#draw even ONE of those frames and then get back to me Freak

[yutamayo]

To everyone talking shit ab Blue Lock S2 animation...

Y'all r born n raised haters like swear y'all will find any reason to shit on animation/art style that isn't exactly how you like it lol ik everyone finds it funny to talk shit but the disregard for the literal reality of the animation workers and how the negative comments affect the supply/demand chain is so lost on y'all. Just say ur a basic bitch and go home to jerk off on a knockoff pair of signed David Beckham cleats, losers

[speakercrab666]

if horror game in horror genre, then why monster have scary face???? i want horror game!!! NO SCARY FACE!!!!!!!!! only horror game <3

[rottingfern]

all the wine is all for me || a Bad Omens fanfic

Summary: Noah’s just admiring his gains. Perhaps he’s a little more proud of his progress than the average guy. There’s definitely not a secret third reason for why he’s spending so much time in front of the mirror…

Pairing: Noah x himself lol

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unbeta'd trash. masturbation. narcissism in the greek mythology way not the psychology way

A/N: I drank a lot of wine (what else is new) and also @throughwoodsanddirt showed me that one panel from the comics that made me cackle so hard because damn Noah just really thinks he's hot as fuck huh and then I cackled until I wrote this fic

Brainrot Club: @familiarscarsxelectrichearts @throughwoodsanddirt @cowpokeomens

Masterlist here.

Title taken from All the Wine by The National; banner made by me (using Caravaggio's Narcissus); dividers by @saradika

Noah’s reflection is smiling at him. 

That, of course, is explainable by the fact that he himself is smiling; grinning, in fact, because he just looks so damn good. His gains this month were frankly goddamn impressive. Already he can see the widening of his chest to form an inverted triangle of his torso, the definition building in his bicep when he flexes.

What worries him, though, is the naughty glint in his reflection’s eye, the too-sharp canines, the raise of a single eyebrow that he definitely is not capable of reproducing. Never has been. 

He knows this look. Once, he had a fling with this girl who was an absolute freak, gets him half-hard even just remembering half the things she got up to between the sheets. And the fucking cherry on top: she loved making movies. Editing those for her unfailingly devolved into multiple-hours long dates between him and his hand. The face he’s making - his reflection is making - is the one that painted his face in the movies when she, pointing her phone to get his reaction, would ask him for the nastiest shit he’d thought only a fantasy in porn. 

So it makes no sense that he’s looking at his reflection like this, because it’s not like he’s into himself. 

His hand beelines south down the expanse of his strong (so goddamn strong, he’ll have definition in his six-pack any day now) stomach. That’s definitely not something he’s doing of his own volition. He’s not that self-absorbed. 

Well, that’s a lie. He’s not gay (unless you count the exploratory hand stuff him and Nick did as teens), but if he could, he’d totally fuck himself. 

It takes a bit of effort to shuck the grey sweats he’d worn down his hips with one hand, distracted as he is with the shapes his other arm makes as it continues to flex in the mirror. These used to be pretty loose, just crossing the line of oversized on him. Now, they’re filled by thick thighs and marble-cut hip flexors. With a single finger, he traces the vee framing trimmed pubic hair. These used to show just a hint of the magic underneath. Now, his hardness bulges a vulgar display. 

Dropping the band even just an inch springs the tip of his cock, leaking and ready to play. It’s the only part of his body he’s never been self-conscious of, because God or whoever else decided he at least deserved a win in that department when they decided to make him a skinny bitch with weak lungs. Gives the girls who settle for him a nice reward. 

Except, he never gets this hard for all the pretty girls he bags. This - the red, burning tip, the feeling like if he touches it he’ll cum in just a few strokes, the pain of wanting to draw the pleasure out as long as he can - is reserved only for the times he’s fucking his hand. 

There’s a quiet battle of wills that follows between giving up inspecting his gains and giving into his own touch. He cups his balls through his sweats, head kicking back tugged by an invisible hand at the squeeze. Noah’s sure the column of his throat looks positively delicious like this, has seen enough photos of himself in this devout escape onstage, and thinks he’s no better than all the commenters saying they’d like to lick it. He’d do it instantly, and he knows it’d feel good.

In the end, the sweats come down his thighs. He’s never denied himself pleasure so heavily mounted, not when paraded before him so, not when the boundaries are inexistent. He won’t let himself be fucking tease.

The drag of the calluses on his fingers against the tenderhot flesh of his cock sends gooseflesh up his arms. 

His toes numb for a moment as he finally takes himself in hand at the base, breath hitching wetly as he watches his hand wrap against himself. He’s heavy in his hand even to himself, so thick and veiny and so hard. A drop of precum splashes his thigh before he even has a chance to run his hand up the length. He collects it with his pinky when he reaches the tip, not daring let it go to waste. 

Thunder thighs has always been a confusing insult to him. Thighs are the strength in legs, the support to a body, the place you put your hand to hint your desire to a lover. Thighs are his handles when buried in a lover - the cradle to what every person wants most from another. Years of touring and running out of underwear have made him accustomed to going commando, but since his thighs filled out - though he now can afford to just buy a five-pack Hanes on a whim - he prefers it. There’s never a better cradle for a commando cock than a thick set of thighs. 

The overeager spit bubbles as it mingles with the precum on his palm, glistening in the mid-afternoon sun. The way they rapidly deflate feels like a countdown, one he’s determined to beat, and so finally, finally, he takes himself in hand earnestly. 

He can’t help the strangled hiss that escapes.

Noah’s usually pretty quiet in bed. Doesn’t like the vulnerability that comes with voicing his pleasure, with sharing the secret of how easy to please he is with a partner. But, fuck, does he love talking himself through it. “C’mon, baby,” he chants to his hand as it increases speed. “So fucking good,” he groans through gritted teeth. 

His voice is so fucking smooth. So fucking deep when he speaks through his chest. Just the perfect amount of grit that, if he shuts his eyes, he can feel reverberate through his nape and scalp and bang against the back of his nose as the sound waves travel to his cochlea. 

He won’t shut his eyes now. Never - not when he’s looking like that with his brow furrowed, gaze hard and nearly icy, nostrils flared and jaw clenched tight. 

He clenches it tighter, raises his chin just so to create the illusion of that perfect jawline. 

“Noah,” he moans, “god, Noah, fuck.” It echoes in his ear, and it is his voice, but he swears he didn’t feel his lips move as he watches them round around each syllable in his reflection. 

His name sounds so good rolling off his own tongue. 

Release hits Noah not like a full-speed bullet train, but the way it feels when you pulled your first tooth: slow, painful, and with each tug more builds up until it just pops out. Only after does he register the relief, the shoot of tension up his spine to burst behind his eyes and temples, the numbness in his fingers as he struggles to jerk himself through. 

Just those few final caresses. His cum blinds him with exploding stars and broken breaths. It paints the mirror in sloppy strokes of seminal goo, but he supposes that’s what Windex is for. 

Before he registers the signal from brain to limb he kneels, the rough of his wall-to-wall carpet digging into his knees as he releases his eager tongue. The spend is saltybitter when it coats the bed of his taste buds, slimy as it runs down the ramp of his throat. Noah makes sure to collect every single drop. 

He doesn’t feel shame when his eyes meet his own in the wet, distorted reflection once he’s done savoring himself. “You did so well, baby,” he says. “Such a good baby.”

His reflection nods eagerly, eyelids fluttering blissfully, head dropping as Noah’s neck stays stiff and still, eyes wide open. 

God damn, he is a sight to be seen.

[iqrachi]

You draw hands so well!! How do you do it?

Hello Seekdusk! Thank you so much <3 The most common thing to say, but has been the longest journey for me, is literally hours and hours of practicing! I'll go more into depth under the cut!

I think it comes from the fact that I am a goddamn stubborn person, and when I set my mind to it, I'll finish it. The time I really became determined to draw hands, was when I was around 14 years old? Now I'm 27, so I've had some years practicing hands now haha What truly inspired me was movies like Disney Tarzan, Atlantis and the older hand drawn movies. The way the many animations drew hands? Utterly poetry to my soul. And the fact that they were able to animate hand moving too?? It was godly to my small human brain at my earlier age. Milt Kahl, a legend when it comes to early Disney animation, (and most conmanly known to animate those head swaggle frames,)

But also a goddamn god when it comes to hand???

Freaking love these so much, and there is so much more references of his drawing if you search for him. Anyway, my point to all of this was: Find your inspiration! Is there a style you're dying to try out and want to get better at? Do you want to develop your own kind of style and get better at anatomy all in all? I think having a goal really helps you reach for the distance. Mine was to draw like the legends! My grandfather, who is also an artist and was a big inspiration for me as young, told me that one of the hardest things to draw was: Hands and feet. "When an artist can draw the palms of a hand or the sole of a foot in detail, they can truly draw anything." Me, hearing this at 6 years old? You better believe I made that my life's goal to become the greatest little artist there is and draw awesome hands and anatomy!!! Little hopeful 6-years-old me of course didn't know the half of how much time I would spend drawing then. But I think that also helped somehow. Not overthink it in the moment. Draw what inspires you and and have fun while doing it. Anatomy was something that was so fascinating to me too as young, I got to borrow my grandfather's book by Burne Hogarth: Dynamic Figure Drawings.

His style if pretty stylized, but it helped me understanding the proportions of muscles, form and posture. So my other point would be: Use references that helps and inspires you to draw more and improve! Something I've talked to my many artist friends in need of help is that: Using references is NOT CHEATING!!! References has been the very source for art since the freaking stone age. Need help drawing that hand that's stubbornly difficult to draw? Take a picture of your own hand in the pose you want and trace it! Or you can find pictures or 3D figure posers online for free where you can literally pose hands however you like!

And one last point I would like to say too is: It's alright to do mistakes! And when you can't quite do it? Take a break and come back to it later. When I was struggling the most while drawing hands, I would get so frustrated I wanted to throw the tablet out of the window. Solution? Take a coffee/tea break. Go for a walk or something. When you get back to it, you'll start off with a fresh mind and maybe even see what you need to do to fix the drawing too! Anyway I've been rambling for a while now. If you got this far, I hope these will help you on your journey too as it did for me ♥♥♥

[b3grim3d]

My experiences with Ajax/Ataru/Kaui/Nick.

I had originally met Nick in late December of 2023 via Toyhouse. Things had started out simple and innocent enough, he found one of OCs there and he even commissioned for a ref sheet for an OC of his. He then invited me to his public community server based around Mortal Kombat, and after that things quickly began to spiral out of control.

He'd frequently DM me to try and talk about his series he has been working on for some time and then it eventually went on to him wanting to roleplay. I don't roleplay anymore, and at the time I hadn't for awhile and had tried to explain it wasn't something I do. He continued to push that I should "give it a try" and wore me down for hours regardless of whatever reasons I'd try to dismiss the idea until I finally relented.

His Mortal Kombat server was deleted after he had gotten into a confrontation with another friend [now ex friend] of his accusing him of harassment and abuse. I should've seen this a sign to leave, but with what he had shared what had happened and with what I had been shown at the time, it just felt like a personal matter that was being made public and by then I was already feeling apprehensive of it being safe to leave. Nick would frequently vent about feeling lonely and of people leaving him, and I didn't want to be "one of those" to join in leaving him.

I felt like I needed to frequently give him reassurances because he'd freak out constantly, and I suppose by then he started catching feelings. By March he confessed he was crushing on me, and I didn't know what to say. I'm aroace, and have been very comfortable with that identity and have a difficult time identifying my feelings towards people and told him that I would need time to figure out if I felt the same. He said that was fine only to come back an hour or so later to see if I had made up my mind. While it was in DMs, the frequent rambles on his end about his feelings, and how I've seen behave around others, I felt cornered and exhausted and said I felt the same so we started a relationship.

Throughout the ten months our relationship lasted, he continued to make demands for things, framing them as "partner activities". He'd have me draw his OCs as icons for his Toyhouse pages, and that escalated to him asking me to draw his characters for his series. And then it turned into him asking me to work on large pieces of concept art and a comic for a trailer as well as posters. He expected this to all be for free, and while I had started working on some of these, I would slowly stop working on them as I wasn't getting paid nor did these feel like mutual activities to do. These were beneficial to him only. I never worked on the posters and tried suggesting the idea of payment as he wanted several posters with different designs, and when I had brought it up, another alter in his system remarked that I shouldn't charge him all for the sake of us being partners.

He pushed frequently over the summer to move in together, and being a college student, my one main thing that I wanted to do was graduate before moving. He hated it, and would berate me and snap at me for wanting to finish school and constantly asking me why I would want to finish school if I complained about it. I had been assaulted on campus a couple years prior and my abuser from highschool was in a class of mine during the spring semester of 2024, hence my complaints. But he would constantly push me to move out with him and for me to drop out. It made me feel stressed out beyond belief to have all this responsibility thrown at me. Having already grown up in an environment where I actually needed to take on adult responsibilities to care for another completely, I felt like I was regressing to that point in time of my life and like I needed to bend over backwards to do what I could to prevent him from sinking, all the while drowning myself.

I even went as far as asking both of my parents for help in potentially moving Nick to where I live. My mom politely explained that she did not feel comfortable with having a stranger in the home, especially since we did not have a solid plan or timeline to follow. I understood, but Nick became hostile towards me when I relayed that to him. My dad was willing to help, even offering to save up for a camper to allow us to live there but Nick refused due to me not living with my dad and because he has a fear of cis men.

I have C-PTSD, along with ASPD, OCD, autism and DID. All of which affect me deeply, but whenever I would have symptoms become noticeable, such as my tone being flatter in calls, or dissociating and not being as responsive, or having specific thoughts and compulsions that interfered with his day to even the most minor degree, he'd grow irritable and snap at me. And when I'd try to explain where my thought processes were coming from, he'd brush me off and say that I sounded too upset and refuse to talk to me until the following day. So I stopped talking about my issues, only mentioning that some days I may catch myself having more obvious symptoms of my disorders, only to get in response a TikTok slideshow on how to interact with people with BPD.

Over the past 10 months he would frequently ask and demand for money. Overall I estimate about 4-5k of my own money has gone to him. 1.5k of that going to a fursuit I felt like I needed to give him after a week of constant vents and calls of him crying over how he doesn't have his own belongings and wanting so desperately a fursuit. Other times I would pay for his rent or when his bank account overdrew I covered it. I've even gone as far as to help with paying his artists and voice actor for his series. He'd frame everything as a crisis where I had even resorted to asking friends for money and I would pay them back over the span of weeks. Guilt would eat me alive and yet he held no shame in asking me to ask my friends for money again, and I refused to do so.

He often berated me for not picking up on cues right away, so now I'm holding him to that same standard. I would try to pick up to the best of my ability what his needs were and try to accommodate how he needs things, but he never did the same for me. He financially, emotionally, mentally and sexually abused me. There are plenty of other smaller instances I could easily bring up but this is what I'm bringing up first and foremost because I felt they were the biggest examples of his dangerous and honestly disgusting and vile behavior. His system is nothing but enablers of harmful behaviors and coddle him massively and are no better.

Under the cut I have written out my experiences with him under sexual contexts that I did not want just freely out for the comfort of myself and others.

Nick if you ever see this, I don't want to debate this, I don't want to hear from you or anyone else in that system of yours. Fuck off and leave me be.

We had begun to sext each other early on, and trying to perform other activities. Me being aroace, at the time I had labeled myself indifferent to the idea and willing to try. I gave it a try but eventually realized it was not something I was comfortable with. When I voiced it, Nick became furious and accused me of lying to him about me saying I was okay with it. I went along with it to avoid further conflict, but I never lied. I had changed my mind. Through even after this he continued to press on to do erotic roleplay and nag for porn art for me to draw. While the demand would sometimes die down for small periods of time, he'd ask frequently.

I have also felt pressured by his insistent pleas and constant vents of how his being hypersexual was so painful he needed someone to assist him to perform kinks he was into and sext him as I was doing so. I felt disgusting and severely uncomfortable. I was fetishized for being fat, and felt disgusted for being fat due to it. I never found it charming, I never found it encouraging it. It was gross and unwanted to constantly have my body commented on.

None of this consented. This was assault. This was sexual abuse.

[asktheimmune]

Chapter One: Deathless In Equestria.

Creator's Notes: Most posts won't have a neat art piece for them, for now. My modeling skills are still inadequite, and I literally can't find a Scootaloo model for Blender or SFM that isn't Illegal, or any damn clothes for Twilight or Starlight! Had to draw them on by hand!

TS: Twilight Sparkle | SG: Starlight Glimmer | FS: Flame Storm | SC: Scootaloo

Scene open, our Survivors are set around a campfire. Scootaloo is wrapped in a brown and red cloak, Flame Storm is sharpening a fire axe, Twilight and Starlight are musing over a scroll. Flame Storm’s attention is grabbed by the Camera.

FS: Twilight, the Camera’s back.

Twilight’s head shoots up and stares into the frame.

TS: Oh! That took a few hours this time. Uhm, hello! My name is Twilight Sparkle, and we are… currently trying our best to survive. A few weeks ago me and my… compatriot Starlight Glimmer cast a Sight Seeing Spell onto a camera, which is what’s watching us. We thought it got blown up, honestly.

SG: It Did explode, Twilight. It doesn’t exist anymore. We’re just talking to the Moon-Damned air to vent our anxieties.

FS: And yet you, and the rest of us, also felt its existence. Shut up and let Twilight finish, Glimmer.

Starlight glares at Flame Storm before Twilight continues.

TS: Sorry… Uhm, I guess we really are just venting, but I guess anything helps to keep our heads on straight. To recap, about 9 weeks ago some kind of Infection Has spread across Equestria rapidly, seemingly by a Pony’s latent magic pool. From what I’ve seen, Unicorn’s can’t teleport, nor can Alicorns, due to magic becoming incredibly unstable. Every couple of minutes some kind of Pulse goes through the “Veins” of the world, it keeps interrupting any attempts at teleportation.

FS: Or any other spell, like Healing.

Flame Storm raises his left arm, revealing a large gash that is bleeding profusely. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, instead lowering it onto a pillow made of bandages.

FS: Hurts like hell, as it turns out.

TS: Sorry…

Twilight rubs her arm, looking away.

TS: An-anyways, me and this group, I believe, are some of the only Immune in the whole of Equestria. Other Alicorns are, hopefully, also immune, but these three seem to be special.

SG: Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sparkle.

Scootaloo simply smiles and leans against Twilight.

FS: Whatever this thing is, it’s highly infectious. Turns normal ponies into freaks, rotting their bodies from the inside out in the blink of an eye. And that’s before it mutates you.

TS: From what I’ve seen so far, these Infected seem to ignore several laws of Magic and Physics, like the Square Cube Law, or Starswirl’s Law Of Magic Conservation.

SG: Magic cannot be created nor destroyed, that’s the quote, right?

Twilight nods. She goes to continue but is interrupted by distant sounds of groaning and moaning. Flame Storm glares sharply to the right and gets up, bringing the bandage with him. He leaves the frame, armed with his axe. Scootaloo covers her ears in preparation.

SG: It’s… a little concerning how nonchalant he is about killing those ponies…

TS: Whatever they are, they aren’t ponies anymore, Starlight. They’re… it’s a mercy. The closest thing we can Give them, at least.

Starlight falls silent and stares into the fire.

The sound of growling ceases, replaced by the sound of flesh being torn and cut. A few seconds later, the sound of a growing fire is faintly heard. Flame Storm returns to frame.

FS: If we’re going to leave, now’s the best time. A group like that reads that an even bigger group is coming, possibly a hoard. And I’m not doing much with this axe.

Twilight nods and stands up, bringing Scootaloo up with her. The Camera has begun destabilizing. Twilight gives it one last fleeting look.

TS: I... Hope it returns this time.

END SCENE.

Our Survivors.

[lunarfeat21]

To the anon that send me an ask, my dumbass deleted it by accident and I am sorry! Fortunately, I copied/pasted your ask in my notes before my mistake, so we’re saved!

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

Anonymous asked:

I HAVE ARRIVED YET AGAIN >:]

So it’s time for me to ask you about your favorite characters in RiD2015 >:)

No backing off from this one, UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN!

*Runs away like a gremlin but trips on a rock and falls over*

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

Oh poor anon, you have no idea what you unleashed upon... nah just kidding, but thank you for releasing my inner feral gushings of my favorites!

Without further ado, I RELEASE MY BELOVES!!!

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

Let's start off with my all time favorite!

Strongarm

What do I like about her? hmm... EVERYTHING!

From her strong and buff physique (it's nice to see more frame variants in femmes, WE NEED THEM HASBRO!), her boundless energy, to her impressive memorization of protocols and their numbers. A tough, but smart cookie.

 I’m not sure about you guys, but I’ll spend HOURS listening to her just rambling about regulations on a car ride while nodding like an idiot. Gosh, I’m starting to fall for her…

Fixit

Fixit, Fixit, Fixit, my sweet wholesome minicon bean!

Adorable dude, a cheery character that I adored when seeing him on screen. Had a chuckle when he glitched out when he was about to say certain words in dyes- mics- rhymes! Regardless, dude helped his team out in every way. He’s the team’s technician and repairman, basically the backbone, even pulling out profiles of the Alchemor’s escapees via ship’s computers. 

I remember one episode where my dude is brawling a shady manager of an ex-champion (while I cheered on at 3 am) or in another episode where my dude’s original programming kicked in and turned into a terminator, but a prison guard… it doesn’t really help that there's about 100+ minicons like him (tbh I don’t know the total numbers)… do what you will with this information…

Thunderhoof

The mafia boss, angry moose on the loose, boss... babe

Bastard reminded me of those stereotypical noir film mafia bosses (it doesn’t really help that there’s him eating pizza in an official art piece… help…), and I'm not wrong. Plus his appearance and voice is… enamored to say the least…

Bro sounds pissed and will be pissed if something doesn’t go in his way, or someone doing stupid shit. Come on, this huge antler jockey is a freaking crime boss, so of course why wouldn’t he be pissed? He wouldn’t stop until he got what he wants, whether going back to cybertron, leadership, or objects of interest (and shredding someone to pieces, I’m talking about you, Clampdown! You sniveling snitch!).

Jetstorm & Slipstream

My Sweet Bun 1 & Sweet Bun 2, I love you both to death!

Both him and Slipstream are freaking cute (look me straight in the eye and tell me otherwise), and both are nearly the same height as a grown man (source? A screenshot I took for references in future digital drawings).

Jetstorm is a bit more creative than Slipstream and Drift combined, but a bit as well impulsive (which can lead him to trouble with Drift). Overall, he and other Minicons are adorable and if they committed crimes, I'll excuse them.

I’m going to repeat what I said about Drift’s minicons earlier, both are freaking adorable! Unlike Jetstorm, Slipstream is more chill and prefers to follow his master’s instructions. Despite the contrasting personalities, these two are a force to be trifled with via teamwork! Mess with one, get wrecked by the other! Perish!

Wildbreak

Gotta love the dude, timid but nice. Before ever seeing on screen, I read some posts that headcanoned him as the sparkling of Knockout and Breakdown. After that, I can see why. Cute tho!

#ProtectTheChildAtAllCosts!

Steeljaw

Alright I’m not beating a bush, this mf is attractive as fock!

At any dang episode I’m watching, the scheming wolf always makes me smile as if I’m happy to see him! (well duh, I am!) 

He knows how to capture attention with that soft, yet alluring charismatic voice, offering compliments, and seems nice… except that shit he’s doing is an illusion, and will stab you in the back if there’s an opportunity! Brother nearly had me in the first half, not gonna lie. This dude knows how to wrap people in his claw, or if that fails, time to off them in the name of his future empire!

Nightra

Oh my god… Nightra is something…

How did she and Strongarm become friends? Both are competitive, yet polar opposites of each other. Don’t get me wrong, I like her as well, so playful, carefree, and mischievous (even that leads her to trouble and ultimately her going rogue).

Aside from her similar buffy appearance like Strongarm (omgistarttofallforbuffywomen), her voice is… soothing to hear, yet not AND IT MADE ME BLUSH!!! THEY PICKED A GOOD VA FOR THE JOB! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I had to go to dreamland (lalalalalalala)

Shadowraker

Another attractive mf, and bastard (derogatory)

Fucker has good aesthetics (color wise and design), if charsmatic is a aroma, it’s him with a dark aura. Twisting innocent bots into their rotten former shells, yeah this is what this dude does after his ‘shadows’ brought in the stolen goods in exchange for shelter and guidance. Mmm, moral corruption…

I like you Shadowmaru-err Shadowraker, but I don’t like you at the same time. I remember when you kidnapped my fave minicons and promised that you would punish them for betraying you! (glad you got boxed on the pede, ya jerk!) Glad karma bit you in the ass!

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

Alright, gushing time is over! That's all folks! BYEE!

[greensagephase]

Dropping this at your inbox and then running away…

Haha no but seriously

I’ve talked to you about how I’m trying to work on Peter and his looks, I’m still figuring out how to draw him on my own style…

But in this case while I was looking for references I found a picture of the model on whom Peter Parker of insomniac videogame is based on and I just thought he looked so freaking cute there I melted 😭😭😭, im actually now obsessing over him , and I decided to try copy the picture (although the drawing it’s not that close to the style I’m focusing on my Peter drawings, it’s a lil bit different cause also I don’t know how to stick into a style yet I’m still figuring it out).

Anyway my thoughts just kept leading me on the fact that this would be a perfect picture that my Spider would have on her wall, one of the many she has of her Peter, it would probably have been taken by her on a date night where she took an improv picture of him looking at her softly 🥺🥺🥺🥺 or smth like that, idk I keep picturing lot of soft scenarios for Peter that I think I’m going insane.

So I drew a picture frame over it and her hands caressing the picture (?) Poe maybe giving it a kiss before putting it back on the wall, like it happened on one of the chapters of NVC, cause I’m a sucker about all those sweet tender moments where she remembers Peter, means so much to me, cause even before all these Spiderverse things and hyper fixations over Miguel, Peter(Spider-Man) is my favourite super hero so he has a special place in my heart.

So yeah here it is, a lil rendition to my Peter, that can change when I figure more out his style rather than basing him that much on the model hehe

No, the way I opened the ask and saw the drawing - let me just give you a mental picture of me - just imagine a woman sitting at her desk and looking at her laptop and then opening this and she just starts banging her fist on the desk and trying very hard not to scream too loud but also hyperventilating BECAUSE THIS IS SO FREAKING CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!! AND TENDER, AND SWEET AND ANA YOU GOT ME INTERNALLY SCREAMING AND REALLY CRYING!!!!!!!!!

The actor/model for Peter in the insomniac videogame - I think I'm going to start obsessing over him, too, don't mind me because HE'S SO CUTE!! Talking about him with you also makes me want to play the videogames even though I suck at those type of games but I'm seriously considering playing it!! (I've tried just swinging around and it was so much fun, hehe!!)

You got me CRYING over how this would be a photo of Peter on your spidersona's wall - you're SO RIGHT!!!!! And the little backstory on how this would be taken during a date night and reader capturing this moment randomly and the way it would be just one of the many, many, many times of Peter just staring at reader like this, with such pure love and adoration for her - I'm not doing well at all, I have REAL TEARS in my eyes right now just thinking about it!!!

🥺😭 It's so so crazy and I mentioned it so many times before to @sunsetdoodler but I never imagined reader's Peter to become so important to me - like, I'm fully attached to this character even though he's not an active character in the story but every time I write about him, my heart melts. PETER AND READER LOVED EACH OTHER SO MUCH!!!! Their love was so beautiful and special - and I'm rambling now but I love talking about our Peter so much and seriously, this is so freaking sweet, tender, and beautiful to think about. I mentioned it in my message but sometimes I get the urge to write something about Peter and reader - like a regular day in their lives and how they interacted before he passed away in a one-shot but I swear - I don't think my heart could take it. I would be crying the entire time, I think 😭😭

AND OMG READER GIVING IT A KISS LIKE SHE DID IN THAT PART my brain can't think of which part specifically rn but I know which one you're talking about and I'm crying even more now when I have a mental image of what that picture looks like!!!!! I'm not doing well but in a good way, I swear!!! 😭😭😭

Also, I feel you so much!!! Peter (Spider-Man) has always had a special place in my heart even since I was a kid. Spider-Man was the first superhero I watched on theaters (Tobey Maguire's Peter) and ever since then, Spider-Man has been one of my top favorite superheroes!! No matter what new superhero pops up, Spider-Man is always there for me!!!

Ana, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING THIS WITH ME 😭❤️ It's made my night and even though I'm crying, they're happy tears!! Also, I'm so excited to continue to see your Peter take shape as you work on him and find your style drawing him. What I've seen already has a chokehold on me !!! 😭 THANK YOU!!!!!! 🥺❤️

[maybankiara]

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

22: BETWEEN THE LINES

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead. w/c: 3.3k a/n: addie and holden having a sweet moment at last...or are they? read on wattpad previous part | series masterlist

Virgin Mary | 3:47am what are the odds on this being a big mistake

Me | 8:02am 0:1000000000 Me | 8:02am stop freaking out, you’ll be fine

Virgin Mary | 8:30am Addie Virgin Mary | 8:30am i am going to Tom’s Virgin Mary | 8:31 amfor all of the fucking holidays 😩

Me | 8:35am Marianne Me | 8:36am my beloved Me | 8:36am you said you wanted this, you said that this is the best for your relationship, you said that this was the right thing to do Me | 8:36am and Tom said he wants to take this step Me | 8:37am you’re just scared bc it’s a big deal

Virgin Mary | 8:38am AND WHAT ABOUT IT 😡

Me | 8:40am it’s okay to be scared Me | 8:40am but you’ll be fine ❤ Me | 8:40am let me know when you land

Virgin Mary | 8:42am supportive bitch Virgin Mary | 8:42am ❤

◇

It’s evening time at the Weatherby-Mallory residence, and there are nearly half a dozen’s worth of cups scattered over the living room. Some are on the TV stand, next to a framed photo of the roommates and their friend group that Wes got Marianne for her birthday; some are next to the wall, far enough to avoid potential spills; and some are on the coffee table, nearly hidden between pages and pages of files, all compiled into little folders with corners sticking out.

�� It would be an ordinary evening for Addie, except this tends to be the setting of her bedroom, not the living room. With Marianne gone for the next few weeks, though, Addie’s life has already consumed even the shared areas of the flat, and Addie finds herself to be a bit spoiled by the newfound commodity – she doesn’t see how that tiny space was ever enough for this much work. Although, now there are Holden’s files, folded away between and over and under her own, so she may be overestimating it a little.

  Her phone dings, somewhere in the pile. She drops down from the couch, a little ungracefully – her foot gets stuck in the pillow and she nearly kicks Holden’s shin tugging it out. He chuckles and she groans, and then she’s rummaging through the files until she finds the phone, its screen still lit from Marianne’s text.

  ‘They landed!’

  ‘Oh, good,’ says Holden.

  ‘Mhm. I’ll tell her you say hi.’

  Addie’s fingers are fast at typing, even though she needs to fix a typo here and there. She asks Marianne how the flight was – it’s always a necessary question, seeing as Marianne likes flights just about as much as Addie likes clowns. Maybe even less. The one time they’d flown together to Boston, Marianne had a full-blown panic attack during one of the turbulences and Addie spent the rest of the flight trying to calm her down.

  But it’s good, she tells herself. She had Tom with her.

  (Or that’s why it wouldn’t be good, her thoughts say, and she shoves them away.)

  ‘You look worried.’

  Addie huffs. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You sure?’

  She glances at her phone once more before putting it down, on yet another pile of papers still needing to be looked at. She gets back up on the couch, draws the fuzzy scarlet blanket back over herself, then pulls her knees close to her chest; Holden’s eyes don’t leave hers.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘Should I be? I mean, Marianne and Tom… You know they’ve not been on the best of terms. Even if Marianne says things are better now.’ She lets out a little sigh, stretching her legs across the couch, almost far enough to touch Holden’s thighs. ‘I hope they don’t kill each other.’

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ he says. Addie half expects him to put a reassuring hand on her leg—it feels like one of those moments—but he doesn’t. ‘They have their ups and downs, but so does everybody.’

  ‘Yeah, but this will either make or break their relationship.’

  ‘I thought you said they’ve been doing better since after her birthday.’

  ‘They are,’ she says. She pulls her legs back, wrapping her arms around them and resting her head on her knees. ‘I just don’t know if that’s enough.’

  ‘Still, it’s more than likely that this will improve things between them.’ He gives a smile that’s both soft and the sort of smile you give when you’ve said all there is to say about something. ‘Come on, work will distract you from worrying about them.’

  Addie bites her lip. ‘Yeah.’

  His gaze drops and he’s fully immersed into a Balance Sheet that Patty asked them to look at. His red pen is quick to run across the paper, and it’s as if any thought of Marianne and Tom has already vanished from his head. 

  She tells herself that Holden’s right. She’s too subjective. 

  But she doesn’t manage to convince herself of that, nor does she manage to get back to work. The papers are staring at her – notes upon notes of information about a client’s accounts and receipts of purchases of property involved, as he is suing a property investment company for scamming him out of about a hundred grand. At this point, Addie’s looked over the case so much that the numbers are starting to merge, the calculations are dancing on the page, and some of them even look like the letters M and T until she blinks it away.

  Usually, Addie loves catching scammers. She loves fighting for the good side. She loves when she can be crunching numbers and putting them into actual economic trends of property values and similar – but it’s just not coming to her. 

  So she puts the papers back on the coffee table, picks up her mug, instead. 

  ‘They were arguing a lot last night,’ Addie says and waits for Holden to look up at her before continuing. ‘He came over because they were leaving together and I heard them yelling all the way from my room. Neither of them really wanted to go like this, but they bought the tickets back in, like, October. Before all this shit went down. And they didn’t want to waste them.’

  Holden glances down at the papers, then back at her. ‘Is that the only reason why they went? Because of the tickets?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s what Marianne hinted at, but I still think they’re both hoping for fresh air to do them some good.’

  ‘What do you mean, fresh air?’

  ‘Metaphorically,’ she explains. ‘Different country, different setting, different circumstances. I spoke to Tom the other day and that’s kind of what he said, too. Changing where they are might be the thing they need.’

  ‘That’s not really how things work, though.’

  ‘Why not?’ Addie cocks her head. ‘They’re getting a new perspective on their relationship. Taking the next step, with her meeting his family.’

  Holden lowers the files onto his lap, running his hands through his hair. SHe knows that look—the I’m going to give you all my attention now look—and waits for his eyes to meet hers, heavy and unwavering. He takes a deep breath before he speaks, his lips shut tight until he’s ready, and she’s seen him do this so many times before. Always before he says something he’s convinced is right about.

  So Addie is waiting. Expecting. Not sure what she’s going to hear. 

  ‘Look, you can’t fix a relationship that’s not really going anywhere,’ Holden says, at last. ‘Both people need to put the effort in. To be the people they need to be in this relationship, for the other person. You can change the environment the relationship’s in, sure, and maybe it works for a while, but it doesn’t change that if they’re not a good fit, they’re not a good fit. Marianne keeps the issues between them from you for a reason, and that’s because she knows the truth.’

  He gives her a tight-lipped smile and then his eyes and hands are back on the file in his lap; if Addie wasn’t a part of the conversation, she could’ve been fooled that it hadn't happened. Over. Just like that.

  ‘Well, I think they’re a good fit. They care about each other enough to at least try to be the partner they need to be for one another.’

  Holden glances at her, but doesn’t say anything other than ‘Fair’.

  Addie just stared at him.

  ‘I’m going to make myself a cup of tea,’ she says, getting herself out of the blanket. ‘You want some?’

  ‘Sure,’ says Holden, not looking up from the paper he’s scribbling notes on.

  The walk to the kitchen is brisk. It’s a little bit chilly out of the blanket, and she thinks she should probably turn the heating up a little – but the tea will warm her up enough. She fills the kettle and turns it on, rubbing her upper arms as she leans against the countertop. The sight of snowflakes moving in the wind past her window makes it feel even chillier.

  Addie’s mind replays Holden’s words, over and over again, as she hears the papers rustling in the living room. She wonders if he’s right – if she’s just hopeful and naive, thinking that her best friend could come out of this victorious. Marianne is fighting for it. Tom is fighting for it. They’re trying, and Addie feels like that’s the bit that Holden is missing. They’re not just accepting the status quo – they’re trying to find the issues and fix them. 

  Or, really, Addie is starting to think that it’s the effort to be the right person for someone that is worth more in a relationship than just being the right match from the beginning. It’s about growth, and most importantly, growing with the person. 

  That is why she thinks Marianne and Tom will stick it out. Will see how far they’ve come when all the worries are stripped away, once in England, and why they’ll be able to bring it back all the way to Atlanta. 

  The kettle brews to a halt, steaming their kitchen window until she can no longer discern the snowflakes. She thinks of Drew, and how excited he was for the snow, and wishes she could go out and have fun in it – anything not to have to think about things. 

  She doesn’t think Holden would be too keen on it, though, so she abandons the idea. Really, maybe it’s a good thing. It’s the most productive she’s been in ages, only coming to the kitchen to brew tea or coffee, or eat, in between hours-long bursts of working on cases. She’s burned through more tea in the past few days Holden’s been here than she has in months, it feels like, but she’s also burned through as many cases. She can’t think of the last time she was so productive. 

  Or so tired.

  Addie calls out to Holden. She pours water into the mugs, one for his coffee, and one for her tea (she doesn’t think she’ll ever fully forgive Marianne for getting her so addicted to tea when coffee is right. there.) and get back to work in the living room. Everything ends with getting back to work.

  If she gets all the work for the internship done today, she could spend the next few days focusing solely on fixing up the loose threads from her thesis, and then hopefully things will remain at a constant level and she’ll manage to get everything done and over with before she goes home.

  Home. 

  Her plane ticket is booked for less than two weeks from today, yet she can hardly picture herself coming home. She’s not been since last Christmas, and even though her family came to visit back in May, it’s not the same. She was working on her Master’s, even then, and maybe Addie is just a little bit tired of working.

  ‘We’re having tea in the kitchen,’ she announces. ‘We need a break.’ 

  Holden argues they can keep working. Addie reiterates her statement, holding the mug to her chest, and he drags himself into the kitchen a few moments later, frowning at her lazily as he leans his side on the doorframe.

  ‘What’s the long face for?’ Addie asks.

  ‘We have a lot of work to do.’

  ‘Yeah, but we also deserve fifteen minutes of not doing it.’ She nods towards the dinner table, where his coffee sits, steaming. ‘Fifteen minutes for a cup of coffee won’t kill you.’

  He walks over to the table with a defeated sigh and Addie follows. He takes a sip and huffs at the temperature, and she can’t help but laugh as she holds her hands over the steam of her tea – and when he blushes, she presses her palms to his cheeks. 

  ‘Addie,’ he says, smiling. ‘Your palms are wet.’

  Addie just shrugs. ‘They’re also really warm.’

  ‘They always are.’

  ‘No,’ she says, ‘they’re always cold when I’m working because my blood circulation is terrible and stress makes it worse.’

  ‘Right.’

  His hands are over hers for a couple of moments before he brings them all down, and she’s back to holding her tea. Her thoughts grow calmer and the tea warms her up on the inside as much as it warms her hands – Addie feels lighter. Watches the snow fall, and enjoys the moment of peace.

  ‘I’m really excited to get home,’ she says, feeling a smile coming on. ‘My sister, Liyah said she’s got a bunch of things planned for us and my dad apparently has a list of things he wants to teach me before I’m gone again.’

  ‘Things like?’

  ‘Cooking, I think. Even though I have Marianne for that – or, actually, probably because of that. Probably car stuff, too.’

  ‘What, like changing a tyre?’

  ‘Ha-ha. Very funny.’

  Holden shrugs, like he’s trying to say he had to do it. Even the self-satisfied grin is starting to break through, and she can’t help but smile back.

  ‘He wants me to get a car,’ she explains. ‘To be less dependent on other people and public transport.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea.’

  ‘But I like public transport,’ Addie argues. She thought she knew that – that he’d be on her side in this. ‘It’s better for the environment.’

  ‘That’s a fair point.’ He glances around the kitchen. ‘You’ve still got leftover lasagne from Marianne left before she left, right?’

  Addie nods, accepting that the conversation is over. ‘You wanna heat some up?’

  Holden nods and she spends the next few minutes watching him struggle with navigating his way around the kitchen. It’s amusing, really, and she doesn’t feel bad about it – she laughs into her cup every single time he tries to find anything, and looks for it in the wrong place at least five times first.

  ‘I don’t know if I’m going to stay home for long,’ he says then, once the oven’s on and the lasagne is finally heating up. There’s an expression on his face that Addie doesn’t recognise – heavy. Conflicted. ‘My brother’s in his teenage destruction arc and it’s driving my dad crazy.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you help him out?’

  ‘He can handle it better than I could, even with his Parkinsons.’

  Addie finds herself staring at him, comprehending this information – information that she feels like should’ve come up at least once in their just-under-two months of being together. ‘Your dad has Parkinsons?’

  ‘Early stages,’ he says. ‘It’s not really a big deal. They caught it early and he’s on medication, so he’s doing alright.’

  ‘You never said.’

  ‘Didn’t think it was important.’

  ‘Holden, it’s your dad.’ She waits for him to say something, but he’s just staring at his cup. ‘I feel like that’s more of a reason for you to stay longer. To help him out.’

  Holden sighs. He leans back into the chair and she feels his legs brush hers before finding their own space under the table. ‘He’s been going fine. Jack’s only fourteen, so it’s not that bad. Besides, if I’m home and having to look after Jack, I can’t concentrate on work. I can’t risk the quality of my work dropping because of that. Don’t want to reduce my chances of Grubson giving me the job at the end.’

  Addie didn’t even know that was what he wanted – but she doesn’t have the energy to deal with another bombshell. ‘It’s nice that you’re so determined and hardworking, and it’s one of the things I like about you most. But at the end of the day, no one should put work over people they care about.’

  ‘Well,’ he says, slowly, as if choosing words carefully. ‘Work’s what puts bread on my table.’

  Addie’s jaw clenches. ‘Work won’t be by your side if things go sideways and you need someone to help you out.’

  Holden has a confused face, then frowns. ‘Am I meant to read between the lines?’

  ‘No, I’m not—I wasn’t talking about us,’ she clarifies, feeling her heart thumping in her chest. ‘I was talking about choosing work over family.’

  ‘Right,’ he says.

  He doesn’t say anything else. Addie wishes he would.

  The oven timer runs out and he tends to the lasagne, leaving her to ruminate in her own thoughts. She refuses to – she’s thinking about Holden’s relationship with his family and his work, the fact that he hasn’t felt like sharing the fact that his single father has Parkinsons and a teenage son to look after, or the fact that he wants to stay at Grubson, even though she thought he’d said it wasn’t where he could put his degree to best use. But money talks, and so does stability, and Addie feels like she neglects to think that’s one of the most important things for people who grew up in unstable households like he has. 

  They eat the lasagne and her thoughts don’t shut up. 

  ‘So,’ he says, ‘have you found any evidence of the scam in the Magellan v The State case yet?’

  ‘I don’t feel like talking about work,’ she says.

  ‘Okay.’

  He helps her clean up the kitchen once they’re finished and tells her to thank Marianne for making the lasagne. They’re back to work, but Addie’s motivation is long gone, and it’s taking a lot more effort than it should to get things done. To read. To make notes. To sit by Holden and bite her tongue before she asks questions that’ll probably reveal more things he hasn’t told her. 

  She glances out of the window and notices the sky’s gotten too dark to see the snowflakes anymore. Her heart clenches, and she realises she’s done. She’s tired. The kind of tired that tries to drag you down with gravity and not let you get up until a year has gone by.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ she announces. ‘I can’t think anymore.’

  Holden looks up from the heap of papers he’s holding, taking out the pen from between his lips. ‘That’s fine, I was thinking about going home soon anyway.’

  ‘I thought you were staying another night?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry,’ he says. ‘I need to keep working, and I don’t want to bother you..’

  Addie lets out a surprised chuckle. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not bothering me. You can keep working in the living room as long as you want, I don’t mind.’

  ‘Yeah…’ he looks around, then leans forward and kisses her on the lips. ‘It’s better I go. If I stay, I’ll just want to join you, and I’ve got too much left to do.’

  ‘Okay,’ she says. He kisses her again, and she feels her cheeks heating up.

  In the end, she walks him out, and lies in bed alone, knowing she’s going to be alone in the entire flat, and she’s going to wake up alone, too. Thinking about everything Holden said. Think about the things he didn’t. Not only that, but Marianne is on the other side of the planet, and Addie is unable to do anything if things take a turn for the worse.

  It’s not a good feeling.

◇

23: A CASE OF THE BUTTERFLIES 

most people on the taglist have left/changed their urls, so lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

[acermp100]

Short: Slap Jack

(I THINK that's the name of this card game. Heard like 10 diff names growing up. Anyway...)

Alright, it's writing time! Did a short inspired by amazing @mtndw-whteout age swap, detective AU. Freaking love their manic Teru and Shou and the lil esper Mafia.

TW: Blood, Gore, Violence, Slurs

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

King.

Queen.

Three.

Seven.

Four.

Shou reached down to take the mini pile of cards that had formed, shuffling them loosely back into his stack.

“Where’s that Jack?”

Blue eyes flicked from the table to Shou’s hands. He clutched his larger deck in his hands ready to start again.

“Don’t accuse me of some sorta fast finger work.” Smoke trailed form his nostrils, more following as he chewed on the near finished cigarette, exhaling to last bits of tobacco. “I’m not a cheater like you.”

Teru held up a card between two fingers in preparation for his first turn. The inside faced Shou displaying the Ace of Diamonds in gold ink amid the black backdrop with the suit in blood red.  “Perish the thought.” He flicked his wrist and the Ace spun on a corner before landing right side up at the center of the desk between them. “Just wondering is all. My three are so lonely without their friend.”

A flick of the tongue. Shou tossed his card next.

Five.

Queen.

Ten.

Ace.

The room hovered in a dusty shadow more brought on by the ash and smoke than any lack of cleanliness. Leave it to him to find a place like this: right out of an old movie with the taxidermy deer and wolf heads and all. Hand carved mahogany desk with matching wall panels, a mirrored bar in the corner all silver flasks and crystal glass ware. Even managed to get an H laser etched into each. Gold framed the pair of stools at the bar with more of the glinting metal acting as a crown finish for the desk.

Shou abandoned his current cigarette and ignored his next few tosses with his hand bloated with trash as it was. The match hissed before flashing, bringing a glow to his face while leaned back to watch his boss take the meager winnings.

“What yah got? Like 13 left?”

“15. And don’t you worry about me.”

Always that grin. Shou rolled his eyes. They continued countering face cards with face cards, building a growing stack. Teru visibly twitched as each of his prized jacks were foiled by some petty ace or king. He never smoked, at least as far as Shou had noticed.  Didn’t ask either in case he’d be in for some rant about hair and skin health. For a moment a thought slipped into his head: then why did he allow me to right in his office?  Better not dwell on that too much- Shou never enjoyed power dynamics and pointless strutting amid social standings. Better to leave that to someone like his boss.

 The only source of light came from a single, small lamp on the far side of their playing field. Still, it was enough to reflect off the several swords that hung on the wall directly behind. He always through the clash of time periods looked tacky: a board sword above a tanto with some sabers and things he didn’t really recognize. Then again, knives were not really his thing.

Five.

Six.

Six-

Shou reached out but was too slow. He pulled his hand back and took a long draw of his cigarette while he tried to keep count of card patterns in each of their piles. Teru clenched his finger over the meager win and dragged it back to his side.

“Say, what do you think of the northern territory?” Blond hair swished as he idly played along his ear with a free hand. The piercings that led along the cartilage were just as shiny as the blades that hung on the wall.

More uninteresting wins and losses, Teru always keeping his number of cards steady.

“The one against the industrial tracks?

The grin widened. “Yes.”

“Odd choice. There’s those mules that took up residence there years ago.” Shou threw out his card.

Teru followed. “True, they are very attached to that place. Perhaps they need a bit of convincing.”

Nine.

King.

Ace.

Jack.

“Ah, there we go.” He tossed his next in confidence.

King.

Shou let out a sigh. 

Four.

Eight.

Eight-

He was barely fast enough. Flinching, Shou tried to hide his pain as the bottom of several rings dug into the top of his hand right after he has slapped just a moment before his boss. Teru’s fingers were tensed like claws as he released the pressure and gave up his precious prize.  

“Bravo.” He clapped his hands together by his face, sitting back in the large, leather chair. So long it had been in the office that the long dead hide was now stained red. “I concede.”

Shou let out a long exhale as the tension finally began to fade, nursing his new bruises. Smoke rose between the two.

“You want us to take them out?”

Teru remained flush in his chair, going over what was left of his cards one by one until he placed them on desk face up. His smile had faded but the glint in his eyes still betrayed whatever chaotic intentions were still at work under those perfectly manicured blond locks.

“How sweet of you to offer.”

He watched his boss swivel around to the bar, gathering up two glasses and some fancy whisky or whatever. Ice clinked before a deep, dark gold liquid was poured. Booze also wasn’t Shou’s thing. But he was more than happy to accept.

 “But no. Instead sweep up to the tracks on either side. Put a little fear into our wonderful patrons.” Teru bought the glass up to his face but didn’t take a sip, only hovering it before his nose enjoying the scent.  “I’m sick of dealing with the little rats still thinking they have a chance.”

Shou blinked as the liqueur burned down his throat. “But- wait. Those drug runners are savages. All full of guns and greed. Heard they got these three brothers that lead with an iron fist. Good luck getting them all at once. Be like fighting a hydra.”

And there it was again. That grin. Shou always wondered if his boss had naturally sharp canines or had gotten some under the table dentistry work done to appear even more unhinged. Knowing him, probably the latter.

“That will be taken care of momentarily.”

As if on cue a crash echoed through the wall.  Shou sat up as a window was broken followed by gun fire.

“Shit. I left the new guys out there.”

Teru stood as well, calmly reaching over the desk. Shou glared down at the tight grip now on his arm, his leather jacket not stopping the pinch.

“And I sent them away. It’s just us here, how lovely is that?” Teru sat back down, the chair looming behind him, his long blond locks covering the intent of his eyes. He tented his hands in front of him and gave a single nod. “Please be a good boy and invite our guests in, will you?”

Shou took his arm back. After a long pull he abandoned his cigarette in the ashtray and stormed off. Creepy fucker. Good thing I’m on his side.

The armed men stood in the front office. Broken glass and papers were scattered on the floor. The far window lay shattered letting in some of the breeze. They were still digging through drawers and cabinets before Shou walked in, finding himself not even shocked that his boss had somehow got all three brothers together. He didn’t even have a chance to give a sassy quip before they noticed him.

“Fang scum!”

A gun was already shoved into his chest; some semi automatic junk they’d been selling in bulk all over the city. He tried to see if they had any aftermarket modifications he’s be interested in. Nope. How boring. Knives he didn’t give a fuck about, nor fancy wines that cost more than his monthly rent per bottle. But guns- guns he could handle.  Shou didn’t even raise his hands, instead narrowing his blue eyes and exhaling his lung of smoke at the new guests.

“You could at least say hi first.” A sneer as he licked at his front teeth, glancing back down at the guns. “Or maybe you’re compensating for somethin’?

The barrel was shoved into his ribs, yet he still didn’t react only stared back at the resulting scowls.

“Fucker! Don’t be cocky with us.” Hands took him by the shoulders as another set slipped under his open leather jacket. “Ain’t letting some mulleted punk back stab me. Where’s your weapon?”

Shou was giving his own grin now, jaw tense at the throw away comment about his hair. His hands flexed at his sides but kept his cool knowing the fate awaiting these fools.

 “Don’t got one. And don’t need one.”

They finished searching him and shoved him into a corner, guns always threateneing.

“Eh, he’s stupid but honest.”

“Want me to kill him?”

The eldest brother stared into Shou’s eyes only getting a blue, unafraid glare black. “If he’s not gone by the time we leave, I will.”

“Boss will see you now.”

Shou cracked a smirk back as he watched them enter the boss’s office, then stepped forward and closed the door behind them with a purposeful click.

“Have fun.”

The men shuffled inside, eyes trying to adjust to the low light. After a moment they noticed the man at the desk. The youngest stifled a laugh while the older one let out a scoff. Pastel painted nails and a gaudy bright dress shirt and pants against their gruff leather jackets and torn jeans. Teru ‘s expression still remained behind left over ash tray smoke and his long hair, but his confident lips were every visible.

“So, you’re the leader of Fang?”

“The one and only.” Teru opened his arms in an exaggerated gesture. “Welcome! Save a seat. Would you like a drink?”

The three bothers stood fast, exchanging looks.

“Not very talkative, are we? Well that’s alright.” Teru set out three glasses. “I can do all the speaking.”

“What the fuck is this.”

“Is he alone?”

“This faggot’s been giving us trouble?”

Teru grinned at the continued whispering. His back arced and he cracked his neck before rising, slipping around the desk.

“Gentlemen, no need to be so secretive.” Teru reached up with his jewelry adorned fingers and tugged at one of the men’s collars. “We’re all friends here.”

Three guns were pointed straight at his face. Like Shou, Teru didn’t flinch, instead eying the barrels with a bemused smile.

“You’re a bit outmatched to be acting like some puffed up fool.”

A full grin flashed, eyes above the barred teeth wide and eager. “If that is what you think.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t we just kill you right now?

Teru held his arms behind his back. “Oh, please! Don’t you want to hear my proposal?

The men glared, looking at each other before turning back

“Fine. Spit it out.”

“Give up your territory to me. Every last pathetic inch.” He met each of their confused gazes with his own glinting stare. “And I might let you live.”

One of the brothers coked his gun and shoved it into Teru’s face. Not a jerk, not a reaction. Just a smile.

“Cocky little gay boy. You’re done talking!”

The gun wouldn’t fire. One by one, all three of them fussed and pulled at their triggers to result of nothing.

“What the fuck??”

The middle brother had had enough. “Guess we do this the old fashioned way then.”

A knife was drawn. Teru kept his arms behind him as he shifted left, then right, dodging each stab and slice. In the end the man in a miss had shoved the blade into the wall where it remained stuck.

“Oh, tut tut.” Teru leaned right up to his face. “Looks like you need more practice.”

Another brother came in, swinging fists. Teru backed up before bringing on hand up, opened to a palm. The man was forced back in an instant, crashing with a yell into other wall, dazed. That only left the third.

“What- what are you?”

Teru didn’t shift his body, only arced his head at an tilted angle over his shoulder. “Someone who likes to have fun.”

The final brother pulled a spare hand gun and wasted no time. It fired straight, the sound echoing in the small office. But the shot didn’t land. Nor did it miss; instead the bullet hung in the air between them. Now shaking and unable to speak, the man was backing up as he watched the bullet turn and face him instead. Teru’s hand rose in front of his manic grin, fingers utilizing only a fraction of his abilities.

The rest of the gun was unloaded. Each of the bullets hovered in an an natural state, vibrating with the same excitement as the one controlling them. Teru let them hang as the slow realization drew up on the doomed man’s face. With a click of his fingers each round was reflected back at the same speed that had left the barrel, ripping through bone and flesh.  A now battered and bleeding body twitched on the floor. He made sure to miss the heart and brain for a slower, more poetic death.

“No! You fucker!”

The knife user was swinging with fists now in a blind rage. They hit over and over but did nothing, not even push Teru back, as if the blows were beating against sand bags. He flipped his hair, laughing to himself.

“Looks like you forgot this.”

Aura focusing, Teru hovered the man into the air, helpless. The knife jerked out of the wall as if by its own will, hovering by Teru’s shoulder like a little pet ready to obey. Now kicking, the frantic man screamed as his own weapon danced back and forth, slicing with each pass. Blood splattered from arteries to pool under all the writhing and begging. Human sounds devolved into desperate gurgling until the lungs had no more capacity for air.

The last brother was shaking against the wall as he watched the body fall, wide eyes flicking in terror from his dead siblings then finally to Teru.

“I quite like these knives.” Teru was playing with the blade, a butterfly knife with the handle adorned in silver and gold. His fingers skillfully flipped the edge before spinning it over a knuckle then back to his grip. All the while he took slow, purposeful steps towards his next victim. ”Nice and long. Very versatile.” He was now standing at eye level, his gaze leaving the knife to focus on the cowering man. “But I always thought they were a bit too showy.”

The blade was brought up to tap against a nose and cheek, now desperately trying to hold still among the sweat and blood.

“P-please. DOn’t k-k-kill me? I- I-“

Teru interrupted, his voice the same casual, cheery tone as when they started. “You’re the youngest, aren’t you?” He traced a little circle along the man’s face, drawing blood. “Here’s some advice, leader to leader.”

Blue eyes widened. Teru glared ahead as his powers drove the man’s body from wall to ceiling to floor, back and forth, bones cracking and organs rupturing amid flying red that joined the other splatter marks. With every impact, his grin widened until he was laughing, head back and a hand on his chest to steady himself. The fucker was already dead yet he continued to abuse the corpse leaving it an unrecognizable husk in the end. He pocketed the knife.  

“Don’t reject a good offer when first given it.” Teru turned, admiring his handy work. “It could be bad luck”

Shou had busied himself with picking up the papers. He rolled his eyes at the horrified screams, checking his jacket pocket for another cigarette. Lighting it, he put a foot up on the desk and waited, mumbling to himself.

“I better not have to clean this up.”

Whistling could be heard now. Shou was about to enter when the door knob shifted.

“Ah, Shou! Here you are. They each had their own handgun, customized too.” Teru piled the red stained weapons on the desk. “Isn’t that just cute?”

Shou tried to ignore his blood drenched, wild eyed boss and turned his attention to the guns.

“Ugh. Why do they always get the crappy shit?” He took one of the hand guns and inspected it. “Hmm. Probably could do something with these the personal pieces though. Nice.”

“You’re so welcome.”

Teru left a trail of red footprints, heading to the front of the room. With a smile he glanced over his shoulder. Shou couldn’t help but tense.

“Let’s go meet our new employees, shall we? I’m sure they’re lonely without their leaders. “

And with that he waltzed off. Shou exhaled hard through his nose. From the cracked office door he could see the twisted bodies laying limp and disfigured. He flicked his cigarette and the closest.

That’s what you get for insulting my hair.

[resident-gay-bitch]

My Handsome Boy

ASK: "hi… it’s me again, sorry :) i was wondering if you could do eddie x ftm reader where the reader gets bullied by jason and jason says stuff like “she’s not even a real boy” or idk and it’s just eddie comforting the reader, thank you sm i love ur writing <;3" - @ilovejquinn

pairing: eddie munson x ftm!reader

summary: Jason Carver is a transphobic asshole who decides to openly attempt to humiliate you in the middle of school. no matter how low the jock makes you feel, Eddie’s always there to pick up the pieces. your number one supporter, right from the get go.

warnings: Transphobia, use of transphobic slurs (‘tranny’ & 'hermaphrodite’)

Reader Description: trans f to m, Y/N = your name, L/N = last name, D/N = dead name. 

The thing about Eddie is that he didn’t care about people’s differences. He was different himself. It’s why you initially took such a liking to him. It was way back in middle school, before you had even realised who you really were, when your hair still hung long, when you’d still put on pink shiny lip gloss in an attempt to fit in, when you still wore dresses and skirts everywhere you went. You remembered, it was right after the talent show, another student had just been booed off the stage for their ventriloquy act. You found it rather amusing, actually, but this kid had thick framed glasses, he was book smart, he always wore superhero shirts to school, and during his act he matched his outfit to his puppet and made jokes about sci-fi and fantasy books. The jocks didn’t like that. So they booed him off, none of them suffered any consequences of course. But you remembered, you were walking around the back of the school to your mum’s car, and you saw Eddie and his old buzz cut with a soft hand on the crying boy’s shoulder, his other hand cradling the puppet. You remembered over hearing what he had said when you walked past, 

“I loved the joke you made about The Hobbit man, I love those books so much. My uncle got me the hard backs for my birthday. Maybe you’d like to borrow them some time, if you don’t mind my drawings and little writings in the margins.” 

“You mean it?” The boy perked up.

“Hell yeah.” Eddie smiled. 

“You can borrow my director’s edition of the Starwars films sometime, if you like that stuff too.” 

“No way man! You have those?” Eddie grinned, “I’m jealous. How do you get this puppet to speak like you do? I think it’s really cool.” He tried to move its mouth with his hand. 

“It’s– it’s pretty stupid.” 

“No it’s not.” Eddie spoke with full sincerity, a wide smile spread across his face, “It looks really hard to do. You must have, like… magic or something to make it work. Are you a wizard or something?” 

You thought he must have been the sweetest boy alive, because you knew damn well that he didn’t even see that boys whole act. He was backstage himself, practising for his own set. His band got booed off stage that day too. Yet, no one comforted him. So the next day back at school, you fought down all your nerves and walked right up to him at lunch. His table went quiet, eyes all dead set on you. No one dared ever talk to them, they were the freaks… the outcasts. But deep down, you knew you were one too, and you didn’t want anyone to feel as alone as you did. 

“Uhm…” you started, and neither of them blinked, “I just wanted to say that… I– I thought your song was really cool yesterday. Did you write it?” 

Eddie laughed, he full on laughed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “Why don’t you just fuck off instead of making more fun of us?” 

“What?” your words caught in your throat, you didn’t understand why he was being so mean. 

“Your song was so cool.” he mimicked in a high pitched preppy voice, “We get it. Satan’s music. Whatever.” 

“No, I-” you swallowed the lump in your throat down, “I mean it… it’s not exactly my taste, but I still thought it was cool. Did you write it, or was it a cover? You said it was called Wicked World or something.” 

Eddie’s face turned red, “You– you mean it?” 

You just nodded. 

“Ye-” He cleared his throat, “We– It’s a cover. From Black– Black Sabbath.” 

You nodded, “I just wanted to tell you that someone thought it was cool.”

“Thanks.” He smiled sheepishly. 

“I like your guitar too… It looks so cool.” 

He beamed up at you, those big brown eyes looking deep into your soul, the slight pink in his cheeks. That’s when you knew you had a crush on him. 

You were invited into his friend group after that, and after a couple months, you finally felt like you belonged somewhere… like you fit in. It took you a few more years to figure out that you weren’t actually a girl. And the first person you told was Eddie. You were terrified. Absolutely the most scared you had ever felt in your entire life. The first thing he said to you, after you explained your situation to him, was something you never expected, 

“Do you want me to cut your hair? Or do you like it long, like mine?” 

You looked at him, awestruck. Not a single response comes to mind. 

“You want to look more like a boy, right? Or am I getting confused?” 

“No, I-” You shook your head in disbelief, “I do want to look like a boy- I am… I am a boy.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled, jumping to his feet, “If you want some boy clothes, you can have some of mine. Come on, let’s pick some out for you.” 

Once Eddie helped turn you into you, you decided to face your parents. Eddie right beside you as you did. Your father didn’t really understand, but he tried his best and respected your choices. He slipped up a lot, but you knew he was trying, and that was all that mattered. You mum however, needed a little more time to come around to the idea. She left to live with her friend for a while, but when she was ready to return, she handed you your first binder. Goodbye bandages! Thank You mum! 

You had your first kiss at seventeen. It was during a game of spin the bottle with Hellfire, plus a few stray outcasts from around the school that Jeff had invited along to his birthday party. The rules were simple, if it landed on the opposite gender, you had to kiss right there, if it landed on the same gender, you had to tell them a deep dark secret. When it was Eddie’s turn to spin, it landed on you. That struck a problem, no one really knew what to categorise you as. It hurt. 

“He’s a boy.” Eddie said in full confidence. 

“Yeah, but-”

“He’s a boy.” He smiled at you, standing on his feet and reaching his hand out to you, “Come on Y/N, I got the perfect secret to tell you.” 

It was really the bare minimum, but since Eddie was the only one to give you that, it made your heart soar. He took you around the corner, the designated secret sharing spot, and smiled at you softly. 

“You okay?” 

“I am now.” you smiled. 

“Good.”

“So, what’s your secret, Edward Munson? What have you been hiding from me?” 

“Well… I never thought I would tell anyone this… ever. But, since you told me the scariest thing about yourself, it’s only fair.” 

You nodded your head, smiling at him for assurance. 

“I’m–” He cleared his throat, “I’m gay.” 

Your eyes widened, your mouth hung slack for a moment. Your heart fucking skipped a beat. 

“Is that okay?” He looked at the ground instead of you. 

Obviously Eddie, you thought, “Why wouldn’t you be? Have you seen Robert Plant?” 

Eddie looked up at you, his head tipped slightly and he raised his eyebrows, “Yeah… yeah I’ve seen him. Are- do you see Robert Plant like that?”

You nodded your head with a soft smile, “So… you into anyone?”

He swallowed thickly, “Maybe.” 

You held your breath, “Who?”

Eddie looked back to the ground, his cheeks bright red, “Well… he’s really cool, he makes me smile a lot… he– he is super handsome, and probably likes my guitar more than me.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that creeped onto your face, you bit your lip to hide it and shuffled in your spot a little. 

“Is that… okay?” He looked up at you slowly, “Do you mind?”

“Eddie,” you smiled softly, “are you that oblivious to the fact that I’ve had a crush on you since middle school?” 

Those perfect eyes stared right into yours, slightly alarmed, a little taken aback, but mostly burning with desire, “Apparently I am.” 

You laughed. 

“Can we totally fuck the rules of spin the bottle so I can kiss you anyway?” 

“When have the rules ever applied to us, Ed’s?” you smiled and pulled yourself a little closer. 

Since that night, Eddie would never leave your side. To everyone else in the world you were just a couple of inseparable best friends, and a couple of freaks. But to each other, you were everything. Behind closed doors you would hold each other close, and you’d kiss, and you let yourself fall in love. The only other person to know about the two of you was Wayne, because he picked up on everything. 

——————————————————————————

“Dude, no way.” you laughed, your voice deeper than usual, you had finally started on T a few weeks ago.

“Yes way.” Gareth smiled as you walked between classes, “I still can’t get over your voice man, it’s so weird.”

Your heart sank. 

“Not like that!” He was quick to say, “it’s just different. I’m used to your voice being higher, you know. It just catches me off guard.” 

A smile surfaced back to your face, “Yeah, I guess it surprises me sometimes too.” 

It was the first day back at school after spring break, no one but Eddie and his band members had been around you since your voice dropped. So it was safe to say you got a few weird looks here and there, a few odd questions about it Eddie was quick to answer for you whenever he was around. It felt good, to finally grow into yourself a little more, but the amount of attention it got you felt horrible. You felt like a walking target, bright blinking arrows pointed right at your head from every direction and honking noises came out of the ground with every step you took. You were just relieved no one had picked a fight with you yet. 

“L/N!” 

Yeah, I spoke too soon. 

“D/N L/N!” Jason Carver called out from across the hall. 

Only a small number of people called you by your real name. You were used to it, but it still cut like a knife, every goddamn time. 

“What?” you turned to him slowly. 

He laughed, “So it’s true. Your nonexistent balls finally dropped.” 

You rolled your eyes, “What’s it to you, Carver?” 

“Ohhh, someones feeling sassy today, isn’t she?” that wicked smirk on the corner of his lips dug deep into your soul. 

“He.” Gareth spoke up, correcting the jock.

“I hardly think so. She’s a fake. Not an ounce of man in her body.” 

“And you think there’s an ounce in yours?” you hummed. 

He glared at you, “Thats bold, coming from someone in your position, D/N.”

“Thats not my name.” 

“I. Don’t. Care.” he shook his head, a small chuckle erupting from his lungs, “Your still a freak. Who cares what the freak wants?” 

Your face started to heat. 

“Awh, look at that, the Tranny’s gonna cry.” 

You looked away, tears threatening to spill, “Fuck off, Jason. Don’t you have some balls to play with or something?” 

“Hey!” He snapped, learching closer till he was right in front of your face, “Don’t you dare speak to me with such disrespect, you piece of shit.” 

“Go away.” you whispered, eyes clamping shut as you tried to take a step back. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “don’t want to risk catching the hermaphrodite disease.” 

He half laughed, half scoffed before walking back to his little parade of friends. Eddie came racing around the corner having heard about the previous interaction. He came to a screeching halt right in front of you, his hands landing on your biceps, his eyes scanning your red face, a certain tenderness in his expression that made your heart sink a little. 

“What did he say?” 

You couldn’t speak, you knew if you did you would only cry. He looked at Gareth who just slowly shook his head, sadness in his eyes. 

“Come on, we’re skipping.” He grabbed your hand, and took your books from you, leading you through the halls and out to his spot in the forest behind the school, “I got you, sweetheart. You’re safe with me.” 

You hurried along beside him, clutching onto his hand for dear life as you crossed the empty football field. When you arrived, he carefully sat you down on the picnic bench, pulling his jacket off and placing it down on the table before squatting down in front of you.

“You wanna tell me what happened? Or not yet?” his tone was soft, the gentle hum of his voice was the cushioning your heart so desperately needed. 

You looked at him, eyes glassy, your vision blurring as tears spilled out, “Am I a disease, Eddie?” 

“What the fuck?” a lump formed in his throat, “Did he say that to you?” 

You nodded. 

“No. no your not.” He grabbed your hands, “If you were, wouldn’t you think I would have caught it by now? You know… considering I’ve had my tongue down your throat and everything?” 

“Eddie!” You swatted his chest, a small laugh was shared between the two of you. 

“He kept calling me a girl.” you sighed, “Telling me I was fake and stuff. He made fun of my voice.” 

“Are you kidding me? How could he make fun of that?” He smiled, “It sounds so good already. Maybe he’s just jealous you sound more manly than him.” 

You half heartedly smiled, your hands still in his, tears still creeping their way down your cheeks. 

“You remember I only like dudes right? So if you were a girl, or a fake guy, there would be no way for me to love you, sweetheart.”

“But I don’t look like a boy.” 

“You do to me.” He smiled, “I think you are the most handsome boy I have ever seen… apart from maybe Robert Plant.” 

You bit your lip, how did he always make you laugh when you felt so glum like this? 

“It doesn’t matter what that fuckwad thinks. It doesn’t matter what any of them think, they’re all fucking losers. You, Y/N L/N are a boy, through and through, and I love you everyday because of it. Anyone who wants to disagree, doesn’t deserve to have you in their life. They don’t deserve to know such a beautiful person.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend.” You sighed. 

“So fucking what?” He scoffed, shuffling a little closer, “Shouldn’t that make it more meaningful? The people that love you, and accept you… those people mean the most, right?”

You looked at your hands as you played with one of his rings, “I suppose.” 

“I promise you, Y/N, you’re not fake. You’re just as real as I am.” He smiled up at you softly, “Yeah, you might have had to take a few more steps to get there, yeah… the postage company sent a few wrong parts-” 

You laughed, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment and you took a breath. 

“But that’s okay. Because deep down inside, you are a boy. You always have been, and you always will be.” He pulled one of your hands tight to his chest, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your knuckles, “I hate that there will be some people- a lot of people, that arent gonna like it… but none of those people really matter. None of those people mean anything. Me, your parents, the guys… we will always love you, and accept you, and let you be who you really are because you matter, and you are valid, and you are real.” 

You took a shaky breath, more tears threatened to spill, but this time they weren’t tears of hurt, “You really think that?” 

“Sweetheart, I know that.” 

You shut your eyes softly, a small tear slipped from the corner, and then another, and then another. Eddie kissed your knuckles again, a swift hand came up to wipe at your tears. His hands cupped your face gently, the calloused pads of his thumbs brushed over the undersides of your eyes and the high of your cheeks, now wet with your tears. He whispered sweet hums of reassurance and shushs as he let you catch up to your emotions. 

“I really love you, Eddie.” you whispered. 

“I really love you too, my handsome boy.” He smiled so softly, you thought if you started at it too long you would break. 

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 45

Chapter 45: “The Rescue”

When I first received my copy of the art book, I remember being so amazed at the details of this chapter’s cover page that I previously never noticed before (and I revisit this chapter a lot), but this little section with the duo is so clever! How Ray is placed in the exact same position as the drawing right underneath him with the kid in the jar and also putting Emma in front of the demon’s mouth like that are such smart moves. And I obviously can’t read the whole message behind her legs, but I can sorta make out “wake up/in danger/unfortunate/suffer,” which all apply perfectly to both her & Ray’s current situation right now. Seriously though, buy the art book if you can. The illustrations are in such a lovely quality. Even looking at it now, I’m gonna take a guess and say the words near Ray’s back say something like “How are you feeling Ray?” (Also, if demons don’t have lips, then how the hell did that one GF demon whistle two chapters ago??)

I must focus on other scenes in this chapter so much that I forgot Sonju actually uses smoke bombs. For the longest time I believed they were just an anime addition..oops.

Yeaaah, they’re certainly not the smartest demons around. To be fair, they couldn’t see through all the smoke either.

Now, I love that Ray’s mind never stops working even after getting snatched up by a completely strange and possibly dangerous “person” because it just suits him to be cautious, but typical anime doesn’t allow us to hear his thoughts.

On the flip side however, I do enjoy how it shows how frightened Ray really is. This boy was just chased by several demons, barely survived by getting kidnapped basically and woke up completely alone, with no knowledge of the status or whereabouts of his family. Sure, he’s normally the calm and analytical one out of the trio, but even someone like him would have to be panicking at least a little bit after everything he just went through and I think the anime shows that (& his left eye pfft) really well.

Yes I also gave praise towards the anime once before for remembering something so minor such as the bell Mujika left for Emma. And (knowing me) I’m sure I noticed this several times in the past, but it looks as if Ray’s checking her ear too, right? That’s sweet.. all the anime gave us was a couple taps on her shoulder.

The amount of relief on my son’s mf face! AAAH! He’s so damn precious he makes me wanna cry. And I know I keep going back and forth between giving praise to both medias but I personally like the anime better for this wholesome expression.

Can confirm that Mujika’s voice is very nice, both in sub & dub, though I love Ray’s comment about it and how he’s a bit wary. Dude knows first hand that being kind and having a sweet voice doesn’t necessarily mean that person is trustworthy.. I mean, have you seen his mother? (and I skipped a big moment, I know. I scream about it at the end). 

Mixed feelings about him holding his arm out in front of her when Mujika approaches them. Emma is the one person who can certainly protect herself (also doesn’t necessarily need it because main character plot armor) but also aww, look at him being so serious about keeping his promise yet again.

While we don’t get the scene of Mujika checking Emma’s ear or shaking her hand, we do get a shot a bit later showing that her hand is indeed still covered, so at least there’s some consistency there with keeping her demon appearance a secret just for a few moments longer.

Of course he notices something’s off. He just calmed down after experiencing one of the harshest days of this life and now he’s about to freak out all over again.

The level of confidence he has in his assumption despite all the fears the the truth is bringing out of him. Also, the way Sonju just looms silently in the back while those bugs shed tiny specks of light on him is so nice. This frame doesn’t do it justice but just go back and watch it. And I don’t listen to the s2 soundtrack nearly enough as I should (seriously, Obata is fantastic and I’m so glad we got him back for another season), but the start of “The Evil-Blooded Girl” playing during this scene is perfect.

I still can’t believe this is where the first ep of season two ends.. literally SO MUCH happened these last 8 chapters and they decided to cram in all in less than 20 minutes?? Granted they managed to cut out quite a lot, but still! The first episode went way too quick, as if the OP sequence wasn’t enough of a red flag already about how much this season would possibly cover. Speaking of fast, my boy looks like he’s ready to run for his life again and no doubt about to drag Emma along with him.

Favorite panel/moment:

THEIR DAMN HUG!!! Again, I read through unofficial translations the first time but even now I prefer the “You’re still alive.. I’m so glad you’re alive!” a little better? It ties back in with Emma’s original worries when Ray first offered to lead the demons away, but the official gets the same point across though. REGARDLESS, this panel is filled with so many feelings and it of course sends waves of emotion over me as well.

And I know I shouldn’t bitch about how the anime handled it and should instead be glad they even included it at all since they decided to cut out so much of the entire story in general, but it just.. doesn’t hit as hard as I hoped? Naturally, their voice actresses did a lovely job as always, but I dunno.. the way the manga has it all framed just looks better to me? like Emma is desperately hanging onto him there and overcome with an immense sense of relief that Ray managed to escape those demons alive. And I’m not real fond of how they animated Ray returning the hug either, like who wraps one arm around someone and then the other?? It just feels so slow and awkward to me. I can easily excuse it like “oh it’s Ray, the boy who distanced himself from everyone else all his life, he doesn’t know how to hug properly,” ..but he also has Emma as a friend and I’m certain she gave hugs to literally everyone without warning all the time so he has to be used to them by now.

ALSO! Can’t be entirely happy about because they left out THE HEAD PAT!!! How dare they.. it’s probably my favorite one too.

My nitpicking aside, I’m truly happy we still got to see this embrace. It ain’t perfect, but it’s decent and most importantly, at least it’s there.

[susandsnell]

Becky Albright 🌀

Send me a number 1 thru 50 for a word that I’ll use to write either a headcanon, drabble, or starter. Send 🌀 for a random number instead.

🌀 — from the number generator on google: 11 — heartbeat

She'll never forget it; Doctor Niedelman telling her parents that while cardiac disorders and abnormalities weren't usually a complication from scoliosis, but there was an increase in risk factor, and they needed to monitor it closely until surgery.

A lot of long, frightening words for an oft-pummelled kid to be sure, even if one of the myriad reasons for the target on her back was her bookishness, but decades on, Becky Albright still instinctively seeks out a heartbeat.

Call it force of habit; two fragile fingers, pressed lightly to the left of her breastbone, became as much a ritual for her as any of the stretches she was instructed to practice, as apples and honey come every autumn, as blasting music in her ears or burying her nose in a book to drown out jeers and stares and turns of phrase that painted her either as an incompetent, a freak, or a broken doll.

Becky remembers them as she does the words to songs on her well-worn cassettes; how mom's was always fluttering, and how dad's, steady and far too slow, before the day it stopped altogether.

She remembers the humiliated pounding that rocked her small frame and echoed in her ears during unending minutes when she gripped her cane tight as she could and simply weathered the patronizing 'concerns' of the useless witch they called an academic advisor at Gotham University —

"You know, law school isn't for everyone. If you have these...challenges, you may want to consider a more relaxed—"

She'll never forget how the toxin caused it to ram into her chest — how melting faces undulated before coagulation into hand after hand after maggot-fingered hand that pointed at her, that covered her mouth with the intent to suffocate, that dragged her down, down, down, pinned her in place and all she could hear was laughter, kids' laughter, and every cruel thing at once slurring together and dripping off those faces —

twistedbodyfreakfuckingingerkidlawschoolisnotforeveryonelousyuglycrybabyhunchbackdirtystupidpleasenotonourteamwhywouldanyoneinviteherdumbcri—

And Becky will equally never forget how slow her heart seemed in the hospital, the steady beeping of the monitor a reassurance, no matter how feeble and tremulous it felt in her chest. You are here. You are here. You are here. You never went away.

And neither did your demons.

But the heartbeat that's become the most familiar to Becky — she might even dare to call it her favourite — was the one that beat a furious staccato beneath the hollows of raddled collarbones, heavy enough to crack the pronounced ribs upon which she tended to precariously pillow her head when all was said and done.

Tapered fingers might tangle in her russet curls if she so allowed them, but they could not draw her from the intoxicating rhythms of her monster's pounding heart.

If she was fool enough to close her eyes in his presence — and oft, she did, in the interest of living up to plucky Becky, even when uttered as a taunt — she might imagine a dance. Some mystic rite, as ancient and unknowable as fear itself, a dizzying spin in accordance to his rhythms; to the drifting of clouds over the moon just outside her window. This heartbeat calls her to the dance, as hypnotic as a song, as promising of danger as an undertow.

Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum — Be-cky, Be-cky, Be-cky.

She laughs against his bare skin.

"Now, what could possibly be so funny?" Jonathan asks lazily, peering down his hooked nose at her with the closest he ever gets to indulgence.

With none of the terrified trepidation of the first time he came back to her by moonlight, so fresh from Arkham she could practically feel the damp and cold herself, Becky speaks up.

"Your heartbeat," she says. "It's going wild."

He clears his throat. "Yes, well, that's to be expected —"

Becky interrupts her Scarecrow, and doesn't even bother hiding her wicked grin.

"—when you're frightened?"

[littleguypumpkinsheep]

Another addition to childhood au heehee. Cw for violence and murder, Simon kills someone.

“Hah. Go fish.” 

Felix rolled his eyes, drawing another card from the pool. 

“Ugh. You are such a cheater. I know you have my cards, you’re just hiding them.” 

“Non! I’m insulted you’d even accuse me of cheating!” 

“Liar! You cheat at every game we play, this one’s no different.” 

Simon smiled slyly to himself, observing his hand of cards. 

“Do you have a 5?” 

Felix glanced down, brow furrowed in frustration. 

“Nein. Go fish.” 

Simon drew from the pool fairly, shifting his cards to one hand as he crunched the last part of the lollipop he’d been holding in his mouth. The stick was discarded, and he took out another one from inside his blazer.

“Those were different. We made bets on them, this is just a simple card game.” 

“If it’s so simple then get those stupid cards out of your stupid sleeves!” Felix snapped, and then apologized almost immediately after. Simon thought it was more funny than anything and snorted in response. 

“Perhaps we should stop playing before you try to attack me.” He said, and Felix shook his head with a huff. 

“No, you’re my friend. …But yes, we should. The bells going to ring soon anyway.” 

Simon nodded, and the two boys set to piling the cards together in a stack to make putting them back in the box easier. The other boy didn’t help as much, more focused on watching his friend count each card in the deck before snickering when he suddenly stopped. 

“We’re missing five.” 

“Really?” 

“SIMON! 

Simon didn’t hear, too caught up in his fit of laughter. 

“Dein Mutter ist HÄSSLICH! I am leaving immediately! You know where to go if you manage to stop LAUGHING at your ABUSE!!” 

Felix was a little miffed, sure, but not nearly as angry as he was making himself out to be. He made a big show of packing his things and stomped out of the classroom among the crowd of children who also had leaving on their minds. Simon cleared his throat, having almost choked on his candy, and finally started to gather his things. He shook out the cards in his sleeves and tucked those into his blazer as a trophy, shoulders shaking with laughter again.

It had started to drizzle a little by the time he finally got out, and it had to of course be the one time Felix neglected his mother’s advice on bringing an umbrella. She’d get him for that, no doubt about it. It wasn’t too much of a concern, though. It didn’t seem like it was going to start pouring anytime soon. 

Felix followed his normal route carefully, a trail of pre-established back alleys and shortcuts that he made absolutely sure no one would find him through. There’d been too many instances of people following him home, so the route was made early on in the year. And so far, it’d worked. Simon and Misha were the only other two who knew about it, and they made sure to follow him as discreetly as possible when they were meeting up. Felix wasn’t the only one who had problems with bullying; they all did. 

Misha was too intimidating for anyone to start physical fights with or to say anything to his face. It was an emotional kind of bullying. Talk amongst crowds behind his back, excluding him, avoiding him, making it seem as if he wasn’t even there. For Simon, it was a lot more physical. He was smaller in frame than the other boys, so they’d rip him away from the protection of his friends to get him alone. Sometimes it’d get so bad it was like they were playing with a rag-doll. 

But, that was why they stuck together. They had to put some distance between them on the route home to avoid detection, but they always were following each other. No one was ever truly by themselves, and this was a method that wor-

“AAHG!” 

“Found you, freak.” 

Felix scrambled to get up and clutched his bleeding hands, crimson skid marks on the ground underneath him. A layer of skin had been scraped from being shoved into concrete. 

“How?! HOW?! I did everything I was supposed to! Why are you still HERE?” 

“Aw, poor baby. Are you gonna start crying? Gonna tell all your communist friends about it?” 

Glass crunched under the other student's foot. Felix’s glasses. 

“Leave us alone.” 

“You did this yourself. You dragged them into your stupid, pathetic life, and now they have to suffer just along with you. Don’t you get it? You ruin everything you touch,” they spat, shoving Felix back into the ground with the heels of their hands.  

This time papers and glass bottles clattered and spilled out of his bag, and when he shot his hand to grab them the strap fell from his shoulder. The other boy ripped it from him, dumping the contents out. More glass shattered upon impact, all the chemicals and ingredients he’d spent months collecting sinking into the ground.

“No!! NO! STOP IT!!” 

He couldn’t see. Everything was so blurry. 

“What the hell is all of this? You’re.. everyone was right, you’re a nazi!” 

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” 

He still had the same syringe in his pocket and with it he made a wild swing the boy, digging it straight into their calf. They screamed, and Felix dragged the needle down his leg until it snapped off the inside of his muscle. They grabbed his neck with both hands and crushed it, smashing him down onto the pavement. Felix clawed at their hands, ripping at the skin until blood piled underneath his nails. 

He couldn’t move. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

And he was alone here. 

“-OFF! GET OFF OF HIM! GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF!!” 

Simon drew his butterfly knife from his side, flipped it in his hand, and plunged it into the back of Felix’s attacker. 

And then again. 

Again, again, again, until a hand grabbed his wrist. 

“Simon! Stop it, that’s enough, please!” 

He blinked, only just registering his friend’s voice. He was gripping the knife so tightly it left dents, like he couldn’t physically drop it. Felix tapped his shoulder, and then shook him when he didn’t respond. 

“Hey-Hey, can you hear me? Simon. Look at me.” 

He did, although he couldn’t focus. 

“Can you understand me?” 

He nodded, made some kind of noise in the back of his throat. 

“Okay. Calm down for a second. Alright? Calm down. It’s.. okay. Things will be. Fine.”

“Felix.” 

The rest of what he said was inaudible. 

“What?” 

“I think I killed someone.” 

“Let’s go. We have to go.” 

Felix picked up the remainder of his belongings and grabbed his friend's hands, pulling him out of the alleyway. Both of them were covered in blood, and the walk home was completely silent. The sun had sunk low into the sky by now, the streetlights along the road acting as lighthouses. They were about 2 blocks away from home when Simon suddenly stopped walking and collapsed onto the curbside. Felix stopped and sat next to him under the light, everything quiet and slow except for the sounds of crickets chirping.

Simon was shaking uncontrollably. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, clutching at his blazer to stop the tremors in his hands. He hadn’t said anything, he hadn’t done anything, he never cried. There was just this glazed, shocked expression on his face. Felix hadn’t ever seen anything like that before. He didn’t feel curious about it this time. 

“Draw something.” He said, cutting through the heavy, sick feeling silence. From his bag he pulled out a sketchbook and a pen, offering it to Simon. 

“…What?” 

“Make something, anything. You know, take your mind off things.” 

Simon took the sketchbook stiffly, staring at the blank page it was flipped to. He couldn’t get his fingers to hold the pen properly. 

“I don’t know what to draw,”

“What’s your favorite animal? Do that.” 

And so he did, making clumsy, shaky, marks along the page that hardly looked like anything at first. He kept trying, and eventually, he managed to make the icon of a cat. Circle for the head, triangles for the ears. Simple features. The more he repeated these shapes the more confident his lines became, and he started to draw more realistic cats further down the page. 

“Katze? Fitting.” 

“I used to have one, in France. We had to give her away before we moved, though.” 

“I’m sure she understood! Cats are very interesting creatures, intelligent too, but personally I like birds. Did you know pigeons were used as messengers? They would always find their way back home, even if they traveled to entirely different states.” 

His interest in birds led him to ramble a little more than he intended until he noticed his friend had gone very quiet next to him. 

“…Are you okay?” 

“I don’t know. I-… I killed someone today and I’m drawing cats. And you’re talking about birds.” 

He thought about what to say for a few minutes. Nothing he came up with sounded good at all.

“That’s true.” 

Another bout of silence. 

“What even started it?” 

“They- Called me something. I don’t want to say it.” 

Simon nodded. He didn’t have to for him to understand exactly what he meant. He’d heard all kinds of variations of that word, for different groups of people. Slurs, he remembered. Derogatory insults he’d only ever dealt with upon moving. It didn’t matter who the person was; if they weren’t originally from America, you were a target. 

And, in a way, the butterfly knife still in his pocket coated with the blood of someone he didn’t know, was justified. 

[nvrcmplt]

It was a strange time, thinking about just how much of it has passed him since he became who he was now. Standing with the hundreds of Kimon, the room of white and a funeral rite being held in honour of his Grandfather's passing, the prior Oyabun of this family - the one human that adopted the freak that was Fushimi. He stared with a face of wonder and honour, pride with sorrow. It was a combination that felt twisty and wobbly in his stomach but his heart and spine remained strong.

Witnessing the flowers, the gifts and burning incense, Fushimi stared upon the image he chose with Sasaharu's guidance back in the day. And could do nothing more than reminisce the times of being a teenager, a brat, a hidden golem in the dojo too fearful of the repercussions of what he was. The anger, the growth aches, the pain of being two things in one mix. The confusion and hatred, the sensation of being something of this world and something not. The rage, the violence, the sorrow and abandonment he so feared.

Witnessing the kindness of a man that held many lives in his palms and blood in his teeth - Fushimi could only lower his head to that man with every ounce of love and honour in his blood. The knowledge his Grandfather passed onto him with the intentions of making his Oyabun, even though Fushimi denied the notion many times, Fushimi was still given the chance of a lifetime to be loved, feared, adored and gifted a family that was not just a claim from a hand me down but to be claimed as true.

The silence of the hall followed the ceremony - though it was common to speak a few words in the closest of the deceased, the shaman's knew better. Instead, bowing to the silent wall that was Fushimi before taking their leave with their company and trainees. Fushimi remained in the hall, the smell of incense sticks strong but not painful or irritating to his senses. The flowers made it mellow, the room too. Believed it would too wash out with white on white, the royal purple and yellow embroidered cloth over the table was beautiful in its boldness. The flowers stood out on it, the gifts, the picture frame, the world really stood no chance upon this sight.

Searing it into his brain, Fushimi didn't move for another three hours. Only when he felt the hand of his wife upon his arm and chest, beckoning his gaze to pull aside the memories and sorrow of his Father's passing, did his lungs fill with air and his lashes moisten from the hollowness in his heart. A large chunk of it went with that old man - but he held it together. Raising his hand to guide one of Itachi's to his cheek, to kiss into palm and inhale his scent at the moment. Guided once more with a silence beckon, he took his time to depart the room. Bowing thrice towards his Father's ceremony and taking Itachi's hand to go elsewhere.

The hidden room, once his own-prison to keep himself training in Irezumi, the room that he broke through the walls over and over but watched them get repaired just the same. The room was refurbished over his time of being Oyabun. No longer a mess of ink and teen angst, but a comfortable hideaway of memories. Low ceilings and a deep floor, the middle of it all decked out in nothing but cushions and a small table. The place looked more like a nest for an introvert than anything else. Books all over the walls, old scrolls, ink and art books from Fushimi's drawing days. His old yukata's on mannikins and some table in a corner holding his drawing station…

Fushimi didn't need to be told to sit, but he did guide Itachi to his side. Lowering himself upon the cushions to rest his head upon the Jaguar's frame and side in the silence that would be to follow. It was only when he was half asleep, that he noticed Itachi's fingers in his hair, humming tunes and undoing his braids that Fushimi let his tears fall. The grief he held deep but knew it'll rise at any time for those he loved and missed dearly. Fushimi felt better, weight lifting with ease tear but it was the safety of Itachi that made it all the better for him. That, was something he had missed since his Grandfather's passing and now --- now he could let that man go and give that role to his wife who has been with him through thick and thin just as intense.

@dcwnrisen

[beautifulblooms]

HI BESTIE BECAUSE YOU LOVE ME SO MUCH AND WILL ACKNOWLEDGE THIS REQUEST, I GIVE YOU SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL...SO! like the video with joseph and Jamie where Jamie gives Joe a giant thing of flowers as an apology for killing his character, y'know that video? What if it was Vecna and a male reader (obviusly) and Vecna giving the reader Eddie back as a vampire. tee hee hehhehehhehehhehehehehhehe feed my mentally ill broken humored mind please I beg of you pleassssssssssssss. I will draw more Eddie if you do?

Take Him Back, Please - Eddie Munson x Male!Reader

Male!Reader, he/him, @alexs-playground bestie, this is gonna be one of the funniest shit posts I’ve made for you, I hope you enjoy it, look at me posting twice in one day, might get another one out tonight too-

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

Tags: @eddieverse, @alexs-playground, @qthetherapist, @rlmt1

It hadn’t even been two days since the “earthquake” as we were calling it now, and I got a knock on my front door. Fuck. I really didn’t wanna answer that. Standing from the seat at the kitchen island I made my way to the door and opened it. I tried slamming the door back closed when I saw who was on the other side. Vecna. He simply used his abilities to throw the door wide open and walk in.

“I know you don’t like me, you have no reason to. But I am here to give you an offering.” I continued taking steps backwards, I didn’t want to be the next one he claimed.

“I don’t want your sick offerings of ‘peace’, it’s just a lie anyway.” He sighed and moved closer to me.

“This is truly an offering, and I simply cannot deal with him any longer. I need you to take him, I’ll go insane if I have to listen to him begging me to bring him here anymore.” Soon a head popped into the frame of my door, Eddie’s head.

“Eddie? How are you here?!” I yelled and tried to run to him before Vecna grabbed my arm and pulled me to listen to something.

“Stay away from me and you both get to live.” He let go before walking back to the door, shoving Eddie in and slamming my front door closed.

“So, hi?” He looked like one of the bat creatures that attacked him and Steve. I didn’t even know what to do, I just walked up to him and hugged him. He’d gotten taller since I last saw him, he just looks so different now, but I know he’s the same. Without thinking about it he just hugged me back, using the new wings he had to wrap those around me too.

“I missed you so much, I didn’t know what to do with myself without you.” Tears flowed down my cheeks onto his ruined and tattered shirt.

“I did too, I really did, didn’t even leave that Vecna freak along until he brought me here.” He chuckled lightly at the last remark, making me laugh too.

“I heard, so you’re just as annoying as a vampire as when you’re human, good to know you’re still the same Eddie I fell in love with.

“Yeah well, it’s hard to get rid of this much personality, and if Vecna can’t do it, no one can.” He leaned down to kiss me softly, gods I missed him so much, but he’s finally back. A little different, but he’s back in my arms and that’s all that matters in this moment.