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einsatzzz · 2 years ago

Note

The OC Questions!! I must asssk!

For Kurumi:

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

🔥 FIRE - do they have any self destructive tendencies? what habits do they have that hinder them from becoming their best self?

For Kana:

📖 OPEN BOOK - do they like reading? what's their favourite genre?

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

For Yui 💜:

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

💌 LOVE LETTER - do they like love letters? what kind of messages do they leave for their partner?

Thank you for sending these questions Muffin! 🥰 I tried doing some extra doodles too hahaha

Kurumi

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

She has an upbeat voice but not too loud, which is around moderate volume so she can be heard clearly. But she can make her voice very loud if she wants to, especially when excited. She usually speaks in a casual tone and often uses nicknames for friends like "Goku", Take-chan", "Nii-chan" (Ryohei), "Hiyorin" etc. She uses Boku (ボク) to refer to herself.

Her voice claim is Hinata Satou! I linked a sample too (the VA voiced Mizuki here):

Link

We got most of our voice claims from ProSeka ngl hahaha but this one fits kurumi so well

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

Most people assume she's a girl, they're both right and wrong. She doesn't mind, since it doesn't matter that much. The only thing that matters is that she wears cute clothing/fashion without worries. A very important warning is to not refer to her as a cross-dresser when she switches around cute masculine & feminine clothing because Kana and Yui will murder the person who ever says that.

I will make her wear all the cute clothing, it's what she deserves.

🔥 FIRE - do they have any self destructive tendencies? what habits do they have that hinder them from becoming their best self?

I guess being selfless enough to be willing to sacrifice yourself can be considered as a self-destructive tendency. She's also very forgiving. If someone were to stab her maliciously, she'll still forgive them in the end somehow.

A habit that hinders her from becoming her best self is her hard-headed refusal to change. For example, she's really good at hand-to-hand combat but didn't really have much preference for using her weapon. So during training periods when she was younger, she only trained on hand-to-hand combat and didn't really focus much on handling her weapon. It proved to be very disadvantageous down the line because she'd have less options in battle and she can't use the weapon to it's full potential.

Kana

📖 OPEN BOOK - do they like reading? what's their favourite genre?

To a certain extent you can say she likes reading. She mainly does it to either pass the time quietly in an idle way (she doesn't like loud noises) or if she wants to do studies/research on certain things (mostly family-related matters).

If there was a genre that she frequents, it would be autobiographies or semi-autobiographies. A notable example would be "No Longer Human" by Osamu Dazai. Between fiction and non-fiction works, she reads non-fiction works more. She does read *all* the romance-centered shoujo manga Kurumi recommends but parts of it leaves her a bit confused and a few headaches.

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

With absolutely no negative repercussions at all? A wish to fade away in peace (oblivion) and a bright future for her family. She would prefer to die now while she's still at her most "peaceful" point in her life, since she knows it's temporary. Similar to Reborn&co (but not exactly the same), she is a bit of a "cursed child" herself.

BUT only if there's no repercussions though, she knows it would leave her family in shambles if she actually just disappears out of nowhere.

Other extreme scenarios: where her partner gets killed or dies (before she does); or on the flip side, if the partner somehow fatally harms/kills other people that are also most important to her.

Sometimes, I wonder if Reborn can actually read people's minds. Most likely, he's just extremely good at reading people in general.

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

This question is so angsty, definitely her genre haha but can u really break something that's already long broke---

Betrayal of trust and abandonment - since she already prefers spending time alone, away from people in general and her full trust is only something that she gives out so very very rarely. For someone to become her partner (a significant other or a bestfriend), a huge amount of trust, respect and attachment must be involved. If all of that were to just be thrown away, it would be too cruel and brutal, akin to continuously kicking someone's already dead body. (kana love interest, pls don't actually break her heart 😢 we alr broke it plenty enough)

Yui

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

He has a laidback voice with a playful tone to it often. It's not that loud, but he can be loud when he is in the mood to annoy people. Depending on the person, he either refers to other people casually, reuse the nicknames Kurumi uses on them or come up with a a really bad one. He uses Boku (ボク) to refer to himself, but sometimes also uses Ore (俺).

His voice claim is Daisuke Hirose! This sample should be closer to what we're going for? It sounds silly enough, which suits him.

Link

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

All the time in the world to create masterpieces of inventions after another. Creating and fiddling with machines has been a long-time passion of his after all. He would especially love to be able to finish some of his long-term projects (there are even ones that he started when he was just a small kid).

Initially, many people think he's a slacker or a bad student, since he often skips class (he attends just enough to not have problems with moving up grades), but he actually has excellent grades whenever he takes quizzes and exams, which shuts any angry teachers off. There are also others that think that he isn't being a proper "right-hand man", but he surprisingly takes it seriously in his own way. He genuinely cares for the twins, plus a lot of things were sacrificed to get this position too, after all.

FYI Room arrangement is: Master's Bedroom (Ninomiya Parents), Kurumi, Kana, Yui

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

💌 LOVE LETTER - do they like love letters? what kind of messages do they leave for their partner?

He receives love letters often and is very open to receiving them as well, so you could say he likes it. If he ever does get to have his ideal partner, I can imagine him leaving mixed stupid and affectionate messages to them to get a reaction, though it would only be an occasional thing.

#ask #ninomiya kurumi #ninomiya kanako #yorimitsu yui #oniyanagi #muffin #ty for sending these questions!#onto the next one!#omg wait now that i think abt it #kana's previous oc/canon ship technically did break her heart to some extent *scratches head*#to a lesser extent perhaps kurumi's too?#well we call them kanarumi's exes now #*cough*can someone*cough*in khr*cough*please*cough*step up*cough*for these two*cough*#also feeling wishy-washy with kana's voice claim again might suggest some adjustments so good thing it didn't get asked yet whew #feeling funny might go back & post yknrm in their previous oc/canon shenanigans lmfaooo #khr oc #einart

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retrobutterflies · 2 years ago

Text

Velvet Kisses | e.m.

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Your shitty job has you turning to your almost-boyfriend for help, making both of you admit the full extent of your feelings.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Slight Angst, Major Fluff, Semi-Established Relationship, A creepy man but nothing happens

A/N: This is my brain vomit.

There were few jobs in Hawkins that were desirable. Last year you worked at the 5 & 10 and your boss didn't understand that you couldn't work shifts before 3pm because of school so he fired you for showing up late to shifts you explicitly stated you couldn't work. Over the summer you were a camp counselor and had dealt with enough crying kids and kickballs to the face last you a lifetime. And your job at the minimart lasted all of three days before the former employee who you were replacing had come back begging for their job.

But working at the gas station had to be one of the better jobs you've had. It required little brain power, the most taxing job being wresting with the cash register that seemed like it was a hundred years old. Your boss was a kind man, paying you generously and forcing his son to drive you home at the end of your night shifts. And he even let you leave early if it was a particularly slow day.

That being said, you had never encountered so many walks of life as you had at your evening night shifts at Hawkins Oil. Young kids trying to see if you'd let them buy beer, raiding the snack aisle, and asking you strange probing questions like 'Have you ever been to Skull Rock?' Older patrons frequenting the back freezers and packs of cigarette lining the wall behind you. Some people asked for strangely specific amounts of gas to be put on their pumps and others counted their change down to the last cent as if you were planning on jipping them a nickel.

The worst, however, was the creepy men whose eyes lit up at a young girl working the night shifts. They would lean in close enough so you could smell the tobacco on their breath as they asked for a lighter or gum or whatever was behind the counter so you had to interact with them. And they would purposely brush your hand as they paid, making sure to ask you questions as you hurried through the sale as if it would prolong the conversation.

Your boss made sure to never have you working alone. Either him or his son would accompany you, staring down any strange man that tried anything. It was the reason you felt safe enough to work there. And you had never had any problems until today.

"I just need to leave ten minutes early. I'll do all the inventory and clean up. All you have to do is lock up once your shift is over." The owner's son Mikey was hard to say no to. His green eyes and swooping hair made him a complete sight for sore eyes and his continuous begging throughout the day about how important this date was tonight and how he couldn't be late or he'd never find true love made you acquiesce faster than you'd like to admit. And you wanted him to be happy you just didn't want to finish your shift alone.

"All the inventory?" you questioned as if you hadn't already made up your mind. His eyes lit up as he shook his head up and down.

"All of it. And you can leave ten minutes early on Monday," he added. You smiled. You were already going to say yes but you weren't going to argue with leaving early.

"Okay, fine. But you better fall in love," you said as he jumped up, scrambling to finish the inventory count so he could leave in twenty minutes.

"I'll tell this story at our wedding," he said, his grin highlighting his sharp cheekbones. You let out a laugh.

Twenty minutes came and went and soon enough Mikey was zipping out of there, his "See you next week!" fading until all you heard was the muted buzzing of the overhead fluorescent lights. You busied yourself with doodling on the discarded receipts, pen swirling in random patterns as you waited for the minutes to tick by. The ringing of the bell on the door had your eyes flickering up as a man wandered in. You didn't think much of it at first, continuing your aimless drawing as he meandered to the back freezer. But then he made his way up to the counter, making you jump as you noticed his proximity.

"That all?" you asked, straightening up as he placed the coke can on the counter.

"A pack of reds, too," he said after a moments hesitation. You nodded, turning behind you to grab the pack of Marlboro cigarettes. When you turned back, you couldn't help but notice the uncomfortable way his eyes lingered on you.

"That'll be $3.81." He nodded, pulled a five from his wallet, and slid it over the counter.

"You can keep the change," he said. You nodded, averting your eyes down to the cash register as you loaded in the bill. When he didn't leave, you glanced up at him feeling an uneasy prickling in the back of your neck at his stare.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" you asked. Maybe he was just tired. It was late and the sun had long set now, the only light illuminating the parking lot coming from the store.

"What time do you guys close?" he asked. It was an innocent question. Many people had asked you before and you didn't bat an eye. But there was something about this time, about him asking with his oddly piercing gaze that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Ten." It was quiet for a moment, neither of you saying anything else before he nodded, gave you a smile, and headed out the door. You watched him walk into the parking lot. He turned around halfway, eyes staring back at you. He smiled, again, and you felt your gut twist more. Then he walked to his car.

You waited with bated breath, waited for him to start the ignition and pull out of the lot. But the seconds ticked by and he wasn't leaving. You counted to sixty, then sixty again. Still the car sat motionless, shrouded in the darkness of the corner of the parking lot that the storefront didn't illuminate. Why wasn't he leaving? Why was he just sitting there?

You looked up at the clock, watching the big hand tick to ten o'clock on the dot. A sudden rush of dread flushed through you. Mikey had been your ride. In his excitement, neither of you remembered that he was supposed to drive you home. Your home which sat on the other side of town. Even if you wanted to walk it would take you nearly an hour. And looking at the car quiet and unmoving in the empty parking lot made the idea of walking a fool's mission.

You hopped up quickly, heading to the door to flip the lock. Even closer up you couldn't see the driver's seat of the car. If you hadn't watched the man get into it you would've believed it was abandoned.

"Shit," you muttered.

You walked back to the counter, grabbing for the phone as your eyes kept glancing back at the car as if it was finally going to leave. You called your house phone close to seven times. You knew your parents were staying with your grandparents but your good for nothing sister was supposed to be home. She wasn't even supposed to have plans tonight so why wasn't she answering.

You felt near hysterical as the phone went unanswered for the eighth time. You slammed the phone down, sending every curse under the sun to your lousy useless car-wrecking sister who was the whole reason you didn't have a car in the first place.

The car was still there and you still didn't have any way to get home. But like hell were you sleeping in this place. You gnawed on your lip, weighing your options before his face popped into your head.

Eddie Munson. You squeezed your eyes shut, wracking your brain to try and remember the combination of numbers of his landline. You had called him two days ago. It was written on a pink post-it note taped on your mirror. You stared at it every time you did your makeup. Grabbing the pen, you flipped over an un-doodled receipt and quickly wrote down the numbers you remembered. Four . . . nine . . . three . . . Come on.

You and Eddie had started seeing each other maybe three weeks ago. You weren't exclusive and you had only gone on a handful of dates but you did call each other often. You knew his number was somewhere in your brain you just had to pry it out.

Minutes passed by and your hope was dwindling exponentially until like a light bulb the number appeared in your brain. You quickly scribbled it down before you forgot and picked up the phone, punching the numbers in.

The phone rang and you nervously tapped the pen in your hand on the counter as you waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?" You had never been happier to hear his gruff rumbly voice.

"Eddie!" you breathed, smile over taking your face. You heard movement on the other end before he responded.

"Hi Sweetheart. I was wondering if you'd call," he commented. You could hear the smile in his voice, imagining him leaning onto his counter, phone pressed to his cheek.

"I was gonna, when I got home. But I'm still at work," you said. He let out a hum.

"Still working? Did you miss me that much?" he let out a soft chuckle. You would've laughed if you weren't so on edge.

"You wish," you replied, a smile working it way onto your lips. Just the sound of Eddie's voice had your anxious nerves settling a bit. "Um, are you doing anything right now?"

"Burning some Spaghettio's. Was gonna play a little guitar but," he cleared his throat as if he was suddenly nervous. You heard movement again, "Was kinda waiting for your call. Didn't wanna miss it."

The thought of Eddie loitering around the kitchen, eyes watching the land line waiting for your call had your stomach doing somersaults. You had had a crush on Eddie for the better part of a year, hopelessly pining from a distance as your social groups were miles a part. He was always so vibrant and engaging and it was hard to miss him around school. His big brown eyes, wild hair, and general disregard for societal standards had you roped in immediately but the thought of him liking you was still a foreign concept.

When he had admitted that he had been crushing on you for years before you finally started talking because of a group project, you nearly called him out on what you thought was a blatant lie. And he was adamant that the minute he saw you, sparkling eyes and witty tongue, he was sold. But your relationship was still new, unlabelled and fresh that you struggled with what was appropriate to say or do. Was it too early to be calling him every night? Could you admit you missed him when he was away?

Sometimes, however, Eddie would say something so indulgently sweet that it took your breath away for a minute and had you bursting at the seems with affection.

"Eddie," you knew your eyes were rounding, bottom lip pushing out as you felt your chest squeeze in adoration, "That was really cute. I was looking forward to calling you all day." Your admission had him humming contentedly, his wide smile so evident in his tone.

"Yeah? I kinda wish I could've called you yesterday but duty calls or whatever bullshit," he sighed, referring to his band practice that seemed to go into the late hours of the night despite Gareth's mother's disproval.

"It's okay. I know you're a busy man," you said, tracing the side of the phone as you pictured Eddie's smile.

"Not too busy for you," he let out a sheepish laugh before adding, "You could probably convince me to cancel any plan I had. Just to see you."

You felt your heart flutter.

"Stop being cute. You're distracting me. I need to ask a favor," you said.

"Ask away. The answer is already yes," he replied, voice rumbling happily over the static. He was going to make you pass away.

"Do you think you could pick me up from work? My sister isn't answering," you admitted, voice growing softer. Your eyes flickered back to the parking lot, watching the car that still sat motionless.

"I thought that Mikey kid was your ride?" he asked. If he picked up on your unease he didn't comment on it.

"He was. We kinda forgot and he left early for a date," you explained. He hummed again and you heard movement and the jangling of keys making your stomach uncoil.

"You know, I could be your ride home from now on. So you don't have to rely on loverboy," his tone was slightly sharper as he referenced your coworker.

"He's usually reliable. He got caught up in the excitement–"

"And ditched you," he interjected, huffing at his annoyance.

"He didn't mean to. I'm not mad at him," you reassured.

"Right, no, s'okay. He works tomorrow though, right?"

"Eddie," you warned but he let out a laugh.

"I'm only kidding. Partially. I'm on my way, though, so hang tight, okay? I'll be there in like ten minutes max."

You let out a breath, nodding though he couldn't see you. When you said your goodbyes you tried to visualize what Eddie was doing to distract yourself from the foreboding silence of the empty store; door swinging shut, car beeping, keys ratting, ignition starting.

True to his word, not even seven minutes later Eddie's truck was peeling into the parking lot. You had never been so happy to see his wonky rusted old truck. You hopped up, grabbing your bag and hurrying to the door. The keys jangled loudly as you locked up behind you. As you turned around, you were distracted from Eddie's wide smile as the lights from that godforsaken car suddenly turned on. You froze, watching the red car pull out, pause, and then drive out of the parking lot.

You knew he had been waiting for you. Waiting to see when you were leaving, how you were getting home, but to see it be proven made you feel a little lightheaded. Your eyes met Eddie's as he glanced over his shoulder at the retreating headlights in the distance.

"Who was that? Not that sorry punk Mikey," Eddie asked as you hopped into the passenger seat, dropping your bag to your feet.

"No, he–" you took a sudden shuttering breath that had Eddie's mood dropping significantly, "He was a customer. And he was being weird and he's been sitting in his car for the past half hour probably waiting for me to leave."

You had never seen Eddie this angry. His joking tone before about being mad at Mikey suddenly transforming into hot anger at the idea that he had left you alone for some creep to stalk you like you were his prey.

"I'm picking you up from now on, okay? You tell that son of a bitch if he does anything other than grovel at your feet for forgiveness I'm paying him a visit," he seethed, hand flexing so his rings glinted in the muted lighting.

You turned in your seat to face him, cheek resting against the headrest as you gazed up at him. His eyes were hard, jaw clenched tight and brows furrowed. You reached out a hand to cup his cheek, thumb stroking the high of his cheekbone until his face relaxed. He turned to meet your eyes, his own softening at the look you were giving him.

"I'm okay. I have a baseball bat tucked under the counter as a last minute resort," you assured, voice soft and melodic as he leaned into your palm. His hand reached out to grab your free one, linking your fingers together and squeezing.

"I don't like you being scared," he admitted.

"My fear turns to rage pretty quickly under pressure," you hoped some humor would lighten the mood and he managed to crack a small smile at your comment.

"You'll call me if you ever need anything, right?"

"Of course," you said. His eyes trailed from your abused your bottom lip from worrying it between your teeth to the tension set in your jaw.

His free hand moved up to caress yours, holding it tighter to his cheek as his other softly stroked your palm.

"I'll never let anything bad happen to you, you know that, right?" he said, eyes burning into yours, tone soft but firm. You felt a swell of emotion in your chest. You nodded but he seemed adamant to continue, like you didn't grasp the seriousness of his words.

"I don't care if it's a paper cut or a spider or if the president himself was bothering you, I'll handle it. You call me and I'm there," he pressed, leaning in closer so you could smell his smoky cologne.

You nodded again but your throat suddenly felt tight and your eyes were prickling with moisture. He clocked the tears instantly and he was leaning in, lips pressing to your forehead, hand moving to the back of your neck, weaving his fingers into the hair at the base of your head. He massaged it gently, lips trailing kisses down your temple, to your cheeks, on your nose, and finally to your lips. You didn't realize tears had fallen until he was swiping them away with his thumb.

Your free hand clenched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as he pressed soft, comforting, sweet kisses on your face. His hand scratched your head, fingertips swirling in hypnotic circles until he was pulling back and stroking the hair out of your face. His lips found yours again, pillowy soft and warm as if they were forcing you to relax. The tension slowly eased from your body until your head felt light and your mind gooey.

All at once you wanted to say those three sacred words. You wanted to spill all of your feelings and emotions and tell him you loved him until the sun came up. You wanted to drown in him, kiss him until you didn't know your own name anymore. And you wanted him to know you were completely and utterly sold on him. He had ruined anyone else for you.

"You wanna come to mine?" he asked, his voice close to a whisper, breath fanning over your face as you wilted at the loss of his lips. You nodded, still unsure if you could form proper words, your head spinning with thoughts of him kissing you over and over again.

The drive was quick, his right hand sandwiched between both of yours as you watched the trees whir past the window. He gave you a few sideways glances, feeling his anger at your air headed coworker swirling in his stomach. But every brush of you fingers over his tense knuckles had him deflating until he was solely focused on you and your perfume and your pretty glassy eyes.

You had been in Eddie's room multiple times but most of them were to work on that school project. Only one other time had you been here after you had both admitted your feelings. And suddenly stepping into the muted lighting, eyes trailing over the myriad of band posters, piles of records and cassettes, a mountain of laundry, and his messy unmade bed had a wave of nervousness washing over you. Eddie sheepishly pulled his comforter up, haphazardly pushing a few shirts and a few books to the ground, clearing the space.

"You want a change of clothes?" he asked, pausing his movements to look at you. You blinked at him, bag already discarded by the door and nodded. You probably looked great in the polo shirt and plain jeans that your boss had you and Mikey wear for "professionalism" even though it was a gas station.

You could tell the Metallica shirt he had handed you was old because it was soft and well-worn, a few holes decorating the collar. You pulled it over your head, the material caressing your sides. You pulled on the boxers after, an unused pair he said bought in the wrong size and left to reside in the bottom of his drawer. You timidly pushed out the bathroom door, glancing down the dark hallway to where Eddie's uncle was snoring loudly on the couch before heading back to Eddie's room.

Only the bedside lamp was on now casting sleepy shadows around the room. Eddie was resting against the headboard of his bed, legs laid out, his own sleep shirt adorning his torso, rings discarded on the bedside table. His eyes found your form as you shut the door behind you, trailing up and down your clothes, his clothes, draped over your body. He had never seen anyone look so good in a T-shirt before and frankly he didn't think he ever would again. You were otherworldly to him.

Hesitantly, you crawled onto the bed, mattress dipping under your knees as you got closer. His arms instantly encircled around you, pulling you flush against him giving you no time to hesitate. You melted into him, his scent overwhelming you and his warmth fighting back the chill of the room. He pulled the duvet over the both of you, shuffling you down until you were laying before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"I was talking to Steve," he said breaking the silence, his voice rumbling into your neck making tingles run up your spine. Your arms wrapped around his torso, cheek pressing against his forehead, eyes fluttering shut as you waited for him to continue.

"He likes to give dating advice. Mostly unsolicited," he murmured, the vibrations tickling your skin. His hand trailed up your side until it found the side of your love handle peaking out from your shirt. His fingers grazed it, swirling around the velvety skin making you squirm slightly at the tickling sensation. You felt his grin.

"It's mostly all crap. All of his experience is from his shitty douchebag days. Probably why he goes on such shit dates." He pressed a kiss to your throat, his other arm tightening around your back to pull you impossibly closer. You felt your mind go gooey again at his affection.

"He did say though that," he paused and you felt him take a steadying breath, "if I waited any longer to ask you to be my girlfriend that you'd think I didn't like you anymore."

It took you a moment to move the thoughts around in your molasses mind before you processed his words.

"Which is ridiculous because even Dustin Henderson has known I've been in love with you for years," he added, fingers dipping under your shirt to draw shapes on the ridges of your ribs.

"What?" you whispered, eyes opening. His movements paused as if he himself just realized what he said. You felt him tense, hand pressing flat against your side as he let out a sigh. You pulled away from him slightly. You could tell the instant the rejection settled in his mind, his body growing tenser as he pulled back to meet your eyes. His eyes were dark, filled with hurt and worry. He tried to pull back more but your tight grip prevented him.

"You love me?" He was quiet for a moment, eyes flickering between both of yours weighing his options. You shuffled closer, grabbing his hand and placing it on your waist again, a silent command to keep drawing shapes. He softened, shifting closer as he shoved his insecurities to the back of his mind.

"If," he started, brown eyes flickering around your face, gaging every micro expression to make sure you weren't uncomfortable with his words, "If it doesn't scare you away, then yes."

He leaned in closer, breath fanning over your face, minty and cool. "If it does, then I have no idea what you're talking about." His hand squeezed your side making you let out a laugh, squirming again as a smile overtook your face. He stopped, eyes hooded as he gazed at you and your pretty smile and your warm eyes.

"Can you say it?" your voice was small, smile loosening until you were staring at him with big, vulnerable eyes. He knew then that you weren't scared. You weren't dismayed by his feelings. By the glint in your doe eyes and the way you melted at his affection, he knew you felt the same way.

"You need to answer my question first," he decided. Your brows pulled together slightly as you tried to remember what he was referring to. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your pouted lips as if he couldn't help himself. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

You felt your face flush and your pulse spike. You nodded, pressing closer hoping he would kiss you again.

"With words, baby," he insisted, hovering his lips over yours, hand moving up to stroke the swell of your cheek.

"Yes," you breathed, feeling like you might never stop blushing.

He finally leaned in and pressed a searing kiss to your lips.

"I love you," he said, hand stroking your hair back so he could kiss you deeply again and again and again, repeating the phrase between kisses like he couldn't get tired of saying it.

"I love you, too," you managed to say before he was covering your lips again, greedy for your attention.

You felt dizzy at the intensity, love drunk on Eddie and his velvet kisses and sugary words. You didn't care that it had only been three weeks and that an English project that you both barely managed to get a C on had been the catalyst. You had loved Eddie for a year and he had loved you for more and you'd be damned if you waited any longer to tell him you loved him over and over and over again.

Link to my masterlist :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x y/n

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years ago

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter One

Finally! I’m sorry this took so long, I’m a nervous wreck.

Notes: this was originally a warmup for character interactions/setting. It is very dialogue heavy.

\\ Warnings: alcohol //

A single tumbleweed was all that crossed Scott’s path when he arrived in the Red Desert. It was rather comical, he stood and watched it roll away until he couldn’t see it through the sheets of sand blowing over the ground.

In the distance, the only mountain located in the desert biome loomed over the horizon. Imposingly backlit by the red, swirling, tendrils of the world border. Most residents kept away from the thing, as it was meant to give off an unsettling aura. Although Scott never minded it. The wall of his room was almost right up against it after all.

On top of the mountain was a barely visible “castle”, which looked as if it was built by someone wearing a blindfold. The inhabitants of the castle, and the aptly named “Monopoly Mountain” could be accurately described as menaces.

Clumsy when it came to forward thinking, and leaving hidden traps around so frequently that traveling through any wooded area required either a very long stick, or someone willing to take the business end of a TNT trap for the team.

They also happened to be Scott’s nearest allies. It hadn’t always been pleasant between them, but circumstance led to circumstance, and now Scott was making his semi-weekly visit to Monopoly Mountain to shoot the breeze.

Typically the only person at the base would be Grian. Scar liked to make himself elusive by causing problems elsewhere and returning late into the evening with a story to tell over dinner.

The base of the mountain was void of a bubble-elevator. To reach the top one must climb an absurd amount of stairs. Scott huffed and resigned himself to the task in front of him.

As his perspective grew higher and higher the rest of the map revealed itself. The roof of Joel’s house peeked over a swathe of trees, and the tall barricades of Dogwarts stood out as a stark silhouette against the sky. Scott took a few minutes to regain his purchase, shielding his eyes from the whipping wind.

The season was gradually descending into winter. Made obvious by the deciduous trees’ leaves choking out the last of their green pigment for fiery shades of red and orange. The weather was far less pleasant to endure. Everywhere outside of the Red Desert had to deal with bitterly cold conditions, although there hadn’t been snow yet, the sky churned with a constant overcast. Threatening to storm at the drop of a coin.

Scott rubbed his arms to fight off the oncoming chill and continued his ascent, hoping someone had installed a fireplace since the last time he visited.

Finally he rounded the last of the stairs and gazed up at the tall, thin roof of the Sand Castle. The Red Desert flag strung on the tallest rooftop flapped around in the wind. Pizza, the pet lama, grunted in Scott’s direction when he approached the front door. He hesitantly reached out to pet her (she bit him once and he’d never fully gotten over it) from over the fence of her pen, and she let him rub her fluffy bangs.

Scott knocked on the door three times and gave Pizza one last pat, anticipating someone to open the door. It would be a shame if he’d hiked all the way out only for nobody to be home.

Thankfully, the door swung open with a welcoming screech of it’s hinges.

“Hey dude,” Grian welcomed him from the front steps.

“Hey,” Scott greeted in return, “may I come in?” he asked.

“Of course! It’s freezing out here,” Grian replied and stepped away from the door, which slammed with a squeak behind the two of them.

Scott closed his eyes and waved to the resident enderman, who greeted him with a friendly, distorted “hello”. A furnace was running to warm the living room.

Scott took his coat and hat off. He draped them over the arm of the couch before swatting a layer of sand from the cushion and sitting down, observing the scene in front of him. There was always something going on in there.

This time, a myriad of blueprints were strewn across the floor. Each of them depicting heavily annotated structures and what looked like plans for redstone. Grian had planted himself on the floor with a pencil, and was furiously erasing a line of text.

“What’s that?” Scott pointed over his shoulder.

“These,” Grian held one of the outlines up to the other’s face, “are the blueprints for our secret bunker,” he explained.

“You hear that? Secret Bunker, so don’t go telling anyone about it m’kay?” He tapped the paper with the end of his pencil.

“Okay, fair enough. Is that redstone?” Scott slid another sheet of paper towards them with his shoe.

“Yup. I’m gonna equip it with a lava trap,” Grian said proudly.

“And this one will work?” Scott teased.

“Hilarious,” Grian pushed the other’s shoulder, “yes it will work, it’s going to be my best yet,” he assured.

“Oh good! That’s not a very high standard to meet then,” Scott congratulated.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Grian mocked back, “you better be careful what you say with twenty five reputation points,” he said.

Scott threw his hands up in surrender, still laughing at how the other man’s ears turned red.

The house fell into a comfortable silence after that. The sound of scribbling and wind served as a calming ambience. Scott intermittently shared a few words with the enderman, who seemed to understand more of what Scott said to him than the other way around.

“Hey, Grian?” Scott turned over on the couch to face his friend.

“Yeah?” The other said without looking away from his work.

“Do you think you would have still been friends with Scar if he hadn’t died from that creeper?” Scott asked.

There was a pregnant pause, then Grian said, “I don’t know. I never thought about it,” he doodled absently on the margin of his paper.

“Hm,” Scott replied halfheartedly. He mainly asked because whenever he visited Grian was alone. If they were even home at all. Other than that him and Scar were always attached at the hip.

“Why?” Grian asked in return.

“I don’t know, forget it,” Scott waved him off. Not wanting to get into it.

“When’s he gonna be back?” he asked instead.

Grian sat up and stretched his back, “uh, I don’t know actually. He said he went to gather resources but you can never really count on him doing what he says he will,” he explained.

“You didn’t go with him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t want to babysit him anymore. If he gets in trouble that’s not my problem,” Grian said. He stood up and wandered over the the kitchen, carefully avoiding the blueprints on the floor.

“Ha! I would drink to that one, Jimmy is the same way sometimes,” Scott replied and watched as Grian contemplated the contents of their cooler, reaching in and pulling out a bottle of red wine.

“Well then, let’s drink to it,” he held the bottle up with a grin.

“Where did you get that?” Scott vacated the couch and made his way over to his friend, taking the bottle and studying it, “I haven’t seen the fruit of the vine in years!” he recalled.

The bottle had clearly been tapped into before, although not much was absent from its contents.

“I have my ways,” Grian rummaged around in a cabinet and pulled out two glasses.

“I would say it’s too early for this, but for once, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Scott uncorked the bottle with a satisfying pop and poured each glass a third of the way.

Grian cleared his throat, “To the safety of our stupid partners,” he raised his glass.

Scott nodded in return and connected their drinks with a polite clink, then they drank to the sentiment.

The conversation traveled to the dining table, which was more of a booth. Talking points ranged from preparing for winter to future plans to expand their bases.

“I’m not going to get anything done with the weather coming on,” Scott complained over his drink, “I don’t handle the cold very well,” he downed the last of it.

“Well you can always move in with us for the season, the attic is vacant,” Grian offered.

“Never in a million years. I’d rather be sick at home than spend a week living with barbarians,” Scott refused the offer.

Grian rolled his eyes, “it is not that bad,” he defended himself.

Scott raised an eyebrow and shoved his hand in between the cushions of the booth. Pulling up a handful of sand, which he deposited on the table.

“We live in a desert! What do you want us to do about it, of course there’s some sand in here,” Grian threw his hands up.

“Some?” Scott repeated.

“Okay,” Grian glanced under the table and shuffled his foot around, which scraped across a layer of sand, “a lot of sand,” he corrected himself.

“Get a vacuum. For the hundredth time, get a vacuum,” Scott demanded.

“We have a broom that works perfectly fine,” Grian stood up and opened a linen closet to reveal a single broom leaned up against the wall.

Scott didn’t comment on it, but he had a feeling that broom never left the closet.

The conversation was effectively halted when the front door screeched open, letting in a gust of wind and sand. It blew a few papers off the floor and scattered them around the living area.

“Hey,” Grian called out, “Scar? You back?” he asked.

“Yeah,” came from the front of the Sand Castle.

“Okay! We have company by the way,” Grian prefaced.

Scar’s head poked around the doorframe, he waved at Scott who returned the gesture.

“What have you guys been up to?” He inquired at the sight of the wine on the counter.

“Just hanging out. It gets a bit lonely up here you know,” Grian closed the linen closet and took Scar’s backpack from him. He opened it and looked at the contents.

“Oh, you actually did what you went out to do,” Grian revealed a bundle of wood from the bag.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scar crossed his arms.

“Never mind, go wash up. I assume you’re hungry,” Grian opened a pantry and took some spices out, “are you staying for dinner Scott?” he asked.

Scott leaned out of the booth to check the time on the clock above the door, “mmm, yeah why not. I’m already here,” he decided.

“Let me just page Jimmy and tell him I’m gonna be home late,” Scott patted all his pockets but found no sign of his communication device.

“Hey Grian? Can I use your pager?” he requested.

Grian fished around in his back pockets and pulled out his pager, tossing it towards the other who caught it with both hands. Scott thanked him and flipped the screen up, selected the address he needed to contact, and typed out a short message. Making sure to say it was from him and not Grian before sending it to Jimmy.

“What’re we making?” Scott asked once he finished, intent on trying to help in the kitchen.

“Well, it’s Spaghetti Friday,” Grian declared and revealed a bag of Rigatoni pasta.

“That’s a thing?” Scott inquired, taking the bag and examining the packaging. It was pretty simple, mostly cardboard with a plastic window. Presumably from the village on the other side of the map.

“We’ve gotta have some fun around here, come on now Scott,” Grian said.

“You’re right, how can I help?” Scott said. Grian side eyed him.

“You can add the salt when I say you can add the salt,” he offered. Scott crossed his arms.

He wasn’t that bad at cooking. He’d only burned a few things, smoked the house out for three days once, and set scrambled eggs on fire.

“That one time was just a rookie mistake,” Scott retorted. It’s not like he did it on purpose.

“A rookie mistake that almost burned your flower forest down. I wouldn’t let you near the kitchen if I was Jimmy either,” Grian set a pot down on the stove.

Scar came back in the kitchen then, and was pulled into it almost immediately.

“A man can’t even sit down in his own house without his culinary skills being put up for debate?”

Grian laughed at him, sliding the pot under the water pump.

“That’s not an answer at all! Can you or can’t you?” Scott demanded to know, holding a salt shaker.

“I can cook,” Scar’s gaze wandered into thought, he started counting on his fingers, “pasta, assorted vegetables, mac and cheese, cornbread, mashed potatoes, and I can bake a half decent carrot cake,” he recited.

“I worked in a supermarket before the borders. We made some of our own stuff for the bakery and the buffet,” Scar said. It was the first mention he made of what he did back when things were normal. At least to Scott.

Scott was pleasantly surprised. He nodded, seeing as he’d been given a satisfying answer.

The spaghetti went off without a hitch, Grian was surprisingly good at making it. Scott had the sense that he’d done it many times before.

“Remember, you can put the salt in but you can’t take it out. Here taste the sauce and tell me if it’s alright,” Grian fished a spoon from a drawer and handed it to Scott.

“Hmm,” the other pondered after trying a spoonful, “maybe a bit more salt?” he suggested.

A window was propped open to let the steam and heat out. It was getting dark now, and the world border stood out against the purple hues of night falling over the server. The brightest stars made themselves known to the east as the sun set to the west. It was peaceful, the wind had died down. Scott wondered if anyone else was watching.

Personally, he enjoyed stargazing a lot more. His servermates knew next to nothing about the cosmos, which made him wonder who was teaching them about the greater universe. Clearly they’d never been out there.

“Yo,” Scar called him out of his trance. He handed the other a ceramic bowl.

“Thank you,” Scott said and waited to serve himself.

The spaghetti was pretty good. Decent meals were hard to come by, especially with the limited resources outside of villages.

Over the course of dinner, Scar explained his excursion of the day. He had been gathering wood to stockpile for the winter months (no wood in the desert, better to have a source available and not have to hike out and get more constantly) when he came upon Etho’s base.

“It’s entirely made of wool,” he recounted.

Grian raised an eyebrow in confusion, “All of it? Why?” he mused.

“Dunno. There was nobody around,” Scar replied.

“You didn’t steal from them did you?” Scott interjected.

“Not this time,” he said, which earned him a jab in the ribs from Grian.

The three laughed it off and switched the subject to current server affairs. Who had the best gear, everyone’s respective allies, the phantom problem, and the pros and cons of a vacuum.

“Well, I would say this is a fine work of spaghetti,” Scar complimented when he was finished.

“Indeed, couldn’t have done it without Scott. The best salt dispenser among us,” Grian agreed.

Scott tried to look offended but couldn’t repress a smile. He stood up, about to take his bowl to the sink; but Scar insisted that he was the guest, so he handed over his dish and sat back down. Preparing his “i’m out of here” pleasantries.

He settled on, “Well, I’m out of here,” after a few more minutes of banter.

“Okay! Thanks for keeping me company dude,” Grian gave Scott a hug as thanks.

“My pleasure,” Scott replied.

Scar offered to accompany Scott back to the Hobbit territory, but he refused.

“No need Scar, you’ve been out all day. I’ll be fine,” he assured as he adjusted his hat and jacket for the chilly walk home.

“Alright then, let me walk you out,” Scar proposed instead.

Final waves and good wishes were exchanged and Scott started back down all those stairs. It was quiet, save for the gentle buzz of the world border which sat right against the Red Desert.

Lost in thought for most of the journey, Scott traveled into the dark canopy of leaves. There weren’t many mobs out due to the moon being in its Waning Crescent phase. Scott rubbed his hands together and shoved them in his pockets, wishing he’d brought his mittens.

As he crossed over a clearing, an arrow whizzed over his shoulder. Scott ducked down in surprise, turning around and expecting to see a skeleton, but there was nothing there except a dreadfully dark bank of trees and a vacant plot of land.

Scott squinted into the darkness.

Then the handle of a weapon was brought down on the side of his face, and all the lights went out.

#THAR SHE BLOWS.#Time to get this monster out of my system! This au gave me brainrot.#hahaha! it only gets worse from here #kingslayer au #3rd life smp #3rdlife #3rdlife smp #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scott smajor #mcyt #cas types

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jeminy3 · 4 years ago

Photo

old archie x maxie (hardenshipping) doodles i never posted, from 2017 or 2018. they were related to some of the doodles in this post.

I have a lot of unpublished drawings of these guys, and i never did elaborate on my headcanons for them. The truth is, I was (and still kinda am) very anxious and embarrassed about this fixation, probably because it centers around villains and “woobifies” them, but also because after playing and researching more into ORAS, i discovered that my personal canon was contradicted by actual canon and i felt invalidated.

For the sake of posterity, I’ll summarize my old headcanons below. (It’s still pretty long, ugh)

A grunt in Team Magma’s hideout says that Archie and Maxie “used to be on the same team.” In canon, this probably implies that they worked together on New Mauville, Sea Mauville, or another unnamed project, depending on how old they are and how long ago those projects started and ended.

However, like many other fans, I thought this meant they used to be in Team Rocket together, and I elaborated an entire backstory based on that:

+ Maxie and Archie were part of a group of Rocket recruits attempting to start a branch of Team Rocket in the Hoenn Region. The project failed because soon after they arrived, Giovanni was defeated in Kanto and officially dissolved Team Rocket, causing a schism to form within the Hoenn team over whether to give up the project or not. This eventually lead to the team splintering into two factions, one lead by Maxie and the other lead by Archie, which eventually grew and rebranded themselves into Team Magma and Team Aqua.

-Maxie and Archie met and connected enough to start dating, though they were emotionally dysfunctional. As problems arose and the Team began to splinter, their relationship also broke down and their separation was very messy.

Maxie clung to the ambition of staying in Hoenn and building up the Team as a paragon of human industry, pushing away Archie and anyone else he deemed as “not useful.”

Archie also wanted to make the Team work, but not in the way Maxie and his side wanted, at the expense of nature. Archie felt hurt and betrayed as Maxie pushed him away and disagreed with him, making him contradict and lash out at Maxie even more.

This all culminated in a huge fight between Archie and Maxie and their respective sides, involving both Pokemon battling and actual fist-fighting. Local authorities were called in, causing the teams to scatter, but not before Archie and Maxie promised to face each other again, reforging themselves as bitter rivals.

-- Maxie

+ Maxie is (the pokemon equivalent of) German/Japanese, and was born on Cinnabar Island. His birth name was Maximillian Matsubasa Von Brandt, but he prefers simply “Maxie”. He IDs as bigender, asexual and demi-homoromantic.

His father is a Kanto businessman named Masaru Matsubasa. His mother is from somewhere in or near Kalos, named Melissa Von Brandt. They were both wealthy and successful business people who frequently left on business trips, Masaru travelling between Kanto and Johto and Melissa to her home country.

Maxie was often left alone or with a nanny at home. He was well-provided for and self-sufficient, but he was lonely and emotionally stunted. He had a passion for geology and engineering, and showed interest in contributing to helping Cinnabar’s local issues, which were often tense because of the limited land space. Homelessness and unemployment were high, and development plans to alleviate these were stymied by parties who lobbied for the preservation of the local Pokemon wildlife by any means.

Maxie’s parents were skeptical of his choice in career but still supported him, if only half-heartedly. This lead Maxie to study Cinnabar’s volcano, which he found to be very much active and possibly dangerous. He developed a plan to build in and around the volcano in such a way that it would utilize extra space inside the mountain for housing/businesses and its magma for natural energy to power the city, possibly circumventing its eventual eruption.

He presented this plan to Cinnabar’s city council, but was practically laughed out of the meeting for such an ambitious and dangerous idea, especially by the wildlife parties. This damaged his reputation and caused him to be fired/demoted from his job. His parents reprimanded him, regretting their decision to support him.

Lost and disgusted with his life, Maxie found recruitment with Team Rocket and left Cinnabar to join their efforts on the mainland. When he presented his research to their higher-ups, they were impressed enough to pass it along to Giovanni himself, and Maxie ended up contributing to the construction of some of their underground lairs, like in Celadon City.

This also made him a prime candidate for the Rocket Hoenn project as a lead engineer and scientist, and he joined the project with high hopes.

+ His interest in Pokemon was soured by his past and usually only extends are far as his ambitions, which means he views Pokemon only as things that can be useful to whatever projects he’s working on, otherwise they are a nuisance. After becoming the leader of Team Magma and having to train a personal team to defend himself with, he warms up to Pokemon a bit more.

+ Maxie plays up his confidence and genius, but does have moments of crippling self-doubt and anxiety. Deep down, he’s socially awkward and has trouble expressing his feelings, tending to bottle things up until they spill out in moments of anger.

+ Maxie used to be a semi-heavy smoker in his youth to cope with his anxiety. After becoming the leader of Team Magma, his health was suffering and his grunts were visibly uncomfortable around him, so for the sake of his own health and that of his team, he quit, with help and advice from Courtney and Tabitha.

+ Maxie hates his parents and hasn’t contacted them since he left Cinnabar, which was over ten years ago by the end of ORAS events. He avoids them to the point that he uses a forged identity in Hoenn, named “Maxie Stormfront.” ‘Stormfront’ is a reference from one of his favorite metal bands, the Doom Hounds, because he is a nerd.

+ Years later, Cinnabar’s volcano did erupt and destroy the town, displacing its human population. Maxie has mixed feelings about this – he’s not sure if it’s righteous karma for the City Council rejecting his plans, or a sign that his old plans were doomed to failure and he was better off leaving Cinnabar after all.

-- Archie

+ Archie is (the pokemon equivalent of) Black/Hispanic and a Hoenn native. His birth name is Archibald Rodriguez. He IDs as a cis man (or trans?), pansexual and panromantic.

He was born to his father, Alexander Rodriguez and his mother, Alicia Fuentes (Rodriguez after marriage) in a small fishing town on one of Hoenn’s coasts, with its fishery being its only major industry. Most of its residents are middle-class or poor, and few members pursue an education after high school, usually joining the local fishing industry.

In his youth, Archie didn’t care much for school or work, preferring to spend his days playing with the local water Pokemon and his friends, Matt and Shelly. However, this exposed him to the effects that overfishing and pollution had on the local wildlife, and he eventually grew to want to pursue a career as a Veterinarian, specifically for water pokemon.

His parents didn’t believe he would be successful and his town had few resources to help him. The most he could do was research at the local library and a then-primitive internet.

Worse, his town was outright apathetic to the damage their industry was causing to the local wildlife because they depended on its capital to survive.

+A possible traumatic memory involves a young Archie nursing a sick Magikarp back to health for weeks, only to later discover it trapped in the nets of the fishery his father worked at, doomed to become food/products. When he attempted to cut the nets and save the Magikarp, his father restrained him and reprimanded him, claiming “it’s just a fish, boy! They’re all just stupid fish!”

Eventually, Archie was a depressed drifter in his 20s, unable to hold onto work and unable to afford to leave to a larger city. He often fought with his abrasive father and his mother was coddling, but unsupportive. This made Archie a prime candidate for Team Rocket recruiters as they arrived on Hoenn, promising a way out of his backwater town, decent pay, and a career where he’d be appreciated and be able to work with Pokemon to change the world. He joined as a lowly Grunt, but was talented and well-respected within the Team.

-Archie has limited contact with his parents since he left home, only calling them once a year or so.

-Archie doesn’t like being referred to as his full name, it feels pretentious and brings back uncomfortable memories of his family.

+I used to headcanon Archie and Matt as biological brothers because of the “bro” thing, but I’m not sure about keeping that. If so, Matt’s name would be short for Matthias Rodriguez, because their parents liked pretentious names.

-Like some of his dialog implies, Archie is kind of depressed, pessimistic and cynical deep down, but hides it behind his boisterous, reckless attitude. At his worst, he’s downright bitter, uncaring of his own life or the lives of humanity in general, in favor of Pokemon.

#hardenshipping #aqua leader archie #magma leader maxie #rocket hardenshipping #pokemon oras #jeminy3 art #jeminy writes #long post #headcanons

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spice-chan · 4 years ago

Text

A Christmas Present

Hitoshi Shinsou x reader

It’s time for Shinsou to get his feelings across, what better time then Christmas, the day of blessings and magic ?

Soulmate au, coffee shop au.

Word count: 3200

This is written for the secret santa event, for @what-the-censored-xd I hope you enjoy this and merry Christmas!!

warnings - misunderstandings and a teeny bit of angst

.....................................................

A soulmate. A gift all the quirky individuals of this world have been gifted with.

With a mark on your wrist indicating who the individual is, the circumstances, perhaps the time. It’s pretty ambiguous, and the thought of missing the fated person is an ever present fear on most people’s mind. At least yours.

It’s rather plain, sweet, but plain. Easy to be overshadowed by the more gaudy, exquisite, or creative soul marks. It's a dark brown, a darker shade than the earth, but lighter than a macchiato, and its heart shaped. A tiny heart, like the one that often adorns the textbook of bored teens who opted to doodle in class. Still, looking at it never failed to bring a smile to your face.

It’s almost as if you have a premonition that it’s going to bring you something magical.

With those thoughts in mind, you entered the coffee shop, the red ribboned bell at the door making a semi loud jingling sound that alerted the workers of your presence, causing smiles to plaster across their faces. Some looked easy, as real and carefree as breathing, some looking more stiff, almost unnatural on the beholders face. However, one stood out in particular.

Purple, and appearing like cotton candy in softness, hair, with equally gorgeous lavender eyes that sported bluish semi circles underneath. And a face devoid of a smile, his lips set in a straight line. Bored, uninterested, even sad.

“What would you like to order ?” You were startled for a second, taken aback when his lips parted for his monotone tone to slip out from between the cracks. Your cheeks felt hot, realising that you’d walked all the way to the cashier without realising.

“Latte, please. With cream on top. Thanks” You replied nonchalantly, pretending that you weren’t ogling him. You definitely weren’t.

He hummed, his lavender eyes zeroing in on you, making you gulp nervously. Is he ok ?

“Umm..” you cringed nervously. His eyes widened a fraction, and if you weren’t mistaken, a red hue tinted his cheeks. He nervously started putting in your order, his fingers shaking a fraction while his heart thudded in excitement. Your words rang in his head, but instead of the usual robotic monotony that usually accompanied them, they were laced with your unique, bashful voice, accentuated with your embarrassed, cute face.

“Latte, with cream on top ?” He asked again, as if consciousness only streamed back to him. Holy shit he thought. He should ask for your number.

He should, the words formulated in his head, made the movements of his fingers slower, they went to the tip of his tongue-

“That’ll be 2.99, thank you for your purchase.”

But he did nothing.

His shoulders deflated, the movement noticeable to the perceptive eye, especially when he saw your figure move away and take a seat on one of the tables while he prepared your drink. His hand instinctively went to tangle in his soft purple locks, however, the stupid christmas hat he was forced to wear prevented him from doing even that. Frustration towards himself willed up in his chest, the feeling akin to a burn that refused to go away.

It’s fine. You’re not gone yet. He still has time.

Those were the thoughts he kept repeating in his head as he prepared your latte, the words on his wrist feeling tingly, as if stroked by the softest of feathers.

All too soon, he finished and had to call out your drink, anticipation coursing through him. He saw you stand up, bright eyes seeking him out, only to abruptly look away upon finding his gaze rooted on you.

He grabbed the cup, intent on handing it to you, but his fingers shook at the last second when your pretty gaze met his, and he nearly spilt the drink, but he saw a droplet escape, landing on your sleeve. He didn’t comment on it, he didn’t have the chance to.

“Are you ok ?” You questioned him, you didn’t think he was the ditzy type, then again you don’t really know him. But even this knowledge didn’t stop the concern for the handsome stranger to bubble through you. Caring about him felt as natural as breathing.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” His previously monotone voice seemed just a bit more breathy, just a bit more deep, but enough to have you swooning even more then before.

You smiled at him- and gosh wasn’t it the prettiest sight he’d see— and grabbed your drink from his seemingly clumsy hands and settled back on your table. If only the turmoil within his heart could be settled as well.

………...…

You walked out, the bell once again jingling, but this time to signal your exit. The taste of the best latte that ever graced your mouth was still present on your tongue, the remnants reminding you of the handsome stranger who made it.

You goofily smiled, happiness gushing out of you without rhyme or reason, however, when your hand went to cover your mouth, you saw it. A coffee stain on your white shirt. A heart shaped, coffee stain where your soul mark is.

.……………

The bell jingled, signaling your arrival once again. It’s been a habit that you made to frequent the coffee shop at least three times a week, in hopes of seeing your soulmate.

On instinct, your eyes sought the lackadaisical male, and they were blessed, for you saw him, in the same place as usual, sporting the Christmas hat that he always seems to have on. The hat that failed to do hide the soft purple locks that your hand ached to run through-

“Latte ? With cream on top ?”

“Yes” you should be flattered that he memorised your order, but then again, you have been coming here more then a devout Catholic frequents the church. You really just hoped he’d say something else. Everytime.

He should know you’re his soulmate, shouldn’t he ?

“That’ll be 2.99” Maybe he just doesn’t want you.

“Thank you.”

Dammit. Shinsou thought. Disappointment filled his chest when he saw your downtrodden face move away and sit at your regular table, leaving him to his own devices. It’s been about a month since he’s met you. A month since he discovered who his soulmate is. A month since you began to frequent the place he works at. A month since he failed to act on it.

The aroma of coffee that surrounded him, while aromatic, filled him with an innate sense of bitterness as he acknowledged his cowardice. No amount of pep talk could get him to ask for your number, and everyday, he felt you slip further and further away from him.

Coward. He repeated that over and over in his head as he added the whipped cream and called out your order .

You’re going to be alone forever.

A few seconds pass by while he stared scornfully at the wall, ticking by painfully slowly, or so he thought, until he realised a few minutes had flown and you hadn’t come to take your drink.

He glanced towards your table, eyebrows furrowed in concern. However, what met him didn’t manage to ease this.

A purple eyed guy sat on your table, a shade lighter than Shinso’s, but enough to make him seem more livelier at a glance. His hair was golden and slicked, giving the stereotypical facade of a prince charming. He held your delicate palm in his own, even his hand played into the princely impression he gave off, not incredibly massive and impossibly smooth-even more so than your own. Shinsou hated him already.

Shinsou lowered his head, his hair covering his eyes slightly, perhaps to shield him from this wretched sight. Is this what he gets from not acting sooner ? Are you on a date with him ? Oh God, he hopes not. But his hair couldn’t protect him from the blood curling sight of the jerk bringing your hand up to his crooked lips and lying a kiss on them.

Shinso looked at you this time, and he can’t tell relief from happiness as both emotions flowed predominantly in his chest at the sight of your indignant features. Your lips were pulled down, the frown not taking a tiny ounce of your beauty, and you pulled your hand away from him.

That’s when Shinsou decided that no, it’s not too late to act. It’s not too late to try to be the one who sits opposite to you in cafes, the one who can hold your hands and shower them with kisses, and the one who brings a smile to your face. Just as he was always meant to be.

He grabbed your still steaming latte, walking up to your table calmly, nothing in his relaxed posture indicated the turmoil happening within him.

“Monoma, I told you, I’m not going anywhere with you. Not again.” Shinsou heard you utter now that he was closer to your table, and the jer-Monoma, didn’t seem deterred in the slightest.

“Come on, (y/n). Let’s try this again-“

Shinsou halted him in his speech, putting your drink in front of you loudly enough to overpower the absolute gibberish spewing out of Monoma’s mouth. After doing do, he grabbed the hand that was previously held captive in Monoma’s own, and brought it up to his lips, lying a lingering kiss on it that had your face feeling warmer and heart palpitating at the turn of events. Shinsou fleetingly glanced towards Monoma, and found all traces of self assurance wiped out.

“Is he bothering you kitten ?” Asked Shinsou, kissing your forehead, making any cohesive response cooking in your brain a victim to burning, no, charring.

“Um-uh, no ? It’s fine…” kitten ?! What the-did he just ?

Why ?

That question resonated in your head, among all the scattered thoughts and chaos. Because the soulmate that you thought didn’t want you was suddenly here, ‘rescuing’ you, calling you kitten and kissing you as if that’s all he’s ever known.

You didn’t realise that you zoned out until Monoma was calling your name.

“(Y/n), is it true ?” He asked, sounding somewhat betrayed.

“What ?” You seemed like such a ditz right right now.

“Are you dating this gloomy guy ? I didn’t know you found a replacement so quick.” You’re dating who now ?

“Yeah.” Monoma quirked an eyebrow at your response, unimpressed, distrustful. He got a hold of the drink that Shinsou obsessed over, worried that he wouldn’t impress you, and took a sip. A sip of the drink that Shinsou prepared especially for you, with your bright, eye crinkling smile in mind and sincere thank you. Now Shinsou was certain he hated him. All smug smiles and shitty attitude.

Monoma remained silent for a moment. His eyes hard and steely, alternating between you and Shinsou, until they brightened once again, almost as if a veil that had previously been placed over them had been lifted. He smiled his princely smile, his teeth making a brief appearance to dazzle their beholders with their brightness.

“I don’t believe you. And I won’t stop pursuing (y/n) .” Shinsou ground his teeth at the audacity. How dare this assh-

“But, I will if you show up to my Christmas ball and convince me. I’ll leave it up to you as to how. I want you to remind me of every moment we had together and make it feel meaningless in comparison to what I’m seeing before me.” He maintained his crooked smile while he spoke, but reached out into his pant pocket and pulled out a card with a location on it. The card was of medium thickness too. Even that screamed rich.

Shinsou wasn’t sure what the appropriate response should be, it could be a solid ‘no, we don’t need to prove anything’ or a solid ‘yes, I’ll show you that whatever you had with her was nothing more than elementary crushing. At least to her.’ Shinsou was flooded with so many opportunities, that for a moment, he forgot what situation he placed himself in.

What is he proving ? He isn’t dating you. He was a coward who hid behind a cashier because he couldn’t acknowledge that the one meant for him was right in front of him.

“Monoma. Leave, you’ve said enough.” Your voice shattered the fake amiability that somehow built in the atmosphere. Shinsou and Monoma glared at each other openly, one with more hostility than the other. If Shinsou looked in the mirror right now, chance is he wouldn't recognize himself. Monoma gave Shinsou one last meaningful look before standing up and taking his leave.

He was shorter than Shinsou, and he grasped into the fleeting feel of superiority the knowledge gave him. He could probably squash him like a pest too.

“What was that about ?” Your gaze was directed at him now, icy and expectant, Shinsou gulped, not having expected the sheer amount of seriousness pooling in your irises.

“I saw how uncomfortable you looked, I just wanted to help you out.” You sighed at his answer. It was stupid of you to expect anything from him. Maybe you are wrong though. You held on to the fleeting hope, a thread to thin to keep you afloat.

“You know I’m your soulmate, right ?” Shinsou nodded, guilt written across his face.

“Yeah, the first thing you said to me is written on my wrist.”

And the thread of hope snapped. It’s just as you thought. He knew before you, all those days that you came, desperate for his acknowledgment but to no avail and it was true. The dark thoughts that you tried to keep at bay festered, tangling together producing something ugly.

You stood up abruptly, shocking Shinsou.

“Thanks for trying to help. I think you only made things worse.” His face became ridden with guilt, he didn’t want to cause you inconvenience. He only ever wanted to help you out— but why didn’t he think this through ?

“I’m sorry-I don’t know why I did this.” He was desperately trying to salvage this, knowing that the moment you left, you would be gone, for good, no more chances.

“Yeah, I don’t know why either.” You hissed angry, grabbing your coat and leaving.

…..………………

Shinsou laid on his bed, face mushed against the pillows and eyes bloodshot. He single handedly messed up everything. Then again, he has a knack for doing that.

It’s Christmas day, and Shinsou rejected all invites to dinners made by friends and family alike, opting to instead wallow in misery. He hasn’t seen you since that day. He probably lost you forever, and he didn’t even get the chance to properly get to know you. He glanced at his wrist, the sentence written on it something he fantasised about as a child many times. It’s what led him to working in a coffee shop, aside from his love for coffee. He knew one day, his soulmate would come along, and say the re-enact the writing on his wrist, be the sugar to his bitter self.

He finally stood up from his bed, stretching his weary limbs. It felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His eyes caught the card Monojerk gave him though.

His last chance to be with you….

………………

Shinsou stood at the entrance of the huge mansion that Monoma is the owner of, apparently. He’d been standing there for two hours, after coming an hour early to make sure he didn’t miss you in case you did come. People continuously flooded inside, their laughter and smiles a clear contrast to Shinsou’s straight face.

All of it merged together, making a meaningless sound that didn’t resonate within Shinsou, the only thing he registered was the icy wind biting his skin-he opted out of wearing a coat, and the anxiety reigning within him, making his palms clammy despite the weather. He’s here to make things right. This is his last chance. He can feel it in his very bones.

He only hopes you'll come.

But all thoughts flew out of his head when his ears picked up the angelic sound of your laughter, surrounded by friends on either side of you, but they dulled in comparison to you, only side characters while you owned the spotlight. His heart thudded in his chest.

He’ll make things right.

………

Contradictory to what you thought, when your soulmate approached you, your friends didn’t tell him to shove it and to leave you alone. No, oh no, they pushed you towards him and patted him on the back with encouraging smiles. They really just want the best for you. You didn’t think your night would be playing out like this, but here you are, dancing with him.

“Why are you here ?” You questioned, not irritated, but your shoulders were slumped as if you’d given up.

“I’m here because I—I want to finally talk to you. Something I should have done the moment you spoke to me.” He answered, his deep voice ringing clearly in your ear despite the ruckus around you, sending tingles down your spine. You’d never heard such a calming voice.

“And why didn’t you ? I came everyday, hoping you’d mention something. I guess I could’ve as well but, when I discovered who you are to me, the moment was over and gone. But why didn’t you ?” Your emotions were pouring out, tumbling clumsily. You couldn’t get a hold of them.

His hand felt warm on your waist, and you were enshrouded with his warmth, and even his virile scent made you feel safe. You wanted to be as nonchalant as he seemed to be, but you couldn’t, you could never when it comes to the mysterious man who’s so good at making lattes and making your heart pound.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to. Every single time you came. But I don’t know. I guess I was scared. When I saw you, you always seemed to be glowing, as if you made the world your star while you shined like the sun. I knew I could never compare to that, and I knew you were too good for me. But, if there’s a chance that you’d have me, I’ll fight tooth and nail for it.” You listened intently to every word that came out of his mouth, shocked. You remained silent for a few seconds, not knowing how to respond to this newfound discovery. You ? Too good for him ?

Instead of responding, however, you stilled your movement and grabbed his face, bringing him down for a kiss, much to the shock of everyone around you and the man himself. It didn’t take long for Shinsou to respond, while everyone around who were rendered to side characters.

Shinsou doesn’t really need presents, entertainment, or food on Christmas, the biggest blessing is right here in his arms. It’s all he could ever ask for.

…………

Bonus

Monoma looked on, scrunching his face in disgust at seeing his ex kiss the gloomy bastard. He had wanted to talk to you since you came in, but everytime he tried to approach you, someone would come to him and distract him. And well, it was in his nature to revel in attention and adoration. He was surprised that you didn’t run back to him, but he could see it now. Monoma had never seen you do something so bold with so many people around, but love does bring you to new heights.

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #hitoshi shinso imagine #shinso #shinsou x you #bnha shinsou #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #coffee shop au #soulmate au #soulmate marks #Christmas #my hero imagines #shinsou x reader #mha #mha fanfiction #hitoshi shinsou

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lnc2 · 5 years ago

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tongue tied (1/?)

Summary: Chat Noir’s podcast is a viral success.

A/N: This is for @labyrinthofchaos who wanted to see my dumbass idea fleshed out into a full story. Thank you for being patient with me <3 I hope it was worth the wait.

AO3

It started with a black envelope on her balcony.

You’ve been cordially invited to paw-ticipate in Le PodChat…

Marinette rolled her eyes, checked the box marked No, thank you and doodled a sad kitten in the corner before resealing the envelope and leaving it tucked under one of her plants.

She knew the invitation was imminent. Ladybug may have refused to be a part of his little side project in a permanent or official capacity but that didn’t mean that Chat Noir didn’t talk her ears off about future episodes all the same.

“Think about it, bug! Akuma victims coming forward to share their stories– what it was like, what Hawkmoth said, how it felt when they ultimately and inevitably fell at the hands of their favorite heroes.” Here he waggled his eyebrows as he leaned forward on his baton. “How awesome would that be?”

Ladybug smiled, pushing back her eager partner with the pad of her finger. “I think you’ll find people are less willing to come forward about being akumatized than you anticipate, minou. Most people would rather forget the whole thing, not broadcast it to strangers.”

“Exactly! But think about the good it could do if we got people talking about it?” He was all hands in his excitement, frantic waving that nearly managed to catch her in the face. “People like Chloe Bourgeois won’t be able to shame people into being reakumatized if we can just normalize the experience right?”

“But it isn’t normal, Chat.” She sighed. “At least it shouldn’t be.”

“And we’re working on that, my lady.” He said, his voice gentle. “I just think this might be another way to help out. Ease the emotional pressure cooker everyone is under.”

After that, there was really no arguing with him. After all, Chat Noir wasn’t wrong and any and all help that they could provide to prevent future akuma attacks would make their jobs easier in the long run. What had started out as a biweekly way to blow off steam quickly transformed into something Bigger. Marinette couldn’t say she was surprised– everything Chat touched seemed to spiral into more.

When he first broached the idea about starting a podcast hosted by the Ladyblogger Ladybug had laughed. They’d brainstormed silly ideas throughout patrol only for her to realize her partner had been entirely serious. In the end she’d capitulated to his kitten eyes on the condition that this was his thing.

“I have enough on my plate as it is, Chat. I can’t promise to be on every episode with you.”

His eyes sparkled when he bowed over her hand. “Any time you can spare is perfect, as always.”

What Ladybug hadn’t anticipated (although really she should have) was just how successful this particular scheme would be. Calling Le PodChat an overnight sensation did a disservice to how quickly the premier episode managed to crash the Ladyblog’s servers.

Alya was over the moon.

“I don’t know whose ass I kissed in a past life to get this lucky but you won’t find any regrets here.” She squealed the following day at school. “How many journalists can say they have literal superheroes dropping by on a semi-weekly basis to shoot the shit? Nadja Chamack wishes she had so much exposure.”

That much at least was true. She’d heard it from the cat himself who had been more than a little frazzled by how much attention his little side project generated. That evening on patrol he’d been a nervous, twitching agitated wreck as not one but two news outlets had reached out offering to be the “legitimate” homes for the podcast.

“I’d never move it of course,” He said, tail waving with his hands as Ladybug watched him in amusement. “I couldn’t do that to Alya. But the fact that they even offered…!”

It was his good-natured nervous Q&A on the fourth episode that ultimately brought her aboard.

“Okay, last one.” Alya said, clearing her throat. “Cattheclysm87 wants to know, are you guys always Ladybug and Chat Noir or do you have lives outside of the mask?”

There was a pause, longer than the previous ones. Chat Noir tapped his claws against a hard surface.

“Chat?” Alya prompted. He laughed and Ladybug could practically see him shaking his head.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about what my lady would say. What she’d want me to say.”

“And?”

Chat Noir sighed. “Probably something about keeping our identities a secret. And something about how our lives outside the mask are something that makes Paris worth protecting.”

“Do you agree?”

“Naturally.” He said. Even if she couldn’t hear it in his voice, Ladybug knew he was shrugging here. “But I think my life inside the mask is just as important to me. Some days even moreso.”

Alya pressed him. “Oh?”

If she hoped to glean more however Chat Noir wasn’t going to cooperate. At least not today.

“Of course! I don’t know of anyone in Paris who wouldn’t give their left foot to spend time with Ladybug.”

Alya laughed. “She can come by and collect mine any time. I’ll be waiting.”

Ladybug’s first appearance on Le PodChat the following week landed them at #1 on French Twitter’s trending topics something that she regretted almost immediately when #ladynoir hit #3.

“Good luck beating cataclysm with a fork.” Chat Noir’s sneered.

Ladybug laughed. “If you don’t think I could fork you up you have another thing coming.”

“I’m just saying, my lady. There’s not much good your lucky charm can do if it’s in ashes.”

“And I’m just saying it will be pretty hard for you to destroy anything when I’ve got you all tied up.”

He leaned forward and grinned. “Is that a promise?”

Alya had been insufferable for weeks after that.

“God can’t they just date already?”

Her frustrated wails were muffled by her pillow but Marinette heard the familiar lament all too well. She rolled her eyes and continued fidgeting with her sewing machine. At this point she knew it was a waste of breath to point out that no matter how often Chat Noir flirted with Ladybug there was nothing at all romantic between Paris’ superheroes. Her best friend had shipping goggles and nothing Ladybug or Marinette could say about it would dissuade her otherwise.

“Like, seriously,” Alya continued, propping her chin up with her elbow and waving frantically with her free hand. “The UST between them is just unbearable.”

“Then why do you bear it?”

Marinette’s dry remark was met with a pillow thrown to the back of her head. She turned and scowled at her best friend who scowled right back.

“The only thing worse than witnessing their obliviousness would be not being able to see it at all.”

She giggled. “Of course.”

Alya ignored her. “Besides, Le PodChat is fucking killing it in ratings. The Ladyblog hasn’t seen this much traffic since I posted that picture of them kissing after Nino and I were akumatized.”

Marinette valiantly squashed her waspish retort at that reminder and said, “Activity has been pretty high lately.”

“Try astronomical.” Alya shot her a sly smile. “And just imagine, you could be a part of it all.”

Marinette groaned.

She knew this was coming. After she’d rejected Chat Noir’s invitation to come on the show and talk about her experience working with “Paris’ Best and Bravest” during Nathaniel’s akumatization, her partner had been a cauldron bubbling with curiosity.

“Why do you think she said no?” He’d asked Ladybug on patrols, after akuma attacks, before one of her occasional drop ins on the podcast recordings.

Ladybug could only shrug. “Maybe she’s shy.”

Alya laughed. “Nah, there’s only one thing in this world that Marinette’s shy about and public speaking isn’t it.”

“Oh?” Chat said, looking ready to dive into what Ladybug knew would be a too revealing conversation. Fortunately Alya didn’t take the bait and merely waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get her to agree.”

Silently, Ladybug laughed.

Because if there was one thing Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not going to do it was agree to be a guest on her crime-fighting partner’s internet radio show. Not when her alter ego was also a frequent guest on said podcast. She didn’t know how much of her identity was protected by the miraculous but she wasn’t willing to test it to appease Chat Noir’s whims.

It would only take one perceptive binge listener (or an overly eager feline partner) to notice that Ladybug and Marinette’s voices sure do sound alike …

Pfft. Yeah, no.

“Not gonna happen, Als.”

“But whyyyyyyy,” Alya whined, sitting up from her prone position on the chaise to shoot her best friend her patented puppy dog eyes. They were nearly as devastating as Chat Noir’s. Marinette was unmoved.

“I’m not embarrassing Nathaniel like that.”

She pouted. “But he’s with Marc now. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Even if he said he didn’t, the answer is no.”

Thankfully Alya knew when to drop the subject.

Unfortunately for Marinette,

Chat Noir did not.

#miraculous ladybug #lnc2 writes #marichat #ladynoir #le podchat #labrinthofchaos

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realcube · 4 years ago

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YOU GOT: EITA SEMI

matchup for @yearningbiroses — event closed!

‘I'm a bi Aries sun, Gemini moon and Aries rising, I'm an INFP [...] My hobbies are reading, drawing and I like doing a lot of art stuff, I'm also in my schools band and like playing and listening to music.’

♡ semi looks like a reader- he’s probably really into reading the classics and if you haven’t read em, he’ll lend you his copy. also he takes you on dates to the library and y’all spend elongated periods of time sifting through different books rather than actually reading lmao

♡ he..can’t draw..like he can kinda doodle a few cute lookin’ music notes here and there but for the most part he can’t draw. he really appreciates all art though, and he loves sharing his favourite pieces with you. whether that be by taking you to an art gallery and lecturing you on the long history of a certain painting, or simply by sending you links to cool artworks he found on his tumblr dash.

♡ we should all know semi is into music by now; i mean, he’s literally a musician after the timeskip. so yeah, he probably really supports the school ban (but only bc your in it) and he’ll join in for fundraisers bc of it.

♡ and when it comes to music, he loves sharing his taste with you and getting recommendations. like if he’s ever looking for knew songs, you’re the first person he’ll ask :)) and he’d be very honoured if he is the first person that you go to when you’re looking for new music

♡ he makes you playlist like..frequently..

♡ if you ever tell him about an anime character you’re simping for, get ready to be bombarded with niche playlists for the next month or so

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

‘My love language is verbal communication and affirmations. Normally when I first meet someone I'm introverted and anxious around them but once I really get to know them I'm down with anything they want to do tbh.’

♡ his love language is (niche) playlists- i’m making that it’s own category

♡ he really appreciates verbal reassurance though, like anyone and everyone wants to be told how special they are from time to time and you saying those things truly make him feel cared for and loved

♡ when he noticed that you’re a bit apprehensive about physical touch, he completely respects it and sticks to words of affirmation :)

♡ he’s a bit shy himself at first, so y’all basically start opening up together. like on your first date, you’re both sweating, stuttering messes; neither of you brave enough to make the first move so the most intimate act that whole night was when he accidentally brushed his pinkie against yours during the walk home

♡ that ^ compared to your most recent date where he laid sprawled across the couch, one hand holding up his phone and the other hooked under your thigh, treating it like a pillow. you were sat up straight, playing with his hair while cackling at the jokes being make on the tv show you were watching

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

for @yearningbiroses: i was this 🤏 close to giving you kiyoko but then i remembered that semi exists :)

#hq matchups #haikyuu matchups #haikyuu!! matchup #semi eita #💗matchup #💗lets date!

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daily-rayless · 5 years ago

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20 Years of Art

2000

(OC / Celes from Final Fantasy 6 / OC / OC)

The influence of Final Fantasy 6, off of the Anthology collection, and Yoshitaka Amano caused a significant shift in my art, leading my human figures to be very slender, graceful, and frequently pale. Most of it was of women, some of it was of horses, and by then I was very self-consciously starting to draw men. I mostly worked in pencils and colored pencils. Faces were oval with high hairlines and long, sharp, narrow noses. Also note my evident fear of mouth-seams and lower eyelids. I was pretty terrible at coloring, often feeling that coloring one of my sketches ruined all the nice linework.

2001

(Quistis from Final Fantasy 8 / Rosa from Final Fantasy 4? / Schala from Chrono Trigger / Dark Knight OC from Final Fantasy 4)

This is where more anime influences came in, and I consciously took on a semi-anime, semi-realistic (in my own mind) style. My ideal of beauty was overbig eyes, overlong nose, and oversmall mouth, and I stuck to it pretty relentlessly. Trying to figure out shadows and face structure. Still bad at coloring. I was incredibly proud of that charcoal picture. Was also going through my mandatory Dark 'n Edgy phase, with a big helping of Phantom of the Opera, Sarah Brightman, and my attempts at designing supercool clothes, many of which I wouldn't have actually worn, even given the opportunity.

2002

(Me trying to recreate “Flaming June” / OC, who incidentally looks almost exactly like Sarah Brightman and whose diadem was bodily lifted from a Jodi Lee painting / angsty symbolic wet chain lady / OC)

Deep in the Dark 'n Edgy. Faces are still very heavily made-up, with big lashes, defined upper eyelids, and dark lips. Trying very hard to be a good artist though, have high expectations for the future. I was so proud of that final pose and worked so hard on it. Lined paper? So not a problem. Besides, how else am I supposed to draw during class? A sketchbook would've been even more obvious than the incredibly obvious I already was. I'm able to listen while drawing pretty reliably, and I did manage to take detailed notes while doodling, so at least I had that going for me.

2003

(Celes / OC / OC / Hermes-inspired wing lady)

I was focusing (at least some of the time) on backgrounds and trying to make my work detailed and polished. Coloring is still hopeless. Often when I colored, I would go super light, even when I was using dark or intense colors. It would give my pictures a sort of faint, half-assed hazy look. I remember an art teacher urging me to use more color, but I probably resisted because I knew that way lay total destruction. I'm sorry, well-meaning art teacher. You are unversed in the ways of my pencils. I have killed too many sketches to take those kinds of risks.

2004

(Rosa? / Meliara from Crown Duel / willow-dress lady / Geddoe and Queen from Suikoden 3)

See the Meliara picture? That's supposed to be a night scene in a forest. Front-lit by blazing firelight. I was too afraid to make the colors darker. This is dark enough, okay? Anyway, this year, along with being utterly obsessed with Suikoden 3 and Crown Duel, I was letting my art head in a more realistic direction...

2005

(OC / Queen / Queen / part of Zetta and Salome from Makai Kingdom; I remember deliberately copying those swoopy Ss from one of my friends’ handwriting. Wishes ended up being the first longform fanfic I posted online.)

...that really flourished this year. It's not actually realism, but I made a point to give my characters, especially the women, more realistic bodies. Faces are very round in this period, often with soft features. Noses are prominent. I'm also, finally, using more vibrant colors. I probably got my first Prismacolor pencils around this time. I also got some really cheap markers, but had no idea how to use them so mostly stuck to pencils.

2006

(All OCs)

I look back on this as a good year. I was learning better coloring techniques. (Bold colors! Press that pencil down! Okay, I still had much to learn.) I got an Elfwood gallery while the site was doing its slow mosey into oblivion. But that was an important step, not just looking at other people's art online, but putting my own up as well. There were downsides though. I began to feel more insecure – or maybe more realistic? – about my art, on this site with so many highly talented artists. Still, 2006 is a good year. It was a lot of fun, and I learned a lot.

2007

(vampire and hunter / Fleur from Harry Potter / OC / Avril from Wild Arms 5)

The year of Fleur Delacour. This is when I was writing Kindred. I think it was because I was trying to depict Fleur as distinctly non-human that my art shifted away from that more realistic style. Fleur, and my other figures, became very tall and slender. The anime DNA is still there though. For a long time, I felt the lying-down picture of Fleur was my best work.

2008

(Revya and Gig from Soul Nomad / my attempts at being “abstract” / OC / OC)

This was the year of Soul Nomad and, towards the end, Tales of the Abyss. Unsurprisingly, the anime influences start moving back to the fore. The eyes are becoming larger again, the features a bit more angular and stylized, mouths are shrinking. I'm still desperately trying to figure out markers and wondering why it's so darn hard (I don't try to educate myself, I just flail), but I was proud of that blue OC picture. It made me feel like I was getting somewhere. 2008 is when I started my deviantART gallery, right when everyone else was moving on to Tumblr.

2009

(teacup lady / Persona 4 noir-style comic / Revya / OC)

Then Persona 4 hit. Shigenori Soejima was a huge influence in this period, especially in eyes and faces. Pupils, chins, and jawlines shrink, eyelashes are sparse and stylized, noses are simplified. 2008 and 2009 are about as pure anime as I've ever gotten. Meanwhile, I'm really exited about my dA gallery and trying lots of different combinations of media. I'm super active on dA and FFN at this point, writing Elysion and then a slew of shorter Persona fics.

2010

(Minako from Persona 3: Portable / concept-art-version Minako / lady with dragon ferret thing / other lady with dragon ferret thing)

I'm still drawing with a lot of Soejima influences. Additionally, bodies are becoming even longer, taller, thinner, and bendier. Some of them look absurd to me now. On the other hand, a lot of pictures from this period have a nice elegance to them. I was still using colored pencils a fair bit, but more clumsy markers are showing up. Persona 3: Portable came out, and this is when I was writing Death and Ker.

2011

(mask lady / hat lady / Archaya, Duphaston, and Iryth from Eternal Poison / symbolic autumn lady and her winter baby)

Midway through this year, I hit a breakthrough when I got my first set of Copics – and skin tones, no less. Even though I was still flailing, I was so thrilled with my results. That Eternal Poison picture left me enormously proud, as did the mother and child one. My style hasn't changed all that much, but it's starting to feel less extreme. The focus on big eyes and tiny little mouths remains.

2012

(Elza from Suikoden 2 / Daryl and Setzer from Final Fantasy 6 / Killey and Lorelai from Suikoden 2 / Lyssa, Greek goddess of madness)

This is the year of Elza. Lots of delicate sketches of this lovely scarred lady, and lots of colored pictures too. I've definitely shifted away from pencils towards markers. The Daryl and Setzer one was an attempt to use both, and I was very happy with it. These pictures show their age, but there's still a lot here I like. Mouths are larger too. However, my online activity was starting to lag.

2013

(Rydia from Final Fantasy 4 / Nia from Infinite Space / the prophet and Schala / Argos and Io from Greek mythology)

The mid-2010s weren't entirely great for me, marked with a lot of frustration and discontent. And that definitely carried over to my art, making me feel very disappointed with myself. There was lots of marker work this year. Probably the standout picture is Argos and Io. This is also when I played through all three routes of Fate/Extra, and my art was suddenly full of Hakuno and Emiya.

2014

(Minako / butterfly lady / Marta and Tenebrae from Tales of Symphonia 2 / Elza)

Looking at it now, this was a good year. Lots of nice marker art. The butterfly one was a big step up for me in terms of coloring. The Marta and Tenebrae has a really cool stylized look to it. But I was becoming less enthusiastic about sharing my art with others. I started to post less and less.

2015

(evil Hakuno and Emiya from the Fate series / Mitsuru from Persona 3 / half moon cookie lady / Hakuno)

I barely posted anything this year, though I was still drawing a ton. As far as making strides, this is one of my better years. Coloring will never be my strong suit, but it's a lot more fun, and it looks a lot better. It's almost entirely marker-work at this point. Despite my, er, angst, a lot of people are smiling this year.

2016

(OC / doodle lady / Luna from Roman mythology / hair bow lady)

At this point, it's feeling too recent for me to really see what's changed. I did a fair bit of eraserless work. One problem I still have – and, yes, it involves coloring my pictures – is losing some of the image's personality after I've inked it and erased the initial pencil work. The picture's still there, but not as nuanced as it originally was. The results often feel stiff to me. Doing the first linework in ink, or not inking at all, allows me to keep that sensitive, spontaneous quality. Luna and the bow and doodle ladies were done without erasers. Another thing I did a lot this year was fill backgrounds with busy shapes and colors, which is a trend I’m still following today.

2017

(flapper and dog / Alcyone and Ceyx from Greek mythology / flower hair lady / Kida from Atlantis)

Not a good year. Not that the art is bad, there just isn't a lot of it, and what there is often isn't very finished. I was still mostly dark online, wondering if I should take down my dA gallery. Drawing and knowing I wasn't going to post something took off some of the pressure of my own expectations, but I was still unhappy.

2018

(Altera from the Fate series / Elizabeth Bathory from the Fate series / OC / Aranea from Final Fantasy 15)

This was a really important year for me. I wrote a novel I'm really proud of, and it's done a lot to give me confidence and a sense of creative direction. I also decided that after New Years, I was going to start a Tumblr gallery...just as everyone who was still on the site was jumping off of it. Much of my 2018 work is still sketchy and unfinished, but I also think it's loosening up some. It feels less stiff than the stuff from the middle of the decade.

2019

(Aloy from Horizon Zero Dawn / medievaly lady / Red from Transistor / Red)

The year of Supergiant Games, which led me to focus more on bright saturated colors. It's really hard for me to analyze these objectively. Coloring is better? I worked more on details? I used my metallic gel pens a ton and did shape-cluttered backgrounds? These aren't new things, but I think they paid off okay. I'm more at peace with my level of ability, I've finished more complicated works, and I crawled out of my den and started posting regularly online again. So that's all good. Curious to see what the art looks like in twenty more years.

#art progression #20 years of art #2000-2019 #i'm not tagging all the characters #this is a terribly long post #and shouldn't clutter up too many search results #thank you if you read the whole thing #i apologize for typos #art meme #art summary

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boardwalk-absurdist · 6 years ago

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All the numbers! 😊

Aaahhh thank you~ I haven’t done one of these in forever but I love them, so let’s go (under the cut)!

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? Coffee mugs~ I have one standard reliable water bottle that I carry with me, but I love me a clever/cute coffee mug.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? Chocolate bars, natch.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? Cotton candy~

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Usually stuff like energetic, bubbly, and smart. They used to say gifted but around 4th grade they weren’t allowed to say that anymore.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? None of the above, I don’t drink soda. The bubbles hurt my tongue.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? Oh man this is an eternal struggle tbh. I think I usually dress a bit more grunge or boho, but I want to be pastel and goth as well? The others I could take or leave.

7. earbuds or headphones? Earbuds, as long as they aren’t those Skullcandy kind with the squishy part that you jam in your ear canal. I hate those.

8. movies or tv shows? Depends on my mood and how much time I have.

9. favorite smell in the summer? This may be weird, but like…sun sweat? You know when you’re laying out comfortably in the sunshine and there’s a nice breeze and you sweat a lil but it’s like just warm? Also the ocean, I love the beach but I live nowhere near one.

10. game you were best at in p.e.? Uh, avoid competitive people as much as possible by running in the opposite direction from the ball? Walk laps rather than play the game? I did not like gym class.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? Nothin’. Sometimes I’ll have a donut or poptarts or pain au chocolat but usually it’s a lotta nothing.

12. name of your favorite playlist? “Players musicals”, a spotify playlist with songs from the 4 musicals my college theatre group did while I was there. Or on my iTunes, I have one called “Power Up” that is all my pump-up jams.

13. lanyard or key ring? …both? I have a keyring on my lanyard.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? Ooh, the Haribo gummy frogs. With like the white part on the bottom? Idk what that shit is but I love it.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. I know it’s a play but we did read it, and I loved it. Alternatively, maybe Brave New World? I found that one fascinating.

16. most comfortable position to sit in? Curled up sideways in an armchair or with my legs thrown over one arm and my back against the other.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? In the summer, I always pick one pair of sandals with a fun pattern so I get cool tan lines on my feet. Otherwise, Merrell Mocs 5evr.

18. ideal weather? Sunny and dry, maybe with a light breeze, and in the mid- to high-70s. Either that or clear, sunny, and between 15 and -15 for like a perfectly brisk day.

19. sleeping position? I usually sleep on my side with my top leg flung out so I’m like half on my stomach. But I can’t actually sleep on my stomach cuz I have titties and they are Not Comfortable.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? Literally anywhere and on anything. I doodle and write on p much any surface I am given.

21. obsession from childhood? …uh. There were several. But I guess Jerry Lewis was the biggie/most embarrassing.

22. role model? That’s a tough one. Probably Bonnie Bassler.

23. strange habits? I eat most foods around the outside and save the center for last. Like poptarts, waffles, sandwiches… I also have a tic where whenever I have my car in neutral I jiggle the stick shift back and forth to like prove to myself that I am in neutral. I’m sure there are more that I’m unaware of that I just think are normal, so hey, if you know me irl and you know of a weird habit that I missed, send it my way.

24. favorite crystal? Idk. Does tiger’s eye count? It’s my favorite semi-precious stone.

25. first song you remember hearing? LORDT I have no idea, probably a Bruce Springsteen song.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? Lay in the sunshine. Or swim outside.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? Play in the snow.

28. five songs to describe you? These are more songs describing what it feels like to be me, but: “Fear and Loathing” and “Teen Idle” by Marina and the Diamonds, “I Wanna Get Better” by Bleachers, “Yo Girl” from Heathers, aaaand “Carmen” by Lana Del Rey.

29. best way to bond with you? Work on a show together.

30. places that you find sacred? Difficult to say. I guess anywhere that feels like a liminal space.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? Ooh okay so I have this black cropped sleeveless hoodie that says “never trust the living” on a tombstone and has a skull, I like to pair that with some burgundy high-waisted short shorts and tights with embroidered skulls and butterflies. Then those go with my platform black and white sneakers or my 6 inch platform boots with flames on the heels.

32. top five favorite vines? rOaD wOrK aHeAd?; I AM THE SAND GUARDIAN; …wow; “little diddy”; and either happy crismus or WELCOME TO BIBLE STUDY

33. most used phrase in your phone? Probably “fair enough”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? “if you needed brain surgery, would you go to a general practitioner? No? THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL BUYING FISH FROM THE GENERAL STORE” fishtopia may finally be dead but that fucking commercial lives on

35. average time you fall asleep? Like midnight?

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? I can has cheezburger?

37. suitcase or duffel bag? Depends. If it’s just for a few days, duffel bag. But I prefer to travel with a suitcase for anything longer than a week.

38. lemonade or tea? Lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? Uh I guess lemon cake?

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Oh! One time this girl tackled this dude allegedly cuz he wouldn’t share his beef jerky. The school was put on a code yellow while the security guard separated them.

41. last person you texted? Myself, to send some gel pictures from my phone to my laptop.

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? Jacket pockets. I have shitty girl pants pockets.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? why must you hurt me in this way. I have a denim jacket that I adore, so I guess that one? But I really appreciate the aesthetic of bomber jackets.

44. favorite scent for soap? Irish Spring. am cermet

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? I guess sci-fi.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? I sleep in my underwear.

47. favorite type of cheese? Cheddar or Gruyere.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? No clue. Strawberry, maybe?

49. what saying or quote do you live by? “Once you’re in it, it’s okay.” - This is How, Augusten Burroughs Alternatively, “How unlikely! Yet here we are.” - Spaceman of Bohemia, Jaroslav Kalfar

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? An inside joke with the Brit, I think.

51. current stresses? oh the thousands

52. favorite font? Currently I’m really feeling Book Antiqua.

53. what is the current state of your hands? Uh, fine? Clean? My nails are Ready for some new polish.

54. what did you learn from your first job? How to scoop ice cream.

55. favorite fairy tale? I don’t think I have one.

56. favorite tradition? So in my family, we have a routine for putting up the tree (we have a fake tree that we use every year). My dad puts the tree together, my mom rearranges and bends the branches to make it look more realistic, my dad puts the lights on, and then my little brother and I decorate it with all the ornaments. It’s a lot of fun and my favorite part of Christmas.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? An abusive relationship, getting help for depression/anxiety, and my mom’s attempted suicide.

58. four talents you’re proud of having? I’m a p good writer, a decent swimmer, I can do cross-stitch/needlepoint, and I am very good at taking tests/learning.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? “Eat an entire ass.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? Slice of life goofy high school comedy. Like Ouran, or the lighter parts of Fruits Basket.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? There’s a line in @scifigrl47‘s fic “Hollow Your Bones like a Bird’s” that has really stuck with me over the years: “It is the farthest from death that I can get, to decide, second by second, not to jump.” In a similar vein, the line “I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spat it out” from the original Avengers movie really made an impression. On a funnier note, the lines “I’ve frequently not been on boats” and “One can hardly eat cucumber sandwiches in an agitated manner” from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead and The Importance of Being Earnest respectively never fail to make me laugh.

62. seven characters you relate to? Lordt that is so many. Okay. Alissa Meson from the Truth series, Chidi Anagonye from The Good Place, Lee Fiora from Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld, Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket, Shiloh Wallace from Repo! The Genetic Opera, Augusten Burroughs in his memoirs (not technically a character but I relate so hard), and Bo Burnham’s stage persona (it COUNTS dammit).

63. five songs that would play in your club? “1, 2, Step” - Ciara, “Night Fever” - The BeeGees, “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)” - Journey, “Chelsea Dagger” - The Fratellis, and “Damn You Look Good And I’m Drunk (Scandalous)” - Cobra Starship

64. favorite website from your childhood? Quizilla, RIP

65. any permanent scars? Several on my hands (they used to be cat scratches but I picked at them so much they scarred up), two punctures from my cat biting me on my right inner forearm, and one biggun on my left asscheek from when I fell out of a tree and had to get 6 stitches.

66. favorite flower(s)? Poppies, lavender, fireweed, and forget-me-nots.

67. good luck charms? Not really? I have jewelry that I wear every day but that’s more a habit/ritual rather than for luck.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? LORDT okay so I worked at an ice cream shop two summers in a row, right? There was this DISGUSTING cranberry stout flavor, and a p gross ginger one, plus every time someone ordered a weird milkshake we’d make a little extra so we could try some. One time someone got like a large stout (the regular, not the cranberry, which was still nasty) and pumpkin milkshake with malt. It was horrid.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? It takes as much pressure to bite through a human finger as it does to bite through a carrot.

70. left or right handed? Rightie.

71. least favorite pattern? Uh. I guess paisley? It doesn’t really do anything for me.

72. worst subject? Organic chemistry or physics.

73. favorite weird flavor combo? Oooh so nutella and honey is DELIGHTFUL if you’ve never tried it. Also those parmesan bread bites from Dominos taste real good dunked in the icing that comes with the cinnamon twists.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? Like a 4 or 5.

75. when did you lose your first tooth? I genuinely do not recall.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? Scalloped potatoes with cheese.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? Idk I kill all my plants. I have a lil sempervivum that I’ve kept alive for a few months though~

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? Grocery store sushi.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? Lmao they both are bad but I’ll say driver’s license.

80. earth tones or jewel tones? Jewel tones.

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? Are they not the same thing? I call them fireflies.

82. pc or console? PC. I grew up without a console so I lack the intuitive understanding of their control mechanisms that most people seem to have.

83. writing or drawing? Writing.

84. podcasts or talk radio? Podcasts.

84. barbie or polly pocket? Barbie I guess?

85. fairy tales or mythology? Mythology.

86. cookies or cupcakes? …cookies.

87. your greatest fear? Disappointing people who took a chance on me.

88. your greatest wish? If I tell you, it won’t come true.

89. who would you put before everyone else? My little brother.

90. luckiest mistake? Not applying for summer internships. Instead I just talked to the one microbiology professor and she offered me a summer job in her lab and it’s because of her that I’m at the school I’m at for grad school and have experience and all that.

91. boxes or bags? Uh. Bags I guess? Easier to carry.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? Sunlight.

93. nicknames? My parents call me Squirrelle. Some people call me T (my real name starts with a T).

94. favorite season? Spring, I think. It’s so nice to come back out of the cold.

95. favorite app on your phone? I guess fb messenger, I use it the most.

96. desktop background? It’s a colored collage of Jareth and Sarah from pika-la-cynique’s “Girls Next Door” massive crossover series on dA.

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? I dunno, like a handful? Some are totally useless.

98. favorite historical era? Probably the 80s.

#Anonymous #carmen answers #meet the blogger #thank you!#these are so fun

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