddenly calling out to him, which immediately draws his gaze. There’s no avoiding it as you tread closer, propping your elbows up onto the rock that he’s sitting on.

It only squeezes your breasts together, presented nicely in the frame of your arms. Sitting there, waiting.

He forces himself to maintain eye contact, not wanting you to pick up on his obvious disarray. The flush of his cheeks, or the way he squirms a little under the attention. “No, I’m alright.” He excuses.

But you won’t accept this, your grin widening as you hoist yourself onto the rock, coming to sit next to him. “C’mon, you’ve gotta chill out a bit, sometime. Taking a quick dip in the lake isn’t gonna hurt anyone.”

As you speak, your wet skin brushes against his flannel, the contact only worsening the flood of emotions that Carl is experiencing. It’s too much, too quickly, the presence of a pretty, dripping wet, girl is too much to handle.

The sun shines down through the trees, reflecting off your water-coated skin and hair, making it shine. Little droplets slip down your curves, and his eyes fall to one in particular, travelling down the open valley of your breasts.

“I’m going to check the perimeter.” Carl quickly says, swiftly standing up and turning away from you, not wanting to spare another glance at your body. It’s too tempting. That, and a shameful blush makes it’s way to his cheeks, his own body reacting to the contact in a way he’d rather you not realise.

He trudges past the treeline, out into the expanse of forest that circles the lake. It’s not too far off from Alexandria, in fact, he can just see the walls from this distance.

Carl wants to stay, he really does. Anything to put that smile on your face, where you’d say his name in that happy tone, completely enamoured by the smallest thing.

But he’s got a problem to deal with.

He leans against a tree, the thin flannel acting as a barrier between his back and the bark. There’s an obvious tent in his swimmers, poorly hidden due to the loose material.

“Fuck..” Carl curses under his breath, a little annoyed that he even has to do this. It doesn’t feel leisurely, but a chore, an irritating burden that needs to be solved before he can go have fun with everybody else.

So he takes another look around, making sure the area is clear before snaking his hand underneath the waistband, letting his fist wrap around his half-hard cock. A few strokes brings it to its full length, already hot and throbbing, where he can pull it free.

This isn’t the time to draw it out, so Carl clamps one hand over his mouth, the other working feverently to jerk himself off, as quickly as possible.

Yet, he can’t help but fall into a pleasurable rhythm, eye falling closed as he savours the feeling. His mind wanders, curious as to what you’d think of him now, doing something so lewd with no privacy.

It causes embarrassment to well in his gut, but it only fuels his desire, squeezing his hand a little tighter around his length, thumb collecting the precum from the tip only to spread it back down.

Each time his mind lingers too long on you, in that tiny bikini, he can practically feel it oozing out of him. Desperation floods his veins, now more focused on cumming, a reality that isn’t far away now that his brain is filled with images of you, on your knees before him.

What would your mouth feel like? Your hands? Would you take it slow, drag it out, or were you more of a quickie person?

Eventually Carl’s mind lands on you with your mouth open, plump lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. He similarly stimulates the swollen head, groaning into the back of his hand as he finally shoots his load onto the forest floor.

The pleasure begins to subside, ebb away, but the embarrassment stays. Though he takes a moment to compose himself, try and regain his footing, when Carl finally comes back to the lake, it’s quite obvious the boy is in some state.

There’s tree bark in his hair.

You smile, finally coaxing Carl into the water. He still doesn’t look at you, all embarrassed and flushed. This time, you make a point to lean as close as possible, to stroke your hand up his arm, let your thighs touch under the water.

How long will he last this time?

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #carl grimes #twd x reader #carl grimes x you #twd x you

[phoenixkaptain]

I just want to say that the repeated mentions of Tim being like Bruce - Dick telling Tim that “you’re more like Bruce than I ever was” and even things as small as the other members of Young Justice assuming that Batman is literally Robin’s dad - mean so much to me because like-

Tim is so similar to Bruce. They are both rich kids, only childs, people like them but they never let anyone truly know them. Tim’s deductive ability is so often likened to Bruce’s, and even his combat prowess or leadership skills are more often compared to Bruce’s than Jason’s or Dick’s. Despite being Robin, and the third one at that, Tim really takes being the Batman of the group to an entirely new level with just how much he really is like Batman.

And that’s why they work so well together! Tim and Bruce are so similar, but they’re fundamentally different! Bruce is afraid to get hurt again, afraid to feel connections to other people, afraid of revealing his emotional vulnerability. Tim is afraid of disappointing people, afraid to fail to rise to the standards other people set for him, afraid of revealing that he isn’t as calm as he appears on the outside. Bruce and Tim both begin fighting crime out of love, a love so strong that it would lead either of them to give up their lives for that love, but Bruce does so out of a love for Gotham City and his parents and the legacy they represent to him while Tim does so out of a love for Gotham City and Robin and Batman.

Their partnership is built on their similarities, but it’s improved by their differences. Tim is softer than Bruce. He wants to trust people, he doesn’t enjoy making lists of ways to kill all of his friends. He tries to talk, to draw things out, to banter, while Bruce is more straightforward. Which, honestly, being more subtle than Bruce is a talent in its own right, ngl

Tim is described a lot as the perfect Robin. And, I can’t help but feel like yeah, he is. The writers really made this character perfect for Bruce specifically. Tim is a person who understands what Bruce wants him to do, even if he doesn’t always understand why. Tim cares about Bruce, both Bruce Wayne and Batman, and that care knocks down a lot of Bruce’s walls. Tim wants to fight crime with his friends and enjoy himself, but he also has his main goal which is to protect Bruce, especially from Bruce himself.

And it’s a two-way street. Bruce knows Tim so well. Like, I can’t even begin to describe how well Bruce can read Tim. He can tell that Tim’s care is sincere, and he wants to reciprocate that care. He trusts Tim, on such a deep, foundational level, and he trusts that if Tim lies to him, then Tim has a balid reason for doing so. He’s protective of Tim, even more than Tim is protective of him (for obvious reasons), but he’s also proud of Tim. He’s proud of how Tim can work with people and how Tim can handle his own and how Tim can solve cases.

Bruce and Tim are such a dynamic duo, literally. The understanding they have of each other is amazing. The trust they have in each other. The care. Bruce treats Tim like his son, and Tim honestly treats Bruce like his dad, even while Tim’s birth dad is still alive. These two are great together, they work so well together, they fit each other almost perfectly because Tim was literally made to be perfectly suited for Batman.

And, of course, there is an obsession there. Tim’s obsession with Batman runs deep. He would almost certainly make a great Batman, no matter how you look at it, because he has moments where he reaches that ability to be threatening. Of the times I know that he played Batman, he didn’t do a bad job. He’s intimidating and frightening and he manages to have his cape pulled around himself so he’s just a shape, just like Bruce does, and that’s mostly because he also literally does that same thing as Robin. Tim prefers to be Robin, because he prefers to be partnered with someone else.

(To be completely honest, I think Tim’s first choice of who he would want to be paired with at any given moment is almost certainly Dick. Dude loves that guy. I haven’t seen if Batman Dick and Robin Tim interact in those respective roles, but Tim is almost equally made to be Nightwing’s Robin. Bruce is his second choice though, definitely.)

I have to assume the obsession goes both ways, because the story is a lot more interesting if it does. Bruce is protective of Tim, even as he trusts Tim with the fate of the entire planet. His protectiveness of Tim is funny, actually, because he doesn’t mind Tim fighting gods but he does mind Tim showing the other members of Young Justice his face. (I mean, I get that one of the members is named Impulse, but Bart himself said that Batman gave him that name, so I feel like Bruce bringing it up as a detractor is just a bit hypocritical)

All the times we see Batman with Tim in the Young Justice run, Batman is pretty chill. Like, during the Sins of Youth storyline, when Bruce is Robin and Tim is Batman, Bruce seems totally cool with it. He doesn’t seem worried about Tim messing up. His comments on Tim talking to much read more to me as banter than actual criticisms. Bruce trusts Tim to be Batman, and I find that both sweet and a bit funny for a variety of reasons.

We see Batman get mad when Arrowette says the Justice League doesn’t understand any of the Young Justice members, although even then he just glares at her, he doesn’t say anything. Bruce is like “Yes, I know I don’t understand the majority of human interaction, what of it?” Batman doesn’t say much during that whole comic, actually? Like, he shows up with the rest of the Justice League and he taunts Tim (literally like someone taunting a child pfft) but he doesn’t actually seem to think they won’t pull through? He makes a quip about them being late getting back, but it doesn’t go anywhere, it was him teasing Robin, why was he even here?

(I like to think he kind of hoped Young Justice would disban so he could take Tim back. He obviously wants Tim around, he implies as much in the World Without Grownups arc, and he obviously enjoys Tim’s company, he seems to genuinely enjoy fighting crime with Tim, even when their roles are switched, and he lets Tim talk to Oracle all the time (he definitely could have cut that connection off if he really wanted to make it difficult for Tim during that whole bet thing) Like, Bruce believes that Tim is capable, I think he’s like Wonder Woman and thinks that the others (coughImpulseandSuperboycough) are bad influences. He is taking his boy wonder and leaving to get him good influences, like Nightwi- oh, wait, no, yeah, let’s let him hang out with Impulse and Superboy-)

This turned into a ramble about Young Justice, but I can’t help it!!! I really, REALLY wish that Batman had gone to the parent-teacher conference. Like, Nightwing showing up was wonderful on so many levels, but can you imagine?? Batman?? Dealing with Bonnie King-Jones??? Like, I think if he ever met her he would break the no-killing rule, full-stop, no hesitation. I want to know how the parent-teacher conference would have gone if Batman was there. I think it would have been mostly awkward silence while Batman lurked in the shadows and Red Tornado didn’t understand why everyone was so nervous, like, it’s just talking about what time he should feed their kids, why are you guys sweating-?

I love Tim and Bruce’s relationship. They’re so codependent. I don’t know if Bruce could ever not hold the next Robins up to Tim’s standard. Like, Damian trying to kill Tim makes a lot of sense if you look at it as Damian viewing the situation as “there only needs to be one Robin, and if there is a Tim to be compared to, I will lose.” Dick and Jason were great as Robin, but neither of them were Robin during the period of time in the nineties and early 2000s where Batman got a lot edgier and needed an edgier boy to be Robin. Dick was perfect for the 50s through to at least the 70s, and Jason was probably just fine too (still haven’t read Jason comics hrnng) but Tim fits Bruce perfectly because he was made for the more modern vision of Batman as a character.

Tim is a dweeb and a nerd, just like Dick before him, do not think that he isn’t, but he really works as a balance for Bruce. He was introduced to be that equilibrium, and he fulfills that role.

Tim and Bruce work so well together because they’re just on slightly different sides of a spectrum. They’re so close to being too similar, but they’re dissimilar enough that reading their dynamic is engaging and interesting. Tim really just is the Robin I understand people mistaking for Bruce’s blood kid, y’know? Before Damian, I mean. I feel like the Justice League members met Tim and went “whoa, shit, Batman knocked someone up, holy-“ The Young Justice members continuously genuinelybelieve that Batman is Robin’s dad (which makes it a lot funnier, because if he was Tim’s dad, Tim would essentially be saying: “my dad made me do this and won’t let me do this and to make things worse, my DAD moved us out!” Like, why would he just randomly mention who the subject of the conversation was again at such a pointed time? I understand that Superboy and Bart were not paying attention to him, but it’s just really funny to think that Tim would talk in such a strange way?) I like to think that Dick does not help matters, and instead goes out of his way to worsen them, because Dick is always the one telling Tim that he’s doing great and that he’s so similar to Bruce (he means it as a compliment, like Tim isn’t making the mistakes he thinks he’s making because he, just like Batman, just is unlikely to make mistakes) so I think Dick definitely tells his friends that Robin is Batman’s kid because it’s funny-

And this has gone from rambling about Young Justice to writing fanfiction mid-post, I should really stop while I’m ahead.

All in all, to sum it up, TLDR: Tim was made to be the best Robin specifically for Bruce as Batman. That’s why they work in harmony, but are ultimately entirely different instruments.

#the inane ramblings of a madman #long post #really long post #dc #batman #bruce wayne #tim drake #robin #dick grayson #young justice #90s young justice #can you guys tell i’ve been rereading yj? #can you guys tell i’ve been thinking about batman? #because i gotta tell you #i’ve been rereading yj and i have been thinking about batman #tim and bruce are so great together #like they just fit together so well #they are absolutely obsessed with each other #i can’t even begin to list all the times bruce reads tim like a book #and i totally believe that they have each other’s schedules memorized #i sincerely doubt tim ever actually stopped collecting his batman photos #they jive so well #and the best part #is that it’s completely platonically #these two are practically soulmates #the very definition of platonic soulmates really #they’re perfect i love them

[saltydkdan]

Hello Salt man! You seem like an unhinged enough weeb for this question:

I’m going to be the president of the anime club in my highschool this year and have no fucking idea what I should do for activities and shit.

Any ideas? If not, that’s perfectly fine too!

(Also thank you for reblogging my Peppy drawing it made my day ^^)

No problem! I loved the art

I think it’s pretty obvious for an Anime club to watch Anime, however that shit is basic, and I have some unhinged ideas.

Trivia (the least unhinged)

—Make a trivia game on PowerPoint, or on Kahoot that feature questions based on various popular anime. Get specific and weird for the harder questions.

Anime Debate Club

—(be careful with this one because depending on the group it may get heated lol)

—At the end of a meeting, choose to random anime characters

—Tell members that they can pick sides on which of the two would win in a fight, then between meetings, bring together their arguments for why, they have to have actual citation and examples of the character’s powers, or reference specific canon material

—Bonus points if one of the debate teams puts together a PowerPoint slideshow on a character’s power set, or the other characters weaknesses

—Have a judge award points for valid arguments, but have them be cracked out of their minds about it (For example, awarding points to “Comedy” characters, like if an Osumatsu-San character surviving a Ki blast could be funny? That’s a point towards them. LMAO)

NOTES: Obviously the characters chosen cannot be Goku, Vegeta, Saitama, or in general overpowered characacters. Also, having completely fucking insane match ups, or wildly specific match ups is recommended. Like Bobobo VS Dio Brando from Jojo. Or General Tao from Dragon Ball VS Gojo.

If the fight is extremely one sided, just make a list of all the ways that one side would fucking dominate because that shit is fucking funny LOL.

Weekly Book Club but for anime

—This isn’t really “unhinged” but I recently did a manga book club with friends weekly and it was super cool to meet up and discuss the chapters of a particular series and such

—You can do this for anime and assign a set number of episodes, OR do manga and provide a way to read it online

—Rotate out series every so often so people don’t feel like they’re focusing all their attention to a single series the entirety of the year

—This could be a fun thing to do casually between meetings and to talk about a little at the start

Pitch your favorite

—Have people make a short presentation on PowerPoint to pitch their favorite series that’s 3-5 minutes each, or whatever depending on how many people you have

—If you wanna make it funny make it so they HAVE to include both Pros, AND Cons about it. (Like for One Piece: PRO would be the amazing worldbuilding, and a CON would be that Oda cannot draw women)

Make an Epic OC

—Force people to design OCs for a specific series for that week. If they can draw and want to, they can draw them. If they can’t draw? Make it a stick figure, or a shitty drawing a child would make. And have them make a small write up about the character and their powers.

—This can easily be taken seriously, or just have them make an overpowered self insert, all of it is fine

Anyway that’s all my ideas! Hope this helps or inspires some of your own unhinged ideas

#saltydkdan #salty asks #anime club #anime

[infini-tree]

walks in. ponifies the characters. walks out

(+ some notes)

the kids' ponified names are just based on Vibes/keeping the same first letters as the original. i kept playing with the idea that the "Heart" part of pony!harold's name should be a compound word, to keep the same number of syllables as Hutchins, but i already broke the "same syllable count" rule with george, so Heart it will stay

the kids' cutie mark is just as straightforward. melvin's is science-y, while george and harold are meant to parallel each other-- at least with the 'pencil drawing part of the cutie mark' motif. the spiral in george's is me being a bit cheeky.

why is it every time i do an au that's more of a design challenge than anything with a concrete plot, george just is the hypno-ring that made krupp cu /j

krupp and captain was the most difficult out of all of them to design since if i had to design one of them, it had to be fitting for the other too. the more natural colors (in comparison to the others) was meant to be more of a reflection of krupp's character, but the neutral color palette also worked for captain too so his accessories popped.

the coat pattern was also there to make sure he doesn't seem too monotonous, but then i learned about horse coat patterns-- specifically blanket patterns... that basically meant captain's underpants is just built into both their coats. its less obvious on krupp since he has a shirt (blue now, since white on white wouldn't look good).

as for krupp's ponified name, it was also a similar struggle since there were no K words that fit his vibe. it was initially "Key" for the longest time (read as: i had to sleep on it), but i decided on "Keeper" since it still evoked that trapping feeling, but it could have more positive connotations in a... protector/caretaker/teacher sort of way.

as for the "Bantam" part, i had wanted to keep a similar enough word to "ben". and having it be shortened to "Ban Keeper" was too good to pass up. bantam is a kind of chicken (which fits krupp's farm past as established in tetocu), but bantam also meant "small and feisty person", which krupp is. but is also what the children he's "keeping" are.

so basically you can read krupp's name as "keeper/caretaker of unruly kids [in detention]", "controlling one's unruly nature", or "farmer keeper", which i personally think is fun

don't worry about krupp hiding his cutie mark! its fine. he's fine.

captain is captain! you know him. you love him. he has changeling motifs due to the nature of the "radiation". apparently, characters gaining radiation/magic based wings and horns are a thing that happened in G5, which i didn't know until recently, so funny coincidences.

captain's cutie mark is underpantyworld. his cutie mark is different from krupp (stares at the changeling motifs)

edith, thankfully was straightforward. her ponified name is just a food name, specifically a type of cheese. her cutie mark is a ladle with some sparkles around it. i changed her dress to just a shirt, and her gloves to be some galosh sort of deal.

and as a bonus since you can pry alien!edith from my cold dead hands, there's a bonus reformed changeling form since that's the closest thing to aliens in this world! "Stemmata" is a type of insect eye, to fit in with the changeling naming convention of naming them after bug body parts, but also eyes because of the whole Two Blue Eyes thing. she was originally supposed to be called "Ocellus", but there's already a character that exists with that name...

i imagine edith defecting from a small hive and accidentally unlocking her reformed form, and she thinks she can't go back even if she wanted to so she just kinda... stays,

#mells draws a thing #captain underpants

[lelanida]

In light of the fact that the theory that Aurora is a Megabird has become popular in the fandom, I came to express my own opinion on this. I am not questioning that Aurora is a deity (this is obvious), I am only questioning that she is powerful enough to be a force that rotates the universe. And so let's figure it out in order:

1. ORBrora

Our brains all exploded when suddenly Aurora covered the Colosseum with her power and transported us to some other place. It also exploded for me, but when I put it back together by the middle of the song, I began to think about how she did it. And the game itself gave us the answer. Bubble.

The same bubble that she creates before the start of each song.

Her power is limited on the outside, but inside the orb built by her voice, she creates reality herself. So during "Runaway" she showed us the Isle of Dawn even before it became a desert, because this is how she saw it, and this is how it looked in the time of Alef. In fact, we did not leave the Colosseum, otherwise how can we explain that we never moved during the entire concert, although it would seem that we flew half the world. Aurora only takes our mind on a journey while the body remains in still.

Inside the bubble, she is god, and this smoothly takes us to the next argument.

2. Color theory.

Someday I will explain how such a distribution of colors goes into the roots of the lore, and explains the reason why the Storm started and why Skykids are powerless in front of it. But we have come to talk about Aurora and her divine origin.

Yellow is the color of light, the color of a Megabird. And everything that came from her has a yellow accent on it. Well:

What color is Aurora in her bubble?

Boom. Megabird.

What color is Aurora in reality?

Boom. Classic spirit.

What color is Aurora in its true form?

Bo-what?

Yellow is not completely gone. Only half. No other spirit has a yellow color (and a divine form). So Aurora stands above simple spirits. Even above the constellations guides. But then who the hell is she???

Here is my answer:

Aurora is a guide for us Skykids.

No, well, you judge for yourself.

1. The symbol of Aurora is golden wings. What does it mean? The symbol of the season always has a special connection with its participants. But no one except Aurora has wings.

And now remember where else we have seen similar wings.

Does it look similar? But that's not all.

2. Aurora can talk to us.

In all of history, only the Little Prince could talk to us. Because he's our friend. Does this mean that Aurora is also our friend. That's what it means. But what distinguishes her from Prince is that she seems to be able to understand us. She calls the Skykids to dialogue. And if she really understands our speech, then that makes her the ONLY character capable of it. It seems she has a special connection with the Skykids. She knows who we are, about our mission and how it will end. She has seen the Orbit and is able to rebuild it in her simulation. Moreover, it takes us to the real Orbit. She is the voice that greets us at the beginning of our journey and she also guides us to its end. She is our guide. It is not for nothing that we are told this phrase at the beginning of the game:

3. The essence of the Skykids.

Skykids are sensitive to sounds. They do not know how to write, read, draw, but they know musical notation from birth and are able to use various musical instruments. That's why we follow the ringing of the bells, and Aurora calls us with her voice (both in seasonal quests and at a concert). Skykids love music. And Aurora seems to know that.

And that we have:

Mega Bird is the patron saint of nature and animals.

Aurora is the mentor of the Skykids.

"But how is that? We can't have two gods of light!"

How not? How can it not be, my dear ones?! When in the season of Shattering we were confirmed that there were TWO MEMORIES on the side of the light!

It was right under our noses, and we didn't pay attention to it! And if you look at the trees of the essences of light from the season, you will notice that one of them is longer than the other. So one of the entities is more powerful.

That's my verdict. Aurora is not a Megabird, but an ally of Megabird. She also has a certain power, but she is weaker than the main god of light. And she's also a great singer. It's all. Thank you all for reading this.

#sky children of the light #thatskygame #sky cotl #season of aurora #sorry if there are grammar mistakes 😔