#someone has probably already made this joke
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I want to talk about Helena’s performance as Helly and her deep rooted misunderstanding of who Helly is as a person. And just in general how I think she perceives her especially after yesterday’s episode.
Helena is incredibly attentive, almost to the point of being terrifying. In the short moments she interacts with anyone, everything in her head is already scripted, calculated, and premeditated. She’s also a great method actress, reacting based on the energy around her. It’s like a stand up comic, constantly adjusting their performance to make sure their actions land. If something doesn’t click, she shifts.
Throughout the past couple of episodes, Helena spends most of her time just trying to go with the flow move with the water, trying to fit in without standing out, constantly monitoring the group and their reactions at every turn. And so far, she was good at it. She can play the part, until her own emotions towards helly start to blind her.
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In these two pics she does a quick scan of Irving’s and Marks faces trying to analyze their reactions
Helena knows the group loves Helly. She knows Mark loves Helly. And honestly, I’d bet every dollar in my bank account that it genuinely makes her want to kill herself. She has zero respect for Helly, and she doesn’t need to. To Helena, Helly, and by extension, the group, are low value. Insignificant. At her highest, Helly is just a worker, a cheap extension of herself created with the sole purpose of just being a good employee to be displayed to the public as a little shining lumon puppet. But shit, the bitch can’t even do that. She’s done quite the opposite. So yeah, not a person to be respected or valued.
This particular disdain (and fuck it, I’m just gonna say hate) that Helena carries for Helly spills into the bonfire scene with Milchick.
While Milchick is reading the story, enunciating every word like a second grade elementary school teacher, showing pictures like they’re in a reading circle, I kept wondering to myself if Helena ever experienced something similar to this as a child. How many times has she heard this same story? Or hell, any other old Kier mythology? Lumon, Kier, the Eagan legacy, it’s all she’s ever known. This world is nothing new to her.
Even though I believe Helena is a loyal servant, she probably didn’t love all the weird shit she had to put up with in her childhood. The weight of the Egan legacy probably suffocates her. But she accepted it either way because that was the life she was given. Unlike fucking helly. Fucking helly who’s forced her into this situation to begin with. In my opinion, all of these particular feelings make their way into Helena’s reaction to the story as Helly, which could only be described as a middle schooler who suddenly thinks they’re too old for camp.
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I saw this post someone made about this scene, and like shit, yeah, that’s probably right. Helena had one chance to shit on the weird religion that’s been shoved down her throat since birth and she took that chance.
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Helena, in this moment, settles for crude, mocking jokes. She probably does this partially out of her own selfish need for Mark’s validation, as well as playing her role trying to fit into the group but I also think it’s a great reflection of her own personal feelings toward Helly. Helly, who would’ve never acted that way. Helly, who is many things, but never cruel. Helena doesn’t seem to understand that. For the moment, Helena takes a step back, flanderizes Helly, reducing her to this cheeky, crude, disruptive little jokester. That’s how Helena views her. With no respect. No nuance. Helly has layers Helena does not care to see. Helly doesn’t just break rules; she actively causes chaos, subverting everything around her. She’s purposefully, and happily, malcontent. A bitch, dare I say, an ungrateful bitch, most likely from Helena’s point of view.
Irving, who keeps testing her, makes her slip a little more. I talked about this a little bit in my last post about severance, but Helena doesn’t take well to being disrespected. She shifts from wanting the group’s (and mostly Mark’s) validation to just wanting to put Irving in his fucking place. These people aren’t equal to her in her mind. They aren’t cut from the same cloth probably not even made from the same fabric. There are levels to this shit, and they are not on her level.
She says what she says. It’s cruel. Mostly, it’s stupid on her part.
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And just like Irving said later, and what I said earlier Helly was many things, but…
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What Helena did at the bonfire was a fuck up. An especially surprising one coming from a woman as controlling and calculated as her. I’m fully convinced all those little mistakes came from a deep frustration within her. Much of that anger, in my opinion, is stewing from the realization that Helly, someone created by her, literally the source of all of Helena’s recent problems, someone who will stop at nothing to take her down, that person, the woman who’s literally locked up inside her, is more free than she will ever be.
Yes, Helena has no respect for Helly. Yes, she most likely hates that bitch. But when she herself is acting as Helly, it gives her the opportunity to almost let go. She gets the chance to essentially kill the bitch that’s been fucking up her life whilst simultaneously getting a chance to talk to this man who cares so deeply for a version of herself she hates, Even if it’s not the most ideal of situations (it’s not), it’s still something. I think, at the bonfire, she reflects on the ridiculous situation she’s found herself. All this shit caused by some other version of herself that she created, that situation plus all the other shit going down at Lumon is probably alot. And it just all bubbles up inside her. And when she’s given even the smallest opportunity to let anything out, she’s going to take it.
Idk it’s therapeutic in a way I guess.
She’s unfiltered, blunt, and almost carefree in a way that’s shocking almost unsettling. It’s clearly how she sees Helly to some degree, but also her own need to scratch an itch she’s never dared to before. And even though it’s an act of “Helly”, it still leaves a clear aftertaste of Helena.
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Keep thinking about these two little moments whilst she’s making her jokes she not only keeps checking on mark’s reaction but also seems to laugh at her self in a way that just seems so genuine almost self deprecating. She acknowledges the ridiculousness of her situation and this dumb ass story she’s probably heard a million times
In my last post about Severance, I mentioned that Helena is the master of speaking her truth without outright saying it. She hides behind walls, but as Helly, she’s free to speak without restraint.
(Also her having sex with mark is a clear way of her expressing this new found freedom with in her role as helly but ima talk about that later)
#severance season 2#severance#helena eagan#helly r#mark severance#mark scout#character analysis because I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS WOMAN.#Britt lower is literally INSANE her acting capabilities are crazy I hope she gets all the awards all of them#character analysis#long post cus I LOVE TO TALK
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𖦹. “𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄.” —(𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐘)
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𖦹. — 𝐬;𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. losing a stupidly made bet has its consequences, it seems. oh, what a moron he can be. although, too late to back out now, is it—dearest whitney? a nice , round 5.0k words.
𖦹. — 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 . . . younger, therefore underclass man whitney who thought it was such a nice idea to suggest a bet, only to lose in the process, ‘first’ kiss, whoever lasts the longest wins, quite tame, actually—in comparison, though it’s mostly unspoken yearning. fat, puppy crush on upperclassman!reader (amab) that may or may not be worse.
𖦹. — 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬, doc? : “I’ve wanted to stretch this on further than intended, but I got something else planned for this fucker, so never mind. I’m not all that fond of this one since it’s quite more heavy on the feelings than actions, but to each their own.”
Alright, so, let’s supposedly say that he’s already somehow impulsively roped himself in an intangible mess due to an irrefutably dumb bet he’s made on the spot with you, none the wiser—of course. Inexplicably caught himself in a sticky, spider web akin to a precarious trap most starving predators would’ve predictably laid bare for their meddling preys to eventually sink into and—would y’a look at that, like the actual dumbass he can seldomly be, he can’t possibly hope to back out now, can he?
No, no, because y’see—if Whitney were to humiliatingly do such an idiotic thing, then surely that’d just be directly admitting to that irritatingly pretty face of yours that you were apparently correct all along. Not that you are, fuck no. Like that’d ever occur in a million goddamn years, you intolerable bastard. God, that being his sole intention from the pure beginning to crudely wipe that frustrating smile plastered upon your. . . ugh, cherry perfect lips whenever the delinquent-in-the-making merely happens to be in your tedious presence.
Or is cruelly teasing him till he’s unabashedly grown hotter in the fullness of his blazing cheeks a conclusive hobby of yours? Probably, considering your blatant sadism when it comes to endlessly poking fun at someone until they’ve inevitably snapped dead in your face before you oh, so innocently claim that it was simply a meaningless joke. Mindlessly shrug the entire ordeal off as if it were meant to be truly nothing more than an obsessive overreaction on his part. Yeah, yeah—motherfucker, well he’s got a precious one-liner for y’a, also.
“Bet I could.” Confidently proclaiming with an overly arrogant tone that you notably took seriously due to the aforementioned circumstances for some unspoken reason. And that, you see—was specifically when the blonde irreversibly dug himself in the depths of a narrow pit which he can’t possibly climb out of now. So, fuck it, alright?? Fuck his sheer idiocy and muddling arrogance that’s shamelessly come forth to screw him over right in the balls for having previously accepted a seemingly doable suggestion.
Uh huh—‘doable’, he said. Cuz’ it’d be so irresistibly, fucking ‘easy’, another moron in his cocky mind chimed along in turn. Speaking of apparently ‘easy’, maybe next time, think twice before actually acting upon your stinging urges to uselessly prove someone else, like your shitty upperclassman, by the way—wrong, huh. Ever thought of that? No, ‘course he truthfully didn’t consider it thoroughly beforehand because it’s Whitney, the stubborn, hard-headed bully of a underclass man we’re namely speaking of here, after all.
Slippery, sliding slope doesn’t truly begin to particularly cut it either, honestly—yeah, he’s gone and undeniably fucked it up, this time for sure. Hasn’t he?
Hence why his clammy palm is currently placed atop your rather. . . uh, firm chest which he’ll never be outwardly uttering out such an exceptionally odd statement unless he inherently wishes to never live it down till the day he literally dies. That is, including this one ceaseless thought incessantly creeping within the remnants of his blurring mind—about how annoyingly nice the dizzying scent exuding from the warmth of your nearby proximity is. Shit, are those your natural pheromones too? Cuz’ he’s already going fuckin’ crazy from a mere unsuspecting whiff like a bitch in heat. Not to mention, the mind-boggling fact of being comfortably perched along the neat spreading of your thighs for his slimmer legs to settle upon, intimately hook themselves around your hips like a delicate lifeline solely intended to be unperturbed for the remainder of this intimate encounter. And no, this isn’t remotely on purpose, goddamn it—get your filthy head out of the gutter, you pervasive freak. It’s not like that, okay? Just. . . give him a moment, pretty please.
And perhaps at best, a generous minute you’d so graciously offer the blonde to discreetly adjust the sweltering heat that’s come forth to prettily stain his face in a similar crimson manner along with its unending path downwards and—well, y’know. . . below, there. Hardening cock certainly stirring with peeked interest at the subtle press of your laidback figure securely held against his own, shit. . . admittedly, smaller one. Sometimes, the considerable size difference shared amongst you two really does get to him in an albeit, fucking degenerative way. Enough so to inwardly curse at how utterly unhelpful that provoking detail was to the pulsing blood swiftly rushing down to his impatient length—hah.
Fuck, there’s no way this is realistically happening, right—but, it is, dammit. All due to prideful banter that may or may not have unreasonably translated to blatant flirting between you both despite his general lack of interest to other surrounding assholes slightly older than him in age.
Listen, you’re just tolerable enough where he doesn’t inevitably blow a sensitive nerve in return to some mild pestering on your end while simultaneously beating his dumb, idiotic self for regarding you in such high esteem—and yeah, that does include the sheer awed admiration visibly apparent in each of his movements. Intricately foolish in every one of his subtle gestures in hopes of successfully imitating your usual mannerisms, coincidentally catch your straying gaze to finally rest upon his uncharacteristically starving own.
Hell, the fucker even went through the irritating trouble of having the delicate muscle of his slippery, pink tongue wholly pierced for the sake of you possibly taking notice of it. Gleaming bud prettily flashing back towards your reflected, half-lidded gaze partially hidden by fluttering lashes, boringly snuffing in light interest at the sudden sight of it all. Taking notice, huh? That, you offhandly did, but merely for a few meddlesome seconds before eventually sinking back into your settled routine, as per usual. Well, said system of vaguely appreciating the sheer extended lengths he pathetically forces himself to endure in an unending pursuit of altering his appearance befitting of the ‘wilder’ types you habitually go for—due to something along the lines of, what’d you say again? Oh yeah, ‘they’re funnier to mess with when they lose their tempers, is all’—sickening asshole that you are, and still, remaining his unchanging crush nonetheless.
Although, whether or not he truthfully vocalizes that childish adoration akin to how a little brother would towards his elder one—is probably not ever fucking happening. As he still retains some semblance of pride to selfishly keep to himself, too. Don’t you forget that either.
Which is reasonably why despite the lurking remnants of embarrassment sourly creeping within the tensed coils of his tummy, a tightly-knitted cousin of shame, mind you. There’s still indisputable trepidation that traverses throughout the length of his shivering, curved spine; deepens his barely concealed smugness at having you like this. Because finally—fucking finally, has your shortly lived attention lastly settled upon the blonde’s awaiting own as purely intended.
‘Course, knowing your blunt self that either chooses not to attentively read the tense atmosphere currently residing within the spacious room or being merely oblivious to it, altogether—you eventually break that pleasurable silence with a singular insistent reminder or rather, a query to snap him out of this shit show. Ah, always the annoyingly persistent one when it comes to waiting for him to defy your set expectations, aren’t ya?
“Something the matter?” Sweetened voice of yours seamlessly passing through the foggy murk of his momentary daze by the slightest tilt of your head in a questioning motion. Still, remaining conscious that there’d be no such thing as worrisome concern on your part considering the utter bastard that you openly are and, yet—the persistent indication that this will be. . . obviously, nothing more than some meaningless wager whose sole intent is to be ultimately fulfilled in the end, leaves an exceptionally sour taste in his closed mouth.
Yeah, something’s the matter, alright—and he’s just about to recklessly give in to that sugary tone lest it weren’t for the automatic switch in your previously gentle inquiry, abruptly interrupting him from slipping out some mumbled confession in turn.
“Say, are you actually chickening out on me now? Is that it, Ney-Ney? Cat got your tongue and you actually can’t do it after all, can you?” Hah—again with that shitty nickname that bears no remote significance besides literally getting on his fucking nerves whenever, which you do impressively possess the sheer knack to repeatedly do so. Uh-huh, he’s gotta hand it to y’a.
It’s like the second you tentatively part your open lips to randomly speak—does his incessant yearning to restlessly press his starving lips against yours immediately shift instead, to this seething urge to meanly tug upon the strands of your hair like an angry kitten scratching at its owner. Oh, way to ruin the goddamn mood, dumbass.
“Will you shut up? I’m tryna concentrate here, but your fuckin’ mouth keeps on talking and talking and—ah, hey! Can you quit it and keep still for just one second or does the thought of sharing spit with your shitty underclassman actually turns you on that much?” Perverted bastard. Blearily aware of his shoddy excuse at some backhanded lie or whatever, as though you wouldn’t easily see through those tactics you’ve come to know of. Particularly becoming defensive once he’s ceremoniously brought back into a difficult corner and shit, you just can’t help but to gleefully tease him for it, can you?
Noooo, of fuckin’ course not! Must be solely imprinted in your bastardized nature to be so thoroughly insufferable at this point, huh? So much so that he’d desire nothing more than to tortuously crane your neck further to then—give forth to a salivating glimpse of your surely vulnerable neck for his glinting fangs to dreadfully sink into, greedily paint its pristine surface a melding velvet instead as pure revenge.
Because that’s entirely what it is, not some other bizarre, obscure fetish of this mean delinquent. Poorly hidden away in the withering depths of his unexplored memories or y’know. . . numerous times he’s come close to almost slobbering all over your veiny dick along with a generous amount of drooling, translucent spit to coat it with. And shit—he’s predictably derailing once more without meaning to.
Judging by the molten pupils that steadily expand in face of this less than desired situation, at most. Evasively trail towards whatever seemingly unimportant spot is etched amongst the boring surface of your bedroom’s blank walls in a futile attempt to soothe the pumping blood presently coursing throughout his thin veins. More or less, yeah. That’s all there is to it, so can you like, eventually cease with the constant staring on your end or something?
“I think you’re lying.” Unexpectedly bringing him out of his overly distracting fantasy for a stuttering second by flashing that signature grin of yours that’s only seeming to be confidently growing by the second, and—double fuck! You’re totally seeing through his barely concealed ploys, aren’t you? “I think you actually can’t do it and you’re just tryna play coy with me right now.”
“Wha—?“ Unsure wether to plainly deny your unjust statement that may or may not unfortunately ring true, regardless of if he painfully insists the opposite or to take actual offense at the likely suggestion that he doesn’t have the fucking balls to go through with it. Sure, sure! He totally can!! Albeit, a minute was all he scarcely asked for—despite it being way more than a single minute having passed, so don’t trample on the boggling nerves occupying the swelling of his drying, bobbing throat.
But before then, your indecently mocking voice somehow slips past the aforementioned comment Whitney was oh, so ready to renounce—because that’s all you ever do, managing to conveniently earn the upper hand in either situation, no matter the contextual circumstances at play. And damn you for it, too.
“See, what I think, honestly—I think you’re nothing more than a pussy who’s all talk and no bite, really. Too fucking dumb to even properly lie to me about it, too. Cuz’ the thing is, you actually haven’t kissed anyone for real yet, have you?” Inwardly flinching at the abrupt scorning on your part since sure, you’re one mean asshole sometimes, specially with others hopelessly clinging to your sides—but, not with him, no. Preferring to play the part of the considerate, older brother figure that’ll happily follow along to his unsatisfied whims.
So, strictly speaking, being unusually harsh on him without any spoken warning shouldn’t be so disgustingly hot to him nor heavily affect the thrumming blood rushing below to his leaking cock. Further dampen the already present, sticky stain against the now tarnished fabric of his trousers, but fucking shit—does it so. Like those untrained masochists, better put freaks, he regularly bullies on the daily, savagely snickers at for squirming beneath the hardened heel of his shoe. Idiots, is what they are.
Yeah. God, it’s so utterly, fucking filthy.
And funnily enough, here he is—shamefully experiencing that same warmth of degeneracy for being caught in his puzzling act, yet simultaneously thrilled at the various consequences that await for doing so.
“I don’t—“ Fuck, fuck, fuuuuckkkk!!! Mere sentences shouldn’t be humiliatingly failing on him now and neither should the withering breath pitifully falling forth from between his lips left agape—be this fucking telling of the unforeseen reality at bay. “. . . —I don’t know what you’re talking about, really—“
“Sure, you don’t. Then, you must also not have a single goddamn clue as to why you’re leaking like a fucking girl all over my lap right now too, huh?” Instinctually knowing better than to wearily spare a glance downwards since, well. . . yeah, about now—your not-so-precious jeans are notably soaked in the melding evidence of his unspoken arousal if nothing else, but did you fuckin’ have to truly word it like that either? Doesn’t necessarily lessen the sheer absurdity of the unbecoming predicament the delinquent practically pranced himself into like he hilariously owned the place or something.
Unfortunately, here’s to learning the harsh narrative that things, when seamlessly played out in the narrow space of your head—don’t invariably turn out the exact same as foreboding reality itself, do they?
Dumbass, he should’ve seen it coming the second he carelessly chose to lie to your face to begin with.
“Fuck, it’s not like tha—“ And there goes his irreparable mistake altogether, knowing fully well that it is indeed like that, if nothing else. Since it’s always been, every single time—without a literal, precious fuckin’ second to scarcely spare—you, you, and you solely. Plus sincerely speaking, he would’ve undeniably chosen for it not to be this way instead, y’know??
Not have his usually unaffected body so effortlessly react in face of your own, whether it’d be the discreet breaths of yours teasingly brushing along the rim of his blazing ears whenever you get the distracting urge to whisper some unimportant gossip during class.
Truly, do you feel the absolute need to remain so unbearably close in his personal space at times? To the point, it has him dizzyingly peering downwards to his clenched fists that greet him in turn. Too goddamn cowardly to steal a glimpse from below lest he realized the shockingly near proximity you’re both collectively sharing, without you bearing the slightest bother, too—and automatically curses as sweating palms land upon your chest and has you barely stumbling back. Cuz’ shit, the blonde’s downright terrified of the increasingly hasty beat of his annoyingly straining heart stuttering against the firmness of his ribbed cage. Fuck. . . it might as well be leaping out at a certain point, although he acknowledges he appears more like some dreadful lunatic if he were to audibly yell at some minor touches.
Reminiscing upon such pointless bullshit won’t necessarily get him anywhere and it’s not like he does it willingly either, no—not when your hand is now currently gripping at the shape of his gaping jaw. Actually, when the hell did you supposedly manage to get ahold of him like this when he wasn’t in the brightest of moments to do so? Momentarily caught off guard by the sudden press of your fingertips digging in the softened surface of his flesh, albeit with no sense of care in the fucking world as you habitually do with the majority of your things. Which, shit—doesn’t mean he’s the equivalent of your outright property since if that were the case, he’d most likely blow an imploding fuse as he knows it, and you certainly do know it, too.
As that was the initial plan presently swirling throughout the mumbling mess of the bully’s mind—only to be swiftly interrupted by a lingering kiss your. . . shit, annoyingly soft lips tenderly placed amongst the crimson hue that is his heated face—too dizzyingly close for his liking, near the mere corner of his pursed mouth. Frankly speaking, he has no clue what to make of this other than the likely scenario that you’re borderline amused by this and fuckin’ toying with him like your other various stress balls, as per usual.
“Earth to Whitney. I’m still tryna’ speak to you, but I guess you’re too far gone thinking about us sucking on each other’s tongues or something like that, am I right?” Drawling out lazily as though, you’d bear no semblance of interest for this little game of cat-and-mouse you collectively play on the daily basis and if not for that slight, adorning glint in your gaze—maybe he would’ve stupidly fallen for that easily concealed facade altogether, too. But no, he does know it’s a selfish thing of yours, or rather. . . some intricate fetish would be a better word to scarcely describe this sheer high you get from witnessing the gritting of his teeth, fluttering eyes narrowing in mere irritation. To say, it’s progressively building into something else until he’s undeniably pissed at your continuous mockery—that being, what others around you call ‘salacious flirting’ or something like that. Sheesh, he holds no importance for random spectators at your school besides you two.
Uh-huh, isn’t that what they refer to it as? ‘The boy likes to tug at the girl’s pigtails to draw her attention, after all!’—yet, he’s no squealing girl swatting at your insistent touches, is he? Fuck no. Truly, it’s nothing like that. However, sometimes with the way you constantly pinch and prod along the bruised surface of his perched figure atop your own, patiently await his expected curses like an anticipating dog wanting to be scolded. . . Well, can’t say it looks like anything else other than apparent sexual tension. Unsure whether or not he should be seldomly pleased at that somewhat late realization or temporarily concerned as to how you treat your usual girlfriends—or boyfriends, sometimes, that come and go like the blowing wind. Not to say, he treats any of his disposable sluts any better, either.
Eh, shit. No time to necessarily delve further in something he isn’t meant to supposedly poke at, is there? Yeah, cuz’ frankly speaking—he’s always been the goddamn impulsive type that’ll do as he pleases, expectant of yours truly to follow along to his baseless whims.
“Let’s quit with the bullshit already and do it, I don’t got all day to be sitting here on your lap like your prissy bitches.” Yup, yup. Carelessly ignoring the minor and important aspect that he cleared up his busying schedule regardless of his friend’s muttered pleas—going on and on about something at the shady pub that’s down the farthest street in this shit town. Oh right, he didn’t remotely listen to what those fuckers had to honestly say so, here goes that. Discreetly swishing at the messied strands of platinum blonde hair partially obscuring his vision, huffing at its burdensome concealment until he’s face to face with you. Almost clumsily bumping the curvature of your two noses together in an impatient haste to interlock each other’s lips in a. . . what others call it, huh; shitty, goddamn kiss.
However, rather uncharacteristically—he silently waits instead, hazy pupils traversing lower to where your curled up lips are solely a melding breath away from his dumbly hanging own. Maintaining eye contact like this. . . till your foreheads are nearly pressed along one another like this, inwardly shuddering at your unwavering focus upon his straying eyes. Gosh, do you seriously wanna fuckin’ do this with your eyes open or something, like a freak would??
“If you say so, Ney-Ney. I’m sure you wouldn’t wanna be kissing a boy either, huh. I’ll try to make it nice for you as best I can.” Ever the oh, so charming type that tries to accommodate to the blonde’s ill tempered tantrums, aren’t ya? Uttering so forth in an unspoken promise even if actually, he wouldn’t wanna be sharing spit with anyone else other than you. Whether he ever eventually admits it or not is an entirely different story, though.
Wordlessly so, he lets you do as you joyously please, at your own steady pace—‘course, which is to trace the softened pad of your cushiony fingertip along the sharp line of his tightening jaw. For it to ultimately land to where his chin awaits your yearning touches, brief moments of lingering contact to subconsciously gawk at in desolate secrecy. Y’know, how a drooling puppy would when awaiting its sweet treat; which he’s not, at all—no. Especially not your questionable pokes as you childishly peer to the side, rub soothing circles across the nape of his tensed neck as if to ease him into this, all the while idly playing with the shortened strands of hair settled there.
“Slacken your jaw for me, will you?” You gently order in a. . . shit, soft lull and he doesn’t like to be commanded around neither, but he calmly does so regardless. Solely to get it over with, nothing else extra that’s simmering deeply in the background. Especially not the unspoken crush he withholds for you whether you’re both mutually conscious of it or not, well—regarding how exceptionally cunning you tend to be that you can seamlessly read through him like a tattered heap of pages thrown atop your lap—yeah, maybe it’d be arrogantly dumb of him to assume otherwise, huh.
Plus it’s not like the delinquent here, is particularly used to his usually pursed lips wholly parting in an expectant nature for yours to plant featherlight kisses against. Since they’re generally brought up in a dismissive scowl for all to wearily witness—either when passing him in the hallways as his snarky laughter resounds with each echoed step, or the occasional glimpse of his shadowed figure sneaking between deserted alleyways, is seen.
Which, he would’ve indeed protested in stingy opposition at your insistent need to meticulously comb through the glistening locks of his hair. Sure, if it didn’t feel so damn good. . . to have your cupping palm carefully easing him into this, gradually melting in the imprinted shape of your entangled limbs settled together, atop this pillowed bed. One used thumb lightly nudging across the pouty flesh of his bottom lip in a silent gesture of the familiarity both shared between the two of you as your face nears closer to his. Intimately inspecting at the accumulated saliva that drips forth from the other’s open maw, nearly suckling at the intruding digit that is the continuous rub of your curled finger pressed across his drooling tongue. ‘Course, you gotta get a whole mouthfeel of its heated sensation before ultimately—diving in, don’t you?
“Yeah, there we go. . . You’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you—pretty boy?” It’s meant to have him inwardly seething towards this blatantly obvious taunt of yours, openly scorn at the unwanted nickname he’d like to jab at until that irritating grin of yours disappears altogether.
And shit, did he really want to—nothing more than that, honestly. But, he’s immediately interrupted from doing so once you’re ceremoniously covering the cushiony surface of untouched lips with yours, instead. Utterly pissed at himself with how easily it eases up from the experienced brush of your tongue inviting itself in its warmth depths. Those same arms that’d stubbornly stick to his sides like it’d never leave such a place either; now finding themselves to be clutching at the wrinkled fabric of your shirt draped along your reassuring back. Instinctually arching in your enclosed ones in return, loosely held around the width of his waist to absently pinch at in humming thought.
Fuck, fuck. . . fucking shiiittt. Was a kiss always supposed to be this mind-numbingly good that he’s out here losing all utter senses besides taste and touch? Neither struggling against the sudden weight of his eyelids shutting themselves in favour of greeting pitch darkness—goddamn it, not if it’s your mouth is perfectly made for his to mold against.
Even more so as an unwanted keen resembling that of a trembling prey, just about ready to be wholly devoured by the predator looming above its eventual demise—slips past previously sealed lips. Ugh, dammit. . . and here he is, upper lip wobbling in response to the added stimulation of your slippery tongue sliding against his own. Nearly wavering over the tempting option to hurriedly scratch along the delicate skin of your neck and—ah, speaking of, he’s gotta have a fixation with that bobbing throat of yours or something, shit. In some vain attempt to signal the sheer suffocation overtaking him from having his mouth crudely stuffed in repeated fucks of your impatient own, practically devouring his breathy moans in musing delight.
Accompanied by shuddering breaths collectively intermingling into one steady beat that’s bound to hurriedly quicken if he somehow keeps this one up, stretches it any further lest he doesn’t obviously get it over with soon. Which is the actual prime objective here! Don’t get him wrong! The sole plan, here—he’s intricately envisioned in the deep receding of his mind is to prove you wrong of his so-called loss, either way.
Quite literally, if it weren’t for the intolerable amount of pride residing within the swelling of his heaving chest—caught up against your own effortlessly casing over him; he’d have already done so, by now, without the slightest trace of hesitation.
But, y’know. . . It’s proving to be quite difficult for no reason whatsoever to necessarily pull away as he’s originally intended to do so. Partially disgusted by his own weakness when it comes to you and ‘course, it has to be solely you to wholly encase him like this. Whether or not it’s through plain obliviousness of his muddled protests swiftly concealed by your lips covering his own—or maybe, the sheer stubbornness of the mere possibility of letting him out of your sight. Either way, the numerous kitten scratches he’s subconsciously leaving along your treaded skin isn’t letting up itself.
Because even as he somehow manages to draw further backwards, your mouth instinctually follows his in return. As though the absurd thought of him teetering away from your emboldened grasp isn’t one to remotely ponder upon due to its ridiculousness, and neither is the way you both ultimately fall onto the bouncing mattress in a heaping mess with a resounding oomph! Although, he’s suspecting it was his quick-witted gesture of dragging you downwards—to where he’s predictably atop of, that landed you two in this precarious position.
“M-Motherfucker, you didn’t even give me a chance to catch my breath.” It’s rather an uncharacteristically petulant complaint than it is a fitting scolding on his part. Peering from underneath messied hangs that do oh, so well to conceal those narrowing eyes of his when he desires to. Yeah, they’re especially useful when it comes to evading your zeroing gaze hovering right above his own—like you’re actually surprised he hasn’t attempted a punch in your stirring guts for suddenly taking the lead like that.
“Hmm, was the kiss that unpleasant for you?” Pouting sorrowfully in response to the aforementioned statement like such a thing would potentially hurt your veiled sentiments, altogether. ‘Course, he knows better than to ceremoniously cave in to that pitiful nuzzle you offer along the crook of his neck since the thing is, your amusement of things comes first and foremost.
“Eh, don’t know. Why don’t y’a take another try at it and I’ll tell you how much you suck at it then.” It’s a tainted falsehood, at most—however, for the sly grin of pearly teeth flashing in your direction and the renewed sense of competition that swells within your chest at the provoking taunt. Well, he supposes that it’ll be worth the excuse so that his tongue better remembers the melding taste of your own upon one another.
And maybe, he’ll garner a measly chance to actually win this time. Rarely catch you off guard during one of those make-out sessions that are bound to grow more frequent, one way or another.
Though, it’s unlikely. Huh. You never do give him the chance to do so when it comes to your bets, do you?
Fucking prick.
#uuughhhhhh upper class man reader never misses and I’d like to do more of him next time#but I’ve got other things planned so this is as much as you’ll get out of me#at least princess liked it after proofreading it so I’ll take that as a win#need to learn the method of shutting the fuck up so I can stop yapping in my writing so much#though don’t think that’s happening any time soon haha ^^#dol#degrees of lewdity#whitney the bully#whitney dol#dol whitney#degrees of lewdity whitney#whitney degrees of lewdity#top male reader#dom male reader#character x male reader#x male reader#male reader#— R-RATED TAPE FOUND#I keep forgetting the fucking tag dedicated to my writing but this’ll be the one for now
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Nerd gojo x nerd reader! Headcanons
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Nerd!Gojo x Nerd!You Headcanons
♡ Gojo Satoru, the prodigy. The guy who solves complex math problems in his head like it’s a simple 2+2. If someone ask him how, he’ll just smirk and say, “Just run your mind faster.” As if that makes sense.
♡ Gojo, the last-minute genius. He does his assignments at the last possible second but still gets a perfect score. People have accused him of using black magic. He doesn’t deny it.
♡ Gojo, the overanalyzer. Someone calls him a know it all as a joke, and next thing they know, they’re stuck listening to a 30-minute breakdown of why intelligence is subjective and how human perception affects knowledge.
♡ Gojo, the human stopwatch. He calculates the exact time people take to do the most random things:
Shoko takes exactly 3.2 seconds to process a joke before laughing.
Suguru sniffs his food for 2.6 seconds before deciding if it’s poisoned.
His teacher blinks an average of 18 times per minute when lecturing.
♡ Gojo, the walking encyclopedia. He acts like he knows everything psychology, physics, chemistry, math. Whether he actually does or not is debatable, but he’ll never admit he’s wrong.
♡ Gojo, the fact machine. He drops random trivia constantly, just to flex. “Did you know honey never spoils?” “Gojo, no one cares.”
♡ Gojo, the exam escape artist. He drags Suguru out to do something totally unproductive before exams, but somehow still tops the class while Suguru barely passes. Suguru has stopped questioning it.
♡ Gojo, the romance skeptic. Laughs in the face of love at first sight, listing the exact probability of it happening.
♡ Gojo, the worst date ever. He once explained The Art of War on a date. The girl left before dessert. He still doesn’t know why.
♡ Gojo, the secret romance reader. He totally didn’t get caught reading a romance novel in the library. And he totally didn’t like it.
Then, there’s you.
♡ You, the transfer student. No expression. No reaction. The class went dead silent when you walked in, as if even breathing would be too loud. The teacher praised you, and you just nodded like it didn’t matter.
♡ You, Gojo’s accidental rival. Sitting next to him was a nightmare. He asked the most stupid questions, and you ignored all of them. He assumed you were just an edgy wannabe. That made him laugh.
♡ You, the real threat. When exam results came out, Gojo was shook. For the first time, he wasn’t the top scorer. You were. And your reaction? A shrug. No smile, no satisfaction. That’s when you became interesting.
♡ Gojo, the forced study partner. He forced the teacher to make you his partner. You weren’t amused.
“Why do I need to do practicals if I already know the answer?” you questioned
“To see if it’s true or not, dummy.” He grinned, waiting for your response.
“If it’s in the book, it’s already true.” He had never wanted to strangle someone and marry them at the same time before.
♡ Gojo, the doomed fool. No one ever entertained his nerdy ramblings, but you? You matched his energy. When you started debating him on his own topics, he knew he was done for.
♡ Gojo, the AI skeptic. He swears you talk like a robot.
“That’s not an effective method.”
“This is scientifically incorrect.”
“Are you a government experiment?”
♡ Gojo, the challenge seeker. He constantly challenged you to competitions. You refused every time. “Not interested in unnecessary drama.” That hurt his soul.
♡ Gojo, the frustrated observer. He needed to see a crack in your facade. Anything. He studied your every move, trying to prove you weren’t an AI.
♡ Gojo, the mimic. He caught you muttering the pi table to regain focus. He immediately adopted the technique.
♡ Gojo, the sore winner. If he scored higher than you, he wasn’t happy he was annoyed. What’s the point if you don’t even care?
♡ Gojo, the reluctant believer. He told you about his hobbies with way too much excitement. You told him about yours, but your blank expression made him question if you were lying.
♡ Gojo, the paranoid calculator. He tried analyzing your movements, but everything about you was too precise. It freaked him out.
♡ Gojo, the not-so-subtle spy. Since you lived next to Suguru, he used that as an excuse to observe you. Every time he saw you, you were either studying or staring out the window like a lifeless statue. You caught him multiple times. Instead of yelling, you just stared at him. It was terrifying.
♡ Gojo, the insecure nerd. He nervously brought up Dungeons & Dragons, expecting you to be clueless. Instead, you knew everything. He had never felt average before.
♡ Gojo, the desk menace. He constantly poked you during class, hoping for any reaction. You just stared at him, unblinking, until he became flustered and left.
♡ Gojo, the insane conversationalist. He told you the wildest theories, and you listened like it was just another casual conversation. It drove him insane.
It took me 4 days to think of a gojo nerd scenerio 😭
And you GUYS HAVE TO REQUEST DO IT
Part 2 will be here
@naomigojo
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen fluff#jujustu gojo#jujutsu kaisen smaus#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#sexy nerd#nerd#gojo nerd#jjk fanfic#gojo x yn#gojo satoru x yn#gojo satoru x you#gojo x you#nerd stories#love story#jjk fluff#jujustu fluff#series#anime#manga#anime and manga#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto#shoko ieiri
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This is a beautiful submission from @sw124! thank you so much it made me laugh and the characterization of my sweet Kallamar was amazing! Enjoy people! ---------------- So this was something i had to write, I have a fursona/bugsona I also incorporated into the Cotl series and just couldn’t help imagining these two. For those who aren’t aware my oc is Ace [ageosexual] and panromantic
[Title: Tea and gossip]
It was just about that time, Kallamar was already loving this new little routine! Ever since he got this new assistant life had been so much easier, but that wasn’t the only thing. This assistant turned out to be a great blessing! She was patient, fluent in sign, had a grasp of basic medicine and then some, she mostly dealt with simple cases.
Mamu, a mixed breed insect, from what Kallamar could gather, she had to be a cross between a honey bee and moth for sure. Well the ‘honey bee’ part was confirmed after receiving a jar of honey as a gift from her. However…Kallamar noticed that her honey looked like one poured the night sky into jars, the taste always varied as did the colors. Sometimes the color was a deep royal tone other times bright with flecks of pollen stars. The taste was beautifully complex, the sweetness could be lighter than air or as strong as a well made scotch.
But the one thing that drew Kallamar to her…was the most surprising aspect of her, she was one of the absolute rare few who had no desire to well…invite him to the mating tent. She had no interest in sex, despite joking, commenting and gossiping about it..it seemed she rather do just that. The act itself often turned her away but talking about it was fine. That alone was got Kallamar’s attention, sure a casual fling now and then was nice but to have someone to gossip with no other motive than to talk…well that was rare. Kallamar had already prepared the tea when he felt a faint presence. Call it intuition when he opened the door…and there stood the lady in question.
“Mamu! Do come in my dear!”
“Hello Kall! I brought some fresh honey and scones! Along with some juicy gossip!”
She has four arms which Kallamar took note of the first time they met, even more so when she used her second pair of arms to sign while talking. The two wasted no time getting down to what they came to do…gossip!
“So my little honey drop, have you plucked any juicy fruit from the vine today?” Kallamar asked, taking a slow sip of his tea. “Well…depends on whatcha want to hear, gossip about your siblings or the other followers?”
Well that got his attention. “..About my siblings?”
Mamu smirked. “It’s about Narinder and the Lamb, it’s probably wishful thinking from some followers but many are whispering about seeing the Lamb and Narinder near the mating tent recently….”
Kallamar leaned in staring at her hands and face together….this couldn’t be true! “Yes…they caught two young teens trying to sneak in there to make a little ‘Whoopi’ if ya know what I mean!” Mamu gave a little titter, yep..there it was, Mamu’s rug pull.
Leaning back, Kallamar made the same motion. One pair of hands using the ‘shame on you’ gesture while his other arms were crossed, smirking as he turned his head but cracked an eye open at her. She was giggling behind her hand, peeking a glance at him. He let out a soft chuff before pouring a cup of tea for her. “But be serious my dear, did that happen?”
“Yes, I saw it happen. Poor Narinder, last time I saw him that red in the face was the time I called him a-“ Mamu’s hands flew up to her mouth, Kallamar blinked.
“Called him what?”
Her hands pressed down into her lap, her milky cream cheeks turning a light shade of cherry pink. Eyes darting to look at something other then Kallamar, well to the squid that said a lot. Her eyes were darting up not down, hands in her lap rather then plucking at each other like angry birds, lips curled in like she sucked on something mildly sour. Ooh this was something, Kallamar felt his own lips curl into a devious smirk. Now times like this he’d turn on his charm and seduce the information out, however with Mamu that never worked. So he had to develop a new technique tailored just for her…and so he deployed it.
He leaned forward, closes his eyes, curled his lips into a button smile and opened his eyes wide and began to bat them. The moment she turned to look at him…it took a bit of will power not go break the look. Mamu’s eyes lighting up with little hearts as she tried to turn away, nope, Kallamar had one tentacle under her chin in just a second, with very little effort to guid it back to look at him. Ooh she tried so hard to look away but his tentacle and gaze had her locked. It just took a minute before she finally broke, waving two of her hands.
“Okay! Okay I’ll tell you!” Ah, it never failed. Kallamar sat back, his old demenor returning. Mamu pursed her lips in a pout. “You are mean Kallamar!”
She signed while huffing, no real anger behind it. Kallamar simply tilted his head side to side before leaning forward. “So, what did you say to my brother?”
The pink in her cheeks grew a shade darker, she let out a breath and held up her hands. “This happened before you arrived, Narinder was still a bit aloof when around others. I kept my distance out of respect but when he started snapping at other followers I confronted him. Told him he shouldn’t be so cross with others just because he’s new, we got into an argument. The Lamb had to come and separate us cause it almost got physical…well by physical he was close to pushing..anyway the Lamb was escorting him away and he shouted at me that I was some lowly worker bee. My anger got the better of me and I….” Oh her cheeks were now a lovely shade of apple, Kallamar leaned in more, beckoning her to finish her story.
She hesitated before signing. “…I shouted…’At least I’m not a pussy’….”
There was a moment of stillness, did Kallamar read that right…did Mamu, little sweet as honey Mamu call his brother Narinder a pussy. The flood gates opened Kallamar began laughing, that couldn’t be true but the look on Mamu’s face said everything.
“You! My darling honey drop, you of all people called him that?!”
“Oh Kallamar it’s embarrassing enough! Honestly you’re acting just like the Lamb did…”
…Kallamar blinked, eyes lighting up. “The Lamb laughed at that?!”
An now Mamu’s face was hidden behind her hands, Kallamar pulled them away, trying his best to control the giggles bubbling up from his throat. “N-now my dear no need to be ashamed, honestly my sister Heket can be fare more poisonous with her words when crossed. Compared to her thats like…a child using a non-curse word!”
Mamu pouted again. “Still was the most embarrassing moment for me…and for Narinder too, the Lamb laughing like that.”
“Oh pshaw my dear, I doubt Narinder would be that upset about. But my goodness to have the nerve to yell that at him is impressive!”
Well that got Mamu to smile, the color returning to that love light cherry pink instead of that deep apple. A little ‘boop’ to her nose and she was back to giggling, oh Kallamar enjoyed this assistant!
But what he enjoyed more was that Leshy and Heket seemed to like his new friend! Since she knew sign it made talking to Heket easy, she was also close friends to Tharen so it made getting to know Leshy easy, that and both being insects gave them common ground, however that begged the question…….
How would Shamura react to her?
End.
Hope you enjoy this blue!
#submission#cotl au#cult of the lamb#not my writing#cotl kallamar#cotl oc#cotl narinder#cotl lamb#cotl fanfic
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In love with their childhood friend
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[ HEADCANONS ] [ Midoriya & Bakugo ]
[ My hero academia / Boku no hero academia ]
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This idea has being in mi mind for a long long time ~ (like, since the start of the blog) and im happy that i finally wrote it! Yeyyy!
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did 🩷
The three of you were always together, you were inseparable, always playing together and sharing a lot, you joke and laugh with them and even put with Izuku's side when Bakugo was being too mean, but over all it was an adorable friendship
Both grow to have an inocent crush on you that quickly lead them to a rivality, both were always fighting about who will be playing as the hero because both wanted to be your hero! (even if you played as a hero too or sometimes even as the villain, each time you three wanted to play there was always this fight)
But as the time passed and the three of you grew up their feeling did too, for both it become stronger and their rivality grew too, for a while things got problematic because non of them wanted to accept their feelings, Bakugo was too embarrased to accept that he had a crush and Izuku was too shy and a bit naive, wanting to belive that he felt that way because of how long you two have being together
Bakugo ended up distancing himself because of his internally conflict and because of how Izuku never got a quirk, but at the end that only make you and Izuku grow closer wich also irritated him and lead him to be more and more mean towards Izuku
Sadly, this troublesome situation didn't stopped until both were able to get into UA, since Izuku was finally being able to be in his way to become a hero he was slowly winning more confidence, wich lead him to, deep down, belive that now that he is stronger and he can actually protect you maybe now he can finally have an chance with you, as he slowly accepted his feelings he also slowly started to get closer to you and try to win your heart (but he still is clumsy and shy), while, in the other side, Bakugo was mad about Izuku suddenly having a quirk but him being closer to you is what made him snap and decide that he doesn't want to lose you to him, he still has troubles to accept his feelings because now he constantly has waves of jealousy whenever he sees the two of you together
In all honestly, since both are constantly fighting because both want to become the best hero AND win your heart is a bit dificult to tell what exactly they are fighting for, most of your friends already have that the idea that they are probably fighting for you too since there a lot of times where you end up in the middle of their arguments but is still a bit confusing
Still, both recive the support of their friends, Izuku is constantly cheered up by Iida, Uraraka and Shoto while Mina, Denki and Sero are trying to drag you to hang out with them just to help Bakugo grow closer to you (hopefuly for once he won't mess it up for being too prideful)
For Izuku it is easier to just talk to you and hang out, despite being a bit shy around you the comfort and closeness that have being built through the years of friendship help him to relax a bit and simply be himself, he has no idea about romantic stuff or how to win someone's heart but he still is trying his best, being the best friend you can ask for while also trying to be a it more obvious with the fact that he likes you
While for Bakugo is dificult to talk to you (specially with his meddling friends) so he tries to take time to be with you and show that despite his behaivor you are still important to him, asking you to train with him and give you actual useful advices and simply having fun (he won't go easy on you because he doesn't underestimate you but he will pay attention to respect your own limits, wich only end up showing how important you are for him), also, he is more indirect with his advances like making food for you or even watching over your well-being, he would go as far as give you his jacket or letting you get in his room just to hang out
At some point both will admit to the other that he is in love with you and it isn't willing to lose this fight, they don't really work along each other and will probably try to get in the way of the other but will try to respect your limits and space, they can fight with each other all they want but will pretend in front of you if their fights end up upseting or even bothering you
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#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#mha x reader#bnha x reader#izuku midoriya#izuku midoria x reader#midoriya x reader#deku x reader#bakugo katsuki#bakugo katuski x reader#bakugo x reader#x reader#x gn reader#anime x reader#manga x reader
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the relationship they shared was something most people could probably only dream of having. they were incredibly close, even their kids would call each other uncle and auntie. she loved isaiah as if he was her brother. they had gone through their highs and lows, and she was sure that was going to be that way for the rest of time. she was going to celebrate with isaiah as she did when he got married, she was going to be there whenever he felt lost, she was going to be someone who wasn't going to leave his side, just like leo would do for her husband, but violet had been doing for many, many years. "you can see it?" she asked playfully, "i hope he sees that too, because i'm here for the real thing, the little rendezvous are great, but i want the whole thing, i want a relationship with him." that was the first time those words had ever left violet's lips. she wanted a relationship with reign. she wanted everything with him. at the thought of their relationship, violet smiled at her best friend. "i'm proud of us, we managed to keep our brother's friendship alive," she nodded. "i'm sure gabriel and ayiden are proud of us," she nodded, a soft smile tugging the corners of her lips. "it's going to be our perfect chaos, and i'm so ready for that, i want everything," she nodded. she could already see herself buying presents for isaiah's kids, nala and ayiden, all different because of the age difference but each one of them being the most special thing she could gift them. at his mention of wanting to see her son being embarrassed by her, violet laughed. "i'm so ready to see him all blushing and nervous because of a girl or a boy, i'm so, so ready to be the kind of mother who shows them his baby pictures," she joked, a chuckle dropping from her lips. "yeah, someone has to be the cool person in here, it of course will be his uncle isaiah," she teased, sticking her tongue out childishly at him. "oh, isaiah, you're the lucky one," she shook her head, smiling. at his playful accusation, she raised her eyebrows at him. "i did not, he had waffles made with the mickey waffle maker santa got him for christmas," she smiled. she loved that thing, it had been a present for her kid, but it felt like a self-present. violet's eyebrows raised as she noticed isaiah leaning against the counter. "you're so nosy, aren't you?" she laughed. "after his shift," she said softly, "he told me he was probably going to stay there pretty late, so i'm in charge of feeding, being a policewoman myself so those two brush their teeth, i'm on tale duty, and then i'll wait for him," she explained. "you wanted a full-time table of my evening, didn't you?" she joked.
Isaiah watched Violet with a quiet understanding, her words settling in the space between them like a warm embrace. He had always known they shared something special, a connection built on years of friendship, loss, and love. The kind of bond that didn’t need words to feel real. And now, as she spoke, he could hear the hope, the hesitation, and the quiet strength in her voice. It was so much like her to want to protect her heart, and he respected that more than anything. “I can tell Reign’s the real deal. You don’t have to worry about him. And, you’re right—he loves Ayiden. It’s clear as day. He wants to be there for both of you, just like you’re ready to be there for Nala and him. It’s different, I can see that too.” He smiled warmly, his eyes softening at the mention of his own life. Leo was Isaiah's lifeline. He was with someone who loved him just as deeply as he deserved. It made his heart swell to hear Violet say she believed in love because of Leo and him. “Honestly, we’ve been through a lot to get here, you and me,” he continued, his voice reflective, “and I’m proud of what we’ve both built. We didn’t let our grief hold us both down, and that’s something pretty special.” When she laughed at the thought of their chaotic, blended Christmas, he couldn’t help but join in. The image of all of them together—children running around, love and laughter filling the air—was perfect in its own messy way. "It’s going to be chaos, for sure, but it’ll be ours, and that’s what makes it perfect." Isaiah chuckled, glancing over at the sounds of Ayiden and Nala from the other room. He smiled, his heart light as he thought about how much Ayiden had grown and how he was already acting big brother like to Nala. "I’m going to enjoy seeing Ayiden embarrassed by you," he said, the teasing glint in his eyes. "I'll always be cool in his eyes." Her playful jab about "big feelings" made him roll his eyes, but there was no escaping the affection in his smile. He could never stay mad at her, not for long. "You’re lucky you’re like my family," he said with a teasing laugh, grabbing the broccoli floret she threw at him and inspecting it as he scrunched up his nose. "You feed your kid vegetables for breakfast this morning?" He winked at her and then set to work finishing their meal, feeling a wave of gratitude for the bond they shared. It was rare, precious, and something he would never take for granted. Isaiah leaned casually against the counter, a playful glint in his eyes as he glanced at Violet. "So, what time is Reign coming back, seeing as Nala is here?" He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Is he staying the night?"
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I can be your angle Or yuor devil
#someone has probably already made this joke#but oh well#tnmn#that’s not my neighbor#thats not my neighbor#francis mosses#yog sothoth
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Fictionkin/fictive who finds their character/source attractive?
call that-
Self love
#fictive#fictionkin#Otherkin#introject#someone has probably already made this joke#lmao#was originally just fictionkin but realized it also applied to fictives n' stuff#so I changed it :)
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Robert Jordan, completely oblivious, while writing the Wot books:
#how this man managed to write gender dynamics so weird#that every woman just comes of as gay#is so incredibly funny to me#i’m rereading the books#and everytime a woman makes a comment about a man#it’s just like robert my dude you’ve just made this woman gay#someone has probably already made this joke#wheel of time#wot
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Panda: *thinking he found someone like him*
Kokichi: "Actually. . ."
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I just finished tears of the kingdom and the only tears in this kingdom are mine
#someone has probably already made this joke#it was. so good.#god im a mess and i have to go serve people their pumpkin spice tomorrow like nothing happened#now back to rolling around in agony as i finish my sidlink fic#loz#totk
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#someone has probably already made this joke#sonic fanart#sonic#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#shadow is a total swiftie#raayuieart
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Not over Phil Batering for the Dune popcorn Bucket for Dan's Birthday. the Phan bucket if you will...
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The Phucket--
#dan and phil#daniel howell#phil lester#someone has probably already made this joke#in which case i am sorry#but i mean--#c'mon#also what an amazing stream ahh
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i've really been getting into bed lately
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In light of Sonic Frontiers, the “Sonic is a chao theory” just got exponentially funnier- since the ancients are related to Chaos who is related to chao who would be related to Sonic, Sonic is literally descended from Water People
#someone has probably already made this joke#sonic chao theory#sonic frontiers#sonic froniters spoilers#?
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