#idk why this graphic is so green

[raitonsfw]

There srsly needs to be more bby boy Nagito stuff, idk what's wrong with ppl 😭 I'm requesting Nagito with his s/o that were a couple before the neo world program, and once Monokuma announces the killing game, Nagito's sweet mommy s/o makes it clear that no one's laying a finger on him, getting very overprotective. During Nagito's hope rants, his s/o is just glaring at the classmates like "dammit y'all better listen to what my bf has to say". They/she also praises him a lot during investigations and for leading the class trials. 🤗

𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 | 𝚔𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚎𝚍𝚊 𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚝𝚘

synopsis: The sun and the sea taunted you as the bear played with your downfall, but more detrimentally, your boyfriend who had offered himself up to the entire class with the extent of death knocking at his door. or; a rewritten chapter one of super danganronpa 2, with an insert of overprotective reader and slight baby boy nagito.

warnings: gn!reader and or fem!reader, spoilers for chapter 1 of sdr2, cursing, fits of despair, a crapload of hope references, a kiss with implied smut (nothing nsfw is explicitly written), nagito and reader are a couple, slight praising, affection, petnames (my love, angel, baby boy), reader would do anything for nagito, implied violence (the first victim), mentions of death, mentions of blood, primarily angst?, its not totally on brand with the request im so sorry!🥺

a/n: gave me a beautiful excuse to rewatch the entire first chapter of sdr2 (tysmmmm). i tried my best for the baby boy(ness) of it all, but my brain wasn’t working with me as i wrote so there’s only slight mentions. i didn't write past the second half of the trial because if i actually wrote in the blackened from chapter 1, the reader probably would’ve jumped over the trial stands to attack them for trying to hurt nagito. idk why i struggled so much, ugh but i promise promise promise i can write nagito better than this i swear. wc: 2.9k. m.list

now playing: moving up in the world by dagames

divider credit: @benkeibear & @firefly-graphics

The sun shone against the beach and you squinted at it in confusion. Another bad dream, you thought but then it all rushed back to you. It was something like a dizzy spell, the classroom you had been seemingly teleported out of felt surreal as you sat on the grains of sand surrounding you. You looked over to your right, your vision blurred and saw someone also laying next to you, unconscious and plastered on their side.

And then the pixelated green came into view as you blinked away the fuzziness, your heart nearly punching up to the base of your throat. You let out a disgruntled noise, crawling over towards him to see if he was breathing, ‘cause if he wasn’t– You couldn’t bear that thought, pushing it back within the crevices of your mind as you ran your palm over his arm.

“Nagito, Nagito!” You called out as you shook him gently from the rasps of the trance, hoping he’d respond. His chest rose and fell to your relief, and you studied the details of his face. His eyes were closed and his mouth slightly agape but no noticeable scars or wounds stuck out to you and your heart fell back to normal with a steady pulse. You shook him again, this time a little more forceful, and he awoke with a start. His eyes shot open and he took in the picture before him, sitting up quickly. Nagito groaned quietly as the sun hit him directly in the eyes and he rubbed them carefully, trying to make sense of what had happened.

You saw his realization dawn on him. “Y/N.” 

Nagito immediately hugged you, much more tightly than he ever had before and you held onto him as he buried his hands into the wisps of your hair. He felt calm, the aura around him filling up the spaces in your confusion as he looked at you for the first time since the classroom. His grayish eyes clued in onto the mayhem they had encountered when the pink rabbit explained their future school trip. But what he couldn’t hide was his truth, the iniquity wedging itself in between his seams, the spiraling circles within his pupils, the hope that he so desperately craved on the tiny island. 

And you were to make sure he had all the hope he needed rushing through his veins, whatever it takes for your partner. 

When you two met each other’s eyes in the midst of the tiny classroom, you were both confused. It seemed as if you had forgotten things about the other, something in between but you couldn’t quite figure out what. All that came to you was the newfound love you had acquired for him, being as you had started dating him a few months before he was accepted into Hope’s Peak Academy. 

You tried to remember the missing piece but as he glanced at you, his mouth opening slightly, the doors slid open again and the last student made his way into the classroom. Your head had become totally muddled and as you moved on closer to Nagito, his mouth had been basically sewn shut with the presence of the new classmate. He was assessing the reality of the issue they were facing and you decided not to bother him, letting his mind wander. 

As the waves crashed against your ears in the background, you were faced with another revelation. That he was safe– here with you, that one instance made the whole weirdness much more easy to handle. 

“I’m sure everything’s okay.” Nagito assured, a kind smile resting against the frivolities of his demeanor.

“It’s just a school trip.” You nodded, agreeing with him. It was going to be okay. 

“A happy school trip full of hope.” 

“Wh-What just…happened…?” Nagito spoke in between the dead silence, the other students peering at each other with horrified looks. 

No one dared answer him, half of the students looked like they were about to faint. You included. 

The entirety of Jabberwock park had felt like death seeped in and took hold, the pained feeling sinking into the cracks of the sidewalk. Monokuma had just disappeared along with the Monobeasts hovering behind his tail and you felt the anguish of his despairing words weigh you down heavily, your heart threatened to burst as the thought of what the stuffed bear explained. 

You needed to protect him, the thought following closely as you remembered every single syllable of the rules Monokuma mentioned. You didn’t want to be murdered, your brain reeling with all the possibilities of what could happen. But more importantly– most importantly, you didn’t want Nagito to die. You were painfully aware of his self-depreciating tendencies and sometimes he scared you with quiet comments about death. 

“I guess I’ll offer myself up first if this is a killing game. Maybe we can find some hope in my death if we all work together in favor.” You heard Nagito announce with a wavering confidence and you snapped your neck towards him. 

Like that.

A staggered look spread on your face and you felt your cheeks become hot with anger. You couldn’t find your footsteps fast enough, your entire body moving into front of Nagito and you shielded your hands up. Hajime went to protest but you beat him to it, your mouth flying open. 

He was not fucking sacrificing himself in the name of hope. You cut that cord short, on second thought he had all the hope he needed at the moment.

“No one’s laying a finger on anyone, you hear me?!” You burst out, your annoyance through the roof. “Especially not Nagito. We can figure this out another way, we’re not sacrificing our friends. Don’t even think about it.” 

“We’re not going to kill, no one here’s like that.” Hajime interjected, albeit a bit hesitant. “We’re not sacrificing anyone.” 

“The fear that Monokuma instilled in everyone though...Hajime, are you positive someone won’t? At this point, it seems to be fully plausible that someone could potentially kill someone with the notion of that escape motive.” Byakuya spoke up and his words felt like a thousand bricks. 

He was right, that motive was extremely compelling. But it didn’t phase you in the slightest.

Everything you had was behind you, the white haired man leaning into your backside as you defended him. There was nothing for you at home, everyone just about had left you and you promised with a solemn word that you’d give your everything to Nagito. You tried not to be too mad at him, you understood the situation completely. He was just trying to help, even as fucking idiotic as his words seemed to be in that precise moment.

“Babe, it’s okay.” Nagito leaned down towards your ear, murmuring the pet name affectionately and you felt his hands rest against your shoulders. “I don’t mind being a stepping stone for hope.” 

You whipped your head around to face up at him, the insolence draining within your vocals as you spoke to him. “We’ll talk later.” You continued, towards the rest of your classmates. “If you so much as look at him the wrong way, the blackened will certainly be me. And I will get both of us off this island without so much as a hint of regret.” 

“It doesn’t work like that.” Mahiru stated. 

You didn’t care. Everyone looked uneasy, a great tension had begun to hover over you. If you had to be the bad guy in this situation so no one would touch your boy, it was worth it for them to be basically eying you like a mastermind. Hajime glanced at you as you nearly seethed your sentence, backing up into him as a way to protect him. “Do not touch him.” 

Without a second thought, you grabbed Nagito by the collar of his shirt and dragged him back towards the bridge to the cottages, his small frame bending down as you two walked. As you passed through the hotel gate, you let his shirt go with a sigh as you fully realized the scene you made. “I’m sorry, angel. I got too carried away again.” 

“No, it’s okay really! I was out of line.” He apologized with an awkward smile and you were taken aback by his confession. He straightened up, smoothing over his shirt with a quiet hum. “Someone will kill someone though and if it has to be me, I honestly don’t mind.” 

“Promise me you won’t start anything.” You made to say, ushering him inside of your cottage. He immediately beelined for the foot of your bed, sitting against it carefully as you closed the door behind you. You locked it and made to shut the blinds of the windows when you heard him flop onto the bed with a tired exhale. “Nagito?”

“I’m okay, just thinking.” He said with a sigh, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as you made your way to him. You sat next to him, crossing your leg over the other as you leaned one of your palms on his thigh. He glanced down at you, his eyebrows raising slightly as you gently patted it.

“No, seriously. Please don’t start anything.” You quietly said again. “I don’t want to lose you, you’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Nagito sat up, his shirt rucking down the pit of his tummy and you smiled at him as he leaned closer to you. His hair was a bit messy from the day and you tangled your other hand into it, smoothing it upwards. He hummed happily at the feeling, closing his eyes. “I’m happy that it’s you I’m trapped on an island with.” 

“And a bunch of other people.” You laughed quietly, intertwining his hand with yours against his thigh as you continued brushing his hair out with your fingers. “But yeah I’m glad too, baby boy.” 

You saw his face light up, a blush spreading across his face. You swore you felt his heartbeat quicken, the small pulses against your chest as you leaned into him to kiss him. He returned the gesture with another low hum, with much more oomph than usual. 

“You take such good care of me, Y/N.” He whispered against your lips, smiling into it. “What would I do without you?”

“You’re lucky to be alive, you know.” You wearily reminded him as you pulled away from him and his face dropped with the realization. You don’t know what Nagito had realized, maybe it was the subtle hint of his talent keeping him alive but you were not expecting his next words as they fell from his lips a bit too seriously.

“Promise me something if I do get murdered? Don’t find the culprit.”

You struggled to wrap your head around his words before a bubbly laugh escaped you, trying to lighten the situation. You moved to straddle his hips, trying to desperately shut up the plan that was herding in his mind. You looked down at him as he looked back up, his hands resting against the small of your back and you saw it– the spiraling, the mess of his unwanted trauma, a plot that he conjured up within the walk back towards the cottage. 

The killing game was a bonus. 

“What if the culprit’s me?” You asked, pushing him back onto the pillows and Nagito let out a quiet noise. “Surely, you wouldn’t want me to die?”

“I would gladly die by my lover’s hands.” 

The pitch black clouded your eyes and you let out a quiet yelp. You didn’t know what was going on, why did the lights go out during the party? A few loud shouts surrounded the room and you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of everyone panicking. You huddled yourself against the wall, practically tripping over the cord connected against the wall and you felt it lift up slightly as you sat there on the ground.

Where was Nagito? A minute ago he had been next to you and Hajime but when you had fumbled for his hand when the lights went out, it wasn’t there in reach.

The lights came on with a blinding shine to them and you immediately scanned the area for Nagito. He had fallen near the back table and he glanced towards you with a panicked expression. His name fell from your lips quietly as everyone else gasped at Mikan, but you didn’t care to react to whatever had happened in the middle of the room. You rushed over to where Nagito sat, clearly in a daze and you helped him up quickly. “Are you okay? Did you trip?” 

“I did, yeah.” You dusted off the backs of his thighs for him, checking for any scraps and bruises. He hugged his jacket over himself and bit, his cheeks blushing red as you finished up and you planted a small kiss on his face. “T-Thank you, Y/N.”

You had to make sure he was alright, there was no telling what had happened during that blackout. Someone could’ve brought in poison and tainted a weapon with it, though you weren’t quite sure how it would’ve made the pat down as Byakuya had checked everyone thoroughly. But still if there was so much as a scratch on Nagito, the entire world was going to burn with you.

A stench of blood had perforated your sense of smell and you were just about to double check your partner’s clothing again before Hajime flipped up the tablecloth that had laid stagnant against the back table, revealing the first kill of the game that taunted your demise.

The investigation began not long after the screams died down, the remnants of sniffles and sobs overtaking the hallway. You walked around aimlessly with Nagito, trying to get information out of your classmates but there was no luck for the both of you. Ironic huh.

“Hey, Hajime. Can Y/N and I join you for the investigation?” Nagito asked as he spotted Hajime opening the door to the crime scene again, having just finished speaking with Sonia. “I think it would be easier for us to talk in groups rather than one on one.” 

“So smart, my love.” You murmured out loud, which made Nagito immediately take your hand as Hajime muttered out a ‘sure, just don’t get in the way.’ You squeezed his hand as you felt the sweat on his palm, trying to reassure him internally that everything is okay. He was probably just spooked that he had predicted the killing, how could he have known? 

And how could you have known Nagito’s motive? 

As everyone stood around the poisoned circle, you folded your arms across your chest. Stationed next to Mahiru and Hajime, you peered in front of you. Nagito was a ways away from the cursed podiums that had you cornered in truths and interjections, standing in between Ibuki and Mikan with dignified silence.

As the trial went on, he didn’t speak much and he certainly didn’t pass up the chance to eye you up from the distance as you stated your case when you were suspected because of your outburst. As you scrambled for an opening, something to show for accountability, Nagito spoke for you. 

“We’re all friends, aren't we?” He laughed it off, the tone switching and you almost applauded his efforts to help you. “We don’t even have any clues to go off of, not a single one. Let’s just give up, we wouldn’t want to waste Monokuma’s time.”

So you want us to die? You couldn’t exactly argue with him now, his plan revealing itself to you. A thick band of trust snapped against you, he had broken it. But you saw the hope rushing through his veins, the pure bliss you had managed to capture from the corner of your eye, the despair that battled his hope swirling in them– and you made your decision right then and there. If you insist. If it means we die together, Nagito Komaeda.

“No, he’s right! Listen to Nagito here, let’s just give up.” You advocated, the reasonings blurting from your mouth faster than you could speak. As you looked around the room with confidence practically pouring out of you, you caught everyone hurriedly agreeing with Nagito. You shouldn’t be so presumptuous but it was the truth, after all. There wasn’t a fucking thing anyone could say or do, the clues had been wrapped up by the killer, swept underneath the rug that had been laid out in its foyer.

That’s wrong, I think.” Chiaki piped up, downcasted but a willingness snagged in her voice. “There are clues.”

Nagito’s eyebrows furrowed and you shot a look at Chiaki, glaring at her with suspicion. What did she mean by that, huh? “There aren’t any clues. We investigated the entire building, searched every crevice, every single piece of evidence–” You started, nearly spiraling yourself. There was no way there was a clue, because if there was…

“The desk lamp.” 

“Desk lamp? That’s impossible, Hajime. How would that be a clue?” You argued, but he had already proved you wrong. 

“Nagito… It was you, wasn’t it?” 

“M-Me?” Nagito almost stepped off the podium, just barely catching himself as he lunged for the center. It was surely just a coincidence you found him next to the blood splattered table, the lamp cord tangled up against his ankle. A coincidence? No, he didn’t kill anyone. He simply meddled with the killer, sparking interest–perhaps fear into them. You looked over at Nagito, noticing the way his hand trembled against his chest.

Then your boy burst into a fit of laughter. It was going to take a lot to protect him now.

Whatever it takes, my love.

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[kinardsevan]

HC? Or something crossed my mind idk, Tommy volunteer as a big brother/or just to help in a group home, and have a special bond with one of the kids there since he sees himself in him..

because I messed up the responses, this is @thatmexisaurusrex's request for Buck & Tommy calling eachother on a slow afternoon at work.

This is m-rated, nearing explicit, towards the end. Nothing too graphic, but definitely suggestive. also, since we're just existing in previous universes of mine today, this one fits in the same world as the prompt for "bobby overhears Tommy call him his father-in-law".

-

Evan sighs, sinking down onto the ground on top of the firehouse. It’s beautiful outside, but the team is still on shift for roughly eight hours, and the shift has been…slow. They’ve only seen three calls so far, which feels a little ridiculous considering it’s a nice day outside, which usually means cookouts, bonfires, and generally reckless behavior when it comes to fire. 

Three. Fucking. Calls. 

He spins his phone on his knee briefly. He tries not to call Tommy too much on shift. They already live together and work in the same field. Granted, Tommy has never once complained about it in the past three years, and he always seems rather cheerful when Evan does call him on shift. But still. 

Any decision Evan thinks he has to make is quickly silenced when the phone starts buzzing in his hand, with the bolded text of “Husband” framed by two blue hearts pops up on his screen. A smile crawls its way across his face as he flips the phone into an upright position and clicks the little green phone icon, accepting the call. 

“Oh thank Jesus,” Tommy mutters with a groan. “I’m so bored.” 

Evan laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“Are you guys doing any better over there?” Tommy whines. “I’ve been on two flights today, and they were both done within an hour.” 

Evan chuckles again. “Three calls so far. Last one was about four hours ago. Cap says everything coming in right now has been east of Pasedena or down in Panorama City. Too far out for us unless it goes three-alarm or higher.” 

Tommy huffs, leaning back wherever he is. Evan assumes he must be in 1701 because it looks like he’s on the floor of a chopper. 

“I have deep cleaned everything in sight, inventoried the helicopters and both planes, even helped with some of the inventory on the trucks,” Tommy says. “Checked up on current registrations and certifications. There’s not a damn thing to do.” 

Evan can only smile at his husband as the older man complains. For all the times they’ve complained to one another over Facetime while on shift, Tommy has never been one to actually complain about being at work with nothing to do. 

Tommy huffs, but after a moment, his eyes are on the screen of his phone again, and he furrows his brow. “Why do you look so entertained at my misery?” 

Evan smirks at him. “I like seeing you flustered. It’s kinda hot, honestly.” 

Tommy gives him that look; the one that silently tells him to tread carefully, unless he wants to find himself pressed into a mattress or countertop sobbing for release. 

“Hey, so what was that story Charlie was telling at the wedding,” Evan asks, referencing back to their discussion over cigars a few weeks back. 

“No, Evan,” Tommy replies, and the tone is there now too. Evan’s lips twitch with unfettered cunning, knowing he’s pushing Tommy’s buttons. 

“Oh come on,” Evan states, clearly egging him on. “Didn’t I hear something about a screwdriver down?” 

Tommy’s jaw clenches and he just shakes his head, although there’s no hiding the way the corners of his mouth are twitching, desperately trying to give in to the smile that he’s trying not to give his husband. 

“You know we’re going into a four day after this,” Tommy reminds him, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “You might want to tread carefully.” 

Evan raises an eyebrow at him, grinning lasciviously back at Tommy. “I think you assume that I didn’t consider that already.” 

Tommy stares at him from the tiny screen, and even though nothing about his expression changes, there’s a multitude of unspoken words shared between them. The smoldering in his eyes that tells Evan about nights pressed back-to-chest, nails drug across his chest and Tommy grinding with fervor, drawing sinful noises out of Evan like it’s his job. The slight twitch of his eyebrows suggests afternoons lost to ‘don’t move an inch or we’ll start all over’ . The way his tongue slips between his lips to wet them calling up memories of being chest-to-chest, teeth biting necks and shoulders, nails dug into spines, tongues lapping into mouths that swallow sobs like water in a desert. 

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to turn yourself up to eleven for the next four days,” Tommy warns, and the smirk on Evan’s face entirely suggests that he does not care. Turned up to eleven is the implication of total control turned over to his husband in the bedroom, whereas one is them meeting on an even field, usually when they want to take it slow and eject romance into things. 

But Evan just did that for a week and a half in Havana. He’s more than happy to turn things up to eleven. Let Tommy work him over. 

“Please, Daddy,” he replies softly, pulling the phone close to his face so that Tommy hears him but no one else does. His tone is just this side of breathy, barely moaning. Still, Tommy’s neck flushes, and Evan knows he has him. 

“When do you get off again,” Tommy asks, switching the subject. Evan pulls the screen down on his phone and then back up. 

“Like seven and a half hours,” he replies. 

Tommy nods. He’s up and moving again, and after a moment, Evan hears a door close, and the smirk reappears on his face. Tommy’s finding privacy. 

Evan pushes himself up from the ground, walking further from the door for rooftop access. It’s unlikely that anyone is coming up to bug him, given that Eddie was taking a nap last he checked and Hen and Chimney were locked into an intense game of Mario Kart. Athena was around for a visit, keeping Bobby entertained. 

Tommy’s phone rests on some kind of countertop and Evan grins as he sinks down into a chair. 

“So when you get home,” Tommy states, pulling at the zipper on his flight suit. He’s doing it slowly, and Evan can tell it’s on purpose. He gulps down the wave of saliva flooding his mouth. 

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Tommy reaches a hand in, pulling up the t-shirt he has on under the flight suit, although his hand stops halfway up his chest, only giving Evan the slightest sight of his abs where the zipper ends. Tommy leans forward then, pinning both hands on either side of the phone, out of frame. 

“You’re going to be a good boy,” Tommy states. It’s an order. Evan gulps, feeling himself starting to get uncomfortable in his pants. The slightest shift of his shoulder has Tommy lifting a hand, wagging a finger at him. 

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises. “No touching. Clock starts now and ends on Sunday.” 

Evan’s eyes go wide. They’ve never started something this early, let alone gone that long. Three days is about as long as he’s handed over control to Tommy, and even then, it usually begins and ends in their bedroom. This is a new layer, and he’s hot under the collar just thinking about the implications. 

Tommy stares at him for a long moment, that extends long enough that Evan realizes he’s supposed to respond. If he has any reservations against the ideas, now would be the time to say something. Granted, Tommy would never be upset with him if he decides to safeword out early, but he’s also silently asking if it’s okay to start now. 

“Okay,” Evan rasps, clenching his hand into a fist and resting it on his knee. It’s all he can do not to moan because he swears just by saying yes he gets harder. Tommy waggles an eyebrow at him, pulling his t-shirt. He adjusts it and fiddles it the zipper, clearly trying to play with Evan the same way the younger man was just playing with him. 

“I’ll be home an hour later,” Tommy reminds him. Evan nods. “I expect to find you silenced and waiting.” 

The slightest moan passes Evan’s lips. Tommy wants him gagged and on his knees, hands behind his back. 

“Sh-…C-can I prep?” Evan stammers, his voice husky with wanton. 

It’s Tommy’s turn to smirk now as he shakes his head slowly. 

“The only way mi amor gets to prepare is if it happens naturally. Everything else will be taken care of when I get home.” 

Evan shudders, and the heat in Tommy’s gaze, the grin on his face, is almost enough to make him feel like his heart is going to give out. He's not allowed to do anything to himself, but if he's aroused, Tommy expects it to happen without any assistance of his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. Tommy grins at him, and then a moment later, someone is knocking on the door of whatever room he’s in. Evan can hear Lucy’s voice briefly, asking questions but not clearly enough that he can make everything out. A moment later, Tommy glances back at the phone. 

“I have to go. I’ll see you at home in a while.” 

Evan nods, forcing himself to take deep breaths. “See you at home.” 

The call ends a moment later, and he has to stay in the chair and keep breathing. There’s no way he can go back inside right now; he’d be roasted for his unmistakeable boner. 

He checks the time on his phone again, and it’s all he can do to stifle a groan. Eight hours. Eight hours until he’s with Tommy in person again. He can hold on until then. He has to.

Eight. Long. Hours. 

[ieatstarsforaliving]

Denial (1)

Summary: Hazel and (Y/N) are the tributes from District 12 for the 74th Hunger Games. Hazel doesn't want to see (Y/N) die. And (Y/N) just wants to live.

Pairing: Tribute!Hazel Callahan x Tribute!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), (Y/N) is kind of a bitch but aren't we all when facing death, I swear she gets better, mentions of death and suicide, lots of mentions of violence with pretty graphic descriptions but it’s just depressive hunger game shit

Word Count: 2614

Note: I KNOW I said I’d write part 3 of Spiderwoman!Hazel Callahan BUT I suddenly craved angst and had to write this. I had to. Just let me post this today and I’ll give you Spiderwoman soon– I SWEAR. Also this is lowkey bad cause I have not written angst in a while. Idk. It's not gut-wrenching enough. I'll make it work somehow.  - Bia <3

No.

Not you. 

Anyone but you.

Hazel knows what the Hunger Games look like. 

Violent. Callous. Sadistic. 

None of those words resemble you. 

Hazel watches as you walk towards the stage, each step weaker than the other. She thinks you’ll fall over, but you manage to stand beside the extravagantly dressed escort, who claps cheerily in your honor with a guiltless smile. As he chatters about his appreciation for the games, you are expressionless. Your fists are clenched, your eyes fixed on the crowd, blankly staring at the faces of the people who know you. 

Hazel has never seen you so scared. 

“Well, then, shake hands!” The escort chirps, pushing Hazel towards you. 

There’s a pause before Hazel takes your hand, giving it a tight squeeze.  

Please, please look at me, she thinks. It’s going to be okay– 

-But when you do look at her, it's automatic. Empty. Involuntary, as if meaningless to share eyes with a future corpse. Hazel recognizes the shift of the dynamic between the two of you. She is no longer your neighbor, your classmate— no longer the girl you once kissed in the grounds of the forest.

-She is your rival. 

Her eyes flick away from you. It feels like you can read what’s in her head, both the shock and the anguish. Hazel is not ready to deal with either. 

So she drops your hand and looks away, staring at the camera zooming in on her face. 

But in the second of eye contact, Hazel does notice this; 

Grief has already struck your eyes. 

The train ride is silent. The District 12’s assigned escort, who introduces himself as Meyers, continuously attempts to make conversation with either one of you, talking about what a privilege it is to be traveling to the Capitol. 

You choose to be speechless, sitting on the plump green velvet chair with your legs pulled close to your chest. Hazel sits opposite to you, persistently peering while contemplating on how to start up a conversation— or maybe, not to start one at all.

You’ve been subtly ignoring her gaze, trying not to look deliberate in your avoidance. Staring at the passing trees out the window, you’re forced to picture the forest back at home— A hug of browns, shelter of extended limbs, sunlight filtered through the overlapping leaves above.  

Along with the images of forest, you’re forced to remember. 

It was a particularly cold morning when Hazel first found you in the heart of the woods, the chilling air hanging heavy with the scent of pine and coal. In your hands was a bleeding bird, fragile body betrayed by your well-aimed rock. 

It turned out to be a mockingjay, and as the crimson stain spread across its black and white feathers, the satisfaction of your hunt waned. Your hunger persisted, but found yourself frozen. The irony of the prey was a slap in your face. A mockingjay– Why did it have to be a mockingjay? The failed muttation, the insult to the dystopia— the only thing in the world that seemed to be resisting the Capitol— and here you were, unwittingly taking its life. 

Hazel approached you, and you flinched– but you didn’t run. You couldn’t, not when her eyes had such softness within them, as if forgiving your savage hand in place of the bird. Without uttering a word, she knelt beside you on the forest floor. 

Her fingers dug through the dirt, prodding into her nails until a hole was made. Her hands were soiled but warm as she took the mockingjay from your hands, placing it in the makeshift resting place amidst the roots of a towering tree. You watched as she covered the bird with earth. She then took your hand and guided you back to the fence, back to the meadow, to the bakery, where she bought a small piece of bread in exchange for the shabby jewelry off her neck. You learned later the necklace was a gift from her absent father. 

That was the Hazel you became used to. She was strong. Stronger than anyone you ever grew to know– as if to acknowledge that she could one day be standing in the arena. Yet you found her kindness to be her weakness. She never harmed anyone. Anything. She was a refuge from the harsh reality of the televised Hunger Games. And you kept coming back to her, mistaking the comfort for a shield against the brutality of the world. As if being close with her could protect you from any fucking thing. Perhaps that had prompted you to kiss her on that day, the day before the reaping, and all you could think about was how she didn’t push you away.

You snap out of your memories, the weight of the past and the jarring truth of the present boring down on you. You can’t handle either of those. You can’t handle looking at her. You can’t handle being in the same room as her. But the intensity of her gaze has burned into the side of your head, and you feel demanded to meet her eyes once more. 

When you finally look at Hazel, her eyes widen. 

She starts to open her mouth, on a pathway to a ramble, but the compartment door swings open, revealing a rough man with scruffy braids holding an explicit magazine. 

Hazel recognizes him– the only winner left alive from the Hunger Games from District 12. He’s notably muscular, with tattoos that circulate his stocky arms along with a rugged beard to match his image. 

He is Hunger Games winner material, Hazel thinks, and feels considerably feeble in comparison. 

The man looks around the room.   

“Man, I got stuck with two girls this time?” 

Hazel starts, “G–” 

“-Mr. G to you. I may look like this, but I’m still your mentor.” 

You stare at the man as he disappointingly analyzes his two mentees. He decides you’re not promising enough, not giving more than two seconds to consider you two before plopping on the green velvet seat and flipping through his magazine featuring a barely-clothed capitol woman. 

“You’re supposed to give us advice,” Hazel mutters. 

He scoffs in response, “I’ll give you advice; don’t die too quickly.” 

“So you think we have a chance?” 

“Hell no,” Mr. G laughs. “Look at you two.” 

You and Hazel stare at him. He notices the angry silence. 

“Alright. I’ll help y’all.” He shrugs, not looking up from the magazine. “When you arrive, you’re going to be grabbed by the most annoying sons-of-bitches who're gonna get y’all cleaned up and pretty to parade around the Capitol. It’s gonna suck. But you deal with it. No complaining. No resisting. You deal with it. Then you get in the arena, let them throw you around for a bit, and then find something visibly mild to kill yourselves with.” 

Hazel stiffens at the line. 

“What is wrong with you?” You shout, your voice laced with anger. “My life is on the line.” 

Mr. G glances at you with a raised eyebrow, indifferent. “Welcome to the Hunger Games, darlin’. You think having a different mindset is gonna keep you alive?”

“You’re supposed to be our mentor,” Hazel says, her voice trembling. “You’re supposed to help us survive.” 

“Survive? You kids from District 12 don’t survive. You endure. You endure and you die. There’s a difference.” He emphasizes on the words ‘die’ and Hazel wants to throw up. “It’s just like the year before this and the year before that.”

“So you’re just giving up?” You push yourself to your feet and step towards him. There’s resentment in your words, clawing at the lifeline that is supposed to be your mentor. “You’re pathetic.”

Mr. G gets up from his seat, looming over your frame. Unwavering, you glare at him. He lets out a chuckle, a brief moment of consideration flickering across his features. Then he pulls back his fist. 

In an instant, Hazel rushes in front of you, her body bracing for impact. His fist swings towards you, but it doesn’t land on your face. Instead, it meets Hazel’s, sending her backwards to the floor. The collision makes Mr. G stumble back a step, surprise evident in his eyes.

Hazel groans, rubbing her cheekbone but gets up again, standing in front of you with a defensive stance.

“Ah, I understand now.” Mr. G gawks at Hazel, amused. “The fighter and her protector.” 

Then he starts laughing, slowly staggering away from the two of you, walking out of the compartment with his dirty magazine still in his hand. Meyers quickly trails behind him, muttering something about tributes being barbarians and forcefully shuts the door with a resounding bang. 

Hazel turns to you, hoping her face isn't red. “Are you okay?” 

“Don’t.” 

Hazel blinks, taken aback. You’ve pulled away from her, creating a perceptible distance, your face flushed in an unknown emotion. 

“I–”

“-Don’t do that.” 

Hazel recognizes the barrier you’re attempting to draw between the two of you. She refuses to accept it and steps closer. 

“Don’t,” you insist. “Don’t come closer. Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. We’re nothing.” 

“We’re friends,” Hazel protests.

“No,” you correct her, your voice cracking. “We stopped being friends when we were picked to kill each other. If we hadn’t—” 

If we hadn’t kissed, killing you would be easier. 

You stop. 

Hazel shakes her head, her expression in disbelief. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

She steps closer. You retreat. 

“Hazel, stop, please–”

She watches as your body begins to shake. A whimper escapes your lips, which is quickly covered by your hand. Then you’re sobbing uncontrollably, covering your reddened face as a means to hide yourself, but the tears manage to escape from the gaps between your fingers, soaking the condemned dress that you only wear on reaping days. 

“I- I don’t–” 

Hazel steps closer. “I know.” 

“I don’t want to die,” You croak. “I want don't want to die. I don’t want to kill. I don’t–” 

-I don’t want to kill you. 

The unsaid words ring around the room as Hazel pulls you into her arms. You don’t hesitate to hide your face into her neck, crying earnestly, body burning and painful, teeth clenched as the tears drip off your jaw and you refuse to let your lip quiver like a child. Hazel holds you tighter and presses her hand against the back of your head.

Hazel wants to say something. She opens her mouth.

Then she starts to cry.

As much as she hates Mr. G, he is right about the clean-up process before officially entering the capitol; it sucks. 

After arrival, the two of you were separated to different rooms with different stylists. Hazel’s stylist has been going about Hazel for two hours, scrubbing down her body with soaps of intense fragrance, trimming the nails into a smooth oval shape, rubbing makeup over her fresh bruise, painting on her eyelids, and primarily, getting rid of her body hair. She lays on the cold metal bed, barely clothed, as the hairs on her arms, underarms, eyebrows, nose– even places that shouldn’t matter being robbed of its hair. Hazel ignores the soreness of fabric being stripped from her leg, tearing out the hairs beneath it. 

Instead, Hazel thinks about killing. 

She thinks about the physicality of it. The impact of the blow, the act of stabbing, the struggle of choking someone. She assumes there would be weapons in the arena, there always is. But even back at home, she’s never crossed the line of killing even the smallest of creatures, not even when she was desperately hungry. But laying on the cold metal bed of the stylist’s office, she almost regrets the lack of practice. The visceral brutality, the raw and primal surge that accompanies violence— she’s unsure of it all. 

Then she thinks about you. 

She pictures a hand wrapped around your neck, slitting the flesh, warm liquid seeping through the fingernails— and the victim writhing, clawing, screaming— then finally falling limp. 

Hazel pales at the image. At the same time, she feels a particular jerk at her leg once again, and the stylist squeals the words, “Perfection! You’re beautiful!” 

She is ushered to sit up as the stylist grabs a cart filled with combs, bottles, and other products that Hazel doesn’t recognize. A mirror is passed, and Hazel blinks harshly at her reflection. She can see that she looks so… Capitol. Everything about her is enhanced; from hermetically coiffed eyebrows to her skin, perfectly shaped and painted, devoid of blemishes. The bruise from her mentor is gone, too. There's light bits of glitter on above her eyes, amplifying her blue eyes while giving her a much softened look. 

She looks like a tribute. 

“I really do wish you hadn’t cut your hair like this,” the stylist whines as she ruffles Hazel’s messy head with a sigh. A hairstyle she fearlessly trimmed with a pocket knife, now being sprayed by a sour, citrus themed liquid. “You are such a pretty girl. Perhaps we should glue a wig to your head.” 

“Don’t.” 

Hazel turns towards the voice. 

It’s you. You’re peering through the doorway, your entire form stripped and peeled away just as she is. Hazel does a visible double-take when she sees you, swallowing hard while staring at your half-naked body. She gazes at you, taking in the transformation that the Capitol has imposed on your appearance. 

If she thought you were beautiful before, she thinks you’re breathtaking now. 

“I like her hair,” You murmur, walking towards the bed. Hazel instinctively reaches up to touch her trimmed mullet, as if to confirm that it’s still there. 

“I suppose I can work with a tomboy image. Oh, I see a vision! I’ll be back,” The stylist sings to herself, running out of the room with a sudden enthusiasm.  

Hazel is still staring at you.

You shrug. “How do I look?” 

Like a lamb to slaughter.

“You… look different,” She says. “I don’t mean it’s bad. It’s good. But it’s also…” 

“I know,” you sigh, sitting beside Hazel’s bed. “A true depiction of Capitol beauty.”

“It could be worse,” Hazel starts. “We could be naked and covered in soot for the opening ceremony.” 

You laugh, knowing that the only thing District 12 is known for are coals. And there’s not many costumes you can be inspired by coals. Hazel smiles at your laughter, feeling instantly better. It’s a sound she hasn’t heard since the forest, as if a piece of home has been brought back to life. Although the room is cold and metallic, there’s warmth in between the two of you. 

Her gaze lingers on your transformed appearance. With the grime and dirt from the District rubbed off, you seem so fragile, so innocent, so out of place in the cruelty of the Capitol. None of you belong in that arena. And all of a sudden anger rises in Hazel. She wants the Capitol to burn. She wants the Capitol to burn for what it does to innocent lives like yours. 

Your laughter eases and you’re left staring back at Hazel. The forest and the Capitol are vastly different places. Even the silence is different. Back there, it was a pleasure to be silent. Here, silence is almost sickening. Still, your warmth persists.

“I’m serious about winning," You say.  

Hazel holds your gaze. 

“I know.” 

She offers her hand. You take it. And for a long time, neither of you speak. You just breathe and cling to each other, lost in a moment that's become heavier with your words.

There is a brief pause before the full effect of everything comes barreling towards Hazel. She ignores it.

Instead, Hazel thinks about dying.

Next Chapter: Anger

(Guys I don't know how a taglist works so just comment "Tag me next chapter or" "tag me in all upcoming chapters" on THIS POST if you want to be tagged ok???)

@vster0769 @milktea-academia <333

[kremlin]

could you explain for the "it makes the game go faster" idiots like myself what a GPU actually is? what's up with those multi thousand dollar "workstation" ones?

ya, ya. i will try and keep this one as approachable as possible

starting from raw reality. so, you have probably dealt with a graphics card before, right, stick in it, connects to motherboard, ass end sticks out of case & has display connectors, your vga/hdmi/displayport/whatever. clearly, it is providing pixel information to your monitor. before trying to figure out what's going on there, let's see what that entails. these are not really simple devices, the best way i can think to explain them would start with "why can't this be handled by a normal cpu"

a bog standard 1080p monitor has a resolution of 1920x1080 pixels, each comprised of 3 bytes (for red, blue, & green), which are updated 60 times a second:

~3 gigs a second is sort of a lot. on the higher end, with a 4k monitor updating 144 times a second:

17 gigs a second is definitely a lot. so this would be a good "first clue" there is some specialized hardware handling that throughput unrelated the cpu. the gpu. this would make sense, since your cpu is wholly unfit for dealing with this. if you've ever tried to play some computer game, with fancy 3D graphics, without any kind of video acceleration (e.g. without any kind of gpu [1]) you'd quickly see this, it'd run pretty slowly and bog down the rest of your system, the same way having a constantly-running program that is copying around 3-17GB/s in ram

it's worth remembering that displays operate isochronously -- they need to be fed pixel data at specific, very tight time timings. your monitor does not buffer pixel information, whatever goes down the wire is displayed immediately. not only do you have to transmit pixel data in realtime, you have to also send accompanying control data (e.g. data that bookends the pixel data, that says "oh this is the end of the frame", "this is the begining of the frame, etc", "i'm changing resolutions", etc) within very narrow timing tolerances otherwise the display won't work at all

3-17GB/s may not be a lot in the context of something like a bulk transfer, but it is a lot in an isochronous context, from the perspective of the cpu -- these transfers can't occur opportunistically when a core is idle, they have to occur now, and any core that is assigned to transmit pixel data has stop and drop whatever its doing immediately, switch contexts, and do the transfer. this sort of constant pre-empting would really hamstring the performance of everything else running, like your userspace programs, the kernel, etc.

so for a long list of reasons, there has to be some kind of special hardware doing this job. gpu.

instead of calculating every pixel value manually, the cpu just needs to give a high-level geometric overview of what it wants rendered, and does this with vertices. a vertex is very simple, it's just a point in 3D space, for example (5,2,3). just like a coordinate grid on paper with an extra dimension. with just a few vertices, you can have models like this:

where each dot at the intersection of lines in the above image, would be a vertex. gpus essentially handle huge number of vertices.

in the context of, like, a 3D video game, you have to render these vertex-based models conditionally. you're viewing it at some distance, at some angle, and the model is lit from some light source, and has perhaps some shadows cast across it, etc -- all of this requires a huge amount of vertex math that has to be calculated within the same timeframes as i described before -- and that is what a gpu is doing, taking a vertex-defined 3D environment, and running this large amount of computation in parallel. unlike your cpu which may only have, idk, 4-32 execution cores, your gpu has thousands -- they're nowhere near as featureful as your cpu cores, they can only do very specific simple math with vertices, but there's a ton of them, and they run alongside each other.

so that is what a gpu "does", in as few words as i can write

the things in the post you're referring to (V100/A100/H100 tensor "gpus") are called gpus because they are also periperal hardware that does a specific kind of math, massively, in parallel, they are just designed and fabricated by the same companies that make gpus so they're called gpus (annoyingly). they don't have any video output, and would probably be pretty bad at doing that kind of work. regular gpus excel at calculating vertices, tensor gpus operate on tensors, which are like matrixes, but with arbitrary numbers of dimensions. try not to think about it visually. they also use a weirder float. they're used for things like "artificial intelligence", training LLMs and whatever, but also for real things, like scientific weather/economy/particle models or simulations

they're very expensive because they cost the same, if not more, than what it cost to design & fabricate regular video gpus, but with a trillionth of the customer base. for every ten million rat gamers that will buy a gpu there is going to be one business buying one A100 or whatever.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ disclaimer | private policy | unsubscribe

[paint-n-thinner]

Played the remaster for almost eleven hours and got 75% done with it and i have to say its been very good so far!

Almost a 1:1 recreation of the original epic mickey, except for the new stuff which adds to the experience. I'll miss the gritty-ness the original had, but i can't lie and say that UE doesnt make the environments gorgeous.

Only crashed twice, but jury still out if it was the game or my pc since it said it was a graphics card error. Restarted my pc and smooth sailing all the way, settings on max and no lag spikes nor dropped frames.

Gotta say one of the funniest changes were the cutscenes of Gus teaching Mickey how to use the sketches. Idk why but i thought they would reanimate the 2D cutscenes to reflect modern controllers since in the og Mickey is very visibly holding a wii remote, but no! They just erased the wii remote, and thats it so you can just see Mickey flailing his arms and its extremely obvious that he's supposted to be holding a wii remote LMAO. Not to mention the times the screen is just the green of the chaulkboard empty, like how hard was it to add a diagram of a ps5 controller or whatever. Just very silly to me and it made me laugh so hard XD

[minaturefics]

Alive & Alight

Request/prompt from @tolkien-fantasy: Aragorn or Eomer x Reader but the reader is a disabled girl who can't ride horses because of her illnesses, so she becomes a leatherworker who makes saddles instead because that's the closest she can get to working with horses. She gets commissioned by Elrond/Theoden to make Brego or Hasufel a saddle and they fall head over heels for her.

A/N: It's... finally here... idk why I even try to limit myself to <3k words when things just always overflow. I tried to keep the disability vague, and based it on my understanding from a relation of mine. If anything comes off as problematic, please lmk. Hope you all enjoy it!

Eomer x disabled!Reader

Fem reader

Content warnings: Non-graphic/detailed mentions of chronic pain

5.5k words

---

The evening sun streamed through the windows into the workshop, casting long rectangles of orange across the workbenches. The sweet, earthy scent of leather lingered in the air above the sharp tang of metal. You rocked the head knife, slicing through the buttery leather. Pain shot through your body and the blade clattered to the table. 

Across the room, Deormund looked up from his work, a frown on his face. His dark blonde hair was pulled up in a haphazard bun and stray strands brushed the top of his shoulders. He was burly and stout, but his brown eyes were gentle. “Girl, are you hurting again?”

“I’m alright, sir.” You stretched and shifted in your seat. “I just want to get started on this saddle before we finish for today.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and shook his head. “You’ve had enough.”

“But—”

“There is no nobility in unnecessary suffering, girl.” He laid his awl down and crossed the room. “Come, you should rest.” He ushered you over to a small table in the corner and lifted the cloth covering a basket of bread. “I’ll finish up the cutting.”

You tore off a piece of bread and stared out the window. Horses trotted by, their heads bobbing and their tails flicking. How beautiful they were, with their braided manes and glossy coats. You eyed the riders, just some simple merchants riding back to their villages, and your chest tightened. If only you were able to ride, if only your body did not ache so. 

Your eyes wandered to the plains just visible through the thatched roofs. Oh, to ride unhindered through the grass, to feel the sting of the wind, to go wherever your heart desired. You sighed and comforted yourself with the knowledge that you still had the pleasure of working with horses in your craft. You could make them beautiful saddles, comfortable for both animal and rider, could see your work on the backs of the most noble horses.

Voices approached the workshop and your eyes drifted to the entrance.

“Uncle, this is unnecessary.”

“Eomer, it is time for a new saddle.”

“I do not see what is wrong with my own.”

“It is… plain. Future kings do not ride on unadorned saddles.”

Your eyes met your mentor’s and your heart sped up. The prince and the king? You tossed the half eaten bread back in the basket and replaced the cloth just as they entered the workshop. They were dressed in their formal tunics, the gold embellishments glinting against the rich green velvet. Theoden was grinning, but Eomer’s lips were pressed in a hard line. 

“Your highness,” Deormund tugged his dirty apron off and bowed deeply. 

You forced yourself to stand, wincing as you did so. You managed a short curtsey before the dull throb of pain began to grow. 

Theoden gestured at the rickety chair. “Please, sit. I understand that you suffer from an illness.”

Eomer’s eyes drifted over to you and your breath hitched in your throat. He seemed to fill the room in a way that was not evident when you saw him from afar. He was tall, taller than his uncle, and his broad frame seemed to make the room smaller. His gaze fixed you where you stood and for a moment all you could do was stare back into his hazel eyes.

You glanced away, willing your heart to slow, as you lowered yourself back down.

What were they doing at the workshop? It was rare of the king and his family to personally visit merchants and craftsmen. Was it the saddle you had made for one of the Marshals of the Riddermark? Were they dissatisfied? Your fingers twitched on your lap, wishing you had one of your tools to fiddle with. 

“I’ve come to convince my nephew to have a new saddle made.” Theoden shot a look at Eomer. “I thought perhaps if he saw the level of craftsmanship that went into the saddles you make he would be won over.”

Deormund nodded and walked over to the bench where the half-finished saddles sat. “These are all hand-carved by our young lady over there.”

Eomer’s eyes met yours again, intense but with a spark of curiosity in them. He joined Deormund by the bench and cast his eyes over the saddles. You fidgeted with your thin apron. Would they be to his liking? To have one of your saddles on the horse of the prince, the future king of Rohan… It would be an honour of the highest regard, one of the greatest compliments to your work and skill. You swallowed as you watched his face. 

His brows slowly relaxed and his jaw loosened. He reached a hand out and traced the ridges and grooves of the pattern. “These tell a story,” he muttered, voice full of wonder. “A woman’s journey across the plains, an encounter with another, injured. Caring, healing, building a home together.” He looked at the next one. “And this, of a young boy and his father, from travelling merchants to wealthy shop owners.”

His eyes cut to yours and you nodded. “Horses are the centre of our people. I wanted to pay homage to the way they serve us, the way we work with them. They carry more than just our bodies on their backs, they carry our lives, our stories.”

He held your gaze, his hazel eyes alight with something you could not name. 

“Alright,” he said, eyes never wavering from you. “A new saddle, I’ll agree to it. But only if it’s you.”

-

Eomer paced his rooms, a frown on his face and his hands behind his back. Candles burned around the space, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The air was filled with Eowyn’s perfume, lavender and some Gondorian flower he could not place, and under that, something familiar and comforting that reminded him of their parents.

The last few days had brought back memories he did not know he had.

He had spoken to you about his life as part of your work for the saddle. The memories and stories had come slow and stilted at first, but encouraged by your soft eyes and smiles, they began to unspool and unfurl. His mother’s hands covering his as they stroked the horse, his father’s booming voice as he acted bedtime stories out, racing Eowyn on ponies across the fields. 

You had sat there, hands folded on your lap, still and attentive, listening. Once again, he had been struck by how beautiful you were. When he had walked into the workshop and set eyes on you, his stomach had fluttered and flipped. Framed by the window, illuminated by the evening sun, you looked glorious, at home among the leather and tools. 

“Daydreaming again, brother?” Eowyn said as she walked into the room and settled on the cushioned bench. 

He clicked his tongue at her. “Do not tease me so. I was not daydreaming, I was… thinking.”

Eowyn snickered. “About the young lady who makes the saddles?”

His cheeks burned and he turned away from his sister. “She is… intriguing.”

“How so?”

“Have you seen her work? It is a marvel how she manages to bring stories to life on the leather. Her carving is so intricate, it is nearly unbelievable.” He spun to face her. “And when she speaks of her work, she comes alive, shines almost, like the Entwash on a summer’s day. And when she smiles, I —”

His sister laughed. “Brother, I dare say you are smitten.”

He grumbled and looked out of the window. Could anyone fault him, truly? He was surprised there was not a line of suitors lingering outside the workshop or your home. 

Homes and shops dotted the hill of Edoras, flowing down from Meduseld. Little squares of light vanished into the distance and darkness and he gazed out wondering which one of those squares might have been yours. Were you whiling your evening away on your own, or was there another beside you, holding your hand, enjoying your smiles?

His stomach clenched strangely at that thought and he whirled around to face Eowyn. “How goes your project with the healing houses?”

“Well enough. The building you have allotted us is more than sufficient. Our apothecaries are not as well stocked, but the women are well trained.” Her eyes softened with understanding. “Uncle has told me she suffers from a chronic hurt. There is not much we can do, but I will be able to brew a tonic to ease the pain a little.”

“I would be most grateful,” he muttered. He sighed and joined his sister on the bench. “I am seeing her again in a few days. She has sketched out a design, I think. She wishes for me to look over it.” 

“Are you nervous to see her?”

He scowled at her. “I am not nervous. I am simply… eager to see what she has come up with.”

“And I suppose your now regularly washed and oiled hair has no relation to your meetings with her?” Eowyn bit back a smile.

Eomer’s eyes darted back to the window. “Nothing at all.”

-

The late afternoon sun poured over Edoras and the thatched roofs below you gleamed gold. A cool wind swept through the small garden, tossing your hair and tickling the back of your neck. You leaned back against the cushions spread on the stone bench, idly playing with the glass vial he had given you, while he looked over your sketch.

“I feel as though something is missing,” he muttered. “Here, in the later sections.”

You leaned over and peered at the sheets of paper. It depicted the victory at the Black Gate, his reunion with a healed Eowyn, his return back to Edoras. The last panel showed him with his uncle and sister, standing in front of The Golden Hall.“I have never been to Gondor or seen Minas Tirith. Is there something wrong with the way I’ve drawn them?”

“I am not sure. Perhaps there is some part else that also needs to be included.” He handed the parchment back to you. “But the earlier panels are perfect. My parents, my family… you have brought their memory alive.”

You gave him a smile as your fingers tightened around the paper. You looked at the figurines, at the vistas and buildings you had drawn. “I can start on the first few sections. Then perhaps in time what is missing will come to you.”

“May I keep them? Reviewing them might help, I think. And I can show Eowyn as well.” You nodded and he rolled the papers up.

He hummed and looked out at the fields. You followed his gaze and tried not to focus on how his knee was pressed against yours. You could feel the warmth coming off him, could smell his scent of leather and sandalwood.

You thought back to the last couple of weeks, to the hours spent talking to him. There was a fire to Eomer, a passion that seemed to overflow from him, and when he told his stories, he told them with a fervour that roused your spirit. It was no wonder then, that he was one of the Marshals of the Riddermark, no wonder how so many were willing to leave with him when he was exiled. 

But there was also a softness to him, a tenderness underneath it all. In the quiet of the evening, by the light of the fire, he had told you stories of his parents and his sister. How they used to terrorise the servants in the house, how they would spend time braiding each other’s hair, how their parents would take them around the villages and towns, acquainting them with their people.

It seemed that he drifted closer to you with each visit. The first time he had sat opposite you, his heavy desk like a wall between the both of you. But soon he sat in the next armchair over, and then some visits later he chose to share the cushioned bench by the window with you. The front of his knees would graze yours, or his hand would rest just a reach away.

You had heard from the gossiping maids at Meduseld that he was yet to find a partner. How was it possible that a man like him did not have countless betrothal offers and arrangements? For a time it seemed as though there were always princesses or noble ladies coming to visit Edoras, especially after Eowyn’s marriage to Faramir.

They were all regal and graceful and soft.

Eomer cleared his throat and turned back to you. “My lady, I was wondering if you had some time to spare after this.”

“I do. Would you like to discuss the design more? Or maybe look over the different leathers that we have?”

“No, ah, I was hoping you’d like to join me for dinner.” His cheeks tinged pink. 

“Dinner?” Your finger tightened around the vial. What a strange thing to ask of you. It was not very common for the royal family to invite mere craftsmen and merchants for dinner. Perhaps he was just being polite since the evening was drawing near and he had taken up any time you would have had to prepare a meal.

It had been a long day; carving in the morning and sketching in the afternoon. Your body ached, and you longed for some rest. But Eomer’s eyes were so wide and hopeful, his slight smile so shy and boyish. “I… Um…”

“I understand if perhaps, I am aware you have been quite busy today, if another evening, or morning, would suit you better…”

You smiled at him. “Perhaps in a day or two? I am quite weary today.”

“Of course, of course.” He nodded, a smile growing on his face. “Simply let me know and I shall clear my schedule.”

-

Eomer fiddled with the reins in his hand as the carriage moved towards the small grove by the Snowbourn. There was still an hour or two before sunset and the river glittered in the strong sun. The air was cool and carried the fresh scent of dirt and grass, and subtly, from you just beside him, a smell of cloves from the balm you used on your muscles and joints.

It had been over a week since he last saw you. Your message had come the day after he saw you, deferring the dinner invitation, citing some urgent work that had come up, and he had been left anxious that you had changed your mind. He nearly drove Eowyn mad with his questions and doubts, and more than once she had chased him out of Edoras, telling him to go for a long ride. 

But then your message had come a few mornings later, and he was left scrambling to prepare what he had envisioned in his mind. You had mentioned before how much you adored horses and how much you wished you could ride. It had been some months since you were last out of the city, when you and Deormund went to source some leather from the neighbouring town. 

He had made certain to load the carriage seat with cushions, to bring a basket of fresh berries and cheese, to plan a path near enough to the city should you wish to return, but far enough that his horse could run unhindered. Everything to make you comfortable, everything just so he could spend some time with you away from the chatter and noise of Edoras.

Just you and him, alone. 

He froze in his seat. Was it not proper to do such a thing? Was there some parent he needed to ask permission from? Or even then, were you willing to be alone with him in such a setting? Bema, he should have thought about it more, but from the moment you had accepted his invitation that afternoon his mind had run away with plans and ideas. 

He fought the urge to glance at you beside him. Did you simply accept his plan because he was a prince? Perhaps you did not actually wish to come out with him, perhaps you simply felt obliged. Eowyn has berated him more than once about his forwardness and rashness. Perhaps he had overstepped without even realising. 

“My lord?” you asked, and he allowed his eyes to dart to you. “Is anything the matter? You have gone stiff and quiet.”

“I was simply thinking.”

“What troubles you?”

He tugged on the reins and slowed the carriage to a halt. He turned in the narrow seat to face you. “My lady, do you truly wish to be here?” You frowned but he continued. “I do not wish for you to feel obligated to… to… accept my invitations simply because I am a prince. I would not wish to —”

You reached for his hand but your fingers curled away. You shook your head. “I feel no such thing. I assure you, I… I do wish to be here.”

His heart sped up. “Well, I am… yes, I… I am glad to hear it.”

“Now, let us go. I wish to stop by the river.” You grinned at him and his chest loosened. “But perhaps… we could go faster?” Your smile turned shy and you glanced away. “I relish the rush of wind in my face, the sight of the land hurtling by.”

“Then perhaps you should take the reins.” The worn leather sat in his open palm. 

You reached out, your fingertips grazing his skin, delicate and feather-light. Your hand curled around the reigns and your smile turned sly. “Are you certain? Deormund never lets me with the reins for fear of his life.”

He laughed. “My lady, I have much experience with Eowyn’s wild steering. I beg you, do not hold back. Go as fast as you please.”

You tugged on the reins and clicked your tongue, and before he knew it, he was thrown back in his seat as you laughed above the roaring wind. 

-

You knocked the mallet against the decorative stamp, shifting ever so slightly across the smooth leather. Mountains materialised over the plains, rising above the ocean of grass. You sighed, thinking about the evening out with Eomer racing wild across the fields. It had been exhilarating, the trundle of the carriage, nearly flying with the speed of Firefoot. And afterwards, windswept and giddy, he had taken you home. 

You thought of how he lingered in the low light of the lantern hanging by your front door, his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed. How he wished you goodnight, his voice low and his gaze alight with something you had not seen in his eyes before.

“Girl,” Deormund said, and you looked up. He glanced away and down at the piece of leather he was working on and fiddled with his knife. “It might not be my place to ask, but that boy…”

“You mean… the prince?”

“Yes. That boy.” He grumbled something under his breath. “Listen child, I am not one for gossip and rumours but even I cannot escape the words flying around Edoras at the moment.”

You flushed a little and glanced away. Deormund was the closest thing you had to a parent, and the weight of his words caused your stomach to turn. Did he disapprove in some way? Was it perhaps affecting the business? “Is something the matter?”

He cleared his throat and you hazarded a glance at him. His face was impassive but his eyes were concerned. “Do you truly care for him?”

Your fingers traced the outlines on the leather idly. “Yes. He is a good friend to me.”

“A friend…?”

You sighed and threw your hands up. “Yes, a friend. I do not know why you prod and poke me so. You are a practical man, sir. Of all people I’m certain that you understand that he and I will be nothing more than friends.”

Your chest tightened as the words left your mouth, the reality of it suddenly tangible in the air. You deflated in your chair, body protesting at the sudden movement from before. 

“Girl —”

You shook your head. “There is no use in it. I know the work we do is important, held in high esteem even, but we are still craftsmen. And craftsmen are not equal to princes. Eomer will find another, and she will make a fine queen for him one day.”

You looked at the panel you were working on. It was one of the last ones, and after the saddle was finished, there was no reason for you and him to keep meeting. Yes, Eomer will find someone else, and all that will be left for you will be the ghost of the memories. Would he bring her into the workshop and commission a saddle for her? Will you have to watch as he gazed upon her with love in his eyes?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to push you. It is just… You have seen happier these past few weeks. I thought perhaps I would have to find a new apprentice.”

A new apprentice, of course. Even if Eomer did return your feelings, what of your work? Leather carving was not the work of a queen; there would be no doubt that you would have to give it up. But to sit in hallowed rooms, silent and still, forever staring out at the plains, what sort of life would that be? 

You looked around the workshop. It was home, was it not? The worn wooden work tables, the comforting scent of leather, the tools that fit so perfectly in the palm of your hand. 

Tears stung at your eyes and you blinked them away. “Do not worry, sir. There will be no need for that.”

-

Firefoot galloped at full speed. The grass underneath Eomer was nothing but a blur of green. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and dampened the collar of his tunic. His heart pounded in time with his ragged breaths and he tensed his thighs, urging Firefoot to go faster. 

“Enough!” Eowyn shouted as she caught up to him. “Brother, enough!”

He glanced at her. Her hair was wild, streaming with the wind, and her eyes were cold and angry. She was braced on her saddle and he knew she was ready to speed ahead and round her horse to cut him off if he did not heed her words. 

He tugged on the reins and Firefoot began to slow.

“You’re going to run the horses ragged.” She huffed and shook her head. “What is the matter with you?” The horses slowed to a comfortable trot and she drew close to him. “You have been ill-tempered this whole week. Even uncle does not dare to be near you.”

“It is nothing.” He let out a sharp exhale.

“It is that carver, is it not?”

Eomer glanced at his sister. Her gaze had warmed into something soft and sympathetic. He sagged in his saddle and sighed. “Yes. I had thought perhaps… She seemed to like my company, even said so herself. And yet this whole week all of my invitations have been declined.

“She is well within her rights to do so. I am aware she does not owe me anything, but it does… sting somewhat. I do not know if I did anything wrong, if at all. I know there has been gossip circulating. Perhaps she became aware of my feelings and was frightened away? I do not know, and it drives me to madness.”

“Maybe her pain has worsened this week. She simply may not have the capacity to see you.”

“I know,” he groaned. “But in the past she has told me if that is the case. More than once she had rescheduled our earlier meetings. It is unlike her to be so reticent. Maybe I have just been mistaken about her feelings towards me.”

He stared at the horizon wishing he could just ride and ride and ride.

He had never been in love before, not properly at least. There had been little infatuations, charming women who turned his head, but nothing like the feeling that had now rooted itself inside his heart. How was he to love another when you existed in the world? 

Despite himself, he had wandered down to the workshop the day before, just to catch a glimpse of you. He saw you through the window, hunched over the table, working on the saddle. How beautiful you were, your brows creased in concentration, your hands steady and skilled. And when you had laughed at something Deormund said, it took all his willpower not to sweep into the workshop and pull you into his arms. 

He sighed and tipped his head back to catch the cool wind. “The saddle will be finished soon. I will not have any excuses to see her anymore, and perhaps that is for the best. It would be too painful to be by her side and not have her. And she does not need to be burdened with my unwanted feelings.”

Eowyn arched an eyebrow. “Are you certain your feelings are unwanted?”

“I think this past week is evidence of it.”

“It is evidence that perhaps she is… avoiding you. But maybe not for the reasons you think.” She gave a laugh, slightly pained and embarrassed. “When The Ring was destroyed and the sky cleared, there were a few days where Faramir kept his distance from me. He… He thought I would ride out to Cormallen to see Aragorn.”

He blinked at her. “You are suggesting that she is acting in a similar way? But I have not shown interest in anyone but her.”

“I am simply saying that you do not know her reasons for sure. It would do you both good, I think, to speak plainly.”

He nudged her foot with his and gave her a small smile. “I will miss you, sister, when you leave.”

She grinned at him. “We still have a couple weeks yet.”

-

You laid your tools down and swiped at the bead of sweat on your forehead. The second last panel was finished. It showed Eomer’s return to Edoras with his uncle and Eowyn, happy and victorious. You ran your fingers over his carved face and form, unable to stop the small smile from tugging at your lips even as your heart twinged.

Deormund walked over from his station and nodded at the saddle. “You did good work today, girl. Take the rest of the day off.”

You stretched and silently thanked Eowyn for her concoction; your muscles would certainly have been more achy without it. “Thank you, sir. Perhaps I will —”

A shadow darkened the entrance and both of you looked up. 

Eomer stood in the doorway, flushed and slightly out of breath. “Forgive my sudden intrusion. My lady, I wish to speak to you if you can spare the time.”

Your eyes darted from him to Deormund who simply inclined his head. “Is it important, my lord?”

“I would say so, yes. Perhaps we could walk just outside the city gates? But if you are not feeling up to it then —”

“I will go with you.” You stood and tried to slow your heart. It seemed that a week apart from him did not abate your feelings for him. If anything, the sight of him just made you long to be by his side even more. 

You bid Deormund farewell and followed Eomer out of the workshop. The walk down to the city gates was silent, though many openly stared as the both of you passed. You twisted your hands together and kept your gaze fixed on the plains beyond. 

As you passed through the gates, Eomer let out a breath and glanced at you. “Forgive me for taking you out here. I wished to speak to you without the risk of being overheard.” 

You nodded and the both of you paused a few paces from the main road. Simbelmynë waved in the breeze, the delicate blooms rippling where they dotted the barrows. The sun was low in the sky and orange spilled across the land. The end of day bustle and the neigh of horses was just audible through the open gate.

You cleared your throat. “What is it that warrants such a precaution?” You took a breath and readied yourself. Was he unhappy with the saddle so far? Had something terrible happened? Was he being sent away?

“My lady, I hope you will forgive me for being forward, but I simply must know.” He looked into your eyes, beseeching. “Have I offended you in some way? It has not escaped my notice how you have been avoiding me.”

You opened your mouth and then snapped it shut. How could you possibly tell him the truth? It would ruin what friendship you had with him. “I… You have not offended me, I assure you.”

“Then what is it?” He looked askance at you before his eyes trailed over to the barrows. “I know I have not hidden my affection for you well. That much is evident by all the rumours circulating. But if I have made you uncomfortable in any way, please let me know. I shall endeavour to rein myself in better.”

“Affection?” You gaped at him. “You…”

He gave an awkward chuckle. “Perhaps I have not been as blatant as I thought I was. Yes, I am quite fond of you. When you started declining my invitations I thought… Well, if you do not feel the same, please tell me now. I will bear you no grudge and we will never speak of it again.”

Eomer returned your feelings? Your heart fluttered but dropped the next moment. “No, I…” Your voice came out strangled. “I can’t.”

His head snapped up, his hazel eyes intense. “You cannot? I do not understand.”

“My lord, I cannot give up my work.” You clenched your skirts in your fists. “I cannot, I will not sit idle and lonely in Meduseld forever removed from what I love so dearly. Not even for you.”

His frown deepened before his face cleared into what looked like relief. “Is that your only reservation?” 

You nodded and straightened, ready to counter any argument he may have. “It pains me to be apart from you, but it would hurt more should I never carve again.”

A wide grin split his face and he laughed. “I would ask no such thing of you. I have seen my own sister trapped in a gilded cage, withering and wilting. I would not place that on another.” His smile softened and he reached up, cupping your cheek. 

Blood rushed to your face and your eyes fluttered shut. Did you hear correctly? That you could have both Eomer and your work? You felt him step closer and his scent filled your nose. You peered up at him, nearly unable to bear the weight of his gaze. “But… I am not suited to be a princess, let alone a future queen.”

“I could not think of anyone better suited than you. It would be fitting, would it not? That the Queen of Rohan herself saddles the very horses of her people. I know your heart, I have seen it in your work. Your love and respect for our land, our stories, our people.”

“Eomer, I am not… But I am… But what if…”

“Peace,” he whispered, dipping his head as he tipped your chin back. “I will stop your mouth.” His lips hovered a hair’s breadth away from yours, waiting for your permission. 

You gave in to the pull of your heart and surged forward. His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed with a passion that left you lightheaded. He tugged you closer, pulling your body flushed against his, and sighed a little when your hand found its place on his firm chest. 

He drew back to catch his breath and he laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “By my troth, I love you as I live and breathe.”

You giggled, giddy and delighted. “Are you glad your uncle brought you to the workshop now?”

“I was glad the moment I laid eyes on you. Ah yes, this reminds me.” He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a creased piece of paper. He unfolded it to reveal the slightly smudged sketch of the final panel you had given him weeks ago. “I think I have discovered what was missing.”

“Hm?” You glanced at him then back at the paper, a little confused. The scene looked perfect, even Meduseld was accurate down to the patterns that decorated the arches.

“You, of course.” He gave you a fond exasperated look. “Bema, I have never met another so oblivious.”

“Oh.” You laughed and pressed your face into his chest. Your feet ached and you leaned a little bit harder on him. “Eomer, may we return now? I am quite weary.”

“Of course.” His smile turned mischievous. “Shall I carry you back?”

“Eomer, there is no need, I—” You shrieked and laughed as he picked you up, his arm under your knees and the other looped around your back. “People will talk.”

He kissed your cheek and started up the road. “Let them talk, then, and let news of their future queen spread.” 

---

The line Eomer says before he kisses you is from Much Ado About Nothing

Taglist: @sotwk

[bomberqueen17]

kitchen colors

so ok it's the weekend and we were snowed in for a week and i've done a ton of unpacking but it's all invisible yay

but dude was making low-key plans for the weekend and i was like NO WE MUST GO TO THE HARDWARE STORE AND GET PAINT SAMPLES

i had to like. drag him to look at the paint chips idk why it was so difficult.

So we haggled and hemmed and hawed and held chips up in various spots and eliminated almost everything I'd brought home. Nothing would do as the accent color. But the wall color... we narrowed it down to Behr's Thai Teal, Celtic Queen, or Bella Vista. Celtic Queen was their pthalo-est green; Thai Teal and Bella Vista are almost the same except Thai Teal is dustier and Bella Vista clearer. Dude felt the cabinets having a dusty cast meant the wall should do, and I strongly felt the opposite. He yielded to my intensity of feeling on this.

But none of the colors I'd picked out were suitable as a trim color to pair with either of the teals or the green, so we'd have to go look. A lime green, perhaps, or a bright orange?

I also felt that painting the bay windowsill a strong color was the wrong choice, so we decided it should be a high-gloss white, but of course a shade of white that didn't clash with the white countertop. Not having a sample of countertop, I instead brought a spare backsplash tile with me to the hardware store, so I could tell what color of white I needed (ugh).

Thus ensued Hell: Trying to pick which of the hundred colors of white would match the tile without being too obviously not-white (which would clash with the white-white plastic of the electrical outlets and the plastic window frames, which I am not painting. The outlet and switch plates are getting painted or replaced with something decorative, sure, but the actual bit you put the plugs into is staying as it is, I'm not painting that shit). But, fortunately, Dude comes of graphic designer types, and came through for me.

[image: a man's hands, holding a white subway tile and several basically-white paint chips, in front of a hardware store display of paint chips in every shade imaginable of white, beige, black, or gray. This is my idea of hell.]

We tried lime green with the teal. It looked banger as fuck, but the only problem was, it also looked exactly like a really classic IKEA duvet cover pattern from about 2000. I could not paint my kitchen to look like the duvet cover Dude had when we met. That is not going to work out, psychically.

I picked a brilliant orange, and also hated it. It looked like... the 1970s. it looked. Too much. It popped but like, in a slightly upsetting way. it was giving Miami vibes, in an early-90s kind of way.

I dithered, and finally Dude went and picked a less red orange, in fact called Joyful Orange. That looked much better, and I got sample pots of Joyful Orange and Bella Vista to take home. (They are SEVEN DOLLARS each can you believe. Ah well.)

[image description: In the center of the photo, a section of wall trim is painted bright yellow-orange, next to a section of wall painted deep teal. To the right, a blue-washed cabinet corner, the white tile backsplash, and a section of counter with the tea kettle on it; to the left is the paler yellow in the distance of the living room, with a bunch of blurry stuff piled in the middle of the room.]

It's. Sort of parrot colors? But it's bright and it's bold. I like it in every lighting situation. So I think this is what I'm going with.

And then for the outlet covers, I got one lighter shade of turquoise, and then dug out my craft paints. I bought a couple of spare outlet covers at the hardware store-- forty-eight cents apiece? I'd be crazy not to-- lightly buffed them with some fine sandpaper, and went to town. This is just the first layer, once it dries I'm going to go back over and try to add realistic veining and like metallic glitter and such to make them look like turquoise gemstone material.

[image: lying on a crinkled paper towel, a US-style outlet cover is mottled in shades of turquoise paint, in an irregularly-textured pattern.]

Ah maybe I should do a layer of clear coat and then do the veining? We'll see. I'm not sure.

[wannab-urs]

In The Next One

Summary/Warnings: Dieter thinks you’ve been together in every past life and he’s lost you every time. Vague-ish smut. There’s a thing with a knife, but no actual slicing lol. Graphic and explicit descriptions of mental illness, drug abuse, etc. Dieter does mild self-harmy things. Implied biting hard enough to break skin during one scene? And as always with my poor dieter baby, suicidal ideation… and more? Idk just be fucking careful with this one. Love y’all. (WC: 1550)

A/N: I went to a Boygenius concert and became immediately obsessed with We're In Love, Lucy's song about Julien. The whole past lives... to be known is to be loved... just the whole general vibe. It immediately made me think of my baby Dieter so here we go.

Series Masterlist | Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Isn't it enough that we stripped down to our skin? Cold and porcelain like bathers in a painting

Dieter wraps his arms around you from behind. You’re chopping an onion to make dinner. He slips his hands on top of yours, holds the knife in your hands and chops with you. You tilt your head into his where it rests on your shoulder affectionately. You let him guide your hands for a moment. He keeps his grip on the knife, but drops your left hand, guides the knife to his left palm. You freeze, forcing his hands to stop.  

“Woah, Dieter. Babe. Stop. What are you doing?” 

“Blood Oath.” 

“Like that weird movie we watched? Son of Rambow?” 

You pull the knife from his fingers, set it on the cutting board, wrap his arms back around you. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “Like Son of Rambow. Just want you to know how much you mean to me. Want us to always be connected.” 

You turn to face him, press a thumb into both cheekbones. Your eyes burn and so do his, crying onion tears. You press a kiss to his torn lips.

“We don’t need that.”

 “You could ruin me, you know that? I don’t know if I can ever be without you.”

He pulls away from you. Fidgets with the rings on his fingers. Digs a hand into his hair and tugs hard. You step right back into his space, pull his hand out of his hair and right back around you.

 “Hey? Made for you. Remember?” You press your lips into his scruff covered jaw. Gently smooth his hair back out. Slip your hands over his shoulders and down his back. Pull him so hard into you it feels like you’re trying to mold him to your body. “I’m not going anywhere Dieter.” 

You pull his ugly sweater over his head. Set it gently on the counter. Toss your own t-shirt on the floor. Press your bare chests back together. Let him feel how real, how solid, how corporeal you are. All the way here even when he is not. You keep your bodies pressed together and pull him to the bathroom. Undress him fully and pull him into the shower with you. Forget about dinner and let him fill you instead. 

And I told you of your past lives, every man you've ever been It wasn't flattering, but you listened like it mattered

Dieter taps the ring on his middle finger against the glass mug of green tea in front of him. Chews his lips as he works up the nerve to tell you a theory he has. Something important. You have to know. 

You sit across from him, looking out the window. The park you spend so much time in just visible from your booth. You’re watching a pair of hummingbirds dance around each other. 

“Do you remember the night we met?” Dieter traces the triangle on his forearm instead of looking at you. You drag your eyes from the birds.

“Most of it. We were kind of fucked up, so the details are hazy. Why?” Your finger joins the path he traces on his arm, following just behind. He changes direction so your fingers bump each other at the highest point.

“I think we’ve always been together.” Dieter doesn’t elaborate. You’re used to his non sequiturs. He doesn’t have a train of thought so much as a shipping yard of them. A little maze like. Disconnected. You remember something you said that night. 

“I asked you why it felt like I’ve known you my whole life. And you said ‘Maybe you have.’” Drugs may have made you say it out loud, but you knew then just as much as you know now that you were made for each other. You had always known him, somehow. 

“I think, in all my past lives, I’ve had you and I’ve lost you.” Dieter pulls a piece of dead skin off his lip. Sucks the iron tang onto his tongue. “I think I’ve never known a life without knowing what it’s like to be without you. And I think it’s going to happen again.” 

He knows he’s been getting bad again. He broke your phone. He almost hurt you. He can’t figure out which thoughts are rational and which ones aren’t so he just drowns out all of them with all the drugs he can get his hands on. He isn’t so numb that he can’t see the way he’s hurting you though. He has to make sure you love him. He can’t fucking bear it if you don’t love him anymore. 

You dig a fingernail into wrist, make a crescent shape in the skin. He focuses on the tiny pain, lets his mind still. You press your lips into his palm and settle his hand on your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dieter. If I left you in my past lives it was all so I could find you in this one.”

Will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane? I know what you'll say, but it helps to hear you say it anyway

Dieter paints a portrait of you. He smears the canvas in cerulean, plum, vermillion. Vibrant colors that match your aura. You find him at the window, forming the shape of your lips with a thumb, brush between his teeth.

“Beautiful.” You whisper it into his neck. Drag your lips down the column of his throat. He pulls you into his arms, spits the brush to the floor. 

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

You look into his eyes, shining with tears but dulled by so much pain.

“No,” you lie. He looks away from you. A sob catches in his throat. He chokes on it. He knows he’s insane, knows he should try the hospitals again, knows that wouldn’t work. It never does. 

You pull him to the bedroom. You kiss the tears off his cheeks. You strip each other bare. You press your love into his skin with your lips, tongue, teeth. With your fingers and hands. You kiss him so hard it hurts. He slowly responds to your touches, the dull ache in his eyes fading to something deeper, open, vulnerable. He pushes inside you and stays there for a moment, relishing the fact that this is the closest he can be to you. You don’t try to make him move. Just pull him even closer to you. Wrap yourself around him and pull him close. He moves his hips shallowly, barely separating from you at all. Grinding into you. He devours your lips, your neck, your shoulder. You settle your teeth into the space where his neck meets his shoulder. Bite until you taste salt and iron. He wraps a hand in your hair and pulls your mouth to his. Buries himself in you with fervor now. Decides he’ll leave bruises inside you to keep himself there even when he’s gone.

In the next one, will you find me? I'll be the boy with the pink carnation pinned to my lapel

You’re snuggled up on your too small green couch. You’d had a huge argument. You had thrown buddha statues and crystals and incense holders at him and screamed that none of this shit was going to help him. He had to take his Fucking Medicine. 

He’d hurled his empty bottles of hydrocodone and oxycontin and xanax at you, like any of those were what he was supposed to take. Like any of that could help him. He’d dropped to the couch and curled into a little ball, his whole body shaking with sobs as he tore at his curls with trembling hands.

You had knelt on the floor next to him, pulled his hands away, cradled his head in your arms. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers into your chest. “I’m so sorry I’m fucked up again.” 

He buries his head deeper into your shoulder. You think he means he’s sorry his mental illness is acting up again. Or that he’s sorry he did too many drugs again. 

He means he’s sorry he came out wrong in this life just like all the other ones. You were made for him, but maybe he wasn’t made for you. Not this time and not all the times before and he won’t be next time and he can’t fucking take it. 

You climb up behind him. Press his deteriorating frame against you and try to pour all your love into him. Try to put him back together. You whisper to him about how much he means to you. That you won’t leave him. That you love him and just want him to feel better. 

He can’t be better though.

“I’ll try harder in the next life. I’ll try to be okay next time. I’ll be so good for you.”

“I’ll find you.” A promise you seal with a kiss to the crown of his head. If he finds you in the next life, you’ll take him as he is. You love him now and you always will. 

You drift off to sleep with your lips pressed into his hair. His breathing slows and slows and slows. 

I could go on and on and on and I will Go on and on and on until It all comes back

----

Series Masterlist

[sonic-adventure-3]

I accidentally drew the same goddamn pose 3 times lmao. Why is posing legs so hard i always fall back on posing them in the shape of a 4. Also, new freak!! Her name is Jerryjack. More about her + individual images + couple other things below the cut vvv

I don’t think I’ve posted any drawings of her other than her first, but i’ve been drawing rig a lot more like this rather than that first one. More graphic head shape, more upright ears, one eye hidden, mouth hidden by scarf, what have you. I think she looks cooler and is way easier to draw like this, but is a little less sonicy, im sure I’ll find a balance sometime. Rare carrion non-blep, this pose is cool but i did not even try cleaning this up lol.

And jerryjack!! She sucks so bad i love her. They’re Rig’s best friend, known each other since they were kids and learned the trade (killing) under the same mentor. She’s 11 months older than Rig, so she’s about 25ish. She hates consistency, commitment, seriousness, kids, stagnation, compassion, anything boring, and many many other things. She loves anything fun, stirring shit, lying, inflicting blunt force trauma, herself, lockpicking, and money. She’s purely self-interested and does everything she does for funsies. She’s not a part of the postal crew cause she thinks it’s boring and is allergic to commitment but hangs around and ‘helps out’ sometimes. She’s a hitman on her own, and has way more connections through that than rig, occasionally floats jobs her way. Also sometimes places bounties on her when shes mad. Or just cause.

Unlike Jerry, Rig is a very routine and organized person. She wakes up every morning at 6 sharp despite not being a morning person. Miraculously, she and jerry lived together for 2 years and during that time rig ate microwaved oatmeal every single morning and got groceries on tuesdays. All this is to say Rig is very methodical and likes routing and things that are expected. So Jerry lost their shit when rig called them randomly and casually told them that she’s starting a non-euphemistic postal service and also spontaneously took in a couple kids. Naturally, she’s very wary of squabble and carrion, especially the latter. Assassin recognizes assassin, silly recognizes silly, they try to kill each other and then become besties (who still periodically attempt to kill each other). As for squabble, she’s surprisingly fun to interact with, so jerry warms up fairly quick and becomes a truly awful influence on her.

Here’s the first drafts and base. She’s obviously a jackalope but calls herself a hare for some reason. Is part of that reason because i couldn’t think of a pun name other than jack like jackrabbit and ‘jack the jackalope’ sounded a little too stupid for my taste (as if ‘jerryjack’ isn’t stupider)? Ummmmmmm.

Anyway, i decided to nix the asymmetrical antlers cause theres a limit to how much asymmetry i should stuff into a set of characters, carrion’s already got the lopped off ear and etc. the back and tail marking is supposed to emulate ribs

I’m still super duper undecided on jerry’s outfit and colour scheme. Every outfit ive thought up so far feels way too simple or untethered to reality in comparison to the postal crew’s, however i think the postal crew is a bit too complicated (or way too complicated in squabble’s case) and too grounded for sonic, so. Idk what to do abt that. And as for their colour scheme, as seen above her first drafts have the same red and green of the postal crew, but seeing as she doesn’t work with them it’s definitely the better choice to diverge from that. Saturated orange is the most tense and unsettling colour to me so i think it suits her off putting nature, but the white and orange combo reminds me intensely of like. 1960s egg chairs. WAIT and ulala space channel 5. And various stupid tech startup kitchen gadgets. Just generally a combo with a lot of nonthreatening and safe associations rather than the warning sign i want. Idk man i’ll workshop it eventually.

Also, cloak rig. Her previous red coat was stupid. Not sure how much smarter this is but it looks cooler. Still doesn’t usually wear it other than in towns to hide her wings or when it’s cold. Also also this is the same fucking pose again

[yakultii]

@alwayschasingrainbows hi hi thank you sm for all the questions <33 I appreciate u sm ik u accidentally asked on my main but I’m gonna answer them here :))) also thank you for sending ur own answers too I loved reading them and learning more about you and found them super interesting!!!!! <3

1. What is your favourite childhood movie and why?

Strangely I’d never been big on movies or tv as a kid or even now (I want to get more into it now but my adhd still says no) my mum even told me that when I was young she could sit my brothers in front of the tv to be entertained but not me, I’d lose interest hella quickly… probs the first time I got into anything tv related was when I was 10-12 and was invested in the drama of the tv series “dance academy” on abc3 Ive actually met the producer! other than that I didn’t mind a reality show as a kid but then most of that wore off after I studied media in school and we went as live audience to “reality” shows and I realised how set up everything was and couldn’t care less afterward -

If I had to pick any movie that I loved and that still strangely brings me some sort of comfort.. it would have to be the 2010 Jaden Smith Version of Karate Kid ahahaha idk why (well I kinda do there’s lots of reasons but then I’d go on another whole tangent so I won’t) I was like 11 when it came out so I think that can count :) I can weirdly watch it over and over whereas most other movies I watch once and never again.

2. Do you have a favourite book or book series and why?

I talked about this in some previous posts on here but my fav book of all time is “Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine” by Gail Honeyman !!!!! I also am very passionate about “The uncaged sky: my 804 days in an Iranian Prison” by Kylie Moore-Gilbert (the audiobook version narrated by Kylie herself) and fav wholesome series has gotta be the Heartstopper graphic novels!!!! AHAHA again I could go on and on and on about why I love them all individually as they are all VERY DIFFERENT from each other, but I’ll literally be writing like 3 giant essays so I’ll stop myself now!! I will say, while it’s important we consume and love media that we don’t relate to to broaden our perspectives of life, it’s obviously easy to consume and love media that we see a small part of ourselves in and think this has a lot to do with why I love these so much!

3. The colour that makes you happy

Probably a dark green which reminds me of the rainforest:))))

4. Your favourite cereal?

I honestly don’t eat cereal and never really have :,) cereals were kinda demonised in my house as a child (almond mum tings?) but then eventually they weren’t anymore but I never rlly enjoyed their taste - this is such a sad answer but probably Kelloggs sultans bran LMAO. I haven’t had it for years but I rlly don’t mind it … I think it’s probably very different to American cereals cause it’s not sweet … one time I went to an American food store here in Aus and everything I tried taste like pure sugar and hurt my stomach so bad LOL never again I’m hoping and praying that Americans have other food options not featured in this store 😭 cos I understand some of it as a one off dessert but like everyday breakfast omg noooo I hope ur stomachs are ok

5. Your favourite gemstone?

I’m ngl I don’t have a super passionate answer about this one off the top of my head (sorry I’m such a boring person!!) I think they’re all so pretty!!! I gave them a google to try decide which I like most but it’s impossible .. I think I love any of the blue ones!! I’ll tell you one thing I rlly don’t love the yellow topaz cos I’m born in Nov and I see it on everything and I swear it’s the worst one imo like liteeally any other one I love! But I can still appreciate it ig :,)

6. Any activity you liked as a child and do you still like it now?

My biggest pain as a child was athletics!!!! I used to be competitive in 100m, 200m, long jump and triple jump :) sadly I no longer do athletics or compete but my passion for running/competitiveness lived on and by 15 I ran my first half marathon.. but from 17 onwards I got quite sick and was unable to run (minus a few little months of getting back into it over the yrs only to have to stop again) and now I’m 24 and finally getting back into it again.. kinda.. cos my health is still kinda shit but I’ll go for a lot shorter runs a couple times a week and hoping and praying my health gets better so I can proper get back into it.. not to compete anymore just for myself cos it’s one of the only things in this life that brings me joy :) I’ve also always loved taking photos although I’m not professional or anything it’s just been a fun little hobby I guess.. I have a few diff cameras but in currently trying (failing) to save for this new different one.. just waiting for my uni scholarship money this tri bc I’m too unwell to use it to go on a holiday atm I’m gonna use it to buy this camera I’ve been wanting oop :,) I’m a much bigger a fan of film photography over digital but the camera I’m planning on buying is kinda a combo of both eg. It produces images of a similar vibe to film photography but is actually digital so u don’t have to worry about wasting film :) it’s also a point and shoot, super small and can be taken anywhere which is much better than my current digital camera which is bulky and has a million settings idk how to use lol.

7. Have you ever read Lucy Maud Montgomery books?

I was about to say no I’ve never heard of her but then I googled it and saw Anne of Green Gables which I read when I was like literally 8… and as I’ve said in a previous post I never remember what I’ve read even if I read it two minutes ago bc adhd tings but I always remember how it made me feel - and I remember really enjoying it! Maybe I should give it a reread cause I barely remember what it was about :,) as for the rest of her books I don’t think I’ve read any! I love so much that you have a fandom page omgggg I wish I was that passionate about something !!!! PLS PLS give me recommendations if someone were only to read 1 of her books .. okay maybe 2 for now!!!!! I might actually give them a read :)))

Thank you thank you again for all ur kinds words I hope u have the most amazing day/night <33333 I appreciate u a lot!

[ironladders]

okay so you gave us your thoughts on ashrahs outfits, your favorites, your critiques, now give us that same thing but for syzoth. hes got much more so i feel like you have more to work with here too. you can choose to include unused outfits or not

(this answer took me so long to type my god 💀 if this post is incoherent im sorry)

oh do i have OPINIONS on syzoth’s outfits. get popcorn because we will be here for a minute

since syzoth’s been around for so long, i’m just going to go in chronological order here because that’s what makes sense to my head:

while he wasn’t playable until the second game, syzoth’s presence has been in the franchise ever since the first mortal kombat. fun fact: he was the first ever secret boss in a fighting game, being a male ninja recolor with a mix of sub-zero and scorpion’s powers.

there’s not much to say about this one; the arcade sprites couldn’t have much detail, and as mentioned before the male ninjas were all recolors of each other, so syzoth’s outfit doesn’t have much going on. still, i’ve always liked this classic outfit the male ninjas had. it looks comfortable idk.

the outfit he has from the second game is, again, yet another recolor sprite. the only difference here from the first game’s costume is a few minor details have been tweaked & the texture of the green cloth has more detail. i actually think i prefer the shade of green here as opposed to the one he had the first game, not sure why though.

i'd like to see it make a comeback in mk1, who knows. but i wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t since he got his umk3 skin already

SPEAKING OF:

this one is also nice, but it's pretty similar to the the previous costume so i'm really not sure what else to add here. there's lines, i guess.

i actually really like how it looks in mk1 though! the textures are neat & they managed to keep the simplicity of it while still making it look nice. i also think the little cat ears resembling how john tobias drew the ninjas is really cute :)

now, savor those classic looks.

absorb how simple, yet cool they look.

because after mk3 is mk4/mk gold, which has….. syzoth’s worst costume ever:

WHAT WAS MIDWAY SMOKING?

there is nothing good about this at all. full stop. making him suddenly have scaley skin is one thing, but does he have to be ugly??????? because he is so ugly it’s awful. WHY IS HE BALD???

i have mentioned i hate his union of light skin from mk1 but this is ten times worse. just awful stuff, all around

they did this weird thing with his mask where, when syzoth opens his mouth, the mask moves with it, so he doesn’t have to take it off to eat or bite people or anything, i guess. but that’s really dumb to me?????? can he not just take it off like everyone else in these games who wears a mask???? why does he specifically need the open-mouthed stretchy mask?????

WHAT IS GOING ON. HUH????

also i really don’t like how they randomly decided to make the legs of his outfit purple; i get his skin is suddenly green and maybe they wanted some contrast, but come on guys. color coordination for these characters was established very early on, you can’t just throw reptile in purple out of nowhere when he's always worn green😭😭😭

i also don’t like the metal part on his crotch, and the top half of the costume is super boring. like okay sure graphics back then only allowed for so much but come on, do SOMETHING. this whole outfit sucks. burn it immediately like holy shit. mk4 was such an awful time for syzoth in general because not only did he get the ugliest design in mortal kombat design history BUT HE DIED IN HIS OWN TOWER ENDING.

you really cannot get worse than syzoth’s mk4 outfit & i think they realized how bad his design was, because midway redeems themselves in mkda:

i actually like syzoth’s mkda appearance, sure he’s a bit freaky but this is leagues better than whatever happened in mk4.

his default really suits the more monstrous/animalistic vibe they were going for him, and i like how they leaned towards a more lizard-y appearance than the weird human with scales was happening in mk4. lore-wise it also makes sense, because he's supposed to be "devolving"/losing his shapeshifting abilities due to not being around a zaterran matriarch for so long. the outfit itself is also nice; i like the shoulder pads, and the sharp points all over it fit in well with his theme + general villainy. there's enough contrast happening to make each part of his outfit stand out, while also staying cohesive and just generally looking good.

his alternate costume is also nice! they went for a different feel with it for sure, this one gives me "stuck in a desert and forced to fend for himself" vibes... if that makes sense. it's missing his regular color scheme which is.... weird... but at least it's actually interesting to look at and not ugly. i also like the animal skulls being used as armor throughout, like he hunted them down himself & then made sure to use as much of the remains as possible. it's cool!

i also do like syzoth's shaolin monks costume. now that i'm looking at it, the mold here is pretty similar to his mkda default, just with some tweaks? there's more green in the outfit, which i like because of the contrast it creates, and i also don't mind that his face looks slightly more human-ish despite being all scaley. i know i just complained about that for his mk4 costume but that's because he was ugly there (the bandages covering everything also helps. i also really like those btw)

also! i think they should bring this skin back in mk1 because i know it would look good on him. i don't think, i know, because this is his alt in mksm:

you see that??? HUMAN!! sure he's a little teethy, but he looks SOO GOOD in his human form wearing this. i'd really like to see mk1 syzoth in the mksm costume just based on this alone because i know it'd eat. the material is right there i just need nrs to act on it.

following the game release timeline, we get to mk armageddeon, where everyone keeps their appearances from the 3d era (unless you're a character who disappeared for several games and never got new costumes). so there's nothing from there to add. then everyone dies in that game, the wb acquisition happens, and with that comes the mk9 reboot.

and like... idk how to feel about his mk9 default? it's just There for me. i really can't explain why, but there's something about this design that just feels weird to me but i have no idea what about it is throwing me off. it's not an awful design but it's just. boring to me for some reason. also i've never liked how only one of his shoulders has a shoulder pad; it's just a super random asymmetrical element to introduce in a design that is otherwise symmetrical. could at least make it big and dramatic or something but noooo

i DO like his mk9 alt costume more than his default like i LOVE it

DO YOU SEE THE SNAKES WRAPPING AROUND THE FRONT WITH THEIR HEADS STICKING OUT FROM HIS SHOULDERS???? THE OPEN-MOUTHED SNAKE WITH THE FANGS AND TONGUE ON HIS CLOTH???? THE STITCHES ON HIS PANTS???? UGHHHHH IT'S SO GOOD. MY SECOND FAVORITE DESIGN FOR HIM. BRING THIS BACK IN MK1 NRS #PLEASE

the only other mk9 skins he has besides the klassic ones are the unused ones from the concept art.

i.. do not like this. it's a pretty big departure from the vibes his outfits have had the past few games, and not in a good way. he's supposed to be a master of stealth and i'm sorry but i can't see him being stealthy in this really clunky metal armor. maybe if he was a more knight-based character i'd be able to get behind it, but even if that were the case i'd still want to tweak some stuff. like the lack of boots feels weird (i know he's got claws but come on) with how the leg armor just cuts off, and i don't like the mask. idk, i'm not sure why nrs considered this but thank god they didn't go with it

on the flip side, you have the mk9 concept art where he's human and ohhh myyy godddd he's beautiful........

where is heeeeee 😭😭😭😭 i'm in mourning i didn't realize this existed until i started looking for all of his costumes, and i'm genuinely so sad because now this outfit will never see the light of day?????? he looks so good?????? the only thing i would change is the shade of green because i feel like a more teal color would be something they give to hydro or one of the sub-zeros. but other than that this costume looks so pretty, i need it instantly

there's not much to say about mk9 syzoth besides his appearance sadly. i mean, he's there, but i swear to god he doesn't talk a single second in all his scenes in the story mode for some reason. all he did was show up, get his ass beat, then leave. and sadly, this carried on into mkx

his default skin feels pretty similar to his alt in mk9 in terms of silhouette, which makes me wish they'd been a bit more creative with this design, but besides that i like it. i was a big fan of the bones in his mkda alt and it's nice to see some incorporated again into another reptile outfit. it makes me curious if zaterrans have some sort of rituals/traditions regarding bones, but mk rarely elaborates on zaterran lore so #whoknows

my only real complaint about it besides the similarity to his mk9 alt, is that there's virtually zero green in his outfit (which also bothers me abt his mkda alt outfit now that i think about it). yeah syzoth's skin is green already, but it's been shown in games such as mksm that you can have syzoth be a green-skinned reptilian while also allowing his outfit to have a pop of color. there should at least be green accents if nothing else. like his tournament skin!

i want them to bring this back in mk1 so we can see syzoth boobs huh who said that. hahaha!

but yeah i like his mkx alt a lot.......... the little tears in the cloth make syzoth look more roughed up, but that's probably the point. he's existed as the last of his kinda, working for the most heinous of men to try and bring back his species, for years. dude's gonna need to stitch some of his clothes back together lmao. i'm glad they retconned this to be his outfit from the tournament rather than the mk9 one, because it feels less lacking to me.

the only other official skin (besides the klassic) syzoth has in mkx is the kraken skin

i like the concept of this one, i really enjoy when they do fun themed skins like this! my only issue is that the gold plate on his face feels really out of place, especially beacuse he's not wearing anything else? iirc there was an option to not have it, which... thank god lol. i also wish his skin was more green rather than the actual colors they went with, but i can excuse it since a kraken is a more underwater creature.

before i move on from mkx i need to talk about syzoth's concept art because holy shit does it rule

some of these are definitely chops but with the good ones i feel robbed. betrayed. how could they take these from me

LOOK AT THE COBRA SHAAAPEEE

LOOK AT IT!!!!!

and then it looks like they were considering giving him a tail, but for some reason didn't 💔💔💔💔💔 this is awful look at what we lost

zaterrans are lizard people, okay. whether you want to design their true forms leaning more humanoid or animalistic, i'm of the opinion that they should always have tails, syzoth included. again, i feel like they missed out on giving him a tail because it allows for more unique silhouette opportunities

it also seems they were considering bringing back his 3d era outfits, or at least something similar to them, but...... both got scrapped?????????

the second one i guess is more loosely inspired, but it reminds me of his deadly alliance outfit.... i dunno....

i need them to take one of these and bring it back to the new era as syzoth's emissary outfit. it just looks so clean and i know this would bang in modern graphics. the vibes it gives off too would be perfect for a syzoth serving alongside empress mileena. GIVE IT TO ME, NETHERREALM.

if you've made it this far along the post:

sorry

congratulations because we're in the final stretch 🎉🎉 we have arrived to mk1

this is the best fucking default skin syzoth has had in any of these games and no you cannot argue with me. if you were not there when the banished trailer first dropped then i feel bad for you because literally everyone was rejoicing over mk1 syzoth. not only was every single reptile fan happy that he's a good guy & no longer desperately trying to bring his species back, but his mk1 design is flawless!!!!! this is probably my favorite design they've done for him yet because it's so fucking good!!!!

i complained about his mkx default not having any green, and they fixed their mistake becasue he has green in his outfit again. but it's not like an overwhelming amount of green, if that makes sense. i mourned him not having a tail in the previous few games, and while syzoth is tail-less in his human form the loincloth mimicking a tail in the back makes up for it & is just a super smart design choice. i also love the little storytelling elements in his default.... at first glance syzoth just looks like your average masked ninja, but upon further inspection you can point out all the little reptilian motifs in his design; from the tattoos to the silhouette of his outfit, and the scale textures scattered about. not to mention the keys at his hip hint at his role as shang's slave without fully spoiling his storyline in mk1. one time i saw someone say this outfit sucks and i'm sorry but i can't trust anyone who doesn't like syzoth's mk1 default, because again this is arguably the best he has ever looked. nrs did a good job by finally settling the "reptilian vs human" debate that was happening with reptile fans by just making him both!!!! they cooked SO fucking good with syzoth in mk1, which i'm happy about because for years now he was literally one of mk's favorite punching bags. all fans of syzoth wanted was for him to be happy and have an important story role, and he finally got that (even if it cost him a wife and kid and some of his mental health).

i have talked for way too long, and i think i've gone over his mk1 costumes in a different ask, so i will be brief:

uol is ass, only rivaled by mk4. burn them both to the ground

ood has to be one of my favorite looks for him, it feels like something he would've worn in the previous games, in a good way. big fan of the spikes and scales everywhere

i like his earthrealm skin but at the same time he's got to be sweating under there lol. the only thing i actually dislike about it is that i wish they didn't remove his face tattoo but other than that it's great. i really want his jacket

i did not get syzoth's christmas skin because i didn't have enough krystals at the time and it haunts me. every day. this is his only skin i don't have, and i wish i had just caved and bought some krystals for it. look at him he's so cute 😭😭😭 you can tell they had fun with this one. the dumb pointed shoes with bells are hilarious, his candy cane tattoos are really cute, and he genuinely looks like a really silly elf. you also can't tell because his hood is up but they even colored his hair white!!!! im obsessed with the little details on this skin

ALSO WHEN YOU HAVE HIS XMAS SKIN EQUIPPED HIS ZATERRAN FORM HAS SPRINKLES!!! AND CHOCOLATE AROUND THE MOUTHHH which he probably shouldnt be eating bc syzoth canonically cannot stomach human food.

like are you kidding me hello????? he's adorable 😭😭😭😭😭 im so devastated i don't have this skin and that it probably won't come back until winter rolls around again

okay i think that's all his skins? i hope? because this post is so damn long & i think there's an image limit that i've just barely hit at this point. if i forgot any syzoth skins i'm sorry but also i'm at the point where i have got to wrap this up somewhere

in short: love all his mk1 skins except uol, mk4 is the worst out syzoth's had Ever, klassics are great as always, and i need them to bring his 3d era outfits back.

okay thank you for reading, bye

[amphibimations]

Some thoughts about how I’ve been using color in my WH drawings

So I’ve actually been using color pretty intentionally when I design the outfits for the characters, I’d like to talk about my thought process behind some of it!! A note that these are ideas that i’ve been building on as i’ve read the book, so I haven’t always used them consistently and i’m still building on them as i keep reading more of the book.

1) Cathy and Heathcliff always wear blue

In my first comic, I happened to choose blue for Heathcliff’s outfit. Not for any reason, I just thought it looked nice. Once I started drawing cathy, I decided to put her in blue too because having 2 characters in the same color works as a visual metaphor connecting them. After reading the ‘we share the same soul’ part I realized them wearing the same color constantly works even better, and started making a conscious decision that no other character I draw for WH will ever wear blue, to emphasize that the color represents their connection specifically. I also think this color works really well for them because of the color’s association with weather, sadness, nighttime, and ghosts.

2) Edgar and Isabella wearing green and red

This is a thing that doesn’t have that deep of a meaning behind it but i think its really funny. I chose those colors because i had drawn cathy and heathcliff throwing a red and green book that they hate and so i was like ‘haha. They also hate Isabella and edgar. i should do those colors.’ Also i think it worked out because i will sometimes give cathy more of a cyan-blue which is closer to edgar’s green, and heathcliff more of a indigo-blue which is closer to isabella’s red. I do think the colors I decided to use also speaks to how well the characterization of the siblings was written in their introduction, because just based on their first scene I decided red for isabella because she seemed more passionate and intense, and green for edgar because he seemed more meek.

3) Saturation of colors

This one i havent been consistent on, but i’d like to be more so in the future. And its less of a metaphor and more just because of how dyeing clothes works, but I tend to use more saturated colors for connoting wealth. Which is why, when cathy gets back with her new outfit from the lintons, it is such a deep blue, and why i added more brown to heathcliffs outfit and made the blue a bit faded once hindley started making him work. I mean im using pretty saturated colors for all of the characters right now because this is a cartoony style, but if I do make that graphic novel some day I think i’ll be more consistent with this idea.

4) A Mistake

When i was reading the first few chapters I knew going in that there was a ghost in the book, so when Cathy 2 showed up I thought she might have been the ghost at first. So in my head i pictured her wearing white even after i realized she wasnt the ghost. Even though the book SAYS she’s wearing BLACK…. Cathy 2 im so so sorry i robbed you of your goth girl colors i wont do it again. (i know her dress is probably black because she’s in ‘Official 1800s Husband Mourning’ over linton but come on u cant tell me she wouldn’t be goth if she was living in the modern day.)

5) other colors

I don’t really have a reason for the colors of lockwood, nelly, hindley, or hareton. I just thought they looked nice. Joseph wears blacks and greys because hes boring and mean. Idk i do think blue and orange being opposite colors sort of could work to highlight the difference between Heathcliff and Hareton (being put in a similar situation but having different endings). Like i said im still updating these ideas, haha.

edit: another thought i just had is that it would be so so funny to make the color of edgar’s clothes scheele’s green specifically. Get arsenic poisoned, idiot.

[atopvisenyashill]

i think you only hear prophecies that would mean something to you personally, you won’t just see something that has absolutely nothing to do with you. this feels obvious when i say it out loud But.

my proof is that every prophecy the ghost of high heart says in front of arya is something that would affect her if she knew what they were about - the baratheonbowl, where not only does the issue with the crown boils over (a crisis she is aware of, involving her father!) but also Catelyn witnesses it. Then you have the red wedding (i cut all those out of this graphic) that involves Arya’s family, jaqen who arya is friendly with AND the greyjoys when arya grew up around theon, as well as Sansa twice over. This is imo why i’m very convinced Sansa WILL rebuild Winterfell - that is something Arya would care about, that Arya would want to know!

(and why does the ghost of high heart focus on arya? well besides the magical connection that all potential magic users seem to pick up on, i think there’s a combination of the targaryen relation via jon & jenny, plus the fact that they are both survivors of some god awful mass death incident - as the ghost calls arya blood child, she doesn’t want death near her, she’s seen too much grief, etc, you can say the exact same about arya).

meanwhile you have patchface, and while his prophecies are kinda vague, imo they’re all clearly about his own group - the black and green and blue seems to be about the blackwater, the last one imo about frey pies, and the others seem to be pointing towards other stannis shenanigans as well, and much of what he says seems to point to shireen, the person he loves the most, dying a brutal death, though neither Patchface nor anyone else around him seems to realize this.

then you have moqorro, who shares his dragon vision with tyrion - and tyrion is right in the middle of the whole conflict as moqorro says, and is being placed in a position where it’s likely whatever dragon he chooses to back will win…and whatever dragon he chooses to betray is fucked.

melisandre is really a mixed bag - her prophecies are even more confusing than patchface’s because she editorializes so frequently. however, i think there’s a thread in her visions, something she herself points out though she hasn’t realized she’s already hit on the thread: all she sees is snow. i don’t know that jon snow is azor ahai (i don’t believe it at all but i could be swayed that i suppose?) but i do think melisandre is going to become convinced he is, and perhaps will even start some sort of religious movement/schism around this idea, and that is why her visions are so centered on him - not just that she’s purposefully trying to win him over for stannis, but that she’s preoccupied with him because She Feels A Magical Connection Deep Down? and will eventually assume that connection means he’s her promised savior. seeing both his reunion with his sister, the deaths of his rangers, his own death, and bloodraven & bran….idk i think all of these visions are not just about jon snow, not just random visions she’s having, but visions she’s having about herself and jon.

[tbcanary]

haiii uhm. idk if anyone has asked this but what are some of your favorite character costumes/outfits :O

iggy i love and adore you and i love this question. hold on, i have to dig up some images.

okay. i dug up some images. so many, in fact, that i hit image limit on this post and had to trim some things down. let's go through it.

we're gonna just go ahead and start out with dinah lance, the light of my life. this whole post won't be sorted by character, but she's the one i have the most images of, so she gets her own section.

i know people really, really love the short-haired, less effeminate dinah we get in grell's 80s run. i'll get to her! but i'm going to start by saying that her looks in the green lantern/green arrow run are all-time. please consider, if you will, the most fashionable lady in the room:

(i can't include the house robe from snowbirds, but know that i spiritually do count it as part of this post. i hold it near and dear. for now, these two looks will do.)

her long black hair. her little white vest. the statement necklace for her date with ollie. and look, i would include ollie here too, because his outfits in this run are PEAK seventies dad energy, but i don't have the space and i like dinah more, so you get these.

then comes the 80s, when dinah is in her element. short black hair, noir vibes, wearing graphic tees for things like "seattle slugfest." (in longbow hunters, at least.)

she gets some cute looks in grell's run, obviously, but i'm partial to this little skirt and sleeveless denim button-up because it's so very unlike her. she was putting in the work to look cute, and i appreciate it. oliver, meanwhile, looks like fred from scooby doo.

the 1991 run is important because of her extremely high heeled boots with the BIG cuffs around the calves. i miss the cuffs. i wish they would return to me. but the actual panels i think about the most from this run are when she cuts her fishnet stockings and uses them to tie her hair back.

wh. who. i want to know which people in the writer's room decided that was a feasible option. i just want to talk. i can't imagine a less stable hairstyle to go karate-chop some yacht pirates. come on now. but also, she even ties them in a bow? i love her so much. what the fuck is happening.

she has a lot of good looks in birds of prey (1999), honestly, but none of the artists have EVER IN THEIR LIFE seen a woman's chest. not a one. i'm going to go ahead and stick to the two things i love: the fringed leather jacket (iconic) and the long-pants jumpsuit that they did instead of the fishnets.

i don't know WHY they got rid of the fishnets, honestly, but i like this turtleneck situation and the yellow accents. also her communicator necklace on full display <3 she also usually wears a motor jacket OVER the jumpsuit. slay!

(it's maybe a little sacrilegious to like the long pants costume, given that she is so well-known for the bodysuit and fishnets. but to be fair, even when they cut the legs off this suit, she still isn't wearing the stockings. her legs are naked. 0/10 what the HELL.)

sean izaakse deserves his own post and i would not be able to pick out a limited number of panels from his work on green arrow (2023) but i will say i love dinah's new costume, i love the texture on her jacket, and i love that she gets to have the little canary logo on the chest now.

i assume this was more of a birds of prey (2023) design and not izaakse's personal design, but i love how he draws her hair, and she's so short compared to everyone, and overall she just looks good. zero complaints here.

(actually, i do have a few complaints, they just aren't about dinah. one, lian's eyes should be brown. two, ollie should have KEPT HIS HORRIBLE MANBUN, THAT'S MY DAD. and three, mia's cape should still be yellow on the outside. otherwise, the art in this run is perfect.)

speaking of mia.

the art of green arrow (2001) is not like. my favorite art style ever in terms of aesthetics. but hester really, really sets the tone for a lot of these characters through his design choices. particularly mia, which makes a lot of sense given this is her introduction and he did a lot of the initial work with her character.

the thought put into her costuming. she's wearing baggy clothes to contrast with what she wore before she moved in with ollie, she has the hair up in a messy ponytail, etc etc. this mia is everything to me. and i love ollie, too. he looks like a cartoon dad from a nickelodeon show. which is exactly who he is, to me.

we're gonna detour from dc and into marvel for just a second but don't worry we'll come right back. i was really excited when kelly thompson and leo romero were announced for birds of prey (2023) because i really liked their work on hawkeye (2016). it's such a good style for kate bishop, in particular; it feels very youthful and the style just suits her. this is The Kate Bishop, to me, outside of the 2012 run.

(i also really, really like the way dinah is drawn in birds of prey (2023). she's small, she's compact, she looks like someone who's been doing gymnastics and karate her whole life. i could also fit her in my pocket! perfect!!!!)

but yeah okay i mentioned it so i also need to shout out hawkeye 2012. this comic's aesthetics were so fucking on point, and it is one of my favorite ones i've ever edited because it has such an INTENTIONAL color palette and use of graphics like the arrows and bullseyes.

like i know everyone talks about how good this run is but that's because it is LITERALLY that fucking good. the writing. the art. the characterization. ugh. life-changing.

anyway that's enough marvel (for now). back to my hovel. dc.

spiritworld (2023) was so fun. the art is so intentionally drawing on manga and i loved it from the first issue. you can feel the love put into the character design and the color work, and xanthe's cool bomber jacket and undercut is SO essential. this is the nonbinary rep we deserve.

shoutout to cass's look in this comic, too. i LOVE this costume for her. it moves in such a fun and exciting way when she's flipping around and moving through the air, it has a new silhouette, AND it STILL has the bat on the chest. perfect. everything to me. never change.

that being said, i DO have a favorite cass look, and it's these specific panels from batgirl (2000). the style in most of that comic is great, it's super funky and fun, but these were the panels i saw that ended up solidifying in my brain as "oh, that's cass."

also from batgirl (2000) though, i love the funky design choices because they give us things like PEAK takes on stephanie brown's spoiler costume. she's just a fucking blob to me. look at her.

steph has a lot of fun looks, to me, but my favorite will always be the era in like, issues 110-112 of robin (1993), where they gave her a bob cut and big :pleading: emoji eyes.

i do wish she'd had freckles at this time. i know they were a later addition, but i like them. they add character.

unrelated to AAAANY of that, i need to talk about poison ivy (2022). this run is stuuuuuunning. i've only pulled panels of pamela here because i LOVE the way her freak body horror is done, as well as the way her hair is drawn, but the scenery and the textures of this comic as a whole are insane.

even when the story isn't grabbing me, the art does. it's beautiful, it's unlike any other comic i'm reading right now, and it is one of the first comics i ever looked at that made me go, oh fuck, that's an ART piece. ykwim.

HOWEVER. if we're talking about comics that are just. art. through and through. there are a couple others i need to mention.

supergirl: woman of tomorrow is stunning. the colorwork, the hair texture, the EXPRESSIVENESS of the FACES. ugh. this comic made me cry, yeah, but it also made me stroke the pages lovingly because of the beautifully rendered colors.

i love that kara doesn't always look Pretty. i love that she gets bloody, and beat up, and she looks tired and sad and sick sometimes. i love that it is so beautiful and also you can see genuine hurt on kara's face. ugh. UGH. this comic!!!!

now for the indie shit lol. die (2020) is sooooo lovely. stephanie hans is ordinarily a cover artist, but she jumped onto this project to do pages, and my GOD is it beautiful. the character design, the colors, the expressions. it feels like a PAINTING and i want to EAT it.

there's a lot of body horror and gruesome stuff in here. but like, somehow, even that manages to look pretty? i love the painterly textures. i love how the tone influences the colors. it's all just stunning. i need to go reread this one right now, actually.

annnnnnnd! last one, i promise! it's time for THE FORGED (2023).

i love this comic. everyone in it is a lesbian with an atypical body type, half of them are wearing bondage gear, and it's all set in a space sci-fi setting with more lore than you can shake a stick at.

and on TOP of all of THAT. LOOK HOW BEAUTIFUL THE COLORS ARE.

there are a few honorable mentions i don't have room to include images of, so i'm gonna go off and list them now:

the wild west arc of exiles (2012) in that very painterly style

the scenery and background work in wonder woman: the hiketeia

the INCREDIBLY clean lines and sharp colorwork of dan mora in world's finest (2023)

the super sketchy and rough pencil-esque art in the back half of green arrow/black canary (especially mia! i love her!)

i am sorry but i enjoy the very sharp style of batgirls (2022). i don't necessarily endorse the writing or the story of the run, but i think the shapes are good. sorry. take me out back, i know.

young justice (1998) also has very cute cartoony art!! i haven't read much of it yet, but every time i see it, it makes me smile. which is the point, i think?

OKAY. PHEW. do you regret asking me yet, gobby. did you get what you came for. am i welcome to come yell at you about the forged (2023) and die (2020) until the day we both shed this mortal coil and depart for the great beyond.

that's it ily mwah thank you for the best question i've ever been asked <3333

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Introduction Thing Ig... So.. Welcome to the Basement?

(Update due to imbox spam: While I do support Palestine, I DO NOT HAVE ANY MONEY TO SEND! So please do not send me any requests to donate, I don't have a job nor have money (as im just a random kid. All I can say is "I hope you can have a better life than now". So plz dont fill my inbox with donate requests as its only used for art requests & OC based asks/QnA Trash)

(Plz click the read more to see all of the text)

Btw I'm a MINOR, someone who is UNDER 18! SO PLAESE DNI IF YOU ARE A 18+ ONLY OR MATURE ACC!

(Yeh this is a remake of my introduction post, but we don't talk about that-)

So yeh, welcome to this.. place... This is where I store all of my art & whatever I can think of. So, you will expect:

Art (Usually Fandom-based or OC based)

Art WiPs (That of ATs, DTs, & Character Refs)

Meems (Except I'm not funny so don't expect many)

& Stoopid Garbage like my rambles & crud.

(Although reminder that my art can & will be 13+ as it will contain things like g0r3, Cannibalism, & even death, I'm just uncomfy with anyone under 13 actually interacting with me due to my past experience back on Screb... But if you are kind enough maybe I'll let you talk to me, I'm pretty friendly but I do have some problems irl so keep in mind..)

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My Bio (Full):

|| Name: Bubs | Aliases: N (If you know me irl), Neptunia | Gender: Female, She/Her | Age: 15 (I'm a minor, so leave me alone if yur an 18+ only/mature acc) | Height: Blob-Sized, May be a bit chonky lol | Pride: AroAce | Other: Big fan of MO: Astray & an avid enjoyer of Blobs ||

Birthday: December 26.

Zodiac: Capricorn. (I don't take zodiacs seriously though tbh, I just think they're a bit neat to say.)

IQ Level: Moron.

If you know who I am, I'm BuggoBlobs from Scratch (Sadly due to the whole banning fiasco bcs of someone mass reporting me for calling them out on their bs.... Lets say things didnt end well for me..)

So yeh erm... that's why I'm here....? (Well not rlly, I have known about Tumblr for a long time, except I only made an acc this year due to a frend of mine (REDACTED) making an acc on here, so I thought "Let's do the same thing" & here we are)

(Funfact: I'm quite anti-social irl & only have like... 2 irl frends but I only talk to one-)

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My Mascots/Sonas ig-:

Neppy ◆/♠︎/♣︎ (Main Mascot) (You will see her... A LOT, so be ready) (Her Ref & TH Page)

Bubs (Design coming soon) ◆ (This is my persona/irlsona btw)

JJ Sam Green ♣︎/♠︎ (Mascot) (His Ref & TH Page) (TW: Can contain sensitive info) (You can also see his full ref here)

Jayden/Greeny ♥︎/♣︎ (Mascot) (His Ref & TH Page)

(Symbol Meanings: ♥︎ = Comfort. ♣︎ = Favorite. ◆ = Sona. ♠︎ = Just think they're neat lookin.)

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Content warnings!

G0r3/Bl00d

Cannibalism

Death

Sometimes horrifying imagery

Semi-graphic descs of charcters.

OC with Scars

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My Socials ig:

Screb (I have 2 accs on there.but one got murked... At least i have a back up ig? Welp. The one that got murked is a archive now so yeah...), Tumblr (Your Here lol), ToyHouse (Where all of my OCs whom I created/put on there exist)

Or you can use my Carrd here. I don't mind tbh. (+ Having a Carrd is much easier to link than all of my Socials.)

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Fandoms (I'm in ig):

MO: Astray (Fave Game)

Hollow Knight

WoF

Pokemon

TES ig? (Idk I barely ever played it-)

(Reminder: Just bcs I sometimes make content about smtn I'm not a part of doesn't mean I'm actually a part of that thing's Fandom, like example, some of my OCs in Fandoms I used to be in/aren't apart of.)

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Some of my original trash (In no actual order bcs I'M NOT NEAT & TIDY!):

Mortal's Curse/Terminal Archina/PoL (Same Universe as AoE/A2P)

Egolandia

Endoterr's Vail (Project Cata nka Oblivion Monroe &

RoTG (Realm of the Gods)

BloopTopia/LoA (Land of Ackezelle) (Aka World of Eeross)

Silver Valley

Soul Seekers

Noirvillah? (A part of a universe owned by my frend Ashe)

KR1T4.EXE

A Stargazer's Diary

MonoVista

And whatever else I have

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My TOS (You will see it a lot in my art-based posts)

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

So yeh, if you my any see a PNS in my drawings, that means it says, "Plz No Steal". DO NOT SEAL MY ART!

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DNI If you do any of these:

Taking my art w/o permission (This includes Tracing, copying, recoloring, or just straight up saying it's your art. Bcs I take lots of time making art & you taking my art w/o permission hurts me) (It will not only matter if it was made for you & only you but plz frikin credit me if you post it)

Being weird to me or my characters/designs. (Just... don't... I'm AroAce (+ a Minor) & that makes me uncomfortable tbh... Look even if I do make a character with a certain body type/looks that's kinda "sus", does not allow you to make weird comments about them at all)

The average hate comments, harassment, bullying, & spamming/threats thing. We all know those 4, right? Just be a frikin decent person for crying out loud. (You can dislike me & my art all you want, idc tbh. Just don't go harassing me on multiple levels to the point IT WILL MAKE ME HAVE A MENTAL BREAKDOWN!) (Also, these 4 count for my frends here. Again, be a decent person. I'm watching you..) (Also, this rule includes nor respecting me, just plz respect everyone with kindness... Thanks.)

Pestering/threatening me to draw you smtn. (I work hard on my drawings + I have a life outside of here, so don't expect me to draw you smtn since I only draw for my frends & myself. If you really want art from me, pay in art, idc how bad the art is, art is art & I have no biases when it comes to it as everyone has their own style.)

LGBTQ-Phobes/Menaces to certain groups of ppl who did nothing wrong but exist. (This is a LGBTQ+ Safe place)

Creeps, Weirdos, & ppl who ship problematic ships. (Like don't be any of those plz... Especially the weirdos who like children or animals WAY TOO MUCH.)

(Edit) Making false accusations/hateful comments of my friends. Be a goddamn decent human being for the love of God or ill have to report you.

(Not strictly but I do get uncomfortable) following any adults only/18+ acc on here. Yeh I just don't really interact with anyone who is currently following a 18+ acc bcs it just.. weird..

Breaking any of these DNI Rules can get you blocked BY ME! So be careful...

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My Mutuals/Friends:

@oregon-or-the-grave (Ashe/Oregon), @mor-meowcat (Abi), @viellohi (Vie), @somepersonyouknow (Mia), @spiasshdown (Splesh).

(4 of them are literally from Screb & only one I know IRL- It's a whole bag of worms lol-)

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Anyways my side blogs bcs I said so:

The Official Mortal's Curse Blog (Ask/RP OC Blog)

My Species Storage Blog (Lore QnA/Original Species Blog) (Originally a Ref Sheet storage Blog)

My MO: Astray AU Blog called Timeline-Breaker (Ask/RP/AU)

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So yeh... Thats its rlly for this post... Hope you enjoyed yur stay, & remember, always stay a goober! Even in the toughest times.

(Art is by me btw, Plz don't take. :( )

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

social media’s in a nutshell, but the people who actually use them.

Twitter: So did I you know your an awful person?

also twitter: Racism, racism, racism, sexism, your best friend talking about a dog they saw, sexism, sexism, homophobia, homophobia, homophobia, transphobia, NSFW art from a mutual, transphobia, transphobia, and then the worst take in the history of worst takes by some 13 year old or maybe it was actually 30 something you can’t tell.

YouTube: “why YouTube has become a capitalist hellhole for anyone who dares speak about anything not consumer friendly: A video essay” 4 hours and 50 minutes long, 40,895 views.

also YouTube: “me and my friend are mermaids btw here’s how to do the mermaid spell! Easy in 1 step!” 26 minutes long.

also also YouTube: “I COMMITED TAX FRAUD AND TRIED TO OUTRUN THE AUTHORITIES CHALLENGE 24 HOUR CHALLENGE PART 1 OF 279” 10 minutes long and has almost a billion views.

also also also YouTube: “beheading” 13 minutes long, with 1,600 views.

ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO YouTube: “HUGGY WUGGY TOILET NAKED VORE?” 20 minutes long, 8 million views.

4chan: be me> sexless loser> finds amazing wonderful woman who loves me for me> she’s fat> keep her until someone else comes> me and her do exercise and eat better> she becomes 100/10> gets married> has kids> love of my life>

also 4chan: ROBOTS, /B/ WE MUST UNITE THIS FUCKER BLENDERED A CAT WE MUST KILL HIM>

THAT (insert string of slurs) WILL GET WHAT’S COMING TO HIM>

FOUND HIS ADDRESS AT 404 CATBLENDER MAN STREET>

AUTHORITIES CALLED I GOT THE RSPCA AT THE HOUSE LETS GO /B/ FUCK YEAH THIS IS A WIN FOR ALL THE ROBOTS LETS GO>

also also 4chan: *the most graphic picture you have ever seen that haunts your soul and your life you will never be the same* hey /b/ look what I found>

also also also 4chan: guys, *insert the most out of pocket slur filled green post you hav ever seen* and that’s why I think (insert minority) are degenerates>

tiktok: *video of hatsune miku dancing with the caption* it’s not okay to encourage ED$ instead be kind and respectful and not be f@tphobic and @blei$t

also TikTok: *a video plays before quickly cutting out replaced with a new one* YOU ARE MAKING PEOPLE UNALIVE THEMSELVES WITH THIS TIKTOK GET HELP TRANS PEOPLE AREN’T GŘOÖMËRS AND PDFILES YOU ARE AWFUL!

also also TikTok: *a video plays of a montage of red and black text* you never saw me as real, you never saw me. I’m going to k1ll myself soon, life is too hard my parents have taken away my ps5 and my phones I am making this on my friends phone. Good bye cruel world.

also also also TikTok: *dangerous things happen in quick succession* “so that’s how you do a deep clean of your home!” comments : girly😭 NO you can’t use 🔥 on wooden floorboards 😰

comments: 💀💀💀 bro’s using chemical weapons to clean her sink💀💀💀

Comments: BLEACH IN YOUR FISHTANK? GIRL ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL YOUR BF’S DISCUS😬

comments: okay you did so many things wrong here and genuinely I’m surprised your are still alive-1

Cleangirly: no it was pretty safe idk what you mean🤷‍♀️

Comments:WHAT DO YOU MEAN SAFE? YOU SET A FIRE TO CLEAN THE FLOORBOARDS?-2

Also also also ALSO TikTok: *a video explaining why if you hate the color blue your a narcissist* yeah anyone who hates blue is a big red flag girlies

Tumblr: “guys penis” 1 million notes

also tumblr: *a long post explaining the intricacies of sexuality, sexism, the queer identity, toxic masculinity, and how colonialism and racism plays into it.* so yeah long post whoops.

reblog: *the most loaded toxic reblog you have ever seen* woman should all be killed.

reblog: *starts out making some form of sense then devolves* ALL MEN ARE RAPISTS AND SHOULD BE PUT TO DEATH NOW

reblog: *a story relating heavily to the post, which makes the original post better by its addition* so yeah some other re blogs are missing the point but you really put my experience into words thank you <3

reblog: *a picture of the tags filled with the weirdest take you have ever seen* Uhh who are you and can you leave tumblr? Thanks?

also also tumblr: gifly the gif, share gifly the gif because look at him *mindbogglingly fast images flash*

Quora: “why is the sky blue?”

answer 1: because god made it that way in his infinite wisdom

answer 2: because *long winded but concise explanation on how it works* I have a doctorate in this subject.

awnser 3: Long story short, it’s not blue it’s the ozone or something.

Facebook: “meemaw want to add you as a friend” *presses yes, anyone you have ever known tangentially appears in the Facebook friends page*

Also Facebook: “Gerald is my husband who I love”

Comments: that’s nice Geraldine, happy anniversary

Comments: *long winded conspiracy theory* that’s why the illegals want to rule the world and destroy us all

also also also Facebook: *random 5minute crafts video* TOP TEN LIFE HACKS FOR COOKING!

comments: oh what an amazing video! -Geraldine

comments: YOU CAN MAKE THE POPPED CORN WITH A COKA COLA CAN?

comments: I am showing this to my dear wife Geraldine. -Gerald

omegle: *video starts live-streaming and you see an older man’s cock* “…” “…” “you 13?” “…” *ends chat*

also Omegle: *you and a guy talk for ages* that was awesome here’s my socials! See you soon friend!

reddit: “why the Reddit mods are power hungry” *it is a screenshot of a screenshot talking about mod abuse.* “REDDIT WANTS US SILENT WE MUST FIGHT!” *deleted post*

also Reddit: “top ten anime wifus in (PEDO BAIT SHOW) and why I’d fuck them”

also also Reddit: “how do you fix a bolted screw valve on a pressure cooker…”

Vine: *5 seconds of comedy*