#ALSO I HOPE IM MAKING SENSE I JUST WOKE UP

[gaydexvocaloid]

nvm just saw one of my friends mock the fact that people like a character who is a Conventionally Attractive White Woman so i think i'm entirely justified in my paranoia

im gonna be fr and i don’t mean this 2 be malicious at ur friend, jst my genuine opinion ;;; but imo people who judge others just based on characters they like ( as long as the character isn’t inherently shit like rac/st or smth yk ) aren’t the best ppl.. i’m so sorry you’re around people who���ve made you b paranoid about just what characters you like T__T like there r so many other problems in the world and they choose to worry themselves abt what other ppl like.. likeee???.. it just sucks your worries aren’t just “worries” ,,, u deserve better ppg anon T_T

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

i... wrote a smol fic (っ´▽`*)っ

also!!!!! If you haven't seen it - shoutout to first ever published fic in Ninja Showdown/My Immortal Soul tags - Lustrous Red by @missadmyre !!!

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss renrennnnnnnnnn

[evilneo]

Abt your info post, what do you mean "body is white"? Are u talking about race? Why don't you just say you're white then? Im genuinly curious like are you trying to seperate yourself from your race or something? From your lived priveledge?? Do you think you're any less white or any less capable of racism because your queer and disabled or whatever? Like what.

I get it might be a system thing like when you said ur body is 19, but if that's the case why didn't you just say your body needs a cane to function instead of just "cane user"? Is it because you actually want to identify with that because it makes you feel special?

I'd appreciate if this got answered. Maybe it's just something I don't understand about white people yet. Guess I'm open to be educated or whatever

"body is white" = "all alters in this system benefit from white privilege and have only the lived experience of a white person, because however they present in headspace, the body, which is how we are all perceived as, no matter our connection to it, is white"

its not that we think were less white, thatd be. really stupid. its meant to be acknowledging our collective lived privilege of being white no matter how we look in headspace. weve never said or implied being queer or disabled makes us less white? weve always been solid on the stance that while yes we are at a disadvantage from our queerness and disability, we still benefit from white privilege.

other alters do actually phrase it as "the body is a cane user/disabled"*, but i also use a cane in headspace and this is my personal blog, hence the more personal language of "cane user"

*one of our cis alters phrases it like this too↓

TLDR: what im trying to say is that its not a phrase trying to induce separation, its a phrase that binds to every single alter in the system

[tengwar]

Ive been meaning to ask for a while since its in your pinned, but what are your experiences as Elvenkind? How did you find out that Ñoldor was what fit you best? What are some of your beliefs surrounding it? Ive been looking at myself more and I've found myself drawn to the label, so I want to know how you personally approach it.

I'm putting this under a Read More so everyone doesn't have to read my heavy spiritual talk if they don't want

Also I'm aware this might make me sound batshit insane to people but I don't really care

Basically, I call myself elvenkind because I feel more attached to my elven identity rather than being from a fictional source. I don't view my life as a past life, rather one continuous life because of my belief surrounding the fëa vs hröa

The label is very flexible and I think it has a lot to do with how someone approaches their own spirituality. Since I'm from the Silm I mostly draw from Tolkien, but there's plenty of elvenkind from other sources or from no source at all

The fëa (soul) functions separately from the hröa (body) and can live independently from it. So death is the destruction of the hröa, with the fëa being severed from it and then housed in Mandos for awhile before going to a new hröa

As for my specific identity, I don't really know how to explain how I came about that. It was more of a stereotypical "otherkin awakening" where everything suddenly made sense once I realized it. It took me awhile to figure out everything but I think I have it pretty thought out now. I wish I could help more with the figuring out part, but I feel like I didn't really go through a questioning period, it was kind of just like. An immediate feeling of "This is me" and it being something that I deeply felt to be right with no doubt. But from what I've heard this isn't exactly most people's experience so

As for like...why I'm here, I don't really know and honestly don't really care. I hesitate to assign any sort of "purpose" for this life because well. I'm just here and that's what matters, just trying to make the best of it. Unfortunately I do really miss Valinor all the time and wish I could go back, but I'm in no rush to throw away this life either

I hope this helps a little, I'm always worried it just makes me sound deranged so. Sorry if anyone reads this and then thinks I'm crazy 😐

[wildtornado-o]

Forever thinking about Laurence's character arc and what led him to treason liiike... idk its just really interesting to me. I don't think book one Laurence would have committed treason against England, like yeah he probably would have disagreed with the dirty tactic they were using but he would have stood by his country. Comparing this to the Laurence that stole those mushrooms and flew to France knowing he would be hanged for it is just <3 <3

[train-whistles-at-night]

if you were thinking of writing more little, i think it'd be nice to see, if you can imagine it, regressed skulduggery, maybe having playtime with regressed anton. they need playmates.

Hi! I really appreciate your interest in Little firstly

secondly, I just. don't super see the other dm regressing, they're caretakers for anton during Little as far as I see it, yknow?

however, this doesnt necessarily mean ive never thought about the others regressing- Skulduggery it a toughie ive thought about before

this gets incredibly long so the tldr is I think about skul being a regressor sometimes, or a lot, but his regression couldnt go into Little and instead would have to be its own seperate fic series i thinknif I ever did anything with it

the more i think about skul regressing, the more i think of him having done it once in the safety and comfort of anton's arms, and getting progressively tinier the more comfortable he was that night, landing finally at a relatively quiet but weepy little baby/toddler in the end, even borrowing one of antons soothers

in the morning, he either expressly doesnt talk about it, or genuinely doesnt remember it. Anton doesn't really press him on it because being little, especially the first time, can be scary and embarrassing, and skulduggery's pride is about all he has

ANYHOW, in relation to if he regressed again, skulduggery would like fall around being an older little, or a middle, somewhere in his preteens/teens, and would still be sorta a caretaker to anton. however hed be a pretty stereotypical 'moody teen', "why does the baby always get what he wants" kinda kid. hes desperate to push boundaries and possibly get punished because he needs to have that structure from his caretaker (presumed ghastly) and know they love him enough that they will take care of him even when hes not a Perfect Child

this does stem from being 2nd oldest in his siblings, but also being treated like he was... less than stellar because he was one of the odder of the Pleasant Family children.

his stutters and stims come back full force when regressed, he personally hates it, especially when he doesnt use the facade. the facade gets used a lot when hes little

-

There only other I've thought of regressing is Ravel actually, and Ravel is just a little older than Anton usually, unless he's been triggered into regressing by PTSD or smth in which he gets even younger than Anton, and can't be by himself

Otherwise normally hes a bit more chatty, and likes to play a lot, can play rougher than Anton does, and thinks very much of himself like a helpful big brother, who takes all the icky veggies anton doesnt want and eats them (he gets gently scolded for this bc even if anton doesnt want them, anton needs those veggies, maybe help encourage him to eat them instead)

i see lar as both ravel and antons caretakers

[strawbebyjam]

back 2 missing it 👍🏼

[nicholasgoodgirl]

that was mean- nicholas

summary: nicholas was having a bad week and gave you the silent treatment.

warning: argument, crying, happy ending

a/n: i couldn't stop thinking abt this no joke. so ofc i had to write it out

from late at night till he left early this morning for work nicholas has been either quiet rude or both.

we haven't spoken to eachother or not even silents acts of love. nothing.

he cut his alarm clock off and i tried to give him a hug before he got out the bed and he pushed me off of him "not right now" he grumbled and got out of bed

when he left for work i said 'bye' to maybe break the silence shared between us, but i got no response. it was starting to get lonely. i missed my bestfriend that was also my boyfriend

i had nobody to mess with or someone to talk to about my day.

to stop these lingering thoughts i go back to bed to maybe get my mind off of things.

--

i wake up around 8 am which was later than the time i usally woke up around, but today was sorta a lazy day.

it was gloomy not much sun was shining, it rained a little here and there. it was more of a slow day for me so the extra rest was very much needed

i text my boyfriend forgetting about the whole silent treatment ordeal.

me: how's your day going so far?? :)

and to no suprise i was left on delivered and soon left on seen. i messaged him periodically throught the day; hoping that maybe he would reply

it was almost time for dinner which normally nicholas cooks cause he's just better at it, but i didn't know when he was coming home or if he would even do it, so i look up some quick easy recipes and nothing struck my fancy but the pizza recipe. cause how hard could it really be?

i put a packet of yeast into my bowl along with some flour, water, oil, and salt. i let that sit for 30 minutes then im back to cooking again.

spreading flour onto the counter and placing the dough onto it; kneading it into a circle shape. this was harder than i thought

i look around for the marinara sauce and i put it into a different bowl and add a few light seasonings.

i paste that onto the dough, then i sprinkle some alot of cheese onto the pizza and my additional toppings bell peppers, spinach, and mushrooms.

i was so proud of myself especially sense i wasnt the cook, out of me and nicholas. i was really excited for him to try what i made but again i highly doubt he would even eat the food.

i put the pizza away into the oven completely forgetting to set a timer and put on a movie while i wait.

--

a smell of burning was the first thing that woke me up. "shit shit shit" i repeat totally freaking out remembering i left the pizza in the oven.

i get a rag and ineffectivley wave smoke out the air. when i open the oven it smelled horrible. i was coughing from all the smoke that had entered my lungs.

i take the burning pizza out and throw it into the sink, and hose it down with the water.

thats when i hear the front door open and mentally face palm. "what's that smell?" he asks "i kinda burnt a pizza that i tried to make"

"of course you did" he mutters sounding unimpressed. "and the fuck you mean 'kinda' you obviously did burn a damn pizza" he gestures to the chunk of charcoal burnt pizza

"it's not like i did it on purposes or something if thats what you think" my tone sounding a bit confronting.

"It's smells fucking horrible so open a damn window first off" he took a step closer raising his voice.

"you don't pay for shit so i don't understand why you almost had this place in flames secondly. then you also wanna blow up my phone while im working for crying out loud what do you want from me!" he yelled directly in my face

and im sure he knows by now i hate being yelled at. it's something my parents did and overall doesn't solve anything

i just take it, i didn't wanna fight so i go over to the nearest window and crack it open so the smoke clears.

my eyes watered from all the harsh words he could dish out but not the equal amount of attention "well.. you are- when i was.. ugh s'not my fault" i couldn't get a full sentence out. i felt so belittled in this moment

"im going to bed i don't have time for your stupid ass shit" those words hurt more than he thinks.

he had the most patience for me, always making time for us and now he doesnt.

"that's so mean.. you're being so mean" i wipe some tears that had fallen. i turned away from him silently crying.

the peices of my hair stuck to my tear-soaked cheeks. "wait- I'm sorry please don't cry" nicholas' voice was filled with regret.

i lazily push him away from me but he doesn't budge. his arms wrap around me bringing me into his familiar embrace. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole. I've been having a long shitty week and i know thats not an excuse so you don't even have to forgive me."

"you're everything to me. i swear i didn't mean it." he adds

the unforgettable cruel words he'd said to me earlier shoved ontop of his sweet loving words made me cry more.

i let him hold my trembling body as sobs tore through my chest, each inhale was ragged and uneven.

my hands clutched the material of his shirt "im so sorry sweetheart i never wanna make you cry" he explains in such a low voice, giving my hair strokes in attempt to calm me.

my face still burried into his neck tears now starting to dry away, and my breathing starting to even out. he carried me over to the couch and placed me in his lap

i was drained from all the crying, the tense feeling in my body beginning to melt away when i really started to feel nicholas' touch. my eyes drooped again this time staying shut for longer.

i was too tired to resist the sleep that had tooken over. and being cradled in his arms didn't help.

"I'll order pizza for the both of us alright?" he took me off of his lap and placed me on our couch. then lays one of our throw blankets ontop of me. "can we talk in the mornin'?" is the last thing i remember asking before dozing off.

a/n: can yall tell idk how to make pizza

[kurthorton-moving]

anxiety is Hitting today like damn i just woke up lets chill

[show-us-kaidenshenandoah]

i'm hard of hearing and i have an auditory processing disorder, but i don't know sign. so my opinion is definitely of lesser importance than those who are deaf

please pardon any mispellings as i am dyslexic, am writing this on my phone, and am not editing it too seriously

i think it's overall fine to use ASL or SSL in the same way it is fine for one's fantasy world to use English; however, ive learned that's really only the case if a person is fluent in it. you're fluent in English, so it makes sense for you to use English throughout this story; if you are not also fluent in ASL and/or SSL, it is less recommended for you to, utilizing the same aforementioned logic as using English language, use either of these two languages throughout your story from what i have seen from the deaf community. (it might be easier to understand through a hypothetical. it isn't an exact equivalent, of course, but it will help illustrate the point; just indulge me in a suspension of disbelief and "be silly". let's pretend i am writing a story where, for whatever reason, i am using a singular Swedish-only speaking character while everyone else is English-speaking. i know that'd be silly to do pragmatically, but again: "be silly" with me for a second. i have one Swedish-speaking character, everyone else is English-speaking. this would be fine for me to do if i was fluent in both languages, as you are fluent in Swedish and English. however, i am not fluent in Swedish. as a result of this lack of fluency, unless i am actively practicing to learn Swedish, there is going to be a LOT of mistakes in me saying "this is the Swedish equivalent of xyz in English", i am going to get grammar wrong, i am going to miss nuance, and i am going to assume there are Swedish words that might not exist because they exist in English. i may be using an official "Swedish to English" website as reference, but i am going to fuck up so much in my lack of Swedish fluency that for any Swedish-speaker like yourself: you are going to cringe and wish i had became fluent in Swedish before writing this or that i gotten in contact with someone who is fluent in Swedish to correct my mistakes in linguistics, nuances, culture, and whatnot. that's what i mean by "it's fine for you to use English, ASL, or SSL in fantasy if you're fluent!" and why im suggesting thoughtfulness in proceeding if you are NOT fluent. i hope this makes sense lol but yeah! sign language of any kind is, ultimately, a language. so the same respects applies to sign language as to Swedish in this sense when it comes to application of dialogue and the nuances inherent within that language's culture. this is by no means saying "no deaf characters or sign language allowed unless you are in the community!",of course, that'd be as ridiculous as "no Swedish characters allowed unless you are Swedish/have lived in Sweden for x amount of years!". no, of course, do it! inclusivity: yay!! we just have to be proceed thoughtfully when we create a character that represents a specific identity lmao but yeah, to summarize this hypothetical: if you has wanted to do a Swedish-only-speaking character amongst your English speaking cast, you are fluent in both, of course you can do that! but i would need to proceed with caution as a monolingual English-speaker and rely on someone Swedish-speaking checking my work)

and, of course, there are cases of a person not fluent writing a really good story staring a deaf person, like the manga "A Sign Of Affection" by Suu Morishita (which is a duo going under one pseudonym if my memory recollects right); however, they have a consultant named Yuki (who is a deaf person who uses sign in Japan. they also named their female lead after her in thanks lol but for clarity, ill be using "Yuki" to refer to the consultant, not the character) who they interview before every chapter to ensure they are portraying their deaf character realistically, to help them brainstorm future chapter and scenarios, for final approval of past chapters before they finish it up, and will also ask her to translate the dialogue for the deaf characters to say through sign (they film her signing her translation to use as an art reference, and also use her to find out what exactly the characters can say since very few sign-languages have one-to-one translations of a hearing-language. the sentences grammar and the available vocabulary for one's diction are different). you can read more about their process with Yuki within the manga, they explain it as a bonus feature between chapters and have also done interviews for magazines and whatnot. so there is fluency in that example, it just doesn't come from the mangaka duo. if you have a resource to apply that to with ASL or SSL, i think that makes perfect sense to do so! have that person help you out! it is overall preferable to have someone who doesn't know sign try to depict fluency in THAT way, from what i understand after looking into deaf people discuss preferred characterization anyway

if you want to do a conlang for a fictive sign language (especially if you do not have an ASL or SSL fluent deaf person to use as a resource of if you yourself are not fluent in either or), i think that also makes sense. i started learning about how deaf people prefer to be depicted in fantasy works starting at this reddit thread (there's links to further discussion within it, and invitation of where to ask questions). i also like this tiktok user named @/bow_asintakea_rawn who has a lot of deaf content relating to fiction/fantasy that could potentially be a resource (you could even try talking to him if you feel so comfortable). and lastly, i like the youtuber @/oakwyrm, who is a disabled person who does a lot of disabled media analysis (especially fantasy) and whose essays can service as a resource in that way (i forget if oakwyrm is deaf or not though, but he does discuss deafness in some videos despite many deaf people not considering their deafness as a disability, which is fair, and others do, which is also fair). i have other deaf youtubers i could recommend, but none of them interact with fantasy much so i dont know how useful they would be; if you want more deaf resources, i would suggest just googling "deaf youtubers" since i know deafness in respect to "how to portray this community and sign-language in fantasy" is more important to this discussion so i won't detract by offering resources that digress from this topic

i dont know many fantasy pieces that include how to depict deaf people, but i know the overall sentiment about sign language in fiction/fantasy is "Depict signing as functionally the same as speaking" since it is just another language. this sounds counter-productive initially if the idea is new to you, but the idea of novels needing the following reminder makes sense: "There's no need to replace '[deaf character] said' with '[deaf character] signed'. Introduce the deaf character using sign, introduce who knows sign and who needs a translator (if anyone), and from then on carry on using '[deaf character] said' whenever they have something to say. We have grasped from then on that they are using sign. You don't need to make them the odd one out of the group from then on by using a differnt tag just for them. It's alienating. Only use 'signed' as a tag when it's an example where the signing distinction is necessary, like '[hearing character] signed to me not to whisper, his eyes trained on the guard searching for us' or a similar situation" (this is not a quote, otherwise i would cite it. i cant find where i learned this idea from, but i did want to ensure there was a distinction that this was not my idea, but me parroting an idea i have heard and learned from, if nothing else). i mention this to you and your comic because the same logic applies to visual distinctions of signing. from what i have seen: the preferred depiction of sign in graphic novels specifically includes a similar line of logic: "Use the same speech-bubbles as you would use for hearing characters that are not signing", and the idea of "translation boxes" is less preferred unless there is a specific reason why (like maybe a deaf character knows two sign-languages and is switching to one most of the cast doesn't know). though "A Sign Of Affection"'s manga is a great example of deaf characters in manga overall, they unfortunately don't do this (meaning their deaf characters don't use the same speech-bubbles when they sign as when hearing characters are speaking and not using sign), which i personally don't recommend copying unless a deaf person/people who sign DO advise to mimic it. i personally recommend to use the same speech bubbles as hearing characters have when they do not sign, as aforementioned; that's the impression i have been given by those ive listened to in the deaf community. which to do the same speech-bubbles regardless of sign or no sign makes sense, to me, as it better treats sign-language visually as of similar respects as any other language. (but, again: deaf people's opinion over mine. especially if they disagree. i am parroting, what i parrot is biased to what i have seen within my sphere of the internet; i am of far less importance) HOWEVER, something really cool about "A Sign of Affection"'s speech bubbles that the deaf community and hearing community both really like is how "A Sign of Affection" will use speech-bubbles to show what Yuki can/can't hear. they have different text colors to show when their deaf main character hears something being said and when that deaf character does not hear the person (because the hearing character has their lips covered, because the deaf character wasn't looking directly at the hearing person's lips and was not aware they were speaking, because the hearing character spoke literally behind the hearing person's back, and so on). if you want to mimic that aspect, that's totally okay to do so lol and i'm sure there are other graphic novel resources of deaf people to look into, but i haven't encountered many (eg. i know "A Silent Voice" exists but i stay away from stories with suicidal characters due to triggers, so i have no idea if it is reverred as fondly by the deaf community as i know "A Sign Of Affection" is due to my lack of interaction with the content/its fandom)

but i hope this small handful of leads helps you out! if my assumption that you are not CODA or a hearing person fluent in sign is correct (im a newer follower, sorry lol but i do really like your stuff so far and think your "Felt World" comic is fantastic! i just also know very little about you lmao rip), and if you do not have a fluent person in sign to use as a sinilar resource as Yuki is stellarly used in "A Sign Of Affection", i think a conlang is probably the best option for you? i definitely think it might of help to go to some reddit threads with prominent deaf people who use sign to recruit one or a few beta-reader/sensitivity-reader as a resource. bonus if they like conlangs and are willing to help you develop one. or are willing to translate their fluency for you so you know what diction translation is available for your character's dialogue + to film their signs for you to use as a reference. i originally found you through your tiktok, so it might be helpful to formally recruit there through a short video and tag it appropriately to reach out to the deaf and signing community for that type of beta-reader/sensitivity-reader/possible-translator/possible-conlang-help-resource person

my last piece of advice towards finding resources is you might find more information here on tumblr under the tag "writing deaf characters". i think(?) that's the tag people use to discuss how to depict deaf characters, though that is not sign-language specific in the sense of how to depict sign-language in fantasy. you'd probably have to scroll to find posts on that. but it should give you resources of people saying "this is my advice for writing a deaf character as someone who is deaf" who you could then reach out to for more specific questions, resource-help, and whatnot

finally, i know you said "there is *A* deaf character" in your post, but i do want to hesitantly implore you to include that said character as being a part of a deaf community. so having other characters around them also be deaf. it is very unusual, from what i understand, for a deaf character to be the ONLY deaf person they know or that they willingly surround themselves with. the deaf community is very close-knit to the point of people actually all having two names: they have a sign-name as well as their name used in conversation with hearing people. community and solidarity is extremely common with deafness. community is huge part of the deaf culture. being the only deaf character would only make some sense if that character is purposefully alienated from others (think Toph from "Avatar: The Last Airbender"'s family situation, tho she is blind, not deaf) but even then: they had to learn their fluency with sign language from SOMEWHERE and used it often with those people (and this sign language had to get popularized into having a standardization by... like... having a lot of people use it, which would only happen if a lot of people NEEDED it, which means there has to be a significant deaf community lmao). this is especially true if the equivalent-of-face-timing isn't possible in "Felt World" (as video-calls are the predominant form of long-distance communication that accomadates sign); if long-distance communication isn't possible between people who use sign language, they go for proximity (hence there being schools to facilitate deaf community and communication). this can then cause "accents" so to speak (there's even records of families of deaf people having their own family-signs and "accents" in addition to region-based). this is best noticed in how, in the USA, there actually isn't just one form of sign-language originated from here. which, yes, there are multiple "English-associated" sign-languages (i think the most famous trio are ASL, BSL, and SSE to non-Americans?? but there are even more "English-associated" sign languages than that and i'm not talking about any of those rn, but rather the fact that ASL is not the only sign language to originate from the United States of America). i'm talking about how, due to the segregation of Black people in schools, there is BASL (Black American Sign Language). community matters so much to deaf people that something as dividing as segregation resulted in two totally different forms of sign. and even though schools are no longer segregated, that history has lead to two different origins of language that the descendents of which have little to very little overlap now as distinct "accents" from what i understand as someone who uses neither forms of sign (and it should go with saying that many Black deaf people in America have to be fluent in not only English and also ASL, in addition to BASL, in order to gain accommodations in classrooms that are not at a BASL School. it is unfortunate that such a hurdle exists and i greatly admire Black deaf people and their preservation of BASL, as well as anyone hearing who signs BASL to help translate for Black deaf people in their first language so there are less hoops for Black deaf people to jump through. but i digress). so, again, deaf people being surrounded by other deaf people either through technology-that-accomadates-sign or proximity is HUGE. so i would say at MINIMUM introduce this one character as having access to a community of background characters who are also deaf and sign, in addition to hearing people who sign. that insistence you ensure there is a community of deaf characters in this world (if not having multiple deaf recurring characters or main characters) probably goes without saying? i probably didnt need to say all this. but im erring on the side of caution since i feel a bit on thin-ice as a non-sign-language-user speaking here to begin with lol

but yeah! again, i dont know sign so this is me parroting things i have learned from the deaf community about how they prefer sign be utilized (this isn't even approaching the topic of cochlear implants, as that can be seen as controversal to some deaf circles and fine to other deaf circles within the overall community) and giving you the leads i can currently recall having been useful to me when i realized i had a curiosity about how to best utalize sign in fantasy settings (im sure i once used more but i have alas forgotten them, as this post even shows in how i dont remember where to cite certain ideas to). definitely defer to people who know sign, especially those who are deaf, over me as i am not within that portion of the hoh/deaf community as a whole. but i digress. i hope this is helpful, and i wish you and your comic the best of luck! much love ♡

Ah fuck it this is gonna be a spoiler but I genuinely can't figure out what the right course of action is so here goes...

SO THERE'S A DEAF CHARACTER IN FELT WORLD who uses sign to communicate. (Don't speculate, it'll be revealed, but don't make assumptions just in case it isn't who you thought it was and you end up disappointed)

My question is; do I pick American Sign Language, Swedish Sign Language, or do I make up a fictive Sign Language?

My arguments for all:

ASL: the comic is written in American English

SSL: I'm from Sweden, and there are tons of Swedish references in felt world

Fictive SL: would be much easier from a production stand point

What are y'all's input? I'd love to hear especially if you're deaf/heard of hearing and using sign yourself. Thanks in advance!!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

YOU’RE AN ANGEL, I’M A DOG ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, like a dot of ink on paper, dripping with exhaustion; a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching beneath his ribs.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated, from satoru this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you yesterday, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches that flicker of joy dance inside your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back, so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

[joelscoffeemachine]

Forget

Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

Summary: After waking up from what felt like the best night ever, you wanted to figure out what Joel’s thoughts about what was going on, were.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, Joel acting like a total jerk, language, unprotected piv, pet names, reader uses feminine pronouns, jackson era!Joel, slight fluff towards the end, arguing, angst, no use of Y/N, apologies if anything was missed.

please read A/N: guys, i tried so freaking hard to like this, but i just can’t. so, i am so sorry if you feel the same way as me. i really tried my hardest. i’m not sure if i want this to be the last part, but i can kinda feel it going towards that route, so im going to say this once, thank you so much for all the support for this mini series. i couldn’t be more grateful. thank you. and once again, i am so fucking sorry if you don’t like this. please don’t hate me. 🤗 oh, and also, ntm on the photos not matching, honestly could careless ab the damn photos.

part one part two

Joel couldn’t get a wink of sleep last night, the feeling of you being so close to him, in his arms, feeling your warm body against his, having your scent fill his nose, all of it was too much.

Every time he closed his eyes, memories of your shared night and the warmth of your touch would flood his mind, making his heart race. The moonlight filtering through the curtains enveloped a soft glow on your face, making you look even more serene and beautiful, which only added to his restless thoughts.

He laid there for a couple more hours, listening to your breathing, the way you’d mutter in your sleep, the little sounds that would escape you. Each breath you took seemed to synchronize with his heartbeat, creating a rhythm that was both comforting and unsettling. But he knew he had to leave. He knew he couldn’t stay because what was this?

What were you two?

The uncertainty gnawed at him, and the fear of crossing a line that could change everything between you both was overwhelming.

So, he eventually slid out of your bed, picking up his clothes and getting dressed. He moved quietly, trying not to wake you, stealing one last glance at your peaceful face before slipping out the door.

As he walked away, the cool night air hit him, a slight contrast to the warmth he had just left behind. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but he knew he needed to figure out what this meant for both of you.

—

You blinked your eyes open, the sun shining through the crack of your curtains into your room. The sheets of your bed hugged your body perfectly, stretching your arms out with a yawn.

You expected to feel a big and warm body, but you didn’t.

You just felt the ruffled-up blanket. The familiar warmth and comfort were missing, replaced by a cold emptiness that made you shiver slightly.

You turned your body, nothing. No one. He left. You glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, the bright red numbers glaring at you.

With it being the ass crack of dawn, you’d be expecting him to be waking up now.

Did he leave last night? You asked him to stay.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and a wave of disappointment washed over you. You replayed the moments of the previous night in your head, trying to understand why he would leave without a word.

You sat up, confusion taking over your features. For some odd reason, your heart felt heavy. You wanted him to be there when you woke up. You needed him too because now that he wasn’t, was it even real?

The questions swirled in your mind, each one adding to the ache in your chest. The silence of the room seemed to echo the emptiness you felt inside.

You stood up, not bothering to put on the old bra and shirt from last night, turning the shower on as you pulled your panties off, hopping in. The warm water cascaded over you, but it did little to wash away the sense of loss and confusion. You hoped the shower would clear your mind, letting the water run down your face.

But it didn’t.

The shower didn’t work. You couldn’t get the situation off your mind. You couldn’t get him off your mind. It couldn’t have been real, but the faint memory of him running his rough fingers down your skin, the way he felt inside of you, stayed in your mind. The sensation was so vivid, it was almost as if you could still feel his touch, haunting you with every passing second.

You needed to see him. To talk to him. You prayed he wasn't anywhere but his house. The first place you could expect him to be was his house. So, you found yourself there. The walk to his place felt like an eternity, each step heavy with anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached his door.

Softly banging on the door, no answer. Peeking through the window, no sight.

“Fucking Joel.” You whisper breathily. How fucking surprising was that. Joel Miller finally left his house.

For a second there your heart dropped, praying that he didn’t get patrol duty.

Goddamn it. I mean you could wait, but you didn’t want to.

You didn’t want to go back home, so you didn’t, knuckles bruising as you hit them against the door. The pain shot through your hand, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside you. Still no fucking answer. You stepped back and glanced up at the house, looking for a way to get in.

No way in from the front, window was shut tightly, curtains drawn as if to shut out the world.

So, like any sane person who was looking for a — friend, you walked towards the back to maybe get in from the patio door. But that’s when you heard it.

Sweet music, fingers strumming away at the strings from what sounds like a guitar, and sweet, and quiet humming. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, calming to the chaos in your mind.

You poked your head around the corner, Joel sitting in a plastic, white chair, guitar in hands. He nodded his head softly as he felt the music, eyes closed, and body relaxed with a cup of coffee on the small table next to him.

The steam from the coffee rose in gentle spirals, mingling with the early morning mist.

His foot tapped lightly in rhythm with the music, completely unaware of your presence.

You felt stupid. You almost broke into his fucking house all because he was unable to hear the damn knocking.

You slowly stepped onto the wood, your sneakers making a loud noise that made Joel stop playing. The sound echoed in the stillness, shattering the tranquility.

He looked you up and down, setting his guitar down with no words spoken. The silence between you hung heavy, like a thick fog that neither of you could see through.

Joel's eyes, usually so full of warmth, seemed distant as they locked onto yours. The early morning sun cast long shadows, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of dew and freshly cut grass. You could hear the faint rustling of leaves in the background, the weight of unspoken words pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

You let out a quiet ‘hey’, smile slightly upside down as you leaned on the railing of the patio. Your eyes were basically inviting him over, so he obliged, grabbing his coffee, and standing beside you, a gap in between.

It was pretty much awkward. It was clear he didn’t forget about the activities from last night.

“I’ve been knocking.” Your voice breaking the silence, looking at him, but he avoided your gaze.

“I’ve been here all mornin’, didn’t hear it.”

"Something on your mind?" You knew exactly what was on his mind, but you thought, if you pushed it, maybe this moment wouldn’t be so goddamn awkward.

Each second of silence stretching longer than the last.

"Nothin’ on my mind," he replied, lifting the cup up to his lips, taking a light sip.

The steam from his coffee curled up into the air, mingling with the tension that seemed almost palpable between you. His eyes, though momentarily hidden behind the rim of the cup, betrayed his true thoughts.

His eyes, dark and guarded, flickered over to you. There was a heaviness in his gaze, a storm of unsaid words and pent-up emotions swirling just beneath the surface.

His expression unreadable, before letting out a quiet, almost resigned sigh. The sound was barely audible, yet it echoed in the stillness, amplifying the tension that crackled in the air like static electricity.

He wanted you to say something. He wanted you to just be honest and tell him exactly how you felt about last night, why you were there, if you even remotely felt what he did.

Instead, you were both standing there, avoiding each other’s gazes like idiots.

Your heart raced; each beat a reminder of the words you were too afraid to speak. His sigh lingered in the air, a silent plea for you to break the cycle, to reach out and bridge the gap that seemed to widen with every passing moment.

"You gonna invite me in, or are you just gonna stand there?" You point lazily at the door.

Joel huffed a laugh, tilting his head slightly as he finally looked at you. “You’re being pushy today, ain’t ya?”

He was being a smartass, and he knew it, but it was his way of deflecting whatever the hell happened last night, and the way you were acting this morning.

The gesture is casual, almost dismissive, but your heart is going crazy. The morning sun filters through the trees, putting a warm glow on the porch where you both stand. His eyes flicker to the door and then back to you, a moment of hesitation that feels like an eternity.

His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and challenge, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a smirk that was all too familiar. The morning light radiating a golden halo around his figure, highlighting the lines of tension in his posture that belied his casual tone.

His eyes never left yours, a silent dare for you to cross the threshold and face whatever lay beyond.

As you stood there, you knew that stepping through that door meant more than just entering his home—it meant confronting the emotions and the history that had brought you to this moment.

He shifts his weight, the creak of the wooden floorboards echoing in the quiet day.

He finally turned away from the railing, his movements deliberate and measured, as if each step was a calculated effort to maintain his composure.

He held the door open for you with his empty hand, the gesture both an invitation and a challenge.

You looked around at the nicely decorated house as you stepped into the kitchen, Joel close behind you.

The place was immaculate, with tasteful decor that felt both homey and sophisticated. You leaned against the marble island, the cool surface grounding you as you watched his every move. He stood in front of you, his presence filling the room in a way that made it hard to breathe.

“Why didn’t you stay?” you asked, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

You wanted to know so badly that you basically said, ‘fuck the small talk, tell me why.’ You were so straightforward, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them.

Joel’s face remained impassive, his expression a mask of cold-stone indifference. His arms were crossed over his chest, a defensive posture that only added to the distance between you. His eyes, usually so expressive, were unreadable, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d ever get through to him. The tension in the room was evident, a silent battle of wills as you waited for him to break the silence.

He took a moment as he leaned on the counter, taking in your words. He wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to answer.

A part of him, a huge part of him, did want to stay. He wanted to hold your warm body, bask in your sleepy scent, and hear your soft breath hit his neck. But he knew he couldn’t.

He didn’t know what last night was. Why you let him come to you, why you let him touch you the way he wanted to for so long.

"Well?" You push, head tilting, your gaze unwavering.

The intensity in your eyes matched the urgency in your voice, demanding a response from him.

"I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know." He finally let out, throwing his hands up, frustration settling on his face.

The rawness in his voice cut through the air, his eyes burning with a mix of confusion and helplessness.

You threw your head back at his answer, arms falling to your side as you turned around, elbows on the counter, holding your head up as you groaned. The cool surface of the counter did little to soothe the storm inside you. You felt the frustration bubbling over, the unanswered questions and the emotional tumult taking their toll.

He was frustrated for a number of reasons. Mainly because he had no idea how to act in front of you now. The lines between you had blurred, and he was grappling with the new reality, unsure of where he stood. But most of all, because you wanted an explanation for something he didn’t even understand himself.

"What is this?" He questioned, looking up at you, his arms crossed against his chest. His voice was edged with exasperation.

"You just come over here to get on my ass?" His words hung in the air, a challenge and a plea wrapped into one, as he tried to make sense of the chaotic emotions twirling around both of you.

You leaned up instantly, your body closer to his. The heat of his breath mingled with yours, creating an almost suffocating intimacy. Your eyes locked onto his, searching for a glimmer of understanding, something to bridge the chasm between you.

"No, I came here so I could understand you. But that’s never happening, is it?" Your voice was low, but the intensity of your words cut through the silence like a knife.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, the anger and disbelief that mirrored your own. The proximity made it impossible to ignore the raw emotions.

“Not when you’re acting like this.” He muttered, his voice strained, barely above a whisper.

The words were a thin veil over the tumultuous emotions roiling just beneath the surface, a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control in a situation that felt increasingly out of hand.

Your bodies touched as you leaned closer, he was basically pressed up against you as you looked up at him, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, creating an electric tension that was impossible to ignore.

He tried to keep his composure. He tried to not look at you like some piece of meat. He tried not to think about how close you were, how he could easily shove you down on this counter, or up against a wall. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts, the struggle to maintain control evident in the tightness of his jaw and the flicker in his eyes.

But you weren’t making it easy. The intensity of your gaze, the proximity, the noticeable tension—it all made it nearly impossible for him to think straight.

At this point, this man was just stressing you out. You came to the conclusion that he was just trying to forget whatever happened last night, just like you tried forgetting what happened in the stables, but now you’re glad you didn’t, but for what? Look how he’s acting now.

“Joel, you’re really just gonna act like last night meant nothing? You’re just going to move on with life after that?” Your voice was sharp, each word laced with the hurt and confusion you felt.

Your words struck him like a damn brick. Because yes, that is what he was going to do. He was just going to act like last night wasn’t the best goddamn night of his life.

“That’s what you did.” He remarked, his tone cold and detached.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the accusation clear.

He was right.

But you were standing right in front of him, and he could still hear the way you were moaning his name, a sound that echoed in his mind, driving him crazy.

He could still taste your lips, the sweetness lingering on his tongue, a reminder of the passion you shared. He could still smell you on him, your scent enveloping him, making it impossible to forget even if he tried.

You had no idea what to say. You weren’t going to deny it, because you do remember pushing him away, remember drinking to forget. All you could do was go along with it, even though it was going to hurt.

“Fine—“ Your voice cracked, strangled back deep in your throat. You cleared it as you spoke again. “It never happened. None of it.”

The words felt like knives in your mouth, each one cutting deeper into the fragile remnants of what you both shared. You could feel the weight of the silence that followed, a suffocating blanket that threatened to choke the last bit of resolve you had left. His eyes bore into yours, searching for a sign, any indication that you didn’t mean what you said.

But he wants to forget so fucking badly. Maybe you do too. Or maybe it’s meant to be this way.

Joel isn’t supposed to be knee-deep in your pussy. He’s supposed to be your best friend’s husband’s brother. Nothing else. It’s so simple.

Just forget. Just let it be like how it was before that day in the stables.

So, so, so, so simple.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

But you both knew it was all bullshit. He wasn’t the same man after he got a taste of you. And by the look you kept giving him, you weren’t the same either.

It’ll be forgotten. For now, at least. He won’t look at you with hungry eyes, you won’t look at him with a hopeful look.

“You should probably get going.” He muttered.

His voice was barely above a whisper, the words heavy with unspoken regret. The tension a suffocating fog that clung to every breath you took.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. You gathered yourself up, leading yourself to the front door with Joel behind you once again. None of this felt real. You felt like you were floating on your way to the door, your hands clasped together to avoid them shaking, your breath shortened.

As you turned to leave, the memories of that day in the stables flooded your mind—the way his hands had felt on your skin, the way his breath had mingled with yours. It had been a moment of raw, unfiltered passion, a moment that had changed everything.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the finality of his words. You forced yourself to nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You reached the door and paused, your hand hovering over the handle. You wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the words wouldn’t come—

You can’t fucking do this.

You spun back so fast; Joel couldn’t even react. Your lips caught his, arms wrapping around his neck as he eased in closer to you. His initial surprise quickly melted away, and he returned the kiss with a fervor that matched your own. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of you in that moment, lost in a whirlwind of pent-up emotions.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him. The kiss deepened, becoming more desperate and passionate, a silent conversation of everything you both had been holding back.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his heartbeat syncing with yours in a chaotic rhythm.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead rested against yours. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

“What are we doing?” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You didn’t have an answer, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. You both knew that whatever came next, it would be something you’d face together.

He shouldn’t give in, he really shouldn’t. He should push you away and make you leave.

But then he pulled you in again.

His hands were gripping you, and he was melting into the kiss. His self-respect was crumbling with every passing second, the warmth of your body against his breaking down his defenses.

He wanted this. More than he could admit, even to himself.

The taste of your lips, the feel of your body so close to his, it was overwhelming. He surrendered to the moment. All the reasons why this was a bad idea faded away, leaving only the undeniable truth that he wanted you, needed you, in that moment more than anything else.

You quickly pulled the brown t-shirt off from his body, hands instantly gliding down the skin. His muscles tensed under your touch, sending shivers through his body.

He stumbled to the living room, lips still together, throwing himself on the couch. You slid your white top off before sitting on his lap, his semi-hard cock that hid in his pants, pressing up against your clothed entrance in the best way, causing a delicious friction that made you both gasp.

He moved his fingers to unclasp your bra, the fabric falling away with ease. Finally, pulling away, his eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, he lent kisses to both your nipples, his mouth warm and wet against your sensitive skin. He then moved to suck and bite at the tender skin on your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

Your breath was ragged, hands in his hair, pulling his head closer, needing more of his touch.

“G-God.” You whimpered, furrowing your eyebrows from the pleasure.

The sensations were too much, each touch, each kiss sending waves of ecstasy through your body. His name escaped your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea for more, as you felt yourself getting lost in the intensity of the moment.

He could hardly keep up.

His head was spinning from the taste of you, from the way you felt in his arms. From the noises you were making as he gently bit around your chest, the soft whimpers and gasps that drove him wild. He was trying his best not to just rip the rest of your clothes off and fuck you on the couch like some sex toy. But he somehow managed to maintain a certain level of patience, his grip on control tenuous at best.

He pressed kisses up your neck, breathing hot air into your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine.

“I swear, you’re gonna be the damn death of me,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

His hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, every line, as if trying to memorize the feel of you. The tension between you was electric, each touch, each kiss heightening the anticipation, the need for more.

You let out a breathy chuckle, body shuddering. You reached your hands in between both of your bodies, fingers working on unzipping his fly. When you finally got it, he lifted your body up, pants pushed down just above his knees.

His weeping tip grazed over your belly button, pre-cum rolling down onto his thighs, glistening in the dim light.

You stood up for a moment, easily taking your pants off, along with your panties, and throwing them on the coffee table. The grunt that left his mouth when you let your hole slide down his member made you feel like you were about to cum already.

He felt so good, stretching you perfectly, filling you in a way that made your toes curl.

You let yourself get adjusted, but you could tell, by the look on his face, and the way his hands bruised your hips, he wanted you to move. His eyes were dark with lust, breaths coming in ragged gasps. His grip on your hips was almost painful, but it only added to the intensity of the moment. The need in his eyes mirrored your own, a silent plea for you to give in, to let the pleasure take over.

He was trying so desperately to keep control. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to just let this happen. He was so firm on his decision to forget about whatever happened between you both. Then you came in here, and just turned his world upside down and now here he was, cock throbbing inside your tight cunt.

You began bouncing, hands gripping his shoulders for support.

“Christ,” he moaned, head nuzzling into your neck to plant kisses all over.

Your eyes focused on the bookshelf behind the couch, somehow reading every title of the books. Joel’s hand rested on the back of your neck, the other flat on your back.

“You’re doing so good, darlin’.”

“Joel….” you whined.

Jesus, what the hell were you doing? This isn’t forgetting; matter of fact, this is making it so much worse. But you couldn’t stop. No way in hell. You just kept riding, sweat starting to glisten off of your soft skin.

Joel noticed your bouncing and grinding getting sloppy, grasping your hips so he could help.

Your body completely gave out, so tired, but his cock hit your G-spot perfectly, making you moan in his ear as loud as you could.

“I got you, baby,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos of your thoughts.

His hands guided your movements, each thrust precise, driving you closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and the overwhelming furosity of your connection.

Joel’s kisses became more urgent, trailing down your neck to your collarbone, each one leaving a burning imprint on your skin. His grip on your hips tightened, steadying you as he thrust deeper, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks as you tried to hold on to the last shreds of your sanity.

Every movement, every touch, was a testament to the unspoken emotions swirling between you. The room seemed to close in around you, the world outside fading into oblivion as you both lost yourselves in the moment. Your breaths synchronized, a dance of desperation and desire, building to an inevitable crescendo.

“Joel, please…” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything you couldn’t say.

He responded with a growl, his pace quickening, pushing you both to the brink. The tension coiled inside you, tighter and tighter.

Until it snapped, your hips in sync with his as your orgasm washed over the both of you, the feeling of his warm cum inside of you making your heart pound. You start working on catching your breath as he pumps his cum into you, throwing his head back with strangled groans.

You kissed his jaw, slicking his damp hair back with your hand.

He looked so good like this.

You rested your head against his chest, finally catching your cool. Not a word was spoken by him, so you decided to speak up.

You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, a steady rhythm that mirrored the tumultuous feelings inside you.

“I don’t want to forget.”

You moved your head to look at him, your hand on the back of his head, forcing him to look back at you. His eyes, filled with a mix of exhaustion and raw emotion, met yours.

Joel’s hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

“I don’t either, sweetheart.” he finally whispered, his voice hoarse.

The vulnerability in his eyes was familiar, a mirror to your own. This wasn’t just physical; it was something deeper, something that neither of you could deny anymore.

The room felt smaller, more intimate, as if the walls themselves were bearing witness to this moment of truth.

You both knew that this was a turning point, a moment that would define whatever came next. Your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer until your foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the space between you.

“Then let’s not,” you murmured, the words a promise and a plea.

Joel’s lips found yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, sealing the unspoken agreement. In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving just the two of you, bound together by the intensity of your connection and the uncharted future that lay ahead.

“Okay.” he murmured.

[iheartcake123]

Hi , i have a request, I wanted to know if you could do a cha hyunsu x fem reader , where in season 1 , reader is pregnant but doesn’t get a chance to tell Hyun su , and in season 2 , reader and baby boy run into Hyun su and everyone at the hospital, so baby boy runs off after friend (monster) or something and Hyun su /monster form finds out about the tie son with reader 💕if so thank you so much I’ve been asking so many people😭💕

hello!! thank you for your request, it was really fun to write but im so sorry it took so long to write!!🫶 here’s the fic for you ( i also adjusted the timeline so that it makes more sense, so rather than it being less than a year time skip like the show, it’s now a 1 year and 6 month time skip) <3 i feel like this could have a part 2 but im unsure so lmk what you think!!!

cha hyun-su x f!reader for @dadyscumslutprincess20

warnings:none

Masterlist

you stared down at the pregnancy test in your hand, your breath shaking and your hands trembling. you were in complete disbelief. there was no way it was real. right?

with a gulp, you wrapped the pregnancy test in some tissue and shoved it into your pocket. you were trying to think about the timeline and ways to tell hyun-su specifically. after all, he deserved to know the most.

when was the best time to tell him? how would you bring it up? and how would he react? these were all the questions that ran through your mind.

as time went on at green home apartments, you tried to approach the topic when you were with hyun-su but each time for some reason you found yourself unable to do so. whether it be because of certain circumstances or whether it be because your words kept getting caught in your throat.

for some reason you were unable to tell him.

and then when you finally built up the courage to tell him, hyun-su had given himself up to the military.

after making it out safely from green home apartments, you separated from the rest of your friends and tried to look for hyun-su.

but as months passed, you began to lose hope. you also had other things to focus on. as your due date approached you hid out in an abandoned hospital. it was the best place to be as it was safe and convenient.

and soon enough you gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.

before you knew it, it had been over one and a half years since you’d last seen hyun-su. and your baby boy was now just over 10 months old. he was already starting to crawl and life keeping him hidden and safe was harder than ever since he’d always manage to crawl away when you least expected it.

the day started like usual. you woke up early, fed your son and began your daily tasks of making sure the abandoned hospital was as safe as it could be.

you carried your son on your hip as you made your way to the area you usually would sleep in. you were going to put your son down for a short nap, that was until you heard noises that sounded like feet.

you put your son down and drew out your gun. you checked the entire floor you were on just in case but there wasn’t anyone or anything that you could see. you let out a breath of relief when you didn’t find anything but when you went back to your sleeping area to check on your son, your heart dropped.

he was gone.

you began to panic.

maybe he’d just crawled somewhere?

you searched the entire floor again but he was no where to be found. you hurriedly rushed to the floor below. you cautiously looked around, you knew that sometimes start monsters would wander the halls.

your heart beat pounded in your chest. you could hear a baby cooing. you followed the sound and rushed to the room it sounded like it was coming from.

as soon as you entered the room, you saw some familiar faces.

you immediately recognised eun-yu and hyun-su. but you didn’t recognise the third person with them. on the floor nearby, there sat a small monster playing with your son.

“y/s/n!” you breathed a sigh of relief as you ran to pick up and cradle your child.

“y/n?you’re alive?” eun-yu couldn’t believe her eyes.

you let out a smile and nodded your head and she rushed to hug you.

“is he yours?” she then asked and you smiled as you handed him to her.

“meet y/s/n, my son” you whispered and she looked towards the guy you’d never met before.

“this is chan-young” eun-yu briefly mentioned and you sent him a smile.

your eyes then wandered to hyun-su. something about him was different, his eyes were a deep dark blue colour and his expression wasn’t one that you recognised. his whole demeanour had changed and yes, while you hadnt seen him im over a year, you still knew him.

you furrowed your eyebrows trying to figure out why he was so different and as soon as you saw him smirk, you instantly knew.

this was hyun-su’ monster form that was out.

“y/n” he eyes looked you up and down as he licked his lips.

“hyun-su” you swallowed hard as hyun-su then made his way towards you.

“have you missed me?” he tilted his head to the side and brought his hand up to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“you’re not hyun-su” you brushed him off.

“but i am, i know all his thoughts, feelings and desires” he looked at your lips when he said the last part.

“leave her alone!” eun-yu suddenly snapped and you turned to her.

“it’s okay” you reassured her and gestured for her to go out the room with your son.

she soon left and chan-young followed.

“where’s hyun-su?” you turned to hyun-su’ vessel in front of you.

“it just hurts now y/n. i am hyun-su but, if you’re talking about our weak side then you should know he’s currently healing. if i didn’t take over he would’ve died so you should really thank me. you must know i can’t have him dying on me” he let out a scoff towards the end.

“when will the other hyun-su be back?” you questioned.

“not for a while..so let’s catch up. it seems that a lot has happened- you have a child. is it ours?”

“it’s hyun-su’ child’” you corrected him.

hyun-su’ monster form chuckled. he noticed all the little details. how you played with your sleeve when you were nervous and how you shifted your weight uncomfortably as you tried to avoid looking directly at him.

he was going to use it to his advantage.

“so, that baby is part mine too” he leaned close to your face and you felt your heart beat quicken “you know? i feel what hyun-su feels and more. tell me y/n, what do you want?”

you closed your eyes, skin tingling as you felt hyun-su’ breath on your skin because of how close he was.

“i-“ you began but were cut off when your son suddenly ran into the room.

in an instant you picked him up and he squirmed in your arms as he then tried to reach over to hyun-su.

you were hesitant but there was a slight glint in hyun-su’ eyes that seemed familiar so you handed the child over to him.

“and who might you be?” hyun-su’ tone changed as he tickled the little boy.

you raised an eyebrow, confused at how quickly hyun-au’ monster form was able to change his demeanour to resemble something similar to the original hyun-su.

maybe they weren’t so different after all.

[unknownanomoly]

I have decided to continue the trend!~ but cats instead! I personally think the cats came out better but that's only because I have drawn cats my entire life and I never drew lambs before joining the cult of the lamb fandom. Also I wanna say a few things. I'm sorry for anyone's lambs I misgendered in the last post, also for aveloka this took me about 2 hours, one hour rough draft sketch another hour for full sketch/outline. And I think that's it for now... anyways, cats!

@oneofthosenightbees I love Narinder's cloak so much! very creative! and also thank you for the picture of my lamb! I squealed so loud i thought I woke my family @bamsara the face was hard but I loved drawing them so much, again cloak was really fun, the cloak on like all of these Nari's were really fun to draw tbh @cotl-flower-crown I love the fluffy cloak thing, and just how angry they look! @melled42 your lamb sadly didn't get into my last post since I started following you after I made that, but I drew your Nari! I love them very much and having them as a hairless cat is very creative! I love the idea!

@ballad-of-the-lamb I love how annoyed your Nari looks! and also their outfit was really fun! Also sorry about the lamb thing, idk which lamb to chose so i choose the first one i saw! but still, I love your Nari very much! @xmajordumps I drew them from when shamura was threatening them, I hope I did it well since you know, they were kinda covered in blood and all! but really fun shaped and all! they look so angry! (why are all the narinders so angy?) @slate021 I love drawing fluffy cats so much! I love drawing fluff in general and your Nari satisfied the fluff meter. @faery-the-diamond Yours is so simple and yet somehow so complicated, I love your AU and how the lamb is a crown and Nari pretty much needs to tend to everything in the cult, its kinda funny tbh, I love your Nari!

@acis-arts so adorable! They look like a child, I just wanna pick them up and kidnap them! (im gonna kidnap them) @neon-virus yours looks so nice, and such like a gentleman, so handsome! Can I adopt them? And if not can I kidnap them? And if not well too bad, their mine now @seffen yours looks like it's gonna take your eyes out and then watch you slowly die of blood loss... so in other words adorable demon that I wanna hold even if it hates me! @voidheartkisses Adorable! so innocent looking! I loved drawing them, their fluff, the ears also, I've never drawn ears like that before! @alllgator-blood Just like the lamb I love the shapes and I love how your Narinder's personality is like! It's so funny! @foxritz Yours looks grumpy, maybe it's just how I drew them? but the fluff was fun and also the ears were also quite different from what I'm used to so It was also fun to draw those!

@plenty-sheep-in-the-sea from what I know you don't have a lamb that is posted yet so sadly I couldn't draw a lamb for you in my last post! But your traumatized young Narinder is adorable! @unwri-ten I loved drawing them, they give such a sassy drag queen kinda vibe, if that make sense (?) @aubeezz Yours is adorable and fits with how I drew your lamb very well! I love the cheek fluffs! Adorable! @skyartworkzzz thank you for pointing out the gender thing, again I'm sorry about that! but moving on! Your Narinder was really fun to draw, the little cheek fluffs on the side remind me of my own narinders cheek fluffs! I also love the cloak! @rampantram Yours is absolutely lovely, I love your art style a lot! Just as fun as drawing your lamb! I look up to you a lot!

@ghosts-and-glory can yours age or does their fur just fall out? anyways! I love your AU, the storyline is amazing and when I first found you I sat there rereading like every comic kinda thing I could find on your account like 50 different times! @aveloka-draws Yes I'm ok. No it does not take long. I loved drawing your Nari, they look confused but pissed, and yet again all Nari's look pissed no matter what, the outfit is also really fun! I love drawing your style of characters, their so pointy and fun... if that also makes sense in anyway...?

Here is my Narinder! He's based off of a mink color point cat! So instead of being black, he's a brown cat with black smoked patterns, or known as the Siamese markings! He lost all memory of the bishops being killed and himself defeated, so Lamb helped him through it until he gained his memory back, and when he did he became a lot like Shimura. He was pretty much mindless in a way... I just wondered around aimlessly and wouldn't respond, sometimes he comes back but very rarely, Lamb worries about him a lot. the cloak was made by lamb as a welcome gift to make Nari feel for comfortable in the cult! Also the thing on Nari's finger is a butterfly! It's his butterfly friend! No name yet but if you have ideas but tell me, I'm terrible with names! Sometimes he has panic attacks which make his eyes cry blood, plus whenever he opens his third eye it instantly starts bleeding. He also has eyes on the palms of his hands but you can't see them at the moment, he can see how people die with them!

[lucimaaie]

ellie as spiderwoman hcs ✧.* au

a/n- honestly was just an excuse for me to watch spiderman again and i took it, kind of switch between would’ve and did idk babes im just having fun atp

playlist | spidey masterlist

she'd have lost her mom at a young age and been placed with joel, who she never gets along with at first, thinking he's just a bil ol meanie who wanted an extra check every month.

that was until he showed he cared, not through hugs and affection in the traditional sense, but making sure she did her homework, picking her up everyday, getting her out of her room, checking on her when she'd been too quiet. "you okay, kiddo?" and "i heard talking helps." he'd say as he leaned on the door frame. eventually, she couldn't help but love him.

absolutely a nerd. though, when she got teased, she didn't exactly back down as expected which landed her in the detention a few times and some talking-to's. but she won and defended herself. no one could be mad at her for that. still, she was smart. she was going to be an astronaut after all. though that dream died in middle school.

high school came and she tried to straighten up. no more fighting bullies, even if they deserved it. she was better than that. she would get an internship, the internship that would line everything up, get her a scholarship so she could study aerospace engineering, get rich and get joel out of the old house on a patch of land with however many sheep he wanted. the same internship that got her bitten by a radioactive spider and shooting webs out her wrists.

words could not describe how much she worried joel when she woke up the day after, crushing her alarm clock, breaking the sink, the shower rack, everything. she skipped that day, hanging out on the rooftop of the house while joel was away stuck between having a panic attack from the sensory overload and telling someone, anyone. she decided on testing them out which earned her quite a few bruises joel luckily chalked up to another fight. "we gotta talk about this fighting thing sometime." she'd roll her eyes, saying something snarky before limping up the stairs. "say what you want but i win," "i heard that!"

also sidebar: ellie as a new yorker...whew. honestly ellie as anything- anyway.

hours or research ensue on cross-species genetics, spiderbites, different types of spiders, everything that made her feel disgusting. she slammed her laptop closed, crushing the poor thing.

it felt like there were a million things to do with her newfound powers but the only two on her mind was impress dina and swing from the rooftops. c’mon, she was 16 with the powers of a freaking spider. who said saving people would the first thing on her mind? she felt powerful, even weirder than she already felt but still powerful.

it was terrible, watching joel get more and more disappointed in her as she got distracted. “i’m a good kid! i just got distracted, gimmie a break.” “i have given you plenty. more than i should’ve. and that’s on me. that's my mistake to make you think that coming home late and fighting and blowing me off is okay.”

“i can't help how i turned out! don't blame me for being a shitty dad.” she yelled before slamming the door and stalking off into who knows where. she didn't even mean it, she was just stressed, she never meant any of it. hours later, she’d wish those words never came out her mouth.

she'd hoped she was having some cruel nightmare when she saw joel laid out on the pavement. "some help me! c-call an ambulance. don't just fucking stand there-" her voice was raw as she screamed out. "c'mon, don't die on me. y-you can't. i'm sorry? is that what you wanna hear? i'm sorry."

she hated the looks of pity, everyone's soft voices. people who never once talked to her suddenly caring. it was all fake. they didn't know her and they sure and hell didn't know joel.

she became another person for a while. quieter, more closed off. sometimes snappy. laser focused on finding the low-life took joel from her. that's when she started wearing the mask. the basic concept of it anyway and it caught on with the people, more than she imagined. ellie scoffed at the name spider-woman at first, thinking it was ridiculous. she wasn't some circus performer, she was just trying to find the killer.

dina as her mj, reaching out to her after joel’s death, inviting her over for dinner, talking to her in class, all of it. it wasn’t the same disingenuous pity she hated, she could feel she cared. so she allowed her feelings to fester. being with her actually helped. it was one more thing to balance with school and the internship and her mission, but it was more person in her life. she needed that.

one day ellie went running towards the trouble. not because joel's killer was there or cause of some adrenaline rush, but because she needed to do something. to not be helpless for once. she wasn't helpless. she hadn't felt completely in control of her body as she webbed a whole bridge back together and pulled cars back onto the surface, but in the end it was a like a high. it still ached to see kids running to their parents and everyone running to their families, but they were all safe. she did that. and that felt better than getting revenge and letting it suck the life out of her. so she'd wear the spandex and the mask and go by the stupid name. only cause it meant something now.

thank you for reading!