#that was so cool to see what people actually wear and how creative some of u nuts are

[kori-senpai]

Day 1 of putting characters in my clothes because I really suck at drawing cool clothing and want to be better at it

[anyarose011]

"Crawling Back to You" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It started with a night out in King's Landing, then a fake name, and then a disagreement. Some time after cooling off, and after a job gone wrong, you and the one-eyed prince come to...an understanding in the rain.

Part 2 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Oral sex (f and m receiving), nudity, groping, talk of death, swearing, canon-typical injury, sexual harassment (not done by Aemond), and mention of past child SA

Heyyyyyy pookies. So I just started my senior year and it's been hectic. BUT I hope this long ass chapter (it took me forever) makes up for it! I'm also not sure how accurately I'm writing Aemond. I mean, I know HBO is making him into the edgiest edge lord, but I'm taking creative liberties i guess. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 8.5k

 “It’s a pleasure to finally put a name to your face. One that fits its beauty.” He smiled.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile on your lips. It was a stupid compliment, one that you had heard several variations of the rare times men would flirt with you those days. But…it felt different from him.

Still, you merely scoffed, setting the jug on your hip. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?”

“Go ahead; considering you believe I’ll harm you somehow.”

“See?” You decided to tease instead of defy as you began to walk up the cobbled hill. “You are funny.”

Aemond scoffed, following you. “Did I ever deny it?”

“How you reacted when I first said it never gave me a clear answer.”

“Shouldn’t you change?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

Unashamedly, his eye trailed over your body and yours soon followed. Your nipples were perking through the thin material of the dress.

“Seven Hells.” You cursed, bringing the jug in front of yours.

Aemond came to your side, a hand on your back and leading you up the hill. “You don’t wear a corset?”

“Not with this. I’m meant to lure lustful men, remember?”

“Perhaps you can tell me where you tailor so we can get more appropriate clothing?”

Hell no.

“Or,” you suggested. “I could teach you how to properly steal something?”

“You need to be able to not draw attention to yourself to do that.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I have no doubt, but the clothing off a man’s back?”

You paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, actually; I even managed all of one’s undergarments.”

Aemond shook his head, pulling his hood farther up to hide his smile. “I mean more so with that dress.”

“It might surprise you, but that is how I robbed him blind.”

“I mean in the sense that-.”

“-I understand.” You shut him up, but not aggressively. The two of you passed by more and more people through the many alleys of King’s Landing. When you got to the main roads, you would’ve lost Aemond in the crowd if it weren’t for the fact his hand had traveled from your back to your arm.

Maybe it was because he was paying you, or maybe it was because you didn’t know how touch starved you had been until it felt like his hand was simultaneously burning and soothing you; but you welcomed his touch.

As you continued to brave through the busyness of the city, you managed to spot a hobbling man wearing a long cloak with a drink in his hand. You smirked at your companion.

“Are you watching?”

He nodded, and how he looked you up and down briefly didn’t escape you. “I’m watching.”

You handed him the jug of water and approached the slightly incapacitated man. You pitched your voice up when you asked. “Ser?”

The man glanced up at you through hooded eyes, and he grunted in response.

“Are you alright?” You feigned concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Much better now that you’re here.”

You giggled, leading him. “You’re too kind.”

“If it’s possible, could that kindness be repaid?”

“Let me at least have your name first,” you turned him down a spacious alleyway where there were less people. “Then I will know what to scream.”

“Gaius. You may-oi!”

You snatched the cloak right off his shoulders and took off in a mad dash down the rest of the alley. Turning your head over your shoulder for merely a second, you were graced to watch as the drunk man stumbled over his own footing before two hands in front of you grabbed your arms. Once you were pulled around the corner, you raised your hands to strike your assailant; to which he caught both of them.

“Is it truly that easy to rob Smallfolk?” Aemond asked, not letting go of your wrists.

Snickering, you pulled away from him. “I thought you said you were watching me?”

“I was.”

“Clearly not.” You slipped the cloak over your body, tying it. “You were lurking in the shadows.”

“I still saw you.” He retorted.

Shaking your head, you bent down and picked up your jug of water on the ground. Then, you stuck your hands into the pockets of the cloak. Your face lit up, and your retracted your hand, holding four pennies in your palm.

“Come with me.” Was all you said before walking past him and continuing down the street.

Aemond was by your side once more. “And where exactly are you taking me to?”

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“I enjoy them, but rarely indulge.”

“Then I will be more of a temptress tonight without having to show any of my skin.” You said excitedly.

All the prince did was smile; somehow trusting your ‘madness’. It was a short walk from where you were to a small stand in one of the several market corners of King’s Landing. Despite the long line, you pushed to the front, ignoring all of the comments and curses from the people.

“Evening, Marija.” You greeted the older woman. “Oh my, has someone bewitched you? You look younger!”

“What do you want?” She sighed your name tiredly, but a pleasant smile was on her features.

Sliding the four pennies onto the counter, you said. “Two dishes of Northern Snow.”

“Do you have two other pennies?”

“This was all I was paid.” You sighed. “You know how short everyone is on coin.”

“Precisely why I need every bit of what is owed to me.”

Shaking your head, you lowered your voice. “Do you see the man lingering behind me? The one with one eye.”

She glanced over your shoulder for just a moment, long enough for it to look like an accident and not a stare. “Yes?”

“He’s a rich lord from Essos,” You began the lie with a truth. “and he has fallen in love with me.”

“You have always told marvelous tales, but even for you-.”

“-Marija…I have a good feeling about him.” You spoke with more insistence. “You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

The older woman looked at you for a little longer, as if to try and pick apart your deceit. Then, when she could find no trace of it, she sighed heavily. Still, she brought out two small vanilla cakes and laid them on the counter, then brought out the bowl of puffy cream.

“You better invite me to this extravagant wedding of yours.” She frosted the cakes with the cream, creating a fluffy topping that looked as if it was true snow itself. Marija then drizzled melted chocolate over both cakes before handing them to you. “Considering this handsome stranger is wealthy.”

“He is strange.” You chuckled. “A bit arrogant too, but I shall live.”

“All men are arrogant.”

“You have not met this one. Thank you, Marija.”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffed. “Give me your water as well; I’m parched.”

“Only if you give me the jug back. I need it.”

“I’ll come around tomorrow and visit Yelena in the meantime, is that alright?”

Your smile fell for just a moment, before forcing it back. “Sounds great!”

Rushing away, you could barely hear her goodbye before you soon found Aemond again, handing him the dish. His nose wrinkled as you immediately sunk your fork into the pastry. “What is this?”

“Northern Snow.” Your answer was somewhat muffled by the amount of food in your mouth. “Marija’s traveled across the realms and has been popular for her desserts. The snow is just whipped cream with sugar and some rosewater.”

“The brown parts?” He poked the treat.

“Chocolate, but it’s meant to look like horse droppings.”

“I believe I’ll pass.”

You shook your head. “I’m meant to be showing you around the joys of the city that is not just brothels. Trust me.”

He matched your seriousness. “And if I find it revolting?”

“Then you may know where I tailor.”

Humming, he smiled as he dug his fork into the cake and then into his mouth. He pursed his lips together as you watched him ponder the taste. Then, he shook his head, taking another bite.

“You must be a witch to have known I would favor it.”

Smiling victoriously, the two of you walked a short while through the congested market until you managed to find two chairs and a table.

“What did you tell her?” He asked as you sat. “The woman who made this?”

“That you were Prince Aemond and would have my head if I did not serve you a Smallfolk delicacy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” You agreed, taking a bite of your treat. You hesitated on your next words. “I…she’s a romantic, and I didn’t have enough for the cakes, so I told her you were a rich lord courting me.”

It was nice you didn’t immediately expect him to lash out or condemn you to your death; he seemed genuinely composed every time you were with him, and he stuck to that.

“And what was my name?” He humored.

“I didn’t tell her one.” You teased. “If you were not yourself, what would you have wanted to be called?”

He hummed, taking time for an answer before settling on. “Ciarán.”

“I’ve met one or two of those.” You nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Might I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you summon your knife out of thin air, or do you hide it in your cunt?”

Choking on your food, you placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Once you were alright, you finally looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors I’ve heard of you isn’t just about your beauty.” He grinned, knowing the effect on you. “It’s known that you assault men with a blade, but I’ve heard conflicting accounts.”

You stared at him for a little longer before shaking your head, snorting. “Inside of my thigh, like a normal person. You nearly grazed it the first night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head to the side.

Nodding, you smirked as you took another bite. It was then that his eye darkened just a hint. “What?”

Aemond didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bunched up the sleeve of his shirt, reached over to take your face into his free hand, and wiped the corner of your lip with his sleeve. “You had something white on your face.”

It was your turn to hum at his statement, continuing to eat; yet, you would glance at him more often while you slid the fork into your mouth, tongue trying to lick the utensil clean of the whipped cream. You both finished up in silence between each other, yet the people around you only chatted excitedly, laughed boldly, or moaned and fucked one another in the dingiest of places nearby.

“Is it fun to be a prince?” You asked, pushing in your chair when you bother stood to leave.

“I wouldn’t call it such.” Aemond shrugged, following suite, and the two of you were wandering aimlessly once again.

“Then what is it you do for fun?”

“I find myself in the library often; reading, studying the history.” He listed. “I train with Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the king.”

“You sound like you enjoy his company.”

“I enjoy making him falter as we spar.” He looked at you. “You mustn’t be so horrible in combat. On account of you supposedly taking men’s lives for bounties.”

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the pockets of the cloak. “I don’t take pride in it. I’ve also had my fair share of bruises and broken bones.”

“How many have you killed?”

“How many have you?”

Your response would’ve only worked if it had not been for the well-known fact he had killed Lucerys; something you had forgotten when you saw him again. Now, there you both were, your pace slowing equally in the silence that was the discomfort you had created.

Still, he responded. “Only one; and I assume you along with the rest of Westeros knows who by now.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes down on the road in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “It’s not my place. If you wish to tell me, then tell me. If not, then I believe it’s your turn to ask something about me.”

Humming, he prodded. “Again, how many men have you killed?”

“The same as you.” You stood closer to him as a crew of rowdy men began to pass by. “He was an angry man; a ratcatcher fired from his profession, and to my luck, with no family or anyone to miss him.”

“It must have been his luck as well, considering what happened to all of them merely a week ago.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge the gate into that conversation. “I had only done the luring and thievery for a single moon; the worst I had come across was a bloodied nose and a bruised rib. This night…Chansey had warned me not to pursue him, but I was young and ignorant. I didn’t even get to the well before he came up behind me and…”

This was far too intimate of a story to tell someone you had only met twice; nonetheless, one of the princes of Westeros. You decided to end it as soon as possible. “He didn’t hurt me in the way you’re thinking. We struggled against one another, I had no knife with me at the time, but he did. He dropped it as we fought, we both reached for the blade, and I got it first.”

The two of you had somehow wandered into a small, quiet square; perhaps only a few other people resting from a drunken bender. Aemond, with his hands behind his back, simply inquired.

“Did he have anything of value on him?”

Shaking your head, you grinned. “Three pennies, a half-penny, and a surprisingly clean red scarf.”

“And the scarf was the most priceless.”

“Of course. I would’ve died in the winter without it.”

You both chuckled, and it was him who halted the walking. You stopped in front of him a few places.

 “I hadn’t meant to kill Luke.” Aemond admitted softly.

“Lucerys?” You clarified.

“Yes; only frighten him.” He sighed. “It…it was an unfortunate outcome to what I had intended.”

If he were not himself (perhaps the rich Lord Ciarán he wished to be for that one night), then you would have told him it did not matter what he intended. A boy was dead and that put all of Westeros at risk. Still, whilst your anger was present, you understood you would never know what happened that day. You also understood his regret above all; you had no right to act like a saint.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You genuinely had no idea how to respond to him. So, you did what your mother had done for you whenever you were upset as a child: Ask what you needed from her.

His eye met yours, and you somehow found the courage to not look away from him. After what felt like a lifetime, he approached you suddenly and gradually wrapped his arms around you. Your body was akin to a corpse with how frozen you had become. Still, it didn’t last for long as you found yourself easing into his hold, your own arms around his neck. The night was so quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths in your ear.

Then, his hand slipped into your pocket.

At the sudden change of touch, you flinched out of his touch, but he merely shushed you, pulling away fully. You reached into the pocket and pulled out what he had promised you; three silver moons.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him and saw…an array of emotions you could not describe. So, you spoke first.

“I…I hope tonight was enough for you. I’m not sure what else I-.”

“-It was nice.” He interrupted, his gaze still on you. “Lovely, even.”

Nodding, you pocketed the moons and kept your hands at your side. “I bid you a goodnight, Little Prince.”

He rose his brow. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“Will you have my head then, your grace?” You taunted.

“I should.” He walked closer to you. “But I won’t. What direction is your house?”

Your heart leapt; yet, not in the way it should have after an attractive man (you would later admit) made a forward remark.

“Oh no, I will not bother you.”

“It is not a bother if I desire to see you home safely.” He argued.

“Aemond,” you stepped back, not wanting to play a game. “I don’t want you to walk with me for the rest of the night.”

The quietness returned; but, not one of comfort. He didn’t look angry, and that was what frightened you. He merely stood tall like a man.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean to say it so-.”

“-Yet you said it.”

Shaking your head, you tried again. “I offended you, and I’m sorry. My house is no place for anyone other than myself and-, not even other smallfolk.”

“I wouldn’t go inside if that is what worries you. I am merely curious.”

“Look,” you approached him again, only for him to step away. “if you wish to see me again, I wouldn’t mind at all-.”

“-As long as I have coin.”

Your face went blank for a few seconds you had been so shocked by his words, and soon formed a scowl. “You had offered.”

“You didn’t reject it.”

All you could do was laugh. “You-!”

He wasn’t the one to cut you off, it had been yourself. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands over your mouth to ponder your next words. You were tired, frustrated, and wanted to go home. So, you did exactly that.

“Be safe on your journey back to the Red Keep.” Was all you said, and you brushed past him, expecting him to call you a nasty name, or chase after you again.

But, like the first night you had met him: He did nothing.

A week later, you were back where you’d always been at night: Sylvi’s brothel. As you prettied yourself, the girls were restless; not with enthusiasm for the clients, but for the talk of war. Whether it was the fear of death it would bring, or the lust for strong men to take comfort inside of a woman.

You were a part of the former. Not as horrible as some girls (you found one vomiting up her dinner after the discussion), but you had to admit you were judgmental of those excited about it. You yourself had never experienced war…but if it was just a smidge like the violence you and other women had ever suffered multiplied by a thousand…it wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

Later, you waited in Sylvi’s private quarters (the one place no one is allowed to go during work hours unless she permitted it) until it was Chansey who came, saying she had quarry for you.

She had been with an older, retired member of the Lannister guards. He was three and fifty, she told you; fucked like an animal, but when it was over, while he desired to do it again, his body ached so horribly he could only walk.

It was meant to be easy…but for any reason at all, it wasn’t that night.

You stumbled as you brought your knife out, and he unsheathed a dagger from his side. You fought and fought, it almost being like a twisted dance; he’d strike, you’d doge, and vice versa. He swiped against your side, and it stung but you had no time to even seethe in pain as he brought his blade up to stab you again.

He’d gotten tired sooner than you imagined, and you grabbed onto his sleeve, then dragging him into a handful of barrels nearby. He landed in a crash, and he wasn’t getting up. He was still breathing as you looted him. A few Coppers and a silver Stag.

It was only then, as you pushed your way through the boisterous crowds, that you felt your head begin to lighten, and your side grow heavy. Looking down at the gnawing pain, you saw crimson soak your thin gown. Oh…you were wounded.

“Chansey?” You called out over the groaning of whores and their patrons once you made it back to the brothel. The lights seemed dimmer than usual, and with one hand keeping pressure on your wound, you used your other to tap the shoulder of the nearest server.

She gasped upon seeing you. “What happened?”

“Where’s Chansey?” You asked.

“She-she’s with someone.”

“Seven Hells, already?!” Sighing, you took one of the chalices off her tray. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

And you took it in one gulp. The server gaped at you as you took another one, also downing it like it was water. “Thank you.”

Her voices of worry were once again drowned out by the sound of constant pleasure from every corner of the brothel. Now, what the server did not tell you, was that it wasn’t the cheap wine usually served to the common payer; no…it was incredibly rich, and incredibly strong.

It also didn’t help you barely ate or drank water that day. So, to no one’s surprise but yours, you were stumbling through the entire pleasure house.

“Needle and thread?” You slurred, pulling open one of the curtains abruptly only to see five naked women lying next to two men. “Sorry.”

You felt the blood begin to seep through the small cracks of your fingers and your pressure wavering as you made your way to the next curtained area.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” You asked again, being welcomed by Valda laying on her back with a man’s head between her legs.

She screamed at your intrusion and cried your name. “What the fuck?!”

“Hey,” in your haze, you found it amusing. “do you know where Chansey is?”

“Get out!”

“Okay, okay.” you whistled at the man. “Good ser, I do declare that you are a gift from The Seven because only They know how many men actually come here to-.”

“-Wait, are you bleeding?!” She sat up in alarm.

You left immediately, taking deep breaths to try and remain upright as you continued your search. A hand grazed your shoulder.

“Are you alright, girl?”

A putrid looking man questioned with a toothy grin as you turned briefly to see who touched you. You nodded. “I’m fine, go away.”

“Hey now,” he tried to make a grab for you again, but you shoved him off. “don’t be like that.”

“I’m dying, I think I can be.”

“Let me give you a little death.” He flirted.

You grabbed the nearest curtain, tossing it aside. “For fuck’s sake, does anyone have a-?!”

Words failed as you gazed upon Madame Sylvi sucking the cock of a standing man. It was then that your eyes traveled up his body, and saw a familiar, silver-haired prince.

A prince with one eye shut, and a sapphire where an eye-patch should have been.

Your mouth ran dry at the sight of him falling apart in whimpers, and it dropped once his eye opened and immediately went to yours.

Aemond released a loud groan, tossing his head back as cum dripped through the creases of Sylvi’s mouth. She drew herself away from him, still on her knees, wiping her mouth and looking over at your interruption.

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?!”

Your words fell into syllables as you genuinely had no idea what to say. Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw the man that had been following retreat.

“Hey!” You yelled, hobbling after him. “You sheep fucker, get back here!”

Two hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around sharply, causing a reminder of the wound in your side. You hissed, clutching it and trying to smother a cry. You kept your head low as the person who had manhandled you led you back into Sylvi’s small room. You were laying on the pillows and thin mattress. It was then you saw Aemond Targaryen hovering above you.

“No-!” You tried to push him away.

“-Calm down.” He insisted, restraining you. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“If you touch me, I’ll carve out your other eye and feed it to your mother.” You slurred.

Instead of killing you right there, he thinned his lips. “While I don’t doubt that, you shouldn’t need to worry; I’m well spent.”

You gagged, shutting your eyes in disgust and tossing your head further into the pillow you rested on. You felt a presence soon beside you, and you opened your eyes to see Sylvi.

“My prince,” she turned to Aemond. “please wait in my personal quarters and I’ll-.”

“-I’ll hold her down.” He interrupted. “She’s a fighter, if you don’t know.”

“Believe me,” she unscrewed a bottle of alcohol. “I do.”

Sylvi hiked up your dress, completely exposing you from the waist down, and poured liquid over your side, causing a squeal to escape your throat. In an attempt to not just remain calm for yourself and everyone else in the building, you did your best to stifle your cries. It only became harder to do once Sylvi stuck a needle in your skin.

That was when you instinctively rose yourself up, only for Aemond to force you back down, putting his entire weight upon you. Your hands traveled up to his bare shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin and even scratching in an animalistic attempt to get him off of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in quivering breaths and suppressed your grunts in pain. It looked like everything was underwater, and you could barely make out the face of the man above you. You only saw the shimmering jewel where his left eye should’ve been.

Then, the pain was over.

Your heartbeat began to slow down, and it was no longer the only sound in your ears. Your body rose momentarily as you felt bandages being wrapped around your waist, and your dress finally lowered, covering your nakedness. You felt a warm hand brush your face gently before it pulled away abruptly.

“What did you do now?” Sylvi sighed, tossing her materials away.

You groaned, unable to move. “Bad job.”

“And so, you decided to come and bother me?”

“Chansey was fucking someone and I-.”

“-Watch your words!” She lightly slapped your face and whispered fiercely. “Prince Aemond is here, and I will not have you speak like that.”

You laughed, glancing over at Aemond, who had put his pants on, and was working on his shirt. “Do you hear that, Aemond? I can’t say ‘fuck’!”

“Are you drunk?” She hissed.

“Nooooo.” You trailed off before giggling.

Sylvi stood, placing her head in her hands and shaking her head. Now noticing how strange the whole situation was, you pushed yourself up. Your body was scalding, but you would rather die walking away from embarrassment than in the heat of it.

“He had some coin.” you sat up. “I don’t know where it went, but I’ll find it. I have to go home now.”

“You are not walking out like this.” She pushed you back down.

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll take her back.”

The prince stood tall, slipping his patch over the sapphire. Sylvi shook her head. “No.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Madame?” He challenged.

You watched her flinch. Then, taking a breath she explained. “You needn’t bother with her; she’s a humble, little thing that doesn’t listen to anyone other than herself. Besides, you requested and paid for two hours, yet you have only used twenty min-.”

“-I will gladly spend the rest of it escorting her home.”

Again, the only sounds being heard was skin slapping alongside loud moans outside. You looked in between the prince and the Madame as if you were a child being fought over. So, coughing, you sat up again.

“Can I wear my own clothes, please?”

Sylvi, for the first time that night, coddled you. “Of course. Aemond, could you tell the first girl you see to fetch her clothes from my quarters, please?”

He nodded, leaving you two alone. When he was out of sight, she brushed the hair sticking against your sweaty face.

“Tell him you changed your mind, and you’re too weak to walk.” She begged.

“And if he says he’ll carry me?”

She scoffed. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvi kissed your cheek as if to soothe you. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He told me he already had his fill of cunt.”

“Men can still hurt little girls without their cock.”

“Take a look at me,” you sassed. “don’t you think I already know that?”

She said your name softly. “He’s not as kind as he seems.”

“No, he’s not. He acts like he’s been born out of an ass’ ass. I mean…how you feel about the Dowager Queen-.”

Slamming a hand over your mouth, she spoke in your ear. “-Not another word from you. You listen to me; I’ve come to know him for the years I’ve spent with him longer than the weeks you have had with him.”

“If he’s so horrible,” you took her hand away. “then tell me what he has done.”

“He-.”

“-Never mind, I don’t care.”

Instead of stepping into the room, Aemond had tossed your set of clothes through the curtains, landing on the floor. Without words, but with looks that could kill, Sylvi helped dress you and then led you out of the brothel.

It was downpouring, and while your clothes thankfully covered almost every inch of your skin, save for your face, you weren’t in the mood to be bathed in rainwater. Sylvi hadn’t even wished you a proper goodbye; just nodded to a hooded Aemond beside you and went back inside.

“I assume you can walk?” He asked, almost annoyed at his own idea to walk you home.

“You’re not going to carry me?” You teased.

“No.”

Sighing dramatically, you took a few steps out into the rain, and immediately felt agonizing pain. Well, not as bad as earlier, but it hurt. Still, you decided to follow the best given advice: Walk it off.

“Stop, stop.” Aemond shook his head after you limped four more steps, coming to your side. “Lean against me.”

You didn’t argue, draping your arm over his shoulders. You both walked as quick as you could in the rain, you giving him directions the best you could (he had to turn around twice to go back to the same fork in the road) until you tapped his shoulder.

“Wait-wait, I don’t feel good.”

“Seven Hells.” He cursed, pulling you over to the side of the street. Grabbing your hands he placed them on the nearest wall, standing behind you to guide you.

“Hey, hey!” You rose your voice. “Don’t-don’t you even think of hiking my skirt up!”

“You’re going to smell like death in a moment, why would I ever-?”

“-Because men are…are…”

You gagged, and Aemond’s hands immediately vanished as you threw up what little you had eaten that day. Your throat was on fire the whole time, making the chill of the rain even more apparent.

“Oi!” An older man yelled. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and turning over to look at him standing in a doorway of his shop. “Yes, thank you!”

“Do you know that man with you?”

Before Aemond could say anything, you pat his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll have you know, this is Lord Ciarán of House…Strong…Man, Strongman. He’s one of the richest men in Westeros.”

“Is that so?” He nodded, then looked at your companion. “Lad, do yourself a favor and put your old lady to bed.”

Aemond forced a smile, taking your arm and returning it back to its proper place over his shoulder. The two of you were on the road again, you leading him blindly throughout the streets. The rain felt nice at this point; not exactly, but your throat had been parched, so most of the time, you were holding your mouth up and tongue out like a child to catch the rainwater.

At one point, he hissed in pain, his hand coming up to his eyepatch.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Nothing.” He cursed. “’Just keep going.”

Reluctantly, you carried on through King’s Landing until you reached your home.

“Okay, we’re here.” You stopped him a few minutes later.

Aemond looked at the building before him; it was a bouchère. “Here?”

“No, down there.”

He followed your gaze, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs to the side leading down. Carefully, you both scaled down the steps, and entered your home.

There was no leaking anywhere, to your surprise. With only the little amount of light within the sitting room, you knew Aemond (even with one eye) could see just how much dust there was on the furniture.

“Hells,” he sighed heavily, slipping off his cloak before you could stop him. “how do you live in this humidity? I can barely breathe.”

“I-.”

“-Vivi.” A sweet, tired voice called for you.

In the corner of the room, in her usual chair, was your grandmother. Her eyes drew up to the door once you entered, and they were alight.

“I thought you were out for too long.” She stood.

“Evening, Gigi.” You staggered over, embracing her. “And how was holding down the fort?”

“Some mice almost came in, but I showed them who was the boss around here.”

“I’m sure you did.”

It was only then did she fully realize there was someone else with you; a man. A man with silver hair. She gasped, turning back to you.

“Siobhan, you didn’t tell me the king was visiting!”

You cackled. “Gigi no, this is my friend-.”

She gently took his hand into hers, kissing it. “-Your grace, you must forgive my dear girl; she has a knack for getting into trouble, but not for telling me things.”

And then, Aemond did something you weren’t expecting. He placed his other hand over your grandmother’s, smiling.

“All is forgiven.”

Her grin was contagious as she pulled her hand away to hike her long skirt up, walking to the kitchen. “Oh, I shall make tea! Imagine what Cassian would think?” She chuckled. “Jaehaerys himself in our house!”

The name she uttered sobered you up; not all of you, but enough for terror to return into your body. Once she was out of sight, with a growing fear in your eyes, you looked at Aemond.

“You-you must understand, she hasn’t been herself since I was a child. I don’t think she’s even aware there is-was another-.”

“-I’m not a fool.” He stopped you. Noticing you had the face of someone who would vomit for the second time that night, he said. “I told you; I enjoyed reading the histories. I’m well aware the king before my father was Jaehareys.”

Feeling as if you could breathe again, you rested against the wall. “Thank you.”

Aemond hummed. “Why ‘Gigi’?”

“She never liked me calling her ‘Grandmama’.”

“And who’s Siobhan?”

Your eyes drew to the ground. No mice were in the house, but a few spiders had made their way in. “My mother.”

“Ah.” Was all he could manage.

“She uh, she died when I was one and ten; that’s when Gigi…”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

Something clogged your throat, and your head felt heavy all over again. Swallowing the lump, you tried to find the words to-.

“-Forgive me. “Aemond spoke. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No, you-.” You shook your head. “I understand your curiosity.”

And there you two were, against the wall in silence. Sighing you finally said.

“She forgets what she was meant to do when she enters a room with a purpose.” You explained. “I guarantee you, she’s doing a puzzle instead of making tea. We don’t have the best leaves anyway.”

He nodded. “Do you wish for me to leave, then?”

Your eyes went to one of the only windows in the house; the long, thin panel at the top where you could see the feet of everyone in King Landing if it were a nice day. The rain came down harsher, the spattering of water being almost too loud.

“You can stay until the storm eases,” you answered. “if you want.”

“I would prefer it.”

Nodding, the heaviness of your head did not cease, and your eyes drifted to the doorway in the back of sitting room. You made your way through it, glancing back at Aemond.

“If I may be candid, I’m quite exhausted. So…unless you’d prefer being called ‘Your Grace’ by my grandmother, then you’re more than welcome to talk with me in my room.”

“Hm, the former sounds tempting.” Despite his words, he followed close behind you.

You pushed open your door, took a few steps towards your bed, and lowered yourself to lie down with a sharp wince. The prince took his time observing your room, taking in every little detail. From the residue of a mess being pushed under your bed, to old childhood art pieces up on the wall.

One piece had caught his eye the most. A sketch of a woman’s face; a haunting gaze in her eyes that would make anyone believe she was watching them.

Much like yours…

“This is Siobhan?”

Better to use your mother’s name as if she were a stranger instead of calling her ‘your mother’.

“Gigi drew that.” You smiled lightly. “It was on one of her namedays.”

“It’s beautiful.”

His compliment unnerved you before it flattered you. You deflected with a joke. “Beautiful enough to have her paint the Targaryens the next time they so desire it?”

“If she cannot remember to boil tea-?”

“-She is herself again when she does or speak of things she loves.” You sat farther up against the wall behind your bed “Even if they’re things that no longer are with us.”

He sat at the edge of the mattress. “And what are some of those things?”

Oh, where to start? As your mind rattled over what exactly to say first, you truly looked over Aemond for the first time. It was strange; you had acknowledged his attractiveness for just a moment, but never delved more into it.

Then, as you stared at him, you knew exactly what to tell him.

Giggling, you began. “Cassian was my grandfather; I hadn’t known him, he died before I was born. Still, if it’s not him she speaks about being in love with, it’s ‘Elio’; a Dornish man, her first love.”

“Some might say they are far greater than the one you marry.” He shrugged.

“She’s never told me his real name.” You leaned forward. “She said that he had to keep it secret from her for a long time, and he only told her after she got drunk, and he thought she wouldn’t remember.”

The two of you laughed lightly, and you kept going through your giggles. “He-he was only in King’s Landing for a year and went back to Sunspear. They would send ravens to each other, but then he stopped one day. She married my grandfather, had my mother, he died, and that was life.”

“And then there was you.”

You nodded, thinning your lips. “And then there was me.”

“You’ve talked about your mother, but you haven’t mentioned your father yet.”

Sighing, you rubbed your finger into the blanket you rested upon, looking away from him. “When my grandfather’s heart gave out, Gigi had to take on more work at the tailor’s and they still weren’t making enough for food. So…my mother took up working with Sylvi. She was fifteen, and Sylvi only let her cook and clean. When she was of age, she let her go to bed with the men for her coin. I could’ve walked past my father, and I wouldn’t be able to know.”

Aemond stared at her, nodding. “You’re a bastard.”

“It’s the one time I enjoy being smallfolk.” You shrugged. “I can just as easily lie and say my father died while married to my mother.”

“No one else knows?”

“Sylvi and Marija; the woman who gave us Winter Snow.” You scoffed. “Some old neighbors who’ve thankfully died, but I still remember their insults as I passed by them when I was just a child.”

He hummed, and you did not blame him for not saying anything after you. The two of you just existed in your childhood bedroom, the rain still beating against the roof, but not quite as hard this time.

“What were you like when you were a boy?” You questioned.

“Not like my brother or nephews.” He answered right away. “They…teased me a lot.”

“I’ve never had brothers or sisters, but aren’t they meant to?”

“Not like how they did.”

Oh…so it was bad. You wouldn’t ask him how horrible it was, knowing that there are some things no one would ever want to speak of.

“I’m sorry they did.”

He shook his head. “No need, it was years ago.”

“It was still wrong.”

Aemond didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at you. Then, for some reason…you felt compelled (maybe even okay) to tell him. “My mother she…died the same way my grandfather did.”

“His heart.”

“We-we think so. It’s strange though; she was so young, and just one night we were eating dinner, she stands to go tend to the fire…and she fell. It…it was as if her soul had been sucked away from her and all that was left was her body.”

“And you think you’ll die like her.”

Swallowing thickly, you had hoped he didn’t see right through you about that; but at the same time…how freeing it felt to be seen even in the most shameful and terrifying moments of life.

“She was the main provider for our house.” You went into more detail. “Gigi tried her best, but it wasn’t enough. My mother…Sylvi hasn’t told me everything she did to earn enough coin, and I don’t think I want to know. Many healers have said that people dying from a bad heart at such a young age is due to stress. I don’t know if they’re right, and even when I was one and ten, I did everything in my power not to feel so, but Gigi would wander around King’s Landing late at night, or we couldn’t afford food for days on end…”

You were vomiting all of your troubles onto him, it was disgusting; but, once you started, you couldn’t stop. The storm had picked up again, and from how the wind shook the walls of your room, you thought they would all crumble.

“Sylvi knew of us struggling, and she paid for our meals. I was to become an indentured servant to her, like how my mother was; cooking, cleaning, running odd errands…but she paid me in coin as well. I think-I think she thought I was going to follow in my mother’s footsteps when I was of age, but I refused. That’s when some of the girls and I came up with a way for me to make extra coin, and here we are.”

“She never let anyone younger than seventeen be a whore?”

For a moment, you pondered how that was the one thing he got from your nervous ramblings. Still, you decided it wasn’t best to think about it. “She didn’t want men bedding little girls.”

“I suppose it’s different for girls.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was my thirteenth nameday when my brother brought me to Sylvi’s pleasure house.” He said it as if it was common knowledge. “He said I needed to know everything there was about women. Your Madame certainly taught me well. It makes sense I suppose; girls are taught to be more ashamed about it.”

Even with the storm still going outside, the only sound you could hear was the beating of your own heart. “…What?”

You remembered what it was like when you were that age. Your body felt strange, you bled between your legs for the first time, you wanted a husband right away one moment, and then wanted to be a child forever the next. You were good at talking to men who were older than you…but…being intimate? No…and Sylvi had…Sylvi had-?

“Is something wrong?”

If you were delusional, you would say he seemed concerned. Still, if you were to tell him that what Sylvi had done was hypocritical and despicable of her, you would go red in the face with tears, and he would only spit on you and say you wouldn’t understand, and-.

“-Your hair.” You said, having been staring at it whilst your mind rushed. “Has…has it always been curly?”

Aemond scowled, not in scorn, but in puzzlement. It must’ve started to dry as he spent time in the house; it must’ve been frizzy and horrible as well. “Yes.”

You forced a smile. “And here I thought only the ladies of the night burned their hair since men favor it straight.”

“Mothers too.” He sighed when he saw the look you gave him. “It curled more by the time I was fourteen. She had the servants straighten it for me ever since; I believe she hates anything about me that is a reminder that she is my mother.”

“Aemond…”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been with her since I was born, it is nothing new and I have-.”

You don’t know why you reached forward and combed a strand of his hair between two of your fingers. Maybe it was because you were still tipsy, or maybe it’s because you just wanted to. He flinched upon your touch, and so did you.

“For-forgive me,” you backed farther up your bed. “I-I forgot myself and I-.”

He brought himself forward, taking both of your hands. Without looking at you, he brought both of them into his hair. Almost like it was second nature, you began to gently run your fingers over his scalp. He shut his eye, his hands traveling to drape along your waste, and he bent his head to rest upon your chest.

It was strange. Strange but nice. You were holding him, but just to have the illusion of you also being cared for…not even your grandmother had done something like this for years.

“I like your hair just how it is.” You whispered after a minute. “If it matters at all.”

He merely hummed, his hand travelling under your shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger caress the skin above your wound. Your hands did not still, continuing to comb through his hair softly.

His finger traveled farther up, circling the swell of your breast. You made a noise you hadn’t made before, and you thought you sounded ridiculous. He hummed against your chest, and…

And…

Something between your legs felt like it was beating; like your heart, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m going to touch you there.” He mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “Alright?”

No, no it wasn’t alright, but it was at the same time.

It wasn’t okay because you’ve only heard stories about this from the girls at the brothel, but it was okay because-because you liked him, and he was-

and you were-

and everything feels warm-

and the way he talked to you-

and the way you-!

“Get off!” You whispered once you heard just the lightest of footsteps outside your door. He listened, backing away quickly to the edge of the bed. An almost silent knock came from your door, and you smiled. “Come in!”

Gigi pushed herself in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs, setting it on the bed. “I’m so sorry, your grace. We do not have tea leaves, so is milk alright?”

Aemond nodded. “It is.”

“How have the both of you been?”

You wore a thin grin. “Fine.”

She nodded, looking in between the two of you. As if she knew what had just taken place, she gave a wry smile and turned to leave. “Well, the rain is dying down now. Let me know if you two need anything else.”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You said without another thought.

She didn’t shut the door when she left. You picked up the mug, took a sip and immediately felt your body heal just a little. Warm milk does numbers on a soul.

“I should take my leave now.” The prince stood up abruptly, dusting himself off.

You tried to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

The wound at your side burned every inch you moved, and you did a horrible job concealing it. Aemond gently took your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“Rest.” He commanded. “You’re injured, and it’s late.”

“And when have you ever cared?” You teased

“Perhaps just now.” He matched your tone.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“Me? Life itself? Men?”

“Yes, to the last two.” You feel your chest constrict at what you would say next. “I hate that you told Sylvi you would spend time with me because you paid her for…other things previously.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You…you no longer have to pay for my company. You’ve seen me in turmoil, and I’ve seen you naked.”

He laughed…he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. “Is that what makes us allies?”

“Friends?” You reworded. “You understand the meaning, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He scoffed.

“So…are we friends now?”

Friends who touch each other in ways they usually don’t.

A hint of a smile spread across his lips. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Friends.”

You dropped your face, hopefully to avoid him seeing how you blushed. The damage was done though. Regaining yourself, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And…I’m aware I won’t be the first person you’ll seek if you’re in distress, but please know I will help if you need it.”

“Do not call yourself inadequate.” He shook his head. “I might have some use for you.”

You scoffed. “How considerate of you.���

“Rest now.” He repeated, turning to leave without a proper goodbye.

You sat up. “Wait!” Aemond did not turn to look at you, but he stopped. “Your eye. When you were walking me home, you were in pain. Does it still hurt?”

He was silent. For a moment, you thought it was to come up with a lie, then you assumed it was to find the words to tell you the truth…you had too much faith in him for either.

“It’s late.” He said your name softly and walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door open then shut.

And there you were, on your bed, alone with an undrunk mug of milk.

The rain had completely stopped.

[mcflymemes]

THE SUITE LIFE OF ZACK AND CODY PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the tv show (season 1), adjust as necessary

i can shove 12 gummy worms up my nose. you wanna see?

i was blunt... i was direct... and if i do say so myself, i was pretty darn mean.

is that a threat or a promise?

i learned something from you and you learned something from me.

i can't believe i might have to wear plaid.

teach me to be smart!

i mean, this is probably the most boring hotel in the history of boring hotels.

none of them even noticed me.

do you need some help with your bags?

i'm not that strange... except when i get really nervous i can't stop talking which is odd because i'm aware of it and you'd think i'd know better but for some strange reason...

what kind of superficial airhead thinks that's cool?

are you wearing lipstick?

i protest against them.

i got dragged off by a cop!

i guess i should say goodbye. or... you could invite me to your suite?

do you know how much they cost?

it's so much nicer than the mini-van we used to live in.

is there a hall of fame for this kind of stuff?

that's what trees look like before you cut them down.

what's that on your face?

thanks for the red sox tickets!

you tend to be un-smooth.

some of this candy is older than you.

somebody ordered the "i'm sorry for what i did last night" buffet.

get us into the wedding.

we may live in a palace, but we are not royalty.

what did you set on fire?

have you seen what you're wearing?

will you guys stop fighting?

we are not fighting. we are having a creative discussion.

stop agreeing. you're annoying me now.

i'll have you know, i flunked that math test purposely just to get away from you.

are you familiar with the gear shift?

you're making me nervous with all this technical talk.

why don't we just relax, turn on the radio? would you like AM or FM?

let's find out how rich i am!

you're gonna learn to drive?

have you heard the good news?

i love the rush of the road, the wind in my hair.

they shouldn't be too hard to find. we'll just look for the car that's going in reverse.

i suppose i have a slight tendency to be a bit critical.

have you seen my kids?

which goes first, the milk or the cereal?

it's a special night. don't make me slap you.

did you just flick flour into my face?

come back here and take this banana creme pie like a man!

how would you feel if people were spreading rumors about you?

we don't have a dungeon.

i recommend you go away!

this is not a joking matter.

there's no such thing as ghosts.

just 'cause i don't need it doesn't mean it's not mine.

don't take this the wrong way.

i made it with my own two hands.

i've hit rock bottom. and i don't like rock bottom. it's so... rock bottomy.

i have about twenty different ones. which one do you want?

i actually cooked for three hours.

do you ever find yourself feeling discouraged, unfulfilled, unappreciated?

try this hot dog!

[p0rk-guts]

"Pork you literally posted Charlie a few days ago why are you so Hazbin obsessed rn-" ssshhhhshhsshhs.h........ anyway

VAGGIE REDESIGN! And I changed her name also bc I'm jus like everyone else fr. Meet Verbena :)

BREAKDOWN BELOW!👇🏾+ Exorcist uniform redesign :3

Starting with her name this time. Back when she was still a sinner apparently she was Salvadorian and since she's (apparently?) not a former human at all I decided to take a small creative liberty with her decent and made her Venezualan instead. SOUTH AMERICUH❗❗✊🏾 I'm pretty sure Verbena flowers are native to South America so that's where the name comes from.

Onto the design! I don't have much to say abt her design honestly. It's not egregious, but it doesn't really speak to me either. It looks like simple formal wear or uniform with some strange meaningless accessories attached. And those weird itty bitty shoes that look like they're part of her thigh highs... I'm starting to think all the characters's shoes were a last minute afterthought. All and all it tells us nothing about her character. The hair wings are cool tho so I did steal those

Also the whole deal with her eye is strange to me. Why Is the floating X there??? It's a real physical part of the world, other people can see it. Do pink X's always float over angel wounds? If her arm got chopped off would an X float over it? Was it like. A fucking curse visual placed by Lute as a constant reminder of her disloyalty? Why did Carmilla point out it was an obvious marker for her being an angel???? My brain can't fathom why it's canonically attached to her wound. If she was a sinner I'd kinda understand but. Yeah idk. Weird

Also her missing eye does not look like an empty socket it looks like a purple circle was sticker pasted on to her face. It's very flat. How did we go from this

to this

(IT'S EVEN OVERLAPPING ONTO HER NOSE IN THIS SCREENSHOT WHAT IS THAT THING.)

Anyway. I made her hair resemble Polyphemus moth wings because 1. They have eye looking spots and angels are all eyes and 2. Well. Polyphemus has 1 eye. So . 💀

Her overall coloring however is inspired by a Promethea moth. I could say it's because Prometheus defied the gods and Verbena did a similar thing but the real reason is I made a spelling error while initially looking for a Polyphemus moth reference 💀 but hey they both have eye spots! And Iike their coloring for her way better

I also redesigned the exorcist uniform for her redesign bc I wanted her outfit to have reminiscent elements from it.

I gave way less time to the uniform designs, but I still had some main details I wanted to adress. I don't like how they have no armor save for their helmets. Their arm and leg pieces are made of some flexible material that tears easily. It's not giving soldier it's giving soldier costume from party city. The devil like horns are also confusing to see on an angel and the paradoxical design is never addressed. They can be evil and look imposing, but the horns just seem kinda nonsensically on the nose to show how evil they are. At least to me.

In my designs I gave them actual metal armor on their bodies so you can easily tell they're soldiers and it makes sense for them to battle in armor anyway. I also gave them more light "angelic" colors with gold details bc I wanna use gold as a symbol of angelic nature in my rewrite. I wanted their masks to show completely static expressions with wide grins to show how unnerving they are and to allude to the idea that everyone is happy in heaven, and they're all happy to do what they do.

Verbena's belt and shoulder pads draw visual similarities to the pauldrons and mid section pieces in my new exorcist uniforms to draw a connection between her and her past. The Blazer draping behind her back is also supposed to mimic the visual of folded wings. I also tried to do this with all the gold details in her design. The big hoops and belt we're 80's inspired because I decided to follow how in one of her old designs she died in the 60's (even had the big hoops and everything). In my rewrite exorcists are all former humans but I'll get into that later. Also she's got an eye patch now! Just. A normal one.

Charlie is still taller than Verbena just like in the original and idk how tall Vaggie Is exactly but Verbena is like 5'5 while Charlie is 5'11. Verbena's also got more muscle on her bc unless their muscle mass is hidden magically or they don't gain muscle for stupid dumb idiot lore reasons all the exorcists look way too slim to be military grade soldiers but what do I know

I combined a lot of pointy shapes with boxy shapes bc— more similarly to her pilot self— she can be volatile and fierce but also grounded and impassive. I added the slits to her skirt so she can be a sexy formal lady who can still comfortably throw a few kicks, and the heels— well. Idk I feel like she could slay in heels! She definitely doesn't wear em all the time but yeah. Chunky heels. I like them they're cute. Also she's got her little name tag on bc she takes Charlie's job for her SERIOUSLY! she's uh. Idk what is she. A bellhop? General security/protection? Either way she's locked in.

I imagine she had white irises like Adam and Lute along with brighter more saturated and heavenly colors in her hair (color picked from the Polyphemus moth) that turned darker and more harsh after the fall (color picked from the Promethea moth). Really visualizing her emo phase /j

Also I think the little eyes in her hair can emote with her. In the final design the line kinda makes an eyelid and it'd match her eyelid's movements. Sillay

Alright that's a wrap on my Vaggie redesign! No bonus sketches this time bc they're within the texts! Who knows what I'll do next. Who I will deface. I sure don't. I think I might rename Charlie so there's that. Anywhozies hope you like her <3

[blednokrov]

I've been having lots of fun designing random OP fusions for a hypothetical AU where people can fuse... Feel free to drop a combo of any two Strawhats in my asks for me to draw a fusion of them (I'm only reading impel down rn so please no spoilers)

More on these:

Mickey (Nami + Franky) - ultimate Big Sibling fusion. She's very balanced in her sense of responsibility, desire to take other under her wing and general "fun but let's keep it sane and safe" vibe. One of favorite fusions of Strawhats as her appearance often means "supervised fun that is otherwise strongly off limits" and they just love her in general. Overall, Mickey's cool, fun and sexy (and not allowed in many public places because she only wears bikini swimsuits). He fights with electrocution.

Didja miss me? Well, now you can look at my pretty face all you want - we're gonna have so-o-o much fun~

U.V. or just Violet (Usopp + Vivi) - the big dreamer one. She is really sweet and emotionally open - probably one of most child-like fusions, but often gets timid and unsure when it's time for her to to stand up for herself. She loves fantasizing and excitedly ranting about all these ideas on how to make world a better place, but goes into very absurd territory without noticing. They fight with a sling and explosives.

No, wait, but listen. But what if The World Government, like, printed money so that everyone can have some, and- No, wait, i don't think this is how economy works. Okay, what if we all just...

Roro (Zoro + Robin) - arguably the most unhinged fusion of them all. With Robin's morbidly creative mind and Zoro's general disinhibition in most generally dangerous situations, Roro is pretty much unstoppable once he set his mind to do something reckless, dangerous and possibly really violent (as they both don't have any qualms about murdering or causing severe bodily harm). However when not in "focused on following through with an insane idea" mode, Roro is actually a rather pleasant company! They're calm, collected and thoughtful, yet shamelessly silly, especially with Luffy and Chopper who they adore. Most of the crew is rather cautious about them (except for Luffy who whines how he misses playing "multiarmed tags" with Roro) because they can cause much trouble without supervision. On the other hand, they're very strong. They fight combining swordfighting with generating extra limbs (which also means an arm slashing you with a sword can sneak on you from any direction).

Oh. I see. How about we send his head- okay, his fingers in a box to his captain as a warning?

Note: Luffy has the privilege of naming all fusions and usually just smashes names together until it sounds like an easy to remember name... Sometimes inner logic of how the name was made is lost even to him

[cripplecharacters]

do you have any advice/tips on how to write a cross eyed/lazy eyed/amblyopia character?

Hi, this is an incredibly broad question and hard to answer due to that. If you have a more specific question or a particular issue you're worried about, please send another ask with what exactly you'd like advice on.

The main tip I have is to not make the amblyopia/strabismus into a joke. Same with making the character who has it into the one comic relief character. To me, this trope was already tired and boring fifteen years ago and to this day it still hasn't managed to be funny once. Is an eye pointing a different direction really such comedy gold that writers (and, especially, artists) keep doing it to death? Just don't do this.

This doesn't mean that the character has to be serious or can't ever say anything funny. But the vast majority of characters with strabismus aren't even characters, they're one-off gags with no actual personality or even name. Or when they get a name there's an infuriatingly high chance that it will have “Derp” or some synonym for “stupid” in it.

Second - very much connected to the first one - tip would be to have a range in what a character with amblyopia can be. Again, there's more roles in stories than “comic relief”, “creepy old person”, and “this character doesn't actually have strabismus but I think it's funny for them to have it for this one drawing xD so random lol they have googly eyes”. Be creative.

The love interest can have hypertropia, the scientist can have exotropia, the ancient deity can be cross-eyed, the Mysterious Superhero can have hypotropia. Try to think outside the box of what characters get strabismus. If you want to do something awesome and never-seen-before, have multiple characters with amblyopia. Almost all media seem to have a cap on the number of cross-eyed characters set at 1 for some reason.

Other things cool to include would be mannerisms. A character with amblyopia will probably squint and tilt their head a lot to see better. I often close one of my eyes when I have to read smaller text or do something where I need precise depth perception.

For some people, glasses “fix” their amblyopia when they have them on. This can potentially work when the cause is a refractive error, mostly being very far-sighted. If it's caused by something else then they will probably have it visible all the time and everyone will have it visible when not wearing glasses.

Last thing, related to the previous point, is to consider why they have it. Most people will have theirs because of strabismus and refractive errors, but it could also be because the weaker eye is blind, because their eyelid droops, or be otherwise associated with the one billion conditions that cause strabismus. So while it's completely fine for them to just have it because of their eyes being crossed, they could also have it because of congenital cataracts or cerebral palsy. If you have multiple characters with amblyopia, you could have them have different disabilities (e.g., main character has a cranial nerve disease while their wife has Down syndrome).

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[mediumgayitalian]

What are some of your Will headcanons?

Any angsty ones?

hair style:

will's hair has a Mind Of Its Own. it is impossible. brushing it? keep dreaming. styling it? dude just give up

he can, however, wrangle it into two french braid pigtails. those are fun.

in the august after the giant war, the aphrodite cabin take it upon themselves to 'style' nico, including giving him these little elastics with a skull charm (like this but with skulls), but he doesn't like tying his hair back very much (too tight) so he gives them to will as a joke.

will LOVES them.

he literally wears them almost every day. the next time they go out on a supply run, nico sees these little elastic charms and buys them for will. he can't summon the courage to give them to him face to face but he leaves them on his bed. will adores them, too, and it starts something of a tradition of people giving will charm elastics as a small thank-you.

he has a collection of them and wears them whenever he wears his hair in braids.

his favourites are the skull charms, though.

artistic ability:

will really doesn't have many musical talents. he's hard of hearing and while hephaestus-made hearing aids definitely work better than mortal ones, it's not really something that can be cured, so he has a lot of trouble staying on key/making music himself.

however! apollo is the god of poetry and art in general -- that is more than just visual!!

will is a really good writer, poetry especially. he's very articulate and verbose and writes with startling clarity. he's written a lot of songs and a lot of poems, although he hasn't shown anybody in years.

he used to share them with his older brothers and sisters and sibling, but...well. obviously that's no longer an option.

he's never stopped writing, though. he may keep it to himself, but it's kind of an open secret. he's scribbling in his notebooks all the time -- it's impossible not to notice.

his friends and siblings, however, are the only ones who know that he writes creatively. they've peeked over his shoulder here and there (and also kayla is a huge huge snoop, like, badly, and austin is easily convinced to be complacent in her crimes), and sometimes he says things that are just kind of poetic.

no one else knows, though. he's deliberately obnoxious about it -- every once in a while, at campfire open mics, he'll clear his throat loudly and grin as people groan and recite something so bad apollo might have written it. most people think will's quite bad at writing, actually.

another thing he's really good at is drama, which is a surprise to absolutely no one. although beyond his regular histrionics, chiron had shakespeare as part of his curriculum, and will could play puck like nobody's business. he recited a mercutio so good once lee actually cried with laughter (so did everyone else). on a hauntingly beautiful february in 2004, he played ophelia by the creek so beautifully that it was silent for a good four minutes after he finished.

there are very, very few people at camp who remember that. will hasn't recited anything in a while.

an unexpected bonus of his medical knowledge, actually, is a really good understanding of depth, space, and anatomy.

he's a surprisingly good artist.

it started pretty normal -- he was having trouble articulating a question to michael one time, and in a fit of frustration drew a diagram to try and explain himself. it was really good, even as rushed as it was, so michael used to give him 'homework' that was hand-drawing posters of various body systems to hang in the infirmary.

it was kind of spooky how will could do it without looking it up. just close his eyes and start sketching an accurate nervous system. cool though.

his older sister, cass, encouraged him to branch out of anatomy diagrams and create whatever he liked. she made the unfortunate mistake of giving him several cans of paint and free reigns on blank infirmary walls (they're freaky and boring) to a nerdy eight-year-old -- that's why r2d2 and c3po are chilling on the wall by the mortal medicine cabinet.

he doesn't paint a lot now, 'cause he doesn't have the damn time, but when rachel finds out who painted the infirmary walls she hounds him until he takes a morning to paint with her. they have a lot of fun. they end up with more paint on each other and their clothes than their canvases, predictably.

siblings:

when will was a kid, he had twelve older siblings.

apollo tends to have kids in brackets. he is, as everyone knows, a hoe, so he'll be busy on olympus or with artemis and go a while without having any kids, and then he'll be on earth for like three years and have a litter. so a lot of his kids end up the same age.

before the war, in the same cabin, there was: cass, the oldest, 18, somewhat year-long; diana, 18, year-long; lee, 16, somewhat year-long; michael, 16, somewhat year-long; gabriel, 15, summer-only; leanna, 15, summer-only; mercury, 15, summer-only; kate & phoebe, 14, summer-only; laurel, 13, summer-only; amir, 13, summer-only; melody, 12, summer-only; and will, 8, year-long (for now).

their abilites were pretty vast and well-rounded, and they came from all over the continent.

there was a time when the infirmary wasn't understaffed at all.

will doesn't like to think about it.

style:

on their birthdays, apollo leaves them all a gift on their bunks (or their beds at home, if their birthdays aren't in the summer).

each of them gets a piece of blessed gold jewelry when they're ten. will got a pair of threader earrings with thin blue sapphires that he loves. he can't wear them often because they're a genuine hazard in the infirmary (yes, more than flip-flops) and he doesn't want them ruined. but he wears them on the rare days he has off.

he actually has quite a lot of jewelry! because he is a sappy nerd, he has two watches: a hephaestus-made one, totally waterproof, weatherproof, and monsterproof, because it helps quell the anxiety when so many people are counting on him (he has to know when people will be better and how long he can be away from his patients, also used to tell people to fuck off when he's on break lol); and his mother's much nicer watch that she gave to him when she dropped him off at camp for the first time -- it's not changed for the time zone. he knows what time it is for her, and it makes him feel better about being so far away from her.

he wears both watches on the same wrist, ala chad danforth.

he has a third watch. it was lee's. it's got r2d2 on the face. will got it for him with his own money when he was nine years old, for his birthday. it lives in a box under his bunk. it's cracked and broken and never tells the right time except on 1:52 p.m. on june 30th, although the year gets farther and farther off every time will checks it.

contrary to popular belief, will does not actually wear the same pair of cargo shorts every day.

...because he has seven pairs of the same shorts.

he does have other shorts through. namely swim trunks and a pair of tighter shorts he wears specifically to kick ass in volleyball. he didn't try for this or anything, he got the shorts at the thrift store, but he's pretty sure they might be designer. he gets a lot of compliments from the aphrodite cabin when he wears them.

he also has a collection of nerdy t-shirts (his anakin sand-rant t-shirt is worn to threads), novelty pajama pants, hoodies, and flannel.

he has more than one tattoo. he has several, actually; constellations, lines from freckle to freckle so faint you can barely see them: the seer, the drummer, the archer, the tiny lion, the archangel, the maiden, the lyre, the twins, the boat stern, the hearth, and the singer.

just plain will:

he's slightly red-green colourblind.

when he gets mad, his cheeks puff up and he gets all red in the face before erupting. his older siblings used to call him tinkerbell.

he gets teased for being so dramatic that he was named for the most dramatic apollo kid who ever lived -- shakespeare. but his actual, legal name is just plain will solace. when pregnant, his mom used to mutter 'it's you, me, and sheer fucking force of will, baby' to herself a lot, as a kind of mantra, and then will was born and she thought it would be kind of funny to name him will (she was right). lee invented william andrew solace so he'd have something to yell when will got in trouble lol.

he has the climbing wall record. this is because he climbs a lot of trees. he has no explanation and no one is going to stop him.

when he was a kid, and the whole mythology thing was explained to him, he misnderstood michael's explanation of food sacrifice as one to be done to all theoi/mythical beings. he worked his way to praying through the entire pantheon, a horde of minor gods, hestia, chiron, argus, and half the nymphs before someone caught wind and explained to him properly. it is the main reason all the nymphs and dryads are so endeared by him. he used to go around asking their names and very seriously writing it down in his little notebook to pray to them properly.

he carries around notebooks constantly. at first, diana gave them to him because he was driving everyone bonkers with his endless questions and she needed Five Minutes, Will, Gods, Please of silence, but he really took to it and wrote everything in there. he keeps them all as a sort of diary. kayla reads them any time he has his back turned.

it is really, really hard for him to talk about his siblings. but he knows kayla and austin feel kind of left out and hurt about it, since they didn't get the chance to know them like will did (the kids never met them), so sometimes, late at night, he calls them softly over to his bunk and they curl up, one under each arm, and he tells them stories until his voice goes hoarse and they're long asleep.

[heartsforseo]

Strawhats with a member who likes Sanrio

A/n: I LOVE Sanrio sm and used to have a Keroppi mirror and Hello Kitty plush (now I have more >:)). The Skincare fic did better than I thought tbh. And I ws brainstorming what fic to write since I ws bored. So pls request :(( also maybe a bit oc??

⭑Luffy wouldn't understand why you like Sanrio and what's the hype about it.

⭑Yeah, he heard about it from Makino and got a shirt that's Kitty, but that's that.

⭑When you ramble about Sanrio to him, he'd just laugh about it and say, "You really know so much about this, Y/n!"

⭑Especially about your fav character(s), he'd just listen to you, smiling and looking right at you. Though he might doze off from time to time.

⭑And if he ever remembers, he'd tell you about the Hello Kitty shirt he got from Makino.

⭑And if he ever figures out that he had that merch before you, he'd boost about it and talk about it until dinner arrives.

⭑But now whenever you guys stop on a new island, he'd race you on the Sanrio merchandise and steal buy one for you and him.

⭑Zoro, the best man, would stare at you like you just escaped from the mental asylum.

⭑He really doesn't know anything about Sanrio. He thought that it was some booze at first based on how much you'd talk about it.

⭑But when you finally explained what it was to him he was like://

⭑He noticed your gloomy expression and he suddenly started panicking.

⭑Would try to tell you what he heard from your rambling, but all you could hear were some loud stutterings.

⭑It was honestly laughable how hard he tried. So extra credit for him.

⭑You told him how he acts like Badzt and he was like, "Is he cool?"

⭑But now whenever you guys would stop by a new island, he'd somehow reach the Sanrio stall first.

⭑Nami would gasp, someone actually knows Sanrio???

⭑When Nami was young, she'd see it on one of the newspaper pages. She'd always look forward to the new chapters to be released.

⭑She'd also hear some of it from Bellemere and would get hand-me-downs from Nojiko.

⭑So when she overhears you ramble about Sanrio to someone she'd butt in and share her opinion.

⭑After the conversation, she'd start noticing how many references and merch you have of your favorite character.

⭑Now, whenever you guys stop on a new island, she'd happen to buy you clothes for your favorite character.

⭑Say your thanks and she might buy you more. (But don't abuse it or make her angry, she'll pull up the bills.)

⭑Sanji also knows a lot about Sanrio.

⭑Working at Baratie as a server and cook, he'd seen a lot of girls wearing Sanrio bracelets or necklaces.

⭑He'd even gift Sanrio cut flowers with a letter (the dedication of this man goes crazy).

⭑So when he finds out you like Sanrio, he immediately shows you his pile of plushies, posters, cards, stickers, etc.. you name it.

⭑Every day, you gotta expect a gift from him.

⭑And it doesn't help that he gets more creative--day by day. For example, he'd first give you small gifts then start getting bolder and bolder.

⭑He’d also make you a sanrio-themed food/dessert/drink.

⭑Whenever you guys would go to a new island, he'd add a "gift for Y/n" to the list.

⭑And when you all would set sail, the cycle returns.

⭑Ussopp is also one of the people who knows a lot about Sanrio.

⭑He was just skimming the newspaper and saw Sanrio, now he looks forward to the stories and maybe even gets some inspiration for his stories.

⭑When you told him that you love Sanrio, he told you about his stories and that he met the creator of Sanrio. Even meeting KeroKeroppi.

⭑But fr though, he probably made a weapon inspired by Sanrio.

⭑Ooh, speaking of weapons. He has an inspired Sanrio attack and name.

⭑Now whenever you guys boarded off, he'd look for gunpowder and get some ideas and critiques from you.

⭑Chopper has heard of Sanrio from the townsfolk and Dr. Hiriluk.

⭑When you told him you like Sanrio he was happy.

⭑He starts talking about things from the past that link with Sanrio.

⭑When you told him that his animal form is like Deery-Lou, he'd whine and say, "I'm a reindeer, not a deer!"

⭑All jokes aside, he likes getting praised and being told by strangers that he looks like a Sanrio character.

⭑He likes sweets so when he saw a Sanrio-themed lollipop he'd start squealing and run over to buy one.

⭑Now whenever you have to go to a new island, you'll see Chopper with 2-3 Sanrio-themed lollipops.

⭑Robin would also know what Sanrio is

⭑Looking at other children having those kinds of stuff, I'm sure she must have dreamt of having at least one merch before.

⭑But when she was still Ms. All Sunday, I'm sure she kept track of the storyline in the newspapers.

⭑When you tell her about your love for Sanrio she'll say, "Is that so? I have some fair share about it."

⭑She collects the little kinds of stuff. For example, she has a keychain of kuromi and Aggressive Retsuko (it reminds her of Chopper).

⭑Now whenever you guys get off to a new island, she'll maybe buy you a keychain and match with her (if she has time, especially since she's looking for poneyglyphs).

⭑Franky has heard of Sanrio before.

⭑Especially from Tom-san.

⭑He honestly likes Sanrio. He even tried to make one before, when he was young.

⭑When you told him 'bout your love for Sanrio, he immediately thought of building you one.

⭑AND HE ACTUALLY DIDD!!! It was a life-size Pochacco statue!

⭑If you didn't like the character or have other commissions, Franky would happily do them!

⭑Now, whenever you guys settle to a new island, you don't have to worry about getting the limited's since Franky could make them.

⭑Hands down, Brook probably knows the owner☠︎︎

⭑This guy is so old he may even helped with the soundtrack.

⭑All jokes aside tho, I'll say that Sanrio wasn't really known when he was still alive. And considering he has been wandering on his own for 50 years, he had definitely missed much of it.

⭑You'll have to tell him what the latest chapter is and what he missed (He's in the corner, crying cuz he missed so much).

⭑He'd probably play a soundtrack he remembers when he first watched it 50 years ago.

⭑But once you fill him in on the latest news, he'll also be fangirling with you!! (Yoohoo new buddy!!)

⭑Now, whenever you guys would settle on a new island, you both would hang out and discuss the latest episode.

⭑Jimbei I'd say would know the basics

⭑I mean, he has been a fighter so I'd say he hasn't gotten some time for relaxation.

⭑he reminds me of Hangyodon sm :(((

⭑I mean, he's a nice guy who likes the best for others.

⭑When you told him about your love for Sanrio, he'd be like, "Oh I know some of that." but he'd prefer to listen to you.

⭑When you tell him about his similarities to Hangyodon, he'll probably try to learn more about him.

⭑Hangyodon would probably be one of his favorites. Especially since he's the first one he knows a lot about.

⭑Now whenever you guys would leave for the next island, you'd give him some small stickers and ties.

A/n: Okokokokok so ofc I don't know MUCH about Jimbei yet. And I just got into the backstory of the sun pirates. I'm at like 536. But anyway, I finally finished this fic after 23 hours. Ofc I was bored again so I wrote. My next fic would be the Gaming one unless someone sent a request. ALSO MAYBE OOC

[hearts4golbach]

Get the Angles Right!

chapter 3.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

warnings:

none

"Well, good morning, Johnnie." You locked your apartment door. "How was the meeting?"

"long and really fucking boring, obviously." he smiled at you. "How'd you sleep?"

you pressed the button on the elevator. "I couldn't. my mind was flooded with ideas for you. it was crazy. I filled up a third of my notebook."

"I can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing." Johnnie laughed.

"I think it's good. who need sleep, anyway?" You smirked, shooting him a wink before stepping out of the elevator. "The first place I wanna show you is right up the street."

"Okay," he hummed as he walked next to you. "Despite all of the nasty shit, New York is really pretty."

"Yeah," you agreed. "I like the aesthetic of it all. it makes me feel more professional, like I'm in a movie. it's good motivation, sometimes."

"I'll have to come back and visit again."

in all honesty, you had forgotten he didn't live here in the first place. your heart ached. you looked away from him as you recollected yourself. "Yeah, you should." You shot him a fake smile and turned your head back towards the path.

you paused before speaking again. "My dream is to open my own store, some day." You looked at the vacant building across the street. "I mean, I'd make less singled out designs. some shit that anyone can walk in and buy, you know?"

he followed your gaze to the building across the street. "What would you name it?"

"probably something a lot cooler than L/n Designs, but you know. I may be creative with fabrics, but not with names." You sighed and laughed at yourself. "Maybe my boring name is why my clothes don't catch people's attention."

he shrugged. "I mean, I don't know jack shit about fashion or the fashion industry, but I'm sure it just takes time like everything else."

"You're right. It does." You took a step closer to him. "You're pretty fashionable for someone who apparently knows nothing about it."

"I kind of just throw together whatever is in my closet." he laughed. "I've been dressing like this since middle school, y/n."

"Me too! I mean, whenever I go out I'm dressed up but 90% of the clothes I wear are pajamas." You pointed towards the shop coming up. "This is it."

"Wait, what even is it? you never told me where we're going." Johnnie squinted in an attempt to read the sign.

"Wow, you put a lot of trust into me. it's a record store. not one of those big corporate shits that only sell today's top pop record vinyls, but you'll see." You cut yourself off, not wanting to spoil it.

he opened the door for you. you thanked him and walked in. "The quote unquote emo section is my favorite. whenever I actually want to buy a record, I always find one of my favorite albums. I'm not sure if everything in this section is actually emo, but, yeah."

you flicked through the selection, finding the 'Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge' album that comes with a red record.

"Oh, shit." Johnnie mumbled as you pulled it out of the selection.

"i know! I'd blast this shit whenever I was younger. to be fair, I still do." you laughed. "I'll have to come back and snag this one in my free time. I don't want to carry it around all day."

Johnnie began looking through the next part of that section. "damn, I really fucking underestimated this place." he pulled out the album 'Pretty. Odd.' by Panic! at the Disco. it was just a normal, black record.

"I love panic! I've never seen pretty odd here before." he handed it to you, and you flipped it towards the back.

he looked at you with a soft smile. he admired your excited facial expression. "yeah, me too." he said softly.

you looked back at him. the eye contact lasted what felt like hours, and it was electric. you shook your head softly. "Uh, yeah. they also have shit like vintage concert posters and tee shirts. of course, they're all expensive as fuck so I've never gone out of my way to get them. they're cool to look at, though."

Johnnie followed you to the back of the store. his eyes were wide as he looked over the countless posters that were hanging on the wall, each one overlapping another. "how does someone even get all of this shit?"

"I don't know, donations or people sell them, I guess." you shrugged.

the twi of you walked around towards the alternative pop section. you and Johnnie reached at the same time. your hand fell on top of his. you hesitated before pulling it away. "God, how many times are we going to do that?" You joked.

he shrugged, his face red. "it's whatever, I don't really mind."

you tried to hide your smile. "Me, either." You flipped through the first few. "Look, melanie martinez. do you know her?" You asked, handing him the 'Cry Baby' album with a baby pink and blue record.

"I've heard of her, yeah. I've never really listened to her, though." he looked at the back. "these song names are sick as fuck, though."

"you should check her out," you mention, putting the record back in its place.

you two left the store. "There's this small cafe across the street. if you're interested, we can stop and get coffee or something. it's on me this time, by the way."

"Yeah, let's go." he smiled

you pressed the button for the crosswalk. the light changed, signaling you to go. you began to step forward before Johnnie grabbed your arm and pulled you back. you watched in shock as a car whipped past you.

"fuck, don't scare me like that, y/n. i can't have you getting hit by a car right in fucking front of me." his hand stayed rested on your arm.

you turned around to look at him. "im sorry. maybe I should pay more attention." You laughed nervously.

"Don't worry about it, just glad you're okay." his hand slid down your arm and gripped your hand. he shook it gently before dropping it.

you carefully crossed the street with Johnnie glued to your side.

whenever you reached the cafe, he held the door open for you. "Thank you. apparently, this place is family owned and shit. it's really good, I go here all the time. I usually get a mocha frappuccino and a croissant. what do you want?"

he walked up to stand beside you and scanned over the menu. "Hot chocolate?"

you hummed, "I've never had it here before. Do you want a croissant, too?"

he nodded. "Yeah, sure."

you instructed him to go pick a seat, and you would order. he walked off, and you walked up to the counter.

"Hi! what can I get started for you?" The woman had a cheerful smile. she was older, probably in her late 50s.

"Can I get two croissants, a hot chocolate, and a mocha frap? both medium, please." You smiled back as you pulled out your card.

"Yes, ma'am. your total is on the screen, swipe whenever you're ready."

you paid the bill. she took your name for the order, and you went back to sit with Johnnie.

"everyone seems really fucking nice here." he mentioned. he looked away from the window to make eye contact with you.

you shrugged. "more or less. it depends where you go. that's why I have my signature spots." You smiled and sat at the seat across from him. "Is everyone a dick in LA or something?"

he shrugged. "People don't really interact with each other, to be honest. but not everyone is like that. it just feels like it's rare to find someone who is actually nice."

"Maybe you're just looking at it the wrong way. everyone is nice in their own way of showing it, or at least that's what my mother used to tell me." you explained. "I always try to see the good in people."

his bright blue eyes were excentuated by the sun. "that's actually a really fucking good way to look at it. damn, I never thought about that."

you shrugged. the woman called your name, and you went to go grab your order. it was on a small tray, which made it easier to carry everything.

you passed Johnnie his hot chocolate and croissant, then took your own. he took a sip of his hot chocolate. the taste made him raise his eyebrows. "this is actually really good. wanna try?"

"yeah, wanna try mine?"

you traded drink and took a sip of eachothers. the hot chocolate was really good.

[joydoesathing]

hello!! so i followed you on twitter because i LOVE your nu:car genderbend designs AND your art is just so beautiful and creative. i love how expressive and fun it is!! and now, you recently got me into tnmn 😭 i started playing it and now i’m having brainrot over it, but specifically more on your genderbend au!! (i’ve been gushing about your designs and au to my friend who is also getting into tnmn with me, lmaoo)

and i want to say that i LOVE your design for steph and mckendra. i’ve been simping so hardcore for steph, i was lowkey disappointed when i saw what steven actually looked like in game 😭

so on that note, do you have any headcanons for the rudboys?

i'm glad that you like both my nukani ladies art and my current art in tnmn too, anon❤️❤️

anyway, without further a do, here my hcs for the rudboys girlies

The Rudboys

The cool, tomboyish ladies™️

Definitely speak with a Southern accent (though Steph has been used to speaking with the standard American accent as well, especially when talking with others in her workplace. The Southern accent becomes prominent when she's around her mom or when she's emotional)

Mr. Rudboys (Steph's dad and Kendra's husband) got killed by a doppel around the late 40s, being one of the earliest cases of doppel attack casualties. Almost immediately after that incident, the two were relocated into the apartment.

Stephanie

She's quite serious, especially in her workplace where she does not tolerate nonsense from her colleagues, but does have a sense of humor (though it's mostly of the snarky variant)

Not really used to letting loose in front of others, so when she actually does try, she can be quite awkward (in an adorable way)

Secretly fond of cute animals

She cut her hair short only recently within a decade. After her dad untimely passing and seeing that her mother was clearly shaken up from that incident, she took it upon her self to act as man of the house and toughen up. She then cut her hair the way she did as some kind of mark of her commitment to her decision.

At first, her mom was horrified and thought Steph got mugged but eventually got used to it. She didn't tell her reason for cutting her hair to her mom, until much later on in the 50s, and her mom reacted this way:

She does gets relentlessly teased and doted on by her mom, but she mostly let it slide, even if it does cause her really bad embarrassment.

Mckendra

A lively and outgoing person with a strong sense of humor

Old lady with a young person's soul

In her younger days, she was barnstormer but later on worked as a flight instructor for a little while, then settled down and retiring in the early 40s.

The hat that she wears belonged to her late husband and she gets quite fussy if people try to touch it or take it off from her head

One night in the late 40s, while at home with her husband, a doppel broke into the house planning to kill and eat them both. The two did put up a fight with the doppel , but it ended up with Mr. Rudboys brutally dying in the end.

Months after the incident, she developed serious separation anxiety and would obsessively coddle Steph. Although, most of it has died down now and she's fine with Steph going out, she still does dote a lot on Steph and is quite protective of her.

She also prefers not to openly talk about her husband with others. She often tends to dissociate when the talk is about spouses.

[twiishaa]

🎧 and the rest was bassically history : meet the members! yn and her emotional support team 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

🎧 masterlist for this smau 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

🎶 currently playing : girlfriend by avril lavigne ✩°. ⋆⸜ 🎶✮

🎧yn ln 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

literallt overflowing with main character energy. if nana and hachi had a baby then it would be her. she loves learning about history, not just for the aesthetic (as kenma thinks), and she loves singing and all things music!! that type of girl who says ‘oh i listen to everything!’ and she actually means it. she’s in a band, COMET, with some of her musical friends. they only play at small scale events but their music is all on spotify!!

🎧 kiyoko shimizu 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

yn’s ride or die best friend for life. she’s majoring in graphic design because people said ‘as long as you’re creative, it’s easy’ but oh how wrong they were. she has called yn in the middle of the night crying about an assignment due in in 5 hours. everyone knows who she is and literally worships her, including her friend group and especially yn. she’s the president of the arts committee in uni, dedicated to the advertising and artistic side of uni events.

🎧 kenma kozume 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

literallt the only one in this friend group to have some type of common sense. majoring in economics, because business looked too fancy. everyone says it’s hard, but he disagrees - kenma says it’s easy and it gives him time to spend gaming, so win-win! he doesn’t stay on campus, he has an apartment really close by, because the dorms on campus didn’t let them keep pets. has a cat who has become the friend group’s mascot.

🎧 hinata shoyo 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

yn’s fun loving bestie !! he’s down for basically anything whenever and is parters with yn when it comes to being silly (read: sigma). majored in sports nutrition because of one day in high school when he was coming back from the shiratorizawa training camp and he called his coach because he didn’t know what to eat (do you guys get the reference…). also guilty of only going to kenma’s apartment to see the cat. part of the uni’s volleyball club.

🎧 suna rintarou 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

the cool guy all the girls have some crush on because he’s ‘so mysterious!’ helps yn with writing/producing songs sometimes. majoring in film because it looked fun af and the camera looked cool. he’s probably got hearing loss, because of how much he’s wearing headphones. is going broke because of how much he spends on clothes, but it’s okay because he looks cool. unironically listens to kpop (he’s a lessera defender !!!!!)

🎧 notes 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

guys am i funny or am i trying hard …

suna kpop agenda is being pushed here !!

i know the messages don’t look to realistic.. but it’s okay

so excited for the rest of it guys eat this up please

🎧 taglist @turquoisenintendo64 @laughingfcx send an ask or comment to be added to taglist !! 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

[avelera]

The Doylist Argument for Crowley Being An Important Angel (Pre-Fall)

So I just read a great essay on all the arguments for why Crowley is Raphael by @cyan-cirby and rather than subjecting them to attaching my long-winded additions directly onto their post, figured I'd make my own.

(As a quick aside, I do think Crowley was probably Raphael specifically. It's just too big of an omission of archangels that People Have Actually Heard Of to include Gabriel and Michael, and then jump to lesser known archangel names like Uriel, then totally obscure names like Sandalphon while skipping Raphael, a goddamn Ninja Turtle of well-known archangel names. And I don't think Crowley was Lucifer because Satan is already a character and Neil point-blank said Satan and Lucifer are the same person, otherwise it's too confusing (never mind other evidence like that Crowley referred to Lucifer in the 3rd person in S1, but I digress).)

Anyway! There's plenty of fantastic essays like the one I shared above that go into the fresh new Season 2 evidence for why Crowley was Raphael or at the very least important and high-ranked before he Fell. But I'm a fresh (and still primarily) denizen of the other Neil Gaiman Recent TV Show Adaptation of The Sandman so I want to delve into why Crowley was An Important Angel because that's just how Gaiman writes.

- Crowley is the more Gaiman-y of the two characters and Aziraphale the more Pratchett-y. I’m not making this up from nothing, Pratchett and Gaiman have taken photos and done promotions for the Good Omens book where they modeled themselves that way and basically cosplayed those characters respectively.

- I'm a Pratchett Super Fan first and foremost and can say with some authority that Pratchett tends to write Normal People. Even his Special People are Normal People who have to put their socks on one at a time in the morning. However, his Normal People do Special Things. That's the point. He truly believes, deep down in his bones, in equality and it shows in his portrayal of his protagonists as normal people who rise to an extraordinary occasion.

-Aziraphale is Pratchett's angel in Good Omens and it follows from that that Aziraphale is a Normal Angel doing extraordinary things (defying Heaven’s will to save the world). It aligns with Pratchett's general writerly sensibilities that his angel who saves the world is just a normal low-ranked angel, nothing special by birth, who is fussy and imperfect but nevertheless rises to the challenge to do incredible things in a comedic way. That's how Pratchett's protagonists work.

- Gaiman writes Special People. Dream/Morpheus and the other Endless are born Special People. Rose in Sandman learns she is born Special. Shadow in American Gods learns he was born Special.

- Gaiman very often writes about protagonists who are mythological and/or magical and thus who are super powerful by birth. They are generally only limited either by their own emotional immaturity or by Cosmic Rules.

-Gaiman has also, on more than one occasion, inserted a character who rather resembles him and mirrors his sartorial choices of wearing all black into the story as a protagonist and then made them a Cool Character. Not a criticism, just sayin’, Dream/Morpheus and Crowley come from the same era in his career.

My point is, Crowley is the Gaiman character so, in my opinion, especially when you combine this hunch with the new lore additions in S2, there are some past authorial choices and sensibilities that lead me to believe that with sole creative control of Crowley’s arc and character background, as well Pratchett’s tacit collaborator blessing since this is Gaiman’s Character, we’re going to see a default to old habits and a continuation of this trend because authors are people and they tend to have their way of doing things.

Which is why I think we're going to learn that Crowley Is Special By Birth (being an archangel), super overpowered (like Dream), and only limited in achieving what he wants by Cosmic Rules and being emotionally stunted.

[shootingthe-stars]

man, the 2020 thing is SO real, because 2020-21 was the last time that actual MARAUDERS were present in the marauders fandom, and not these random stranger characters that are nothing like them. that's why i'm also mentally, emotionally and creatively stuck there and will continue to be until things go back to normal. and don't get me started on how they treat jily, imagine hating them so viciously and universally? and after claiming to love them and having it as one of the top ships? how does one even flip feelings like that? that's why i don't believe their feelings, positive or negative, it's all fake bandwagoning for what's in season and trendy. the real lovers are in shipping fandoms. oh and if you ever decide to read another marauders fic, it's better to ask jily folks for recs, cause they have not only objectively amazing fics, but they're the last ones who still write them in character lmao

most of the hate i see is on tiktok from kids who think being gay automatically makes you more interesting but i digress. i think certain fics are fun to read if you pretend they’re ocs (cr for example imo) but then there are some popular fics that are blatantly misogynistic that i cannot deal with. i think the fandom has always had a problem with characterizing women correctly so i won’t pretend like 2020 was perfect either, but there were definitely things i liked about it more😭

like i’m not about to rant (nvm i did)

but i think everyone is way too rigid and have actually regressed, especially with wolfstar but not even the way most people interpret that statement. i think everyone has been put into boxes of tropes in the way somewhere like “booktok” has popularized the past year.

“best friend’s brother” ignoring the dynamic between the brothers and the best friend and how it wouldn’t make sense without tearing down core character traits

making half the death eaters punk or emo because of how the dark mark looks, ignoring that they are mainly privileged conservative characters with wealthy families

then there’s the girls who (but this has always been an issue) are shallow and based on aesthetics without following through on character traits. marlene likes red and partying, mary likes lipstick and dresses, dorcas is cool and wears green. okay! now what? why do the male characters only discovered in the last year have more character and things written about them than someone like narcissa? why are the men excused and made complex but the women so black and white in their choices? keep the same energy!

so really, without even getting into the jily of it all i’d say there are a lot of issues. you can interpret characters however you want, especially those with less canonical info about them, but i do miss when certain characters really felt like people and less like blank slates with tropes slapped on. but i will continue to live in my own bubble and silently rolling my eyes at bad characterization

[qstea]

: oaoaoao it's 🌷 again,, sry if I request too much I'm having brainrots !! can I request ink, dream, error and nightmare w/ an s/o that designs clothes now and then to entertain themselves ?? tyy <44

✦ - Ink!Sans

| - OMG no way…

| - He loves designing clothes as well! Mostly through painting them onto others and making new outfits out of his ink for other people! So he finds that you design clothes and he’s fucking ECSTATIC. hopping up and down and begging to see your designs.

| - literally won’t stop pestering you until you 1. get distracted which leads to Ink stealing your little sketched designs and squealing loudly as he stares down at them with a happy expression or 2. he pokes you so much that you just give up hiding your designs or 3. show him as soon as he starts to get annoying.

| - definitely going to want to help you with designs. He’s very creative and he comes up with cool outfits all the time, so he’s hoping you’ll let him.

✦ - Dream!Sans

| - oh. Neat.

| - Dream doesn’t really know how to design clothes, and his outfit was just kind of made up out of the blue with what he had on him at the moment. Wouldn’t mind taking a look at what you made and maybe even offering some tips and tricks all while complimenting your work.

| - He thinks you’re very talented for designing stuff like that, so he speaks highly of your work and the amount of positivity radiating off of you when you listen to his praises or just sketching away is just *mwah* he’s so in love with it.

| - tbh Dream thinks it’s so wholesome that you do it just to entertain yourself. what other things do you do to entertain yourself? can you automatically learn and adapt from then on and get an even more vast set of talents and skills? he’s so interested in you it’s kind of crazy.

✦ - Error!Sans

| - honestly I think they just started loving you even more.

| - they just watch you working on your newest design and they are just so entranced by your designing skills. they’re definitely going to just awkwardly look over your shoulder when you aren’t paying attention or sneak glances over to you direction to see how much progress you made.

| - when you’re done designing and quenched your boredom, they immediately go over to take your designs and make them into actual clothes. this is the exact reason they were so happy to see you enjoying clothing design.

| - if you end up making any clothing blueprints and concepts for them, they may actually fucking explode. Will no doubt make the concepts into a real piece of clothing and may end up wearing it as their usual clothes. would love to see your reaction to seeing all your creations come to life.

✦ - Nightmare!Sans

| - Huh? Oh, okay.

| - Doesn’t really care all that much, they’ll check out your design planning and give a few recommendations to improve it, then move along their day. Totally fine with it, actually makes them a bit confused yet curious on how you do it.

| - May ask questions here and there just to satisfy their curiosity. Besides that, go enjoy yourself, I guess.

[homestuckreplay]

some times video games, DOES CAUSE violence: Who Is Dave Strider?

Character Deep Dive 3 - 7/7/2009

TG: im wearing them ironically TG: because theyre awesome TG: the fact that theyre ironic makes them awesome TG: and vice versa TG: are you taking notes on how to be cool?? jesus get a fucking pen (p.110)

With an ‘OH PSYCHE’ and a dramatic sword slash into the digital world, Dave Strider made his dramatic entrance into Homestuck on June 29, 2009. We’ve previously seen a few of his instant messenger chats with John, which establish him as a disaffected and irony-poisoned guy who values the idea of being ‘cool’ and dismisses his friend’s earnest interests. Actually seeing Dave as a point of view character gives a very different impression - he's emotionally dependent on the people around him, doesn't have a strong sense of self, and is scared to express an earnest thought. And he's not even the tiniest bit cool.

Below the cut is an analysis of what we learn about Dave in the first 350 pages of Homestuck, through the framework of his stated interests on p.315. It's about 4.4k words because much like Dave, I can’t shut up.

1 - You have a penchant for spinning out UNBELIEVABLY ILL JAMS with your TURNTABLES AND MIXING GEAR.

Dave’s computer (p.323) has two desktop files for his jams - ‘ILL BEATS’ and ‘DOPE RHYMES. SO DOPE’ which I can only assume are two separate musical genres that Dave understands the nuance of, even while his listeners do not. However, despite Homestuck regularly featuring music as part of the story, we don’t hear any of Dave’s sick mixtapes. Instead, we make them for him (p.338) - meaning Dave’s first stated interest is one that the audience has control over. This is like if on page 4, each reader got to enter a list of movies for John to love, and those movies were substituted into the later comic, giving every reader a unique experience of John’s taste. 

John is established as someone who has a very specific taste, staying firm while other characters and the narration criticize him. Dave is established as easily influenced by other people’s creative impulses and opinions on art. Whether the reader seriously creates something they enjoy, or layers all 16 or 20 beats at once in an unlistenable mess, the next page still reads ‘Those beats were so fresh they belong in the produce aisle’ (p.339). Dave thinking whatever the reader does is cool is similar to him thinking whatever his bro does is cool, which he mentions throughout his pesterlogs and narration in reference to diverse topics like the sylladex, video games, and puppets. 

He’s also easily influenced by John, perhaps even gullible, as John’s talk of a monster pissing in apple juice at the factory is enough to get inside Dave’s head and stop him from drinking the bottle he was excited about, and Dave switches instantly from parroting the GameBro review of Sburb to believing that Sburb can save Rose’s life, based only on what John says. A big question I’m interested in with Dave is what he actually likes, and where to draw the line between his own interests and opinions, and those of other people that he copies without exploring for himself.

Dave being a technology guy is the first thing we learn about him because of his username, turntechGodhead. We see Dave protective of his turntables, not wanting to spill anything on them (p.315) and we see him refer to his technology by the model name, suggesting that the specifics of the tech are important to him (p.337). Three of Dave’s six stated interests relate to music - unbelievably ill jams, bands no-one’s heard of, and phat rhymes. As music was notably absent from John and Rose’s interests, despite them being skilled instrumentalists, this over-focus on music is really notable. Dave’s musical interests explore the full spectrum of creating vs appreciating music, with Dave creating remixes as the exact middle point, a form of creation that is based on incorporating other artists’ work that Dave enjoys. This is kind of perfect for him as someone whose personality might just be a remix of his brother’s. 

We get no sense of Dave being religious, so the ‘godhead’ in his name apparently refers to how Dave presents himself and his creations. He talks as though his opinions are objectively correct, even in narration, and describes himself as being ‘worshipped’, with people prostrating themselves before him and kissing his shoes. However, music itself can be a religious experience. In Christianity, for example, songs of praise are a form of worship and a way to bring believers closer to God, and all major world religions have their own musical traditions. In secular culture, for many people, music intensifies emotions, creates community, and can create feelings of reverence and catharsis similar to those experienced in religious worship (see this article and this deviation for examples). I can easily imagine Dave feeling the same way, and music being his truest expression of emotion and therefore the thing that hits him most deeply and defines his life.

2 - You like to rave about BANDS NO ONE'S EVER HEARD OF BUT YOU.

We are taking this one on faith, because so far, we haven't seen Dave raving about any bands. He does own an extensive and colorful record collection which he keeps beneath his turntables, but he hasn't looked at any, or given the reader a chance to rifle through them the way we did with John's game collection. This interest parallels Rose's 'RATHER OBSCURE LITERATURE', and similarly, I don't think Dave's bands are genuinely underground - they're probably well regarded indie bands who aren't in the pop charts. If I’m headcanoning Dave’s favorite bands it’s Dirty Projectors, Porcupine Tree, The Streets, Animal Collective, Modest Mouse and LCD Soundsystem. The only real world media we know for sure Dave likes is Starsky & Hutch (2004), and Ben Stiller as an actor. Some of Ben Stiller’s work is definitely ironic comedy, but it’s still fairly mainstream.

It's also possible that Dave already got his only three friends to listen to his obscure bands, and now they have heard of them, meaning Dave can no longer act smug and superior about being the only one that knows them. This is a tragic and self defeating prophecy, and there's no direct textual evidence for it, but I came up with the idea while thinking about the Midnight Crew comic. Dave has a poster and bedspread of this comic but '[hasn't] looked at it in a while' (p.327), so he's less of a fan than he used to be. John also reads Midnight Crew and its predecessor (p.112), so I wonder if Dave got John into mspaintadventures and it then lost its magic of being something cool to Dave. There is a real loneliness in not being able to share your interests with somebody for fear that it will ruin them somehow, or that other people won't understand them the same way - Dave also mentions that it's hard to explain the 'subtleties' of his ironic appreciation (p.318). John likes everything so earnestly in a way that seems uncomfortable for Dave.

3 - You collect WEIRD DEAD THINGS PRESERVED IN VARIOUS WAYS.

Much like the record collection, we can see evidence of Dave's weird dead things in his room, but it's not an interest he's explored in the comic. Page 337 gives us a good view of his specimens, which appear to include an embryo in a jar of liquid, an assortment of scorpions, centipedes and beetles encased in solid material, a fish encased in a different solid, and various rocks, fossils and bones just chilling on the shelf. We don't learn whether Dave collects and preserves the specimens himself or buys them like this, but I found guides online for preserving specimens as a hobby using commercially available supplies, and those sunglasses are kind of like safety goggles (or at least better than nothing). Either way, this interest sticks out - all the others are very typical for a selfconsciously cool indie guy, but even if it's ironic, this is some confirmed nerd shit.

I do think Weird Science will become important to Homestuck. John's interested in ectoBiology and paranormal lore, Rose lives next door to a mysterious laboratory and has the ethos of a mad scientist, and now Dave displays biological specimens on a shelf. I'm always thinking about how the comic is setting itself up to explore some fascinating dichotomies (spectrums?) like physical vs digital and technology vs religion, and I'm now adding art vs science to that list.

I also think we can interpret this interest non-literally, and think about what other things Dave might like to preserve. Vinyl was thought of as a dead medium for decades, until a recent indie resurgence that Dave is helping with. Photography, Dave's next interest, is a way of preserving a moment in time that can't be relived. And one popular argument for why the Internet is good is that while physical items like a paper book will degrade over time, digital data like a website can be preserved forever. Maybe part of the reason Dave feels a lot of responsibility towards his websites is because he knows that people could still be reading them decades or even centuries from now, when he himself is a weird dead thing. In a story where Sburb represents the near-limitless potential for creation and destruction, it is very interesting that Dave, the biggest Sburb hater, is associated with preservation.

4 - You are an AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER and operate your own MAKESHIFT DARKROOM.

Again, Dave hasn't discussed his photography, but his pictures are strung up around his room. This is fascinating because it implies that the makeshift darkroom is also Dave's actual room, not the bathroom or a spare room or closet. This might suggest that like John, Dave doesn't have much control over the rest of the house. His brother has puppets strung up in the hallway and bathroom, but Dave either isn't allowed to hang his photos there, or he's not comfortable hanging them where the rest of his family might see. It also suggests that Dave simply draws the blinds, switches off the lights and screens, and exists in his room in darkness, navigating by touch and memory alone. This might tie into how half his hobbies are related to sound, not sight - and Dave wearing sunglasses indoors could be a way of practicing finding his way around with reduced sight, or an effect of regularly doing so, if Dave spends enough time in darkness that he now struggles with bright lights.

Three of Dave's four visible photos are selfies of him in different poses, despite a host of interesting things to photograph in his room. I'm thinking of a line from House of Leaves where a character, famous for her smile, is described as practicing it every night in front of the mirror when she was fourteen. Dave is the same to me. He's regularly associated with muting and masking his emotions - for example, saying 'Nah.' to retrieving his arms from cinderblocks (p.313), where John and Rose had far stronger emotional reactions to similar commands (p.5, p.218). Dave photographing himself in the perfect expression or pose surgically designed to look effortless, then studying those photographs and iterating from there, is so easy to imagine.

Conversely, for someone who is so dedicated to concealing emotion to the point of wearing sunglasses and hiding his eyes even while alone, making art (like photography and music) is probably the only way Dave knows how to process his feelings. Sadly we are in a post-cassette tape world, but Dave is such a 'make a mixtape for his crush' type of guy that I can imagine him finding a bunch of limewire rips, compressing them into a zip file and emailing them to John, who replies like 'I don't know how to open this'.

5 - You maintain a number of IRONICALLY HUMOROUS BLOGS, WEBSITES, AND SOCIAL NETWORKING PROFILES.

We are treated to two of Dave's ironically humorous websites - sweet bro’s hella blog, a blogspot page, and SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF, a dot com that really exists (and redirects to the SBAHJ comic on mspaintadventures). This explains everything. A blogspot is one thing but owning a dot com makes you a Guy Who Owns Web Domains, which feels extremely cool despite being ultimately meaningless. These sites also establish how much Dave has to say - we see this in pesterlogs too, where Dave will message John every few minutes asking for updates on the Sburb beta (p. 26, 35, 110) or send twenty messages in a row even after John has said he’s leaving the chat (p.204). 

On sweet bro’s hella blog (p.325), Dave’s just yelling into the void with no real goal in mind, just an idea he thought would be funny. I do think his March review is pretty funny, but I also think Dave likes GameBro for real. He respects their opinions - ‘did you see how it got slammed in game bro????’ (p.26) - and changes the subject when John criticizes it. He’s also adopted the lexicon, as the GameBro review of Sburb (p.42) is written similarly to how Dave types. But mostly I’m interested in Dave’s blog’s followers. He has at least twelve, and maybe more. The Ghostbusters icon is almost certainly John, but none of the icons jump out as Rose or GG. They could be real people - or they could be more of Dave’s accounts, with him creating an extensive social network of characters who interact with each other’s posts ‘ironically’. If Dave is someone who craves social interaction, this could be a way he copes with loneliness.

In SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF (p.326), Dave is creating something. He’s a webcomic artist! He might even have been inspired by the Midnight Crew. He’s only made four comics so far, which I’ll call ‘stairs’, ‘HE HE HE’, ‘jelly’, and ‘BARACK’. These all feature two characters, who are presumably Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, but it’s not defined which is which, so I’ll call them Red and Blue. Red’s mom makes an appearance in HE HE HE, and there’s a squirrel in BARACK, but these are side characters. The dynamic seems to be Red getting into situations, and Blue expositing/commentating on them. They are both gamers, might also be stoners, and Blue is possibly transmasc. BARACK suggests that the two characters might represent the American political parties, which makes sense, because the recent 2008 election is probably the first political moment Dave’s been old enough to have real knowledge and opinions on. 

SBAHJ is clearly intended to be near impossible to parse, filled with nonsensical dialog and plot points and horrific jpeg compression, so it’s extremely hard to analyze right now. I think this might be on purpose, and that part of Dave’s layers of irony are him not wanting people to learn too much about him through his art. The line between irony and sincerity is something really fascinating to me, because these concepts are so embedded into internet culture. Dave tells himself he’s making something that’s bad on purpose, and that he’s doing it ironically. But he actually believes that what he’s making is good. He thinks it’s good because of the irony, but he’s still making art that he’s proud of, he’s still showing vulnerability by posting it on the internet and getting people’s honest reactions, no matter how many layers he tries to cloak that in. 

Dave does think of his blog as a responsibility - ‘ive got a lot of shit on my plate, i am sort of a big deal ok?’ (p.333) - and I think that’s a really common feeling. Having any kind of following, even if it’s just John, his bro, and a couple of strangers on the internet, can easily turn into feeling like there’s an obligation to create content for them. If Dave’s cool bro has promoted Dave’s work, that becomes even more pressure, since those are people Dave probably wants to impress. So when he says he doesn’t have time to read Midnight Crew (p.332) or play Sburb with Rose (p.333), I don’t think he’s lying, or making himself out to be busier than he is.

Much like Dave’s sick beats (p.338), SBAHJ is the first time a Homestuck character has created something that also exists in our world. I think it’s very interesting that John, Rose and Dave all have meta roles to play in the story, but they are all different flavors of meta. John’s meta role is explicitly that of a character, but one that the reader, player, and narrator are all able to control at times through the various layers of the narrative (p.90, p.253, etc). Rose’s meta role is that of a player, able to control John’s environment in godlike ways and be immune to the commands of the Vagabond, another player (p.139, p.277, etc). Now, Dave’s meta role is that of the narrator, as he infodumps and exposits even when nobody is around, posts commentary, and creates an entirely separate narrative on his own website.

6 - And if the inspiration strikes, you won't hesitate to drop some PHAT RHYMES on a mofo and REPRESENT.

The phatness of rhymes can’t be quantified scientifically, but I did my best. I tried reading both of Dave’s raps aloud, doing my best to put them to a beat. The first four lines (p.287) went well, and it all fell apart from there. 

This didn’t feel like a fair test as I’d never usually read rap lyrics before listening to the song - so I read the lyrics to Lil Wayne’s 2008 song A Milli, and Kendrick Lamar’s 2009 remix of the same song, which I hadn’t listened to before. These were both much easier to read in rhythm, and when I listened to the songs afterwards, they were decently close to what I’d imagined. To further control the variables, I read Andrew Hussie’s 2005 comic And It Don’t Stop, which centers around rap battles. Here, too, the rhymes and rhythms are crisp - so this is a Dave issue, and not an author issue.

Dave is trying to use the word ‘McConaughey’ in a rap. He is probably inspired by far more experienced rappers who might be able to pull that off, but Dave definitely can’t. I think he’s skipping steps and trying to make something complex before he has the basics nailed down. His raps also highlight how self centered he is, much like his infinite recursion of ironic websites. John reveals that his life was in danger, and Dave’s instant reaction is: ‘how can I make this about my art?’ 

However, I’m concerned about the cultural implications of Dave’s raps. We don’t know Dave’s race and he definitely could be black, but there’s no specific indication of that. He’s represented in #ffffff, which is closer to a white skin tone than any other - many black and white comics use shading to denote a dark skinned character. Due to the nature of white privilege, white is culturally seen as the ‘default’ or ‘unraced’ option. In books, race or skin tone will be described for characters of color but not mentioned for white characters, and both Lego and The Simpsons use yellow skin for the majority of their characters as an ostensibly universal option, but still depict characters of color with brown skin tones, implying that the default yellow actually means white. 

Written by a white author, it’s likely that Homestuck has the same problem - and two factors make this even more concerning. The first is And It Don’t Stop, which was co-created by Black artist Tauhid Bondia, but was entirely written by white artist Andrew Hussie. The comic includes multiple instances of the n-word as well as a couple other race related jokes. The second is Dave’s raps themselves, one of which is an irreverent analysis of black presidents in movies at the start of the Obama era. Real life black people have incredibly varied opinions on race and politics, but Dave is a fictional character, and even if he is intended to be textually black, it’s uncomfortable for a white author to write him rapping about living in a post-racism world. 

I think it’s likely that the author - and by extension, Dave himself - are justifying their racism by claiming that it’s ironic and doesn’t represent their actual beliefs, failing to see that the effects of their words are exactly the same. I can give Dave the benefit of the doubt because he is 13 years old and doesn’t exist, but I think the very real 29 year old creator of this work should do better.

7 - The Absence of Gaming

John and Rose shared one common interest, which was video games. We know that Dave reads GameBro, owns the Sburb beta, and has played Problem Sleuth and And It Don’t Stop with John (or at least enjoys the art of these games). And yet, he doesn’t cite gaming as an interest, which I've been puzzling and theorizing over in my mind.

Dave likes gaming unironically and loves playing games with John. He reads GameBro to find out what the Correct Contrarian Takes are that’ll be socially acceptable in Cool Guy Circles. He does this to keep up with his bro, who he has a ‘campaign of one-upmanship’ with (p.314) not dissimilar from the Prankster’s Gambit between John and his dad, and who plays a very important role in his life. The magazine is called GameBro, Dave’s comic features Sweet Bro, and Dave effusively compliments his brother in both pesterlogs and narration, such as ‘my bro taught me a few tricks he basically knows everything and is awesome’ (p.35). 

Dave tells John to brush up on his data structures and allocate his strife specibus, but never actually demonstrates his own knowledge of data structures, and doesn’t know the specific procedure for allocating the specibus (p.35). Dave’s not an expert himself, he’s just parroting the sylladex tricks his bro taught to him. Dave never states a reason for his disinterest in Sburb beyond ‘it sounds so HELLS of boring’ (p.110), and we know that Dave’s bro also doesn’t plan on playing Sburb (p.314). Dave also implies that he’s a little bit scared of his brother with the mildly threatening ‘hes not gonna be happy about [my taking his Sburb discs]’ (p.294).

It’s highly possible that Dave’s love of irony also comes directly from imitating his bro, who is probably a 16 year old high schooler involved in a weird theater kid subculture, based on typical sibling age gaps and the puppets strung around the house. To Dave at 13, of course an older, alternative teen is going to be the absolute height of cool, even while it all looks silly to an outsider. I think that John’s stack modus is actually a very standard option for a sylladex, and that Dave and his bro are the weird ones insisting that hash map is usable - I can imagine them being like ‘why is everyone always using “plates” and “bowls”? I eat all of my meals out of aluminum foil folded into the right shapes.’ 

Dave’s post-ironic hipsterism isn’t exclusive to men, of course, but it is a very specific type of masculinity - ironic sexism is a known phenomenon. Dave, who confines his emotions to an expressionless nod, solves the minor problem of someone getting his name wrong by making a violent sword attack, and makes gay jokes but gets defensive the second someone suggests that he might be gay, is definitely falling into some toxic masculinity. 

Gender roles (both male and female) are unachievable ideals for even the most cisgender and perisex of people, but I think there’s a reading of Dave as a transgender man who came out when he was young and passes well, but always has to put in more work than the other men around him, because he has to work against biology and other people’s perception of his gender. Whether Dave is trans or cis, I think his ninja sword could be a metaphor for masculinity - it’s allocated to his strife specibus, but his actual strife portfolio is empty, and the sword is displayed on the wall. To me this says that Dave is a man, but he’s more concerned with the outward performance of masculinity than actually buying into those gender roles.

Final Thoughts

Just like Rose, Dave has meticulously crafted the personality he wants to have, but there are plenty of cracks in his facade. All three of our main characters so far are easy to understand and easy to relate to - right from their early appearances, we can see the clear disconnects between characters’ words, thoughts and actions, and effortlessly synthesize them into a coherent character. The author is simply gifted at characterization. The patterns of character introductions are very cool too, making readers both want and expect to see certain things, such as the characters allocating their strife specibus or playing a haunting tune (personally I’m most excited to explore Rose and Dave’s houses further like we have John’s). Establishing these patterns means I have a better sense of where the story is, and don’t have as many questions, though of course some mysteries remain, such as:

Just what is Dave’s cool brother’s deal, really? 

Will Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff (the characters) eventually cross the boundary into the Homestuck universe? Will we ever find out which one is which? 

Are the characters’ interests intended to be things they’re bad at (when they’re skills)? Could this be why music isn’t featured in John and Rose’s lists of interests, but is in Dave’s? Could this mean that Dave kicks ass at video games? 

To what extent are the images in Homestuck literal and to what extent are they representational? Or, in other words, do Dave’s sunglasses really gleam when we get his name right?

Dave’s message to John about apple juice (p.324) is almost identically worded to the preceding narration (p.320). Is the narration a perfect representation of character thoughts for everyone all the time, or is this only true for Dave because he’s positioned closer to the narrator?

[2goldendarkness]

I usually reblog, rather than make my own posts, but seeing everyone in the gaze community deal with their grief by writing things down has given me some courage to do the same. I hope it will help me in my grieving process and i hope to help everyone who does relate to what i write. So this will be my farewell letter.

Dear Reita,

I got the news seven days too late, like how it usually is for me coming into a fandom.

I became a fan about 8 years ago, i was doing a creative education as a designer, listening to random music on Youtube with autoplay. Suddenly i found Red, the first song that got me into the Gazette, i was glued to my screen and intrigued with the looks of all members. But why the hell was that one guy wearing a band around his nose? I needed to get into it. So i did.

The gazette then became my first and favorite Visual kei band, i’ve been trough a lot in my life and whenever hardship struck me, there was always an interview that would make me laugh. When i had boring days in school we even played a game, my friends would ask me “why is he covering his nose?” And i would make up the weirdest stories on the spot. That resulted in some charms with titles like ‘reita and the smelly drummer.’ And ‘reita the drugs dealer.’ It varied from poking fun and making up the stupidest thing, to making you some cool guy who fought bad guys. It would always make us laugh, even though, i was making up these stories to friends who weren’t even necessarily in the fandom, because everyone who saw you once, knew your name and so knew who you were.

I wrote fanfiction, many in where you play a big part of the story, not as a love interest, but as a brother of a character based off of me. All because you once said in a radio show that you feel like you’d be a great older brother, hell did i take you up on that one.

I never got to see The Gazette live, i used to curse you all for skipping my country and forcing me to travel for 5 hours to see you all. In 2018 i was almost at that point, but i couldn’t go because of my exams and because i had no friends who wanted to come with me. I always promised myself: one day, i will see them.

It hurts me to realize that day will never come, at least you won’t be there anymore. I accidentally open instagram, and find a grief post written by Hiroto of Alice nine, in the hashtags your name. Shock, that’s the first thing i felt. I must be going crazy. But next up was Miyavi’s post and as i read that it slowly starts downing upon me, my heart sinks to my stomach and a lump forms in my throat as i rush to jrocknews to confirm they aren’t just playing a sick joke.

I start crying like most of the sixth guns, but only after i start reading the members messages. Why am i crying? We’ve lost a talented bass player who inspired so many people to also start making music. The world lost ‘the world’s Reita’ who was always poking fun at the drummer. The bookstores lost their most unexpected romance buyer. Many lost their source of love and joy. I’ve lost my fictional brother.

But most importantly, your actual family lost a loving family member who bought his mother an entire house to repay her for raising him well. The Gazette lost a member. Kai lost his fear during interviews of whatever you are going to say next. Ruki lost being in your personal space no matter how big the dressing room. Aoi lost the person who’s jokes he could laugh the hardest about. Uruha lost his longtime best friend, and now can no longer feel your heart racing before the show, nor can he feel your hand searching for his heart.

I hope everyones feelings reach you, i hope that whichever way you passed, was peaceful and without pain. I hope that whenever it is our time, you come in your mustang to pick everyone up. Usually as a driving instructor i call shotgun, but i’ll leave that space to your close relatives. That way i can’t judge you for turning around while parking, rather than using your mirrors.

Thank you for everything Reita, you will never be forgotten. Once my grief is gone, i promise to remember you with a smile rather than cry. I also promise to be a fan of The Gazette no matter what they decide to do now you’re gone.

And to whomever read my entire message, thank you for reading this unhinged post.