#the art quality was surprisingly good

[fierce-little-miana]

Made a little meme inspired by this banger by @yuushiiblog. Here too it applies to the three of them

[killrisma]

the silly!!! :33

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

a guide to their children personalities, looks and more

characters: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley

intro: some says children are the mirrors of their parents, reflecting their images and absorbing their surroundings. perhaps this is true as your child shows so much of your husband. nevertheless, they’re their own person too, with their own personalities and likes - but never less loved for that.

cw: kids are described as toddlers and middle-childhood

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

x x x

Hakim

Birthday: May, 7th

Appearance: Hakim has all the looks from his father including his blank expression, although he's nothing but a sweet boy. Hakim has a lot of respect for his parents, and not surprisingly, he’s a very kind and noble kid. For some reason, he doesn't like to start talks but to observe people which it is, perhaps, another trait he took after his father. He loves drawing and reading books with pictures what makes you and Alhaitham buy him a lot of art materials and encyclopedias. Even when he becomes a bit old for his age, Hakim likes to listen his father or you reading for him before he goes to bed.

Nicknames: Kim, Love (you), Son (Alhaitham).

Trivia: He likes cats but he's allergic to them.

Aryan & Isaar

Birthday: November, 26th

Appearance: They’re very identical twins which till this day it causes a lot of trouble for people to identify them. The twins are a mix from both parents, though Cyno’s genes are favored a little bit more as they share the same skin tone, the red-orange eyes and not unironically the stoic face. Aryan is the quiet one while Isaar can be more social what makes the perfect balance between brothers. They’re respectful, kind and honest, but not so easily to trick. Aryan can be more judging than Isaar, if he doesn’t like someone he won’t hide it. They’re good friends with Hakim and Zahra. Both of them are very affectionate towards you, but they enjoy to spend their time with their dad as well.

Aryan’s nicknames: Ary (mostly you), Yan (only Isaar), Son, Kid (Cyno)

Isaar’s nicknames: Isa (mostly you), Izz (only Aryan), Son, Kid (Cyno)

Trivia: They hate sweets but love sour fruits. They created their own language which they use to communicate with each other when they are around strangers. Aryan is 7 minutes older than Isaar.

Kaedehara Kazumi

Birthday: March, 3rd 

Appearance: Kazumi is nothing more than a perfect replica of his father, Kazuha. The boy received all the samurai's characteristics, barely leaving anything for your own genes. What differentiates them is the charming beauty mark under your son's left eye, because even the calm and easygoing personality they share. Kazumi, however, tends to be mischievous and presumptuous which brings him troubles sometimes. Nonetheless, he's a loving and gentle kid; looking after his younger siblings, and listening and admiring you and Kazuha. 

Nicknames: Zumi, Son, Kazu, Zuzu (mostly Kiyomi when she wants to annoy him)

Trivia: He’s ambidextrous.

Kaedehara Kiyomi

Birthday: October, 17th 

Appearance: She definitely looks more like you, though Kazuha' characteristic features such as his crimson eyes and the red streak weren't left behind. However, your daughter is her own person as she is a very extroverted, charismatic and confident girl. She's pretty mischievous and she loves to play with Kazumi, but she can be very girly too as she adores quality times with you. She is a smart and strong type, not taking well to things she judges wrong. She deeply loves you and Kazuha, and cares for her brothers very well, mainly the youngest one. 

Nicknames: Kiki, Sweetie girl (mostly Kazuha), Yomi, Kiyo

Trivia: She loves dresses, kimonos, yukatas.

Kaedehara Haruki

Birthday: September, 21st

Appearance: Haruki is a beautiful mix of you and Kazuha. He has the same pale skin tone as his father, but his eyes shine like two jewels just like yours. As he was born sick, he is smaller than children of his age. Haruki is also very close to you and Kazuha as he rarely leaves the house, but he also likes to be included in his older siblings’ playing. He’s a very shy and quiet boy, but he has a sweet and cute side that he only shows to his family and some acquaintances faces.

Nicknames: Baby (mostly you), Buddy, Son, Haru

Trivia: He’s asthmatic. 

Zahra

Birthday: August, 13th

Appearance: Zahra definitely looks more like her father although her goldenish eyes remind her grandmother of her late husband. She’s a sweet, cheerful and a very friendly girl, being the extroverted one from all her friends. She’s curious and smart, preferring to play with puzzles and bricks over dolls. She absolutely loves her father and not surprisingly Kaveh is her favorite parent, although she loves you equally. Zahra has natural chubby and rosy cheeks and outsiders cannot help themselves but want to squeeze them — which it makes Kaveh go all overprotective. Overall, Zahra is a good girl and barely throw tantrums even being so pampered by her father or her rich aunt. 

Nicknames: Zaza, Babygirl, Sunshine, Sweet girl, Princess (mostly Kaveh)

Trivia: She’s afraid of insects, mainly butterflies.

Corinne & Quentin

Birthday: December, 30th

Appearance: It's slightly noticeable their lilac-cat shaped eyes since they look so much like you. Even though Corinne and Quentin are identical twins, they've some physical differences if you take a close look, like Quentin being an inch taller than his sister or Corinne's cheeks being chubbier. Just like their father and aunt Lynette the twins share the same personality’ difference as well. Although Quentin isn't as energetic as Lyney, he's the friendly and talkative twin while his sister is calm and reserved. They don't have a favorite parent, they love you and Lyney equally. The twins grew up surrounded by magic tricks so they absolutely adore when Lyney comes up with a new one. 

Corinne's nicknames: Rin, Anne (only Quentin), Dear (mostly you), Doll, Sweet girl (Lyney)

Quentin's nicknames: Quenn, Quinn (only Corinne), Junior, Love (mostly you), Buddy (Lyney)

Trivia: Corinne is allergic to shrimps and Quentin hates onions. They’ve only fought once. Quentin is five minutes older.

Éveline

Birthday: February, 4th

Appearance: She’s a very beautiful girl with the same white hair, draconian blue eyes and pointy ears as her father, but her facial features came from you. Éveline is a timid and soft-spoken girl and she tends to get easily nervous around unknown faces, hiding behind you or Neuvillette. She absolutely adores the Melusines and she gets along very well with Corinne. She's a little bit emotional but she knows she can run to you or her father if she gets overwhelmed by her own feelings. Éveline loves to cuddle with Neuvillette. As time pass by she starts to be outdoors by herself a little bit more, whether enjoying nature or playing with animals.

Nicknames: Line, Angel (you), Child, Darling (mostly Neuvillette), Eve

Trivia: She loves Mondstadt' water and she wants to be an "animal healer" when she gets older.

Cameron

Birthday: June, 26th

Appearance: Cameron is a carbon copy of his father, not only in his looks but their likes and mannerisms are exactly the same. He’s more collected and quiet than Wriothesley tho. However, his personality easily changes under your caring and affection being blushier and shy. He’s incredibly well-educated and respectful for his age treating everyone the same regardless of their background or crimes. He’s very intelligent and he loves to play puzzles or create things. For a long time Cameron was the only child but neither you nor Wriothesley had doubts about how he’d react with a new family addition as he had shown to be a loving big brother already.

Nicknames: Sweetheart, Love, Baby boy, Cam, Buddy, Son (Wriothesley), Cammy (Marie)

Trivia: He loves tea but not without sugar.

+

Marie

Birthday: October, 9th

Appearance: She’s 14 years younger than Cameron and she’s the cutest girl in the world according to her father and big brother. She looks more like you, but her icy blue eyes are a gift from her father. Marie is very innocent, sweet and empathetic. For some reason she's very small for her age, though she's a healthy and energetic girl. Marie is too precious and friendly for her own good so Wriothesley and Cameron feel like they cannot take their eyes off of her. You and your husband weren't trying to have a second kid, she came as a blessing that your family embraced with much joy.

Nicknames: Angel, Love (you), Mae (mostly Cameron), Princess (mostly Wriothesley), Sunshine, Baby girl

Trivia: Her first word was “Cam” and her favorite drink is almond milk.

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author fun facts: marie is entirely based on maria from anime film "Koe no Katachi", and zahra' insects fear are inspired from me since i'm truly terrified of them. mainly butterflies.

a/n: since it seems i'm committed to keep writing and giving life to this series, i'm bringing this character profile list for those who are interested to follow it updates or just take a look on it to get a broader look and have a detailed reference when you go to picture/imagine their kids. in my drafts, i've write and described them as teenagers/young adults. so if you want to know more just reach me in my askbox :)

[netherworldpost]

@kernyen-xo /

Cheaply.

Watercolor sets made by Crayola. Acrylics made by Crayola. The brushes these kits come with are frustrating, cheap brushes are typically $3-5 each. You can spend as much as you want on a brush, the cheap ones are surprisingly good. This is extremely common advice, this isn't just from me.

When you find "ah I like this" go with a student grade of whichever you prefer. Or both! I find watercolor frustrating. I find acrylic doesn't look graphic as much as I want. I fell in love with a paint called gouache because it is very flat, layers nicely.

I would not start with oil paint. It is expensive, requires a lot of special care to keep you safe. Fumes, cleaning agents, etc. Fall in love with painting, then if you want, give oil a try. Be prepared for days (weeks, months, literally) for paint to dry. This isn't to scare you off it -- it's great -- but I wouldn't start here.

Oil has tremendous variety of things you can do with it.

Watercolor is ethereal.

Acrylic has great graphic qualities, lots of range.

I like gouache because it looks almost animated (there is a reason for that, it was/is used in animation background sometimes). It's tricky and tempermental.

Paint by numbers kits if you don't draw. Maybe even if you do and just want to dive into painting.

Mixed media sketchbooks. Lets you experiment a lot, cheaply. The big thing about sketchbook paper is it comes in a few forms -- very cheap (newsprint) and takes dry media (pencils, etc.) well, cheap (mixed media, lets you experiment quickly and a lot), and expensive (hot press has no texture, cold press has a texture).

Painting needs something that can get wet and not fall apart.

Start with a cheap mixed media sketchbook and see how you like it. Move on from there.

Ton of videos across lots of social media and much content. Has the advantage of multiple perspectives, you don't get trapped in "I think this is crap" or "This is the best" versus your thoughts.

Start cheaply.

Art stores and product manufacturers exist to make money. This is a neutral statement. The point is they are a store, they will sell you whatever you think you need, whether you need it or not.

Conversely!

Some things that are not universally useful but sold in art stores are great labor savers. Some people look down at disposable palette paper, others need the flexibility because they have a hard time washing palettes... etc.

Start cheaply. Look at hardware stores, lots of duplicate functions in items.

I come from a background of digital art and a lifetime of business where "ah where the BONES ARE WE GOING TO FIND MONEY FOR--"

Have fun.

Get in deep and frustrated and then drink the frustration (but not the paint water) because you realize you're frustrated because you can FEEL how it should look but you can't get there yet.

The journey is amazing.

I've started looking at the mountain of business problems I have been sorting through for the last few years.

"Okay. How is this supply chain issue with stationery compared to a painting I want to do of the piranha plants of Super Mario Brothers?"

This is literally something I asked myself.

It took me out of the problem (supply chain issue, boxes, our office size, the number of stationery items I want to design) and forced me to look at it as a painting (structure, where does it stay simple, where does it get complex -- what makes sense -- ah, PDF downloads).

Paint.

Learn by doing.

Start cheaply.

Keep going. Build up.

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Fentons family's guide Section on being an evil assistant to a supervillain

_________________________________________

Fentons family's guide to being an evil assistant to a supervillain

Guide by Jazmin Fenton in case of employment with a supervillain.

Being an evil assistant or henchmen is surprisingly a very stable source of an income stream all things considered.

You just need to find a boss. A as in singular it's very important, who is pathetic and or stupid enough to constantly have their large scale plan failing even without the hero's Involvement.

And while their large scale plan for taking over the world with a weapon of mass destruction could be feasible if only they didn't think to actually use it. Using it to threaten the world leaders for sway is the correct way. It is the most unused method the one being used most is the method of actually using the weapon of mass destruction for mass destruction.

You as the evil assistant then have the responsibility to make sure that the villain doesn't/ can't use said device to destroy the world. The heroes can help. Later then take the blame for the failure absolving you of involvement.

Being a good evil assistant is babysitting the evil boss.

_________________________________pg 9___

"Oh man never thought I'd actually need to use the 'Fenton guide' Jazz made me." Danny mumbled quietly and heaved a sigh of relief when he had found it among his hastily packed together bag.

Jazz had been the one making both of their emergency bags when she had told him about the guide. He hadn't appreciated it then now he truly did now with everything going on.

God he missed Jazz so much. He wanted to see her so badly he wanted to hold her hand like when they were kids. He really wanted her hand to squeeze his back in reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

Danny tried holding back his sobs at the thought. He couldn't stop the mist in his eyes or his hands shaking holding the little booklet.

But he wanted her safe and far away from everything even more. He wanted his friends to be safe with his sister. It didn't matter if he had to be far away working getting those crystals every way he could think of. His friends and sister needed money to keep them safe, hidden and taken care of. They needed that money and crystals and if Danny had to choose between his morals and fright he would always choose his true family. Morals be damned.

• • •

He hadn't expected the costume to be so good in quality. That had surprised him the most the second being how easy it would be getting a job with villains. Turns out working as an "meta" henchmen who knew everything from fighting to logistics and machinery was a rarity in this dimension. Who would have guessed it with all the metas and enhanced humans going about? And omg they even have aliens in this dimension!

Getting the money for the crystals had been going surprisingly smoothly. Everything had been going so smoothly that of course it had to be ruined! The villain Danny was working for had gotten noticed and promptly got beat. Which meant he didn't have an employer anymore at least until a breakout was orchestrated. So no more job until then.

And Danny had finally managed his way to the middle hierarchy in that organization! Now he would need to go looking for evil henchmen positions again! It wasn't even a good season to go looking for openings in other organizations.

Damn it that bat furry in Gotham and his flock of birds. Don't they get how hard it is for a henchmen to find descant work!?

Maybe he should go with the duo villain and assistant type next time.

Thank you so much for reading I hope it was enjoyed!

Danny in the lair after having saved his villain boss from Batman after said villain had their scheme blown up in their face. Danny knew the plan would fail miserably but at this point he didn't care. He stopped trying to help when it came to schemes ages ago.

+Some art

Idk if I've posted this idea before but I've had this thing bouncing around in my head for a while.

[godspeedviper]

How the therapists react to your "worst" symptoms - Headcanons

SFW || TW: mentions of self harm, mention of suicidal ideation, therapy sessions, very brief mention of (unlabeled) disordered eating, mention of psychosis & violent thoughts.

A/N: this was written by someone who has been in therapy for many years and has personal experience with these types of symptoms. this is not meant to romanticize any mental illness or symptoms of it. this is purely self indulgent fluff. just because your experience might be different doesn't make these experiences any less valid. if you don't like this simply do not read it, block if you must, and move on.

Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow)

He is the most objective and detached of the lot. Therefore he never seems to have much of a reaction no matter what you do or say to him. He really has seen it all before. This does help you feel less anxious as time goes on, knowing he won't ever judge you or ascribe any kind of morality to your actions.

"If it causes you distress or harm, then we should work towards eliminating it altogether." is his typical response to your concerns about your own coping mechanisms. "You do not owe anyone kindness, just remember to restrain yourself from causing harm whenever possible."

He is the only one to have no discernible reaction to your self harm scars/burns. One day, he noticed an especially fresh one and offered to disinfect and bandage the wound for you. He always gives you space to bring things up at your own pace, when you feel comfortable doing so.

"Not all of us have the capacity to be so gentle, and that's alright." he says about your outbursts. "I'm not known for being the warmest, but that doesn't make me any less skilled at my work, or any less worthy of respect. If you do not hold my lack of socially acceptable agreeableness against me, then you should not hold it against yourself."

Bonus: when you finally have the courage to mention the substance usage he remains as cool and detached as ever. "I am glad you were honest with me so we can monitor for any interactions with your medications. Know that I won't judge you for moderate usage, after all, do we not professionally refer to medications as drugs? It isn't ideal, but it is a way of self medicating. All I ask is that you be fully honest with me about your usage so I can better take care of you."

Hannibal Lecter (NBC)

He is surprisingly gentle and very soft spoken, although you were intimidated by him at first and the opulence of his office. He usually greets you with a warm smile and asks how your week went and if you've eaten yet today. He teaches you to enjoy food again, describing it as an art, and asking you to be mindful and present when enjoying a meal. Listen to your body, what it tells you about the ingredients, the quality of the meal, and the hands that made it.

He always asks you what you want to do, making sure to actively include you in your own treatment plan. He thoroughly explains treatment options, medications and their possible side effects, and has you weigh your options. This allows you to really analyze your own reactions and act accordingly when you are alone.

"Now, you do understand I am required to recommend inpatient treatment if you are feeling actively suicidal." he says, when you come in on an extra bad day. "However, I want to trust you and give you the option of what to do from here. If you think it will do you more harm than good, let me know, but you have to be honest."

One day you get the courage to ask why there is a first aid kit on his desk, though you already assume why. He simply looks at you and asks "Do you need it today?" before gently tending to your recent self harm wounds. He never calls you out for it, but he does periodically ask you upfront if you've been engaging in self injurious behaviors. If you respond yes, he asks to tend to your wounds, and if you say no, he celebrates with you. "Good. I'm proud of you for holding yourself back."

Bonus: when you land in the hospital, Hannibal makes sure to go visit you while your therapy slot is on hold. He never calls attention to the circumstances that lead you here, and focuses solely on your recovery and how he can't wait to have you back in the office soon.

Harleen Quinzel (Harley Quinn)

It doesn't take long for her to shed her professional demeanor. She makes you feel like you're talking to a close friend, yet manages to never fully lose the "doctor" in her. She offers you fidget toys as a way to ease the tension of talking about such vulnerable and heavy subjects.

She makes everything into a little game or a challenge to motivate you changing habits. Every time you manage to avoid indulging in negative coping mechanisms, she rewards you with a little heart shaped chocolate at the end of the session. On bad days, she simply encourages you to try again and she gifts you a cute bandaid at the end of the session to signify your healing from a bad day (sometimes, the bandaids come in handy for self harm wounds).

"Being childish can be a good thing!" she tells you. "Its important to have a little whimsy in your life. Just because you grew up doesn't mean you have to... ya know, grow up." She encourages you to try and add a little joy to your daily life. You start taking fuzzy tipped pens to work and keeping plushies at home for comfort. Surprisingly, it does help.

Every now and again she asks for your advice or assistance on minor things, such as which dress she should wear for a date, or what show to watch next. Sure, you are technically paying for her time, but this fact alone doesn't entirely relieve you of the feeling that you are burdensome. Whenever that feeling creeps back up, she reminds you of all the times you helped her make decisions until you admit your usefulness with a smile.

Bonus: "Hearing voices or other noises doesn't make you evil." is her reply when she learns of your psychotic symptoms. "Everyone is susceptible to experiencing psychosis. Hell, I've felt it when I was losing sleep in med school. It doesn't make you a bad person."

Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs)

You are intimidated by him at first, but his hypnotic voice grows on you. He always sounds so self assured, but never assertive. He has an almost paternal quality to him, making you feel simultaneously comfortable and protected.

He always listens to you intently, you never feel ignored by him. Hannibal is the only one that makes you feel seen and you tell him as much. "Oh everyone sees you my dear, you can be assured of that, but not everyone has the courage to acknowledge you. Keep this in mind for the next time you should feel the urge to do something drastic for attention."

You were worried you would eventually do something to turn him away, as you had to so many therapists before him. However, he simply scoffs at the idea that you could ever do anything that could possibly frighten him or upset him.

When you finally have the courage to tell him about the violent intrusive thoughts he remains as calm as ever. "In the past, we humans had to hunt to survive. We also had to protect ourselves and our kin. As time goes on, that propensity for violence remains, even if our survival is no longer dependent on it."

Bonus: You come clean to him about getting into a fight with someone, being entirely overtaken by rage and paranoia. You call yourself a monster and cry. "I have worked with serial killers, family annihilators, rapists the worst that the world has to offer. I know monsters. You are not one. You wanna know why?" You nod yes. "Because my dear, you have remorse and regret for your actions, they do not. Besides, you would not be sitting here with me if you did not want the anger to control you."

AO3 || Guidelines || Request || Ko-Fi

[dr-spectre]

Guess who turned 7 years old?

SPLATOON 2!!!!! Everyone's favourite Splatoon game!!!! Right? Right guys....? We love Splatoon 2 yeah....? It's the best one right.....? Totally not gonna become the middle child of the series that gets overshadowed by the new fresh Splatoon 3 and the nostalgia of the first game right.....?

Okay, jokes aside about if Splatoon 2 is actually good or not. This was the game that actually got me into Splatoon, I knew about the series since it's announcement but I couldn't play the first game because like the rest of general public, I didn't own a wii u. Still don't but I would love to have one to mod. (And play Splatoon 1 online with fan servers...)

I think Splatoon 2 really did bring a lot of cool stuff to the table and it had a lot of quality of life features and interesting weapon, sub and special concepts.

It gave us the dualies!! THE DUALIES! I LOVE THE DUALIES!

It gave us the brellas! Which.... were kinda bad at launch and still are bad till this day....

BUT! I dont wanna talk about weapons because thats BORING! I wanna talk about one of the best things Splatoon 2 gave us...

OFF THE HOOK! PEARL AND MARINA! These girls are some of the most popular characters in the series and for good reason. They are both funny, likeable, charming, witty and have developed backstories by the time Octo Expansion comes around. Plus their chemistry is top-notch and so damn CUTE! It's almost has if they are somehow more than friends and that kind of connection is canon and people who try to deny it are fucking idiots and will never be in a relationship of their own.....

Also Splatoon 2 gave us a pretty solid hero mode at launch, sure it was basically more Splatoon 1 hero mode but hey, the first hero mode was fun so more of the same is fine by me. Plus you get Marie's classic snark too while you go through levels, she's nice company surprisingly. Way better than some old ass crusty dude...

It also gave us....

totally didn't fuck up my mental health this year and last year and caused me chest pain and discomfort until I had to dig and dig AND DIG for knowledge just to salvage it and make sure my favourite character in the fucking series was given the respect she deserves....

....hypno/octo Callie.... totally didn't fuck up this villain arc for her huh Nintendo? Totally didn't throw away the depth you built up (and was shown in concept art) only to try and hastily fix it 2 years later with an obscure relationship chart no one fucking talks about, not even the timeline explainers...

totally didn't use the wrong terminology to describe her situation and made everything so much worse because you wanted a simple black and white story for the kiddies yeah Nintendo? Despite you making stuff grey in the dlc expansion so the both story modes now clash like oil and water theme wise.

And yet you still treat her like dirt. Still using the wrong poorly localised words. If I still gotta repeat to the sky one more time that callie was under hypnosis and not forceful brainwashing I might have a stroke. You can't even fucking brainwash someone with hypnosis because the limitation of hypnosis is that the person under it must be fully comfortable with the suggestion and the suggestion cannot go agaisnt their morals and ideology. AND GUESS WHAT BRAINWASHING IS! FORCING DIFFERENT IDEOLOGIES INTO SOMEONE'S HEAD! DO YOU GET WHY I HAVE AN ISSUE NOW?!?!?! JUST USE THE WORD HYPNOTISED NINTENDO! THATS ALL YOU GOTTA DO!! ILL BE SOOO HAPPY!!!

YOU TOO INKIPEDIA! I CAUGHT YOU USING THE WORD TOO MULTIPLE TIMES! you better change it... just change brainwashed to hypnotised and I would literally kiss you on the lips or something idk... I love you inkipedia but that's all you gotta change okay? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?

ENOUGH OF THAT! I WANNA TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE!!!

Do you know what else Splatoon 2 gave us?

OCTO EXPANSION BABY! I know people love to call this overrated now but I really don't care. It's not overrated, it's perfectly rated. It also gave us PLAYABLE OCTOLINGS! Which was a highly requested thing people really really wanted and they gave us what we asked for! Even though they lacked a lot of customisation options.... still do till this day... (Nintendo is it really that hard to come up with new hair? The community has been doing that for years for you man.)

And of course... the last thing I want to talk about...

This is probably my favourite Splatfest to date. It brought in a lot of actual genuine philosophical discussion on what kind of world is best, a world of chaos? Or a world of order? I chose team chaos because when the youtuber/streamer Etika was still around he chose team chaos and I chose that team because of him... rest in peace...

The shifty station too was phenomenonal as you got to hear Fly Octo Fly and Pearl would come in AND YOU GOT TO USE HER PRINCESS CANON!!!! IT WAS SO FUCKING COOL AHHHH!!!

God Pearl is so cool... i can't believe I actually used to dislike her. I wanna beat up teen me so badly for having such bad takes. Marina is hot sure, but, Pearl is just so fucking funny. Man what was wrong with 13 to 17 year old me....

Anyways, I wanted to ramble about Splatoon 2. It's pretty special to me as it was the reason I am here today, so I can't really criticise it as much as others do. Well... aside from one obvious thing but, I've done that many times.

Also, before I go... NINTENDO!!! BRING BACK SHIFTY STATIONS FOR SPLATOON 4!!! DO IT!!! STOP BEING COWARDS!!!!

[wttcsms]

grumpy tenured professor Naoya x new, sunshine-y associate professor reader !!

lessons in intimacy, naoya zenin ;

pairing naoya zenin x f!reader word count 4.5k synopsis naoya zenin, phd, still has a lot to learn, and you are a surprisingly good teacher content contains fluff!!!, academia au, and they were office roomies!, naoya-centric, he bashes the arts </3

Learning Objective One: Notice Things About Your Partner

Naoya Zenin stares at the heart-shaped cake you left on his desk and refrains from going absolutely batshit. 

He can feel the pinpricks of irritation poking his insides, making him curl his hands in annoyance. Two weeks prior, there was a staff meeting informing the business school that they would be sharing their classrooms and offices with the English professors since apparently, due to poor plumbing and a lack of funding, their shack of a school building got flooded and was therefore deemed “unsafe” and “unusable.”

Naoya distinctly remembers making a snide comment about how majoring in something as worthless as English or literature should be deemed a safety hazard and that the degree is basically unusable. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling everyone in the school to get a grip and let the entire English department just float away into a nearby swamp. 

The business professors all agreed and considering that all of their students end up becoming wealthy alumni who donate money to ensure that their buildings don’t go under, Naoya doesn’t care about the enraged comments from the English department. 

All his rude remarks seem to ensure that he’ll be left alone, which is exactly how he likes to be. It seems that he’s the most hated business school professor and no one is willing to share a space with him. 

Because you are the youngest and newest member of the faculty, you end up being the unfortunate soul paired up with Naoya Zenin, PhD. When you first step into the office, big box filled with your printed lesson plans and desk supplies, he refuses to lend you a hand.

Instead, he sits back in his seat, staring at you with such an intense look in his eyes that you decide to look at anything but him, and he watches you struggle to maneuver around the tight space. Because of the funding, the business school offices are spacious, but to maintain some semblance of privacy, minor renovations were made. Crammed in a corner is a new desk meant for you. If he keeps staring daggers into your very soul, you’re going to make a request to have a room divider put in place so you can cower behind them and avoid his glare.

While your side of the office is small, you make it as unique to yourself as possible. There’s a Cinnamoroll plushie sitting on your desk, a cup holding glittery gel pens, and inside your desk drawers are scratch-‘n-sniff sticker sheets with colorful words of encouragement because the world has already beaten down your students enough — you might as well give them back some of their childhood enjoyment.

Naoya’s desk is vintage mahogany and rarely has anything sitting atop it unless he’s inside the office and on his laptop. Hanging on the wall behind him is his doctoral degree that is forever put on display in a massive, ostentatious frame. Naoya Zenin, PhD from Keio University. Economics, you recall him telling one of his colleagues. Because finance is the poor man’s idea of a prestigious field. 

It doesn’t take a degree to know how Dr. Zenin feels about a degree in the arts.

Upon your first awkward meeting with Naoya (where he let you nearly trip and spill all your meager belongings onto his pristine office’s floors), you immediately head home and look at your new office buddy’s RateMyProf reviews.

⅕ OVERALL QUALITY BASED ON 986 RATINGS | 0% WOULD TAKE AGAIN | 5.0 LEVEL OF DIFFICULTY 

Professor Zenin’s Top Tags

#lotsofhomework 

#getreadytoread

#lectureheavy

#skipclass?youwon’tpass

Review 1: i dropped my econ major because of him. this wasn’t even supposed to be a weeder class

Review 2: DR ZENIN IS THE WORST PROFESSOR FOR ECONOMICS. HE MIGHT BE THE WORST PROFESSOR IN THE BUSINESS SCHOOL. HE MIGHT EVEN BE THE WORST PROFESSOR IN THIS WHOLE DAMN UNIVERSITY!!!!!! DO NOT TAKE HIM! I regret not taking everyone else’s advice and going with Dr. Gojo instead 

Review 3: only redeeming quality is being hot, but he’s still an asshole

Review 4: Misogynist, doesn’t believe women can be leaders in the business world, has God awful takes that literally no one sane would agree with, teaches what HE thinks is right and refuses to acknowledge any opposing viewpoints, talks down on students, and that’s all i can say about him from the TWO DAYS i attended his class. i immediately dropped his course LOL 

Review 5: Dr. Zenin’s rigorous coursework and unforgiving grading has prepared me for graduate school, and I still believe all the courses I had with him provided me with a better foundation than my other peers in my doctoral program. However, he did make my undergrad experience a miserable one. His lectures are hard to follow at times, and he creates his exams with the intent of making it unpassable. He’s the professor that you wonder why he hasn’t been fired yet.

You search for any positive comments about him, but it appears that the students hate everything about him, to his tests, his teaching style, and his personality. 

In all honesty, it’s kind of sad. What must it be like, you wonder, to be so hated by the very students you’re meant to teach and inspire? You’re willing to give Naoya the benefit of the doubt — you know how one student’s misconception against a professor can paint a bad picture overall. Maybe Naoya is just a difficult person to understand! An undercover softie, if you will.

There’s no harm in trying to be friendly with him. After all, the two of you are going to be partners for the foreseeable future. You don’t have the energy to remain constantly on your guard around him. 

You start off with little things, like burning candles in the office to fill it with sweet, welcoming scents. You offer to let him borrow your extension cord so his charger doesn’t have to bend all awkwardly when he plugs in his laptop. You make an effort to ensure that the classroom is clean before his class enters because that’s a courteous thing to do. You notice that when he eats his lunch on campus, he’s always unwrapping a sweet treat afterwards.

You can’t be a truly bad person if you have a sweet tooth, you rationalize. 

So, you bake him little goods and leave them on his desk. When a week goes by and he doesn’t acknowledge your actions but the goods are always gone by the time lunchtime is over, you think you’re making progress. You notice that he seems stressed and annoyed every time he storms into the office, and so you start adding tiny notes of motivation alongside the goods, too.

Written on a pink sticky note that’s in the shape of a heart (probably to match the fucking miniature cake you baked), Naoya’s eye almost starts to twitch as he examines every loop and curve of the letters you personally handwritten for him.

I hope you have a great day today! Look on the bright side, you’re done with all your lectures for the week!

Naoya angrily takes a bite out of the cake as he waits for his laptop to turn on. The sugary sweetness does very little to alleviate his annoyance, but he can begrudgingly admit that the cake is good. Delicious, even. 

This makes his scowl deepen. 

How annoying, he thinks, tossing your note in the trash bin (not having the heart to crumple it up like he used to do with your previous notes). What are you, some kind of a stalker? How is it any of your business to know that Thursdays are his last days for teaching since business schools don’t believe in having class on Friday? And why do you always do that? Saying I hope? 

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Momo,” he remembers you telling your blonde-haired student. “But I hope you consider sticking with your creative writing major. We’ll lose a very talented student if you choose to go, you know.”

Naoya had let out a little snort of amusement at this. Who the fuck cares about whether or not students drop out? If they can’t handle the coursework, clearly they’re not cut out for the real world. He finds it annoying that you practically hold their hands, coddling them, always tacking on an I hope because you don’t want to demand people to do things. So much damn consideration, he wonders how you even survive in this big city. You’re probably the type of person who apologizes when someone else gets in your way at a busy store. You probably let yourself get cut in line. You definitely give money to panhandlers who are only posing as the homeless and needy. 

Naoya wants to take joy in the fact that you are the type of person who could easily be taken advantage of, but as he finishes the cake you made for him, the idea of people purposely giving you a hard time just because you’ll take it lying down makes him feel even more irritated than before.

He takes out his frustration on his students. A first-year student emailed him asking for an extension, so Naoya tells them either they get it done by the original deadline, or he is more than willing to just give them the zero right now. In the real world, your boss and your clients will not give a single shit that you are hospitalized after being hit by a truck. Perhaps, if you used the brain inside your head and the eyes on your face, you would know better than to cross the road when a speeding truck is heading your way. 

Then, he thinks that you would probably gladly give your students an extension if they asked. You’d probably even visit them in the fucking hospital, like the saint you think you are. 

You’re so helpful to the point of your kindness being detrimental to your own wellbeing. You extend deadlines, and then have to beg and plead with the dean and bust your ass to get final grades in by the required date. All that struggle could have been avoided if you just gave the zero. You hear out your students, letting them speak their minds, and it cuts into your lecture time. Nobody is paying tuition to hear another student’s ramblings. And how long does it take you to bake him these desserts? It’s something different every day, always fresh, always seemingly made with care. 

He doesn’t even know how you know he likes sweets. Lucky guess, he tells himself. 

You see, Naoya knows that he is respected (somewhat) and feared (most definitely). He knows that he is not loved, not by his colleagues (who are all intimidated by him), not by his family (who thinks becoming a professor at a prestigious research university is dogshit when he should have been a global economist), not by his students (the university-mandated end-of-the-term class surveys are always sent to him). So to him, despite the ego he presents to the public, he cannot fathom the idea of someone noticing little things about himself. He definitely can’t imagine someone noticing and caring — it would honestly make more sense if they used private information against him. 

He doesn’t think about you noticing him, and he refuses to think about all the things he subconsciously notices about you. He can recognize you by your perfume alone; someone had passed him by in the hall, and his eyes searched for your figure, only to be greeted by a student who just happened to favor the same fragrance as you. (He had snapped at the poor girl, telling her to walk faster or get out of the way.) He’s certain he knows the fucking HTML color code for the specific shade of lipgloss you’re always constantly applying in the office. One time, against his better judgment, he saves the place you’re at in your book. You had fallen asleep at your desk, your finger pressed on the page you were struggling to read, and then your head banged on the desk, hand slipping away. He doesn’t know why he didn’t leave you alone in the office; he had no business staying that late since none of his students were brave enough to turn in any assignments to be graded. There was an on-campus police alert the day before, though. Naoya rationalizes that he just didn’t want any criminals or deviants breaking into his office and destroying it. That’s all.

He actively avoids any thought of you, not realizing the irony of how, in his vehement attempts to ignore your existence, he is very much acknowledging you.

Learning Objective Two: Have Meaningful Conversations With Your Partner

“Why do you do that?” Naoya snaps, breaking the silence in the office. 

Naoya is the type of person who does not simply say things — he snaps, he sneers, he smirks. And he has the exact tonation, voice, manner of speaking, of someone who grew up and was never told to shut the fuck up. With his current position in life, it seems like no one ever will.

“Do what?” You look up from the papers you’re grading, staring at him all doe-eyed and genuinely confused that Naoya discovers the unfortunate fact that he does, actually, possess a heart. An annoying one that gets all tight in his chest and starts beating against his rib cage every time you look at him. He’d charge you with a hospital bill from a top of the line cardiologist, but he knows you get paid like shit in comparison to him. Also, because he doesn’t like the idea of women spending money on his behalf. 

“Give out pity grades.” 

It’s like you’ll do anything in your power to not fail a student. You’re just pulling out participation points straight from your ass! And the comments — don’t get him started on the amount of comments you waste time leaving on your students’ papers. There’s a reason why his grades always get entered before deadlines. He’s efficient. 

“And ruthless.” You tell him, after hearing him tell you all about his “efficiency.” “We’re here to help cultivate their minds. Get them to think. College shouldn’t be about getting grades based on your professor’s mood.” 

Was that somehow an attack on him? He should be annoyed. Instead, he finds this side of you less annoying. 

“I’m always in the same mood every time I grade.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that, vindictive?” You’re teasing him, and he wouldn’t let just anyone get away with such a comment. He’s bored, he tells himself. That’s why he’s entertaining this. Unlike someone, he doesn’t have anything left to grade.

“Nah. Irritated. They’re all idiots.” 

You frown. “No student is an idiot.” 

He gives you a look. “You teach English.”

“Intro to Classic Lit.” You correct him. 

“Right.” He says this slowly. “Idiots.”

“Maybe yours, but definitely not mine.”

“Let's compare our students’ majors and potential earnings after graduation.” 

Now it’s your turn to give him a look. “There’s nothing wrong with pursuing your passions.”

“Great. Do you tell them that when the cashier tells them their card declined? Or, does the passion end up paying the total? Are grocery stores accepting passion as a form of payment now?”

“Don’t be as mean as people say you are.” 

His signature smug air of superiority momentarily dissipates at this statement. It’s not often that someone can get Naoya to shut up. To be bested by someone who grades using pink gel pens is so humbling, the only thing keeping him on his pedestal is the fact that he knows he’s the youngest tenured professor in this whole entire university and an acclaimed researcher (he always makes the list for top five most cited economic researchers). You’re fresh out of a doctoral program, and even being tenure-track would be a pipe dream for you. 

“There’s nothing mean about being honest.” 

“You can be honest without being mean.”

“It’s the truth. Students are idiots.” He shrugs, because what the fuck is he supposed to do about it?

“Then why become a professor?”

“Sweetheart, professors that work here are researchers first, teachers… no, not second. Maybe third? If they’re that dedicated to shaping young minds, or whatever fantasy you’ve got going on.” 

“Well, I believe that the students are here to learn. And before you call them stupid again, that’s the great part about learning. You don’t have to be smart to do it.”

Growing up, Naoya had to be a lot of things, smart being one of them. No one in his household was ever capable of producing an ounce of empathy, and considering all the people he’s been surrounded by since his prep school, university, and internship days have all been raised in similar environments. The world is unforgiving. Naoya lives by the ever-so-poetic motto of “sucks to suck.” 

He will go home and lay in bed and stare at the crown molding on his ceiling, and he will recall your sunny disposition. He wants to shame and berate you for being so damn optimistic, for believing in those words, and he will think to himself wouldn’t it be nice for it to be true? 

Instead, right now, all he does is huff. The truth is, Naoya is well aware that his students aren’t stupid, even if he tells them that they are every time they’re in class and every time they dare to come to his office hours to debate their grades. They aren’t stupid in the booksmart sense, but they are very dumb when it comes to the real world, and Naoya considers it a ruthless kind of mercy that he exacts on them. They’re idiots because they have all the potential in the world and would rather waste their time on stupid shit and procrastinate on their assignments instead of putting forth any real effort. 

If they tried, he would give them an A. 

Learning Objective Three: Be Specific and Sincere With Your Praise

You’re crying.

In his head, Naoya tries to force himself to roll his eyes but finds his body unwilling to comply with the demands of his mind. He’s annoyed, but the irritation isn’t directed at you.

It’s at the man sitting across from you. Dr. Kimura got his PhD from Cambridge and thinks he’s hot shit, but out of pure curiosity, Naoya found his dissertation online and still uses it as free melatonin. Two paragraphs in knocks him out faster than a whole bottle of sleeping pills.

Dr. Kimura asks him to leave, into which Naoya reminds him that this is technically his office, and that Dr. Kimura is an intruder. Too much time spent with you in such a confined space has some of your little lessons rubbing off on him. Words are so important to you. Naoya decides that visitor and guest are too kind, too euphemistic, for Dr. Kimura. Call it like it is. 

Kimura’s business for being here is to give you your first ever teaching evaluation. It’s actually just a poorly disguised attempt at trying to lowball professors’ salaries, but this is the type of schtick that only works on pushovers like you. Naoya leans back in his desk chair, arms crossed, and it’s obvious that he is going to be listening in on the whole entire ordeal. You’re embarrassed to be put on display like this, not knowing that he isn’t here to scrutinize you (for once), but rather he’s your backup. 

Before things take a turn for the worse, you’re actually all smiles and sunshines and rainbows. 

Stop smiling at him, Naoya thinks. He hates your smile. Hates it the most when it’s directed towards anyone but him.

Kimura begins with a compliment. That’s how all the professors in the arts are taught. Compliment sandwich! Praise, constructive criticism, more praise! What a fucking joke. Naoya thinks his way of handling things is much more efficient. Talk about all the stuff they need improvement on, and whatever isn’t corrected clearly is okay. Don’t you people know how to read in between the lines? Context clues ring any bells? Fuck, what did you all go to school for?

Disaster strikes, just as Naoya predicts. 

“Listen, we know that this is your first year of teaching, and you’re still getting settled into your role of professor and not student, but clearly there’s some leniency when it comes to your grading…” 

Kimura’s listing all sorts of shit. Grade inflation is what he claims one second, next he’s claiming you have subjective grading criteria. No other Intro to Classic Literature course has a similar class average to yours. 

Kimura shakes his head, like he’s disappointed in you. Another tactic that would only work on someone as sweet as you. 

“If this continues to be an issue, we may have to reconsider renewing your contract.”

And there are those waterworks Naoya is expecting. 

The thing is, Naoya knows a bully when he sees one. Naoya knows all about being cruel just for the sake of being cruel. As cold, shriveled up, and worthless as it seems, Naoya does have a heart. 

“That’s bullshit.” He inserts himself into the conversation. You’re staring down at your lap, twiddling with your fingers. Kimura turns to look at him.

“This is a private matter—”

“If it was private, you would have done it in your own office instead of mine.” 

“This is a matter that concerns the English department, not yours, Dr. Zenin.” 

He’s right. And yet—

“Have you even read any of her students’ papers?” 

—Naoya is your backup. 

“How is this relevant?” 

“Read their papers. Read their first one versus their most recent one. Hell, read every single essay a student has turned in over the course. I guarantee you they deserve the marks she’s given them.” 

“Their papers are filled with corrections and questions, and yet, she gives them an A.” Kimura knows all about Naoya’s reputation. He’s infamous. He’s the reason why everyone’s scared of majoring in economics. Naoya Zenin is the toughest grader there is.

“I’ve seen the mental state of your department’s students. She’s doing them a favor by not crushing them.” 

“You’re saying they deserve those grades?”

“She lets them redo all their papers within a reasonable period of time and grades based on the overall improvement.” Naoya shrugs, like it’s just that simple. “I don’t see an issue.”

“She’s manipulating grades.”

“She’s giving them a second chance. I personally find that to be admirable.” Naoya is not lying. This is what makes you look up. “And she cares. I think she’s the only one of your faculty who gives a damn about whether her students are learning or not.” 

Naoya doesn’t hate a lot of things because he doesn’t like giving certain things so much special attention, but he does dislike insincere people. People like Kimura are the worst because they hide behind fake niceties and table manners, but if you peel off their skin, they’re secretly lizards in disguise. At least in Naoya’s case, no one ever has the luxury of being shocked when he says something very mean and unpleasant because he will never filter himself or put on a mask that gives off the vibe that he practices civility. 

As a matter of fact, Naoya has a nasty, serpent-like grin on his face as he locks in on Kimura, caging him in. 

“After all, isn't that the point of becoming a professor, Dr. Kimura?”

Gotcha, you slimy bastard.

Learning Objective Four: Be Vulnerable, Put Yourself Out There

“Would you say I’m an asshole?” Naoya brings this up as he helps you pack up your belongings. He claims that it’s because he can’t wait to have his office all to himself again, but really, he’s starting to realize that lending a helping hand every once in a while can’t hurt. He hisses when a sharp edge from one of the many stacks of paper you possess cuts his finger. 

That’s the last time he’ll ever help someone, he thinks bitterly.

“Not to your face.” You reply back, giving him a grin. He wants to take your smile and store it in a moving box and then keep that box underneath his desk and have it be one of his most prized possessions. 

“Hm.” Then he tells you, “A student called me that.”

“To your face?” You look equal parts shocked, amused, and delighted. It’s a good look. 

“No. RateMyProfessor.” 

“Oh, I think I saw that one. They called you hot, right?” You’re busy packing up your sticker sheets and binders. Naoya wonders if he’s reading too hard into what you’re telling him.

“You’ve seen my reviews?” 

“Of course I did. I looked you up on the Internet the day we became office roomies.” You throw this information out so nonchalantly that Naoya almost feels like he’s the weird one to have a reaction from it. 

“You looked me up on the Internet?” 

“Duh. Naoya, we live in a world where AI is writing essays for students. Of course, I would look you up online.” 

“But why?” He presses you, latches on to the idea that there is a world where someone wants to look him up online and it’s not to find his home address so they can get revenge on him failing them. 

“Because I wanted to know more about you, silly.” 

It would be nice to be known. It’s already nice to have someone who wants to get to know you. Naoya Zenin does not settle in life, but he thinks he could settle for this and be content for the rest of his days.

Of course you would. He would say this, all snarky and egotistical, but he knows better. He won’t have an excuse to see your four times a week, won’t be cooped up in this office with you late in the night, won’t get to smell the remnants of your perfume when he’s up at the podium, lecturing his class. But there’s a chance that he could see you in different settings, too. Getting coffee together in between classes. Sitting next to each other during university-wide faculty meetings. Taking you out to dinner, because he’s reviewed your contract, and he’s not sure how you’re surviving financially. 

“I would like that.” The words come out rushed, all jumbled and smushed together. He’s a grown man. He doesn’t blush. This is what he tells himself when he feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I would like for you to get to know me. And to learn more about you, too.” He swallows. Hard. “I sound stupid, I meant to—”

“It’s okay, Dr. Zenin.” You have the prettiest smile in the world. His dissertation should have been on that. “The fun part about learning is that you can still do it, even when you’re being stupid.” 

[ihopeiexplode]

📱 “Two Fools Inlove” [←Previous | Next→]

—

"you know you didn't have to bring anything right?"

"yeah I know, just felt like bringing something"

"what's in it?"

"food what else dumbass?"

"coming from you probably someones head"

"wow very funny."

As he gave you the bag you were greeted with some desserts, homemade ones to be exact

"I thought you were bad at cooking?"

"Ive gotten better"

"sure you have..."

—

—

"SUKUNA LOOK LOOK"

"What am I looking at?"

"isn't the statute pretty??"

"I guess? All I see is some naked woman"

"you clearly don't understand art..."

"how do I not understand art when I literally paint, do poetry and calligraphy"

"you expect me to believe that?"

"yes"

"wait your serious?"

"did you think im not?"

"I find that hard to believe..."

"what hobbies did you think I had??"

"dunno tormenting people maybe? You seem like the type"

—

—

"I don't know how to bowl"

"how? It's literally so easy just throw the ball and there"

With that he'd toss bowling the ball to you as if it was nothing??

The moment he tossed it you immediately moved to the side

"WHAT THE FUCK??"

"your being dramatic it isn't that heavy"

"YES IT IS?? I COULD'VE BROKEN A BONE"

"I'd break it myself if you keep acting like a drama queen"

You'd roll your eyes before picking up the ball from the ground and throwing it into the bowling lane, as you did,, however you didn't even manage to hit a single bowling pin..and when Sukuna saw it he immediately laughed at your failed attempt

He'd pick up another ball and hand it to you as he stood behind you

"you're doing it wrong, here"

With that he'd manhandle your body into a proper stance, once he was finished he backed up and told you to throw

And when you did you managed to hit all of the Bowling pins as you did so you immediately jumped and giggled

Sukuna was about to find it adorable but you just HAD to act cocky. When you did he immediately flicked your head

"you wouldn't have done it without me, don't act to confident"

"can't a girl dream?"

"yeah but you can't"

"wow okay.."

—

—

"Sukuna what are you doing here?"

"Yuji asked me to come along to watch him skygazing"

"I'm surprised you agreed"

"didn't had a Choice"

"how come?"

"our mom told me I can't leave him alone, which is ridiculous he's perfectly fine by himself"

"speaking of wheres Yuji?"

"he ran into Megumi so he's having some quality time with his 'bestfriend', anyway why are you here?"

"just felt like it"

"what's so good about skygazing your just looking at stars what's so good about it"

"do you always have to be bitter?"

"always"

—

Both you and Sukuna would be sitting on the blanket you laid out on the floor as you two sat close to one another while looking at the stars, till you spoke

"you know Sukuna, I've been thinking"

"didn't know you had a brain"

"nevermind."

"I'm kidding, continue"

"I guess you aren't really that bad, you fare un to hang out with, surprisingly...I thought I wouldn't have that much fun spending this much time with you but guess I was wrong"

"so what were friends now?"

"dunno, if you want I guess"

He wants to say something so badly. But he knows once he does his feelings would spill out. And he doesn't wanna do that right when you both are finally on good terms.

—

—

Sukuna and uraume would be talking to one another as they sat down on a nearby chair

"how's things with y/n?"

"I guess it's okay, I went skygazing with her yesterday and she sorta confessed how I'm not that bad,"

"looks like you have a chance"

"chance for?"

"a chance to get with her? What else? It's obvious you like her"

"don't be ridiculous. Why would I like her?

"why would I like someone like y/n, the only reason I'm doing this is for the project nothing else, it's not like I care, let alone have feelings towards her"

"if anything when she told me her little confession I was on the verge of laughing, she really is pathetic isn't she? As if I'd be her friend"

"After this is over I'll just stop talking to her, simple,"

He's wondering why he's saying all of this? He knows he likes you but he won't admit that. He won't admit he's been chasing after you for years. He won't admit how he liked you despite how you felt about him. Sukuna isn't some pathetic loser he won't beg. He won't act desperate

After Sukuna finished talking he'd noticed how quiet they became, before he could ask what was wrong he heard a sound behind him, and when he turned around he saw you...

You stood behind him as you just stared at him wide eyed with your fist clenched, you were a fool to think a person like Sukuna would change, why would he ever change? It's still the same Sukuna deep down no matter what he does.

"how much did you hear?"

"all of it."

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: be honest does this sound like Sukuna atp...he's so out of character I'm about to jump off a cliff

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru @s-j320 @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @goj0sunglasses @svtvrnal @haitanibros0007 @punkhazardlaw @mslydiaa @jayathelostdragon @caileysdead @rixyaaaa @minzxec @rzcnlb

[feyascorner]

11 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

Ah. He wonders if you still have those. The last time he saw them, they’d nearly faded. And nowadays, you make it a point to keep your neck tucked under your collar, which leaves everything to his imagination.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. it's been a while! this isn't the longest of chapter but it's to kick my creative juices back into gear :) thank you sm for your patience friends <3

He knows he hasn’t returned your cloak yet. Unfortunately for you, Astarion has taken a special liking to the dull fabric.

Despite its dreary grey shade and the tears from being worn relentlessly, it’s of surprisingly good quality. It’s the only reason it's survived this long, he reasons, and also why the sun can never pierce through its sewing job and burn into his own skin.

When he felt the tadpole leave him, he thought he would never see the sunlit streets of Baldur’s Gate again. But this cloak of yours has brought him a new sense of freedom he hadn’t had before—free of Cazador, free of an unwelcome visitor in his skull, free of the looming fear of death…and most importantly, free of his fear of the sun.

Being “stuck” in your home has given him too much time. Too much aimless staring at a book he’s already read four times over. Moreover, the others have become somewhat accustomed to his presence again…meaning some (Gale, specifically) don’t mind leaving Astarion by himself. And as much as he hates admitting it, Astarion would rather Gale’s incessant lectures rather than the boring silence you leave behind at the break of dawn.

An outing or two couldn’t hurt, surely.

So he embarks. Where to, he doesn’t know. But he leaves the house, making sure to lock the door behind him when he remembers how Shadowheart had scolded you for the mistake of not doing so. It’s not that he’s afraid of the cleric, of course. He’s a damn vampire, for heaven’s sake. He’s only being cautious.

The cloak makes it feel as if he were in an oven, especially with the weather becoming more sunny by the day, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s finally standing in the middle of a bustling street, staring unblinkingly while others rush past him, all seemingly having a place to be. A newspaper boy here, a maid there, a circus performer somewhere there. He suddenly feels surrounded by too much life, and it’s not much help when he begins noticing fleeting glances in his direction. Wearing a thick winter cloak in the middle of the summer isn’t exactly common, after all.

“Baldur’s Mouth? They just started printing papers again, if you’d like a peek.”

Astarion glances down at the newspaper boy with squinted eyes, and his voice sounds snarkier than intended—not that he cares. “Who in the hells would pay two silvers for a newspaper that sucked up to Gortash just a few months ago? Does anyone really pay for this abomination?”

The boy frowns, crossing his arms. “If you didn’t want one, you could’ve just said so.”

“Really? Your incessant yelling around the market says otherwise,” Astarion snatches one of the papers, much to the boy’s distaste. He eyes the front cover for a split moment before realizing the very front page has a supposed ‘Exclusive Interview from the Hero of Baldur’s Gate! Never seen before!’

He finds himself reading.

“Mister, if you’re going to read, you have to pay!”

Though Astarion gives him a sharp glare that has the boy swallowing the lump in his throat, he relents, tossing one silver coin in his direction. Not without a click of his tongue, however, and the coin lands in the boy’s palms with a plop. “It’s two silvers.”

“I’m fully aware, don’t worry.”

The Baldur’s Mouth is full of cheap stories, surely paid off by its snotty writer as always, but Astarion acknowledges improvement where it’s due. Gortash’s death must’ve struck some sort of moral chord in the newspaper because a few of its columns are filled with mundane updates on the rebuilding of the city, even if they don’t provide as much entertainment as it surely could’ve if they stretched a few truths. He doesn’t read much into them, though, because he’s soon found himself a corner in Elfsong Tavern where he’s practically boring holes into the damn paper. The cover, specifically.

In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

Ah. He wonders if you still have those. The last time he saw them, they’d nearly faded. And nowadays, you make it a point to keep your neck tucked under your collar, which leaves everything to his imagination.

He wonders if you’re ashamed of them as he’s ashamed of the ones on his own neck.

Astarion tears his attention away from your portrait and resumes reading the actual paper.

The questions the interviewer asks are laughable, almost. They’re painfully boring or painfully intrusive, with nothing in between, resulting in awkward short answers or whatever filler the writer put in place of your answer. Half your words, at the very least, must’ve been altered, as they don’t sound much like you.

One question catches his eye.

‘So what does the hero of Baldur’s Gate plan to do after the city is rebuilt?’

Astarion lifts the paper closer to his face.

‘’This city is my home…but I don’t think I could stay here any longer than I have to. I’ve made some precious memories here, but I’ve also made ones that I’d rather move on from. People I want to move on from. For that reason, as much as I love this city, I’d have to embark for elsewhere.’’

His eyes widen. You’re leaving? When the hells did you decide that? 

‘Truly a sad day for the citizens to see their beloved bard leaving. Knowing our readers must be curious as to what their next step is, we made sure to discuss more on this matter.’

‘’Where will I go? I mean…I guess I’d just wander. Explore. Faerun is a vast continent. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to do. Plenty of people to meet.’’

Astarion’s gaze reaches the end of the page. The rest of the sentences babble on in flowery language praising you, which he doesn’t even bother reading before shoving the newspaper into one of the pockets of your cloak. He’s not sure if he would’ve preferred simply not reading the damn paper, but he tells himself that this is an improvement. A reason for celebration, even! Without you, he won’t have to tiptoe around the city any longer, nor will you need to worry about having to continue a months-long argument with him.

This is exactly what the two of you need. Space. For a while. Maybe forever. He stares at the beer stains on the table. Forever sounds like a long time, even if it’s only a few years to him and the rest of your life to you.

Forever sounds too long, yet not long enough.

He’s always wanted to be immortal. Even before he’d grown fangs and his eyes turned red. Sure, the path he took to get here…left a lot to be desired, but with Cazador gone, he supposes it’s not so bad, being a vampire—-besides the whole ‘not-being-able-to-see-the-sun’ fiasco. Sure, he has nightmares every other night about his time spent under his master, but without him, he’s essentially invincible as long as he doesn’t find a cleric who specializes in radiant magic. Sure, wine tastes like vinegar. Sure, he has to wear this suffocating cloak everywhere, but is it really so bad?

He sighs. It could be worse. He could be dead, for all he knows. Actually, dead.

Astarion stands to leave. This damn tavern is even more suffocating than his cloak, especially filled with patrons already half passed out from booze before noon. There’s a reason why he’s always preferred wine over whatever’s filling their cups.

He paces toward the door, but just as he’s halfway there, it swings open. And much to his horror stands a familiar cleric who nearly chucked a fork into his eye just this morning.

“Shadowheart,” the bartender smiles, ceasing his hand midway, polishing a cup. “What brings you here this morning?”

She certainly won’t miss her mark this time if she sees him out in public.

Astarion immediately turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. He practically shoves through multiple patrons in the process, but he manages to get there just as Shadowheart joins Alan at the bar, her arms looped around two large fabric bags as she greets him. They’re just within earshot, even as the spawn scrambles to get upstairs. “Just picking up our attire for the celebration and your tavern was on the way back. My friends and I do apologize for our inconsistent appearances…”

He doesn’t wait to hear the rest of their conversation because he’s already trying the doors to each of the rooms to figure another way out of the building. Most doors are locked shut, but there’s one he tries that slides right open.

Much to his distaste, it’s occupied.

He slams the door back shut just as the woman shrieks.

He peeks out the window. He could jump down, technically, but there are far too many people on the street in broad daylight to go unnoticed. And if there were to be a commotion, no doubt the damn cleric would come rushing out, thinking it’s another attack. So, instead of returning downstairs, he opts for the ladder leading to the rooftop, higher up into the building.

The warm air of the summer breeze hits him like an axe to the face.

Still, he climbs out, grateful to even managed to have escaped the same room as Shadowheart. Thank the heavens. And for a moment, he thinks he’s alone, until there’s another shrill voice rushing at him.

“There you are, Tav! I’ve waited days to see you here agai—" the tiefling stops, her smile dropping. "You’re not Tav.”

Way to state the obvious.

Clearly, he wants to spit back. But he’s too occupied trying to figure out why she looks so familiar to do so. He merely squints at her, which some might consider rude, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. Noticing his confusion, she blinks. “Wait, you’re Tav’s friend!”

Friend. He hasn’t been considered your friend in a long while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on house arrest?” she tilts her head. “Did you maybe make up with Tav?”

Ah. You must’ve told her about his—peculiar arrangement.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Alfira. We met at the grove and Last Light Inn, didn’t we?” she offers him a smile, which he doesn’t return. She doesn’t wait for an answer either. “I wasn’t expecting you here…Did Tav send you?”

Astarion scrunches his nose as she squints at him, hands on either of her hips as she gauges how he seems to sink further into your cloak, hesitating to kiss the sun’s radiant glow. She doesn’t seem to think much of it, though, as she taps her foot impatiently. “Well?”

“I—yes,” is all his damn brain can spit out.

“Oh,” her face softens, and a soft small stretches across her lips. How gullible. It wasn’t even a particularly good lie. “You should’ve just said so. In that case, I must ask you how they’re doing…I haven’t seen them in weeks. Are they well? Have they started reading up on my lyrics? Have they got a message for me? Ah, scratch those, where are they right now?”

Hells. He’s already itching to jump off the roof.

“Does your head ever implode with all those questions racked inside of it?” he grumbles. “And I’m afraid I don’t know half the answers. Sorry to disappoint.”

Alfira’s shoulders relax as she leans back on her heel, eyes falling to her shoes before she looks back up. “...Well, that’s a shame. Then, what brings you here?”

This time, he’s prepared.

“Seeing the state you’re in, my appearance was warranted. They only wished for me to ensure they’re doing well. It’s a busy time of year, you see, and they haven’t had the time to indulge your—-outings up here.”

“That’s good to hear.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air like a deathtrap, and he wishes he could say something—anything else about what you’ve been up to, but it comes up empty. It’s not like the two of you are on terms to sit down and have a chat every week over tea, but he’s not sure if he knows any more about what you’re doing than this bard standing right before him. You don’t play music anymore. You don’t frequent the bars as much as you used to. You don’t do a lot of things anymore. But what do you do?

It irks him: not knowing, that is.

He only realizes moments later that the bard has been talking this entire time.

“---and I’d really appreciate it if you could take it to them. I can’t imagine anyone else using it as well as they did,” she reaches behind her bag perched against the stair rails, and lifts something in his direction. He’d be a fool not to recognize it anywhere. It’s a pretty thing, the lyre. Your lyre. “I don’t know how I managed to find this at the market, but I like to think it’s fate. Tell them it’s a gift for helping with my songs.”

Astarion stares at the instrument. He runs the tips of his fingers against its familiar strings, taking note of indents he’s all too familiar with and the chips from months running in the wild. The last time he’d held it like this, it felt like it brought him closer to you. Now, it only feels like the cold dead wood it is.

“Were you looking for it?”

“No. Like I said, it must be fate.”

How cheesy.

His lips quirk downward even further, if that’s even possible, as he narrows in on a multitude of new dents and cracks in the wood. The lyre is yours, without a doubt, but it’s clearly seen a different level of care than what you would’ve given it even while fighting to the death. He glares at a particular blemish, and Alfira sighs.

“It’s seen better times, I know. But I’m sure they’d appreciate it even if it’s not how they left it.”

Wouldn’t you? No. He doesn’t know if you’d appreciate it. Why would you? You don’t even play the damn thing anymore, much less produce any music. He contemplates just tossing the object, but the second Alfira sees the glint of hesitation in his eyes, she pounces, shaking her head.

“Please,” she pleads. “Give it to them.”

His brows pinch.

And because he doesn’t want to entertain this tiefling any longer than he has to, and because he’d much rather get out of the sun and no other reason, he huffs. “Fine. I will.”

The smile she gives him doesn’t prompt him to do the same.

Months prior, he could see himself in the reflection of the gloss glazing over the wood. At least, that’s what he thinks because he could see your own expressions reflecting off it when you played it in the sun. It doesn’t hold a glow anymore, much less a reflection.

The lyre weighs heavily in his hands.

“I won’t pry,” Alfira says. “They never really told me what happened between the two of you…I respect your privacy, so I won’t ask. But whatever it was…I do hope it won’t happen again.”

It’s a weak one, but it’s a warning. He’s had plenty of those to figure it out.

“It won’t,” he mutters. 

He’ll be long gone before it can.

Sleep is a luxury you can't afford nowadays.

Surely, the bags under your eyes are enough of an indication if it weren’t for the sluggishness of your every step. Still, you manage to offer your guest a lopsided smile out of respect. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. Thank you, though,” Yevir says, eyeing you up and down, obviously noting your disheveled state. “Is now not a good time?”

You shake your head, straightening your back against the dining room table with a cough. “It’s alright. I’m only tired. With the preparations for the celebration next week, I’m a bit overwhelmed. I was meaning to speak to you again anyway.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but you can’t be bothered to deny your exhaustion further.

“You’ve been busy. I’ve seen the dead spawn that they retrieved from the Blushing Mermaid.”

Quite frankly, you feel terrible for the folk who own the place. A hag and then a horde of vampires in their basement in the span of a few months? You think it’d be a sign to close the tavern down.

Your tone remains grim. “Were any of them the woman you were looking for?”

He shakes his head, and a breath of relief escapes your lips. “No, she’s…I still haven’t found her.”

And maybe it’s the fatigue getting to your head, but your mouth moves before you can stop it. “You would think she’d try to meet someone she was so close to.”

It’s insensitive, and you wouldn’t blame him if he promptly stood to leave, but all he does is hang his head, dragging his hands over his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s gotten much rest recently, either. “Trust me, I’ve been wondering that for weeks now.”

“And have you come up with anything?”

“No. None. Zero. All I get are nightmares that I might get to one of my patrol shifts, and I’ll find her dead body lying on the ground somewhere,” he groans. “Well, deader body.”

“Maybe she’s afraid.”

“Of what? Me? Who in the hells would be afraid of me? Certainly not her, I must assure you. She’s always been stubborn, and she’s far more determined than myself, believe it or not.”

“Not you, but of herself. Vampire thirst surely can’t be so easy to control, and let’s be honest…” you point at your own neck, and the place where two puncture wounds should be on your wrist burns. “You’re practically a blood pot being offered to her.”

He frowns. “Is it so hard to control their thirst? I will admit that I don’t know much about vampire spawn aside from the obvious…”

You half snicker to yourself, almost in disbelief. “Believe me, they’re beasts when they’re ravenous.”

“Beasts?”

“Do you blame them? To them, blood is essentially liquid gold,” you shrug. “It tastes nothing like actual blood on their tongue. Sure, it might be a bit adjacent to drinking iron, but if they get their hands on prey, they really like…it tastes sweet to them. Would you deny a treat if you spent decades cooped up inside a dungeon cell, starving?"

Yevir’s face pales.

“See?”

His brows furrow as you sigh into your chair. “I’ve done my own share of research, but books seem to overexaggerate things most of the time…Can I ask how you know so much about them? Even if I manage to find her, I’d want to find some way to make her new life more tolerable…it’s not much, but it’s the least I could do.”

You blink.

Shit. You’ve said too much.

What are you supposed to say? You dated a vampire? Let him ravage you on the forest floor and spent months in his tent? That you kissed him just weeks prior, and he’s living just beside your own room? That he told you what your blood does to him, and reveal the bite marks on your skin?

You stand, your chair legs scraping against the ground.

“I have a book you might like. Let me grab it for you. And some tea, maybe,” you smile almost too widely. Fortunately for you, Yevir only nods.

“I’d appreciate it.”

You essentially grab whatever vampire-related book you have shoved under your bed and rush back downstairs to the kitchen. There isn’t much to learn from the thing with how much you already know, but you’re sure it must contain something that he might consider helpful. You know how horrible it felt to be kept in the dark about vampirism, even more so when you realized just how terrible the relationship between master and spawn tended to be…so a small push certainly wouldn’t hurt. Especially with Yevir's own problems with his beloved spawn. This is how you reassure yourself as you pour whatever tea Gale’s left on the stove into a cup.

If you were in Astarion’s shoes, you’d think becoming a spawn would have been the worst turning point of your life. And for a while, you thought he’d felt the same. A part of you thinks he does. But in the time you’ve spent with him and the stories he’s told you sparingly of his life before Cazador, your gut tells you differently. Especially when he’s drenched in the blood of your enemies, holding the immortality he’s long wished for with a sickening smile stretching on his lips. Guilt pools in your stomach for even bringing up the thought, but you can’t deny it, either.

You wonder if it hadn’t been for Cazador’s leash tying him down, he would’ve turned out differently. More twisted. That he would’ve indulged in the most corrupt parts of him as a magistrate. That maybe he wouldn’t have learned the value of a life. That he would’ve become more alike to him—the man he would’ve become if he’d ascended.

That small voice in your head is what stopped the ascension, for you feared he would lose everything he’d gained in his time as a spawn, no matter how trivial he believed it to be.

You hear the front door opening and snap out of your self-tangent. No use dwelling on it now. What’s done is done. No matter how strange the situation between you and the spawn is now, you’d rather have this than what could’ve happened if you hadn’t listened to your gut. You remain firm, no matter how much he hates you for it.

You pour Shadowheart an extra cup.

But as you step back into the living space, you realize the occupant doesn’t drink tea at all.

Astarion stands in the middle of the room, eyes wide as he stares at your guest with an undeniably bloody sack clutched in one hand. His large, red eyes seem glued to the ones of your guest, who stares back even more appalled as he takes one look at Astarion’s pale skin, the shade of his eyes, and the very bloody bag containing what you assume to be his dinner.

You drop the two cups onto the ground, tea splashing against your feet.

“You—Is he—” Yevir stumbles over his words, yet his instincts as a guard have him reaching for his weapon. “He’s—”

Astarion sneers, though his expression strains as Yevir’s hand reaches his sword. “Now, let’s not do anything that could ruin the wonderfully tasteful furniture in here...”

The Fist snaps his head in your direction. “He’s a spaw–!”

The back of a sword hilt hits the side of his head with an audible ‘thud,’ and he’s out like a light.

You stare at the unconscious body slouched over your dining table for a brief moment in utter shock before you gawk at the culprit. Of course. Lae’zel huffs, awfully pleased for someone who just caused a concussion to an innocent man. “Your soldiers are such children.”

Astarion barks a laugh, though it sounds more of a mix of disbelief and amusement.

You wish you could go one day in this house without another headache to add to the growing list.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer @roguishcat

[amymbona]

What if... Tashi wasn't the only one who suffered from an injury. What if you, a random girl from Stanford, that somehow became close with all three of the messy lovers, went on to have a successful career, that ended within a moment, just like Tashi's.

You became close to Art and Tashi during your Stanford years, having proven yourself as a sweet and yet equally as talent tennis player. Art had a bit of a crush on you, finding it slightly conflicting, especially since the main point of his interest used to be Tashi. The two have introduced you to Patrick as well, as he basically came like an inseparable part of the 2 + 1 pack. Eventually, it was you plus them, them plus you, and you became their little thing.

After Tashi's injury, her and Art's break-up with Patrick and all the events at the end of the school year, you found yourself in the middle of the mess. You couldn't really bear it, the intensity of Tashi's desire fueled by the need to be as close to tennis as possible, Art's indecisive and idiotic persona, and Patrick's bleeding, solving-everythin-by-sex attitude.

You lived with Patrick for a few months, the two of you fucking every so often, but the moment he began slacking off and turning to alcohol and nicotine for comfort, it was enough. Even after Patrick's heartbreaking promises and Art's unsuccessful attempt to reach out, you completely distanced yourself from the three. Then, it was just you.

Unfortunately, you couldn't escape the three fully. Patrick would bombard your phone with long messages and voice mails, sometimes accompanied by low quality videos of him jerking off and saying how much he missed you. He'd show up at your place a few times as well, and you had to physically kick him out. Art and Tashi were equally as difficult to avoid, as they were now the player-coach duo, attending the same matches as you. Luckily, they never spoke to you.

All in all, you were living your life. Yes, with an aching hole in your heart, but tennis was big enough to fill it. Until it leaves a hole even bigger.

"She's trying to get her to twist her own feet. Look, that ankle's gonna roll, I can see it." Tashi mutters anxiously, slipping her own hand into her husband's. The two have been watching your match against some australian player from the bleachers, not liking where it's been going at all.

"Right," Art agreed with a gentle squeeze of Tashi's hand. It really doesn't look good. You're constantly jumping from left to right, and the playstyle characteristic to yourself makes you swing on your right foot while you just move your left one over it from wide to side. They've seen you pull this move at Stanford a million of times, with you insisting it saves breath from moving too far, but they've also heard you whimper when you couldn't walk properly. "We told her to stop doing that ages ago."

And then it happens. A fraction of moment, when something snaps, the top of your foot kissing the pavement, and then you're on the floor, clutching your leg in pain.

Tashi is, surprisingly, is the first person by your side, pushing everyone away and just holding you in her arms. You sob and sob and sob, the weight of it all falling onto you, and the Donaldsons accompany you to the hospital. They stay with your for days and then take you home - to their home - because they know you can't be left alone.

And they call Patrick too, something they have sworn to never do, but eventually Art is the one to break the no contact rule and calls his former best friend. The guy is in their residence within hours, not caring at all that he had to fly from the very other side of the state.

It's almost comical, absurd and ironic even, how your sudden injury cause the three to reconcile. All the fights are long forgotten, and nobody even gets the chance to throw a jab at one another, not when they see you finally asleep in Tashi and Art's bed, clad in one of her silk pyjama sets, your poor, swollen ankle wrapped in a tight layer of white, heavy plaster cast. At that moment, all three of them hold hands and comfort one another because they know that you need them right now, that they have to be strong and mature for you.

You don't speak, you don't eat, and Art has to physically carry you to the bathroom so you can at least take a piss and wash your teeth. After Tashi successfully manages to push a few spoons of mashed potatoes past your lips, Patrick sits next to you for hours, just silently stroking your back and telling you that you're beautiful every so often.

Suddenly, you have everything you have hoped for, everything you missed and mourned, but at what cost? You've lost what was most important to you - your tennis career, even more successful than Tashi's, full of more accomplishments than all the three players combinwd - and what do you have now? Nothing, or everything?

[ticklystuff]

Feather Weather

a/n: i had a silly little idea last year and decided to run with it

wc: ~1.8k

summary: ayato knits a sweater for thoma out of the goodness of his heart

---

"Go on, open it."

Thoma held the box in his hand, looking warily between the unopened parcel and his lord standing in front of him. Gifts from Ayato were always the.. special kind that often resulted in humiliation of some form, usually nothing more than the playful sort, yet were common enough to condition Thoma that keeping his guard up around this particular Kamisato was more than necessary. The seemingly innocent smile that Ayato wore well was no longer enough to fool Thoma at this point.

"What's wrong?" His expression morphed into one of genuine curiosity, yet Thoma knew better, his ears tuned to pick out the traces of mischief often laced into Ayato's voice. 

Surprisingly, his voice was clean.

"You know exactly why!" He said after moments of hesitation, prompting an amused chuckle from his lord.

"I'm curious as to what you think could possibly be inside the box," Ayato mused with a delighted glint in his eyes, clearly reveling in the apprehension.

"Anything!" Thoma huffed with a pout. "You manage to turn anything into a prank!"

"You flatter me."

"M'lord, please," came the usual sigh of dismay, contrasting the comical giggles that escaped Ayato's mouth. "I'm not going on anymore boba runs for you if this is something bad."

"Alright, alright," Ayato shook his head, heeding the warning, "I assure you that there's nothing wrong with the gift."

Thoma raised an eyebrow, reading Ayato's voice for the inevitable lie. "You promise?"

"I promise." Ayato proceeded to place a palm to his own heart, ending the gesture with a firm nod. "It was made with love, of course."

"Or demonic ambition."

"And love," Ayato tacked on, flashing a wink that Thoma could only respond with an eye roll.

Despite his suspicions, the package itself lacked hints of ulterior motives. The blue ribbons with silver trimmings were held together over the beige gift box in the form of an awkward bow, handiwork that could belong to none other than Ayato himself. Arts and crafts were not exactly his forte, indicating that Ayato had a direct hand with the package, which only served to further keep Thoma on edge.

Glancing at the parcel with hesitation, Thoma lifted the box and gave it a gentle shake, straining his ears as he repeated the motion twice more. Whatever was inside didn't create much force from the inside, barely tapping against the inner walls of the box. Clothes, maybe? 

His fingers pinched at the ends of the ribbons, tugging gently to let the thin piece of cloth fall away, revealing the white cardboard box underneath. Slowly, his fingers pushed at the top and Thoma braced himself for what might just jump out at him, but was pleasantly surprised at what looked to be a sweater. He lifted the sweater from the box, eyes gleaning over the warm orange threads as his fingers dug into the soft material. "Where'd you get this?" was all Thoma could murmur, taking in the sweater in awe.

"I made it myself, of course," Ayato said with pride. "Only crafted with the finest material during my trip to Fontaine. I ran into Chiori along the way and she guided me during the process."

"It looks amazing, m'lord!" Thoma gushed, eyes going over the sweater repeatedly. "Thank you, thank you so much! I-I'm going to wear it now, if that's alright!"

"It's yours, so do with it as you please," Ayato chuckled. "It's the perfect time for sweater weather, after all."

---

The sweater was everything.

It perfectly fit his body without being too snug, allowing for plenty of wiggle room, it was of notably high quality with how the fabric felt delightful against his skin, it even smelled faintly of vanilla, but most importantly, it was warm. And what paired better with a snuggly sweater on a snowy day?

Candles.

Thoma hummed to himself as he sorted through the variety of candles he kept neatly arranged, eyes scanning the shelf for the perfect scent to match his mood. Cinnamon was a classic choice, or he could go with one of the newer ones Ayaka had brought home from Fontaine-

"Ack!"

The sudden feeling of arms wrapped around his waist interrupted his candle perusing, but his nerves were put at ease with the familiar sensation of another's cheek gently nuzzling the crook of his neck. All these years working under the Kamisatos, yet Ayato always managed to sneak around, flying under his nose.

"Enjoying the sweater, love?" Ayato's voice softly brushed against the skin of his neck, sending tingles down his spine.

Thoma could only reply with a simple "mhm" as he relaxed into Ayato's hold, sighing whenever Ayato nuzzled into his neck. Strange to be holding such an intimate moment in the Kamisato Estate's storage closet, but Thoma would take anything he could get, what with his lord always having his hands full, not to mention being pulled away for so long during his recent trip to Fontaine. The occasional kiss to his skin and the gentle caress of Ayato's fingers under his sweater were enough to make his brain stir, causing Thoma to—

Wait a moment....

Ayato's fingers.. under his sweater??

What- How did they get there? His hands repeatedly patted at his abdomen where Ayato's hands currently rested against his thin undershirt, protected by the fluffy material of his new sweater. Surely he would've noticed Ayato's sneaky hands slipper under the hem of his sweater, yet somehow they've managed to evade his watch.

"Something the matter?" His tone was innocent, yet there was that familiar artificial tinge to his lord's sickenly sweet voice.

Something was up.

"M'lord.." Thoma's voice tremored as it dawned that he most likely played into whatever the devil himself had planned.

Yet the sickly sweet gestures persisted, now with gentle but firm grip to undoubtedly keep Thoma in place the minute he attempted an escape. "The little holes in the sweater are so convenient," Ayato explained, perfectly reading Thoma's mind. "They make it so convenient for times like these."

"Holes?! Why does the sweater have holes?! Did you not have the budget for fabric?" Thoma couldn't even begin to wrap his head around what purpose this would serve, let alone how he never noticed such a detail, or lack thereof, in the first place. This would teach him to never get too excited over what should've been a harmless gift, archon forbid. 

Ayato hummed in response, drumming his fingers against Thoma's torso that made the blond fidget. "Ah, you seem to be misunderstood," he sing-songed, his chin resting atop Thoma's shoulder. "It's an intended feature, of course. I can show you, if you'd like."

He was too afraid to ask, not that it mattered in the end.

"Wah- no! Nohoho! Whahahat are you dohohoing?!"

"Mm, is it not obvious?"

It was a rhetorical question, no doubt, yet there was a sliver of hope that Thoma himself was mistaken, only for those thoughts to be quickly dashed when Ayato's hands persisted, running up the length of Thoma's torso, each touch penetrating the thin material of his undershirt to make the blond squirm. His body twisted and squirmed in response, his own hands grasping uselessly at the other set currently messing with him, anything to escape whatever Ayato had planned.

"Isn't it excellent? A comfy sweater designed for easy access to tickle its wearer," Ayato expressed in low tone, bordering a whisper, though he made no attempt at masking the amusement in his voice.

"B-But you tihihickle mehehe all the tihihime!" Thoma managed through his snickers, squealing when one of Ayato's hands sneakily squeezed at one of his pecs.

"But this is more fun, no?"

"NOHOho!" The desperate cry was enough for Ayato to laugh alongside the giggly retainer, a contrasting mix to Thoma's own frantic laughter. He could just picture the smirk playing on his lips. "EheheheHAHA! Let gohoho! Stahahap!"

"Mmm, but I don't believe I can, even if I wanted to," Ayato remarked. "If you keep moving, my hands will be tangled up in the sweater. Best you do your best and sit still."

But he couldn't, not with how methodical the tickling was. Ayato wasn't the type to go in for the kill, as Thoma knew very well, often going through the bits and pieces in a more systemic way. A pinch to his side, tweaks to his ribs, finger drabbles along his underarms, even going so far to poke at his navel. Thoma could never get a read when he needed it the most, often distracted by Ayato's signature brand of teasing that somehow elevated the subtle pricks into something more unbearable, dissolving Thoma into helpless giggles the further his defenses broke down.

"And, y'know, why stop at sweaters?" Ayato pondered over Thoma's laughter. "Pants with slits at the hips, some modified tabis, maybe even just borrowing a crop top from the traveler."

The teases were enough to send Thoma over the edge, unable to protest once Ayato went down the list of clothing choices he could potentially threaten Thoma with. Laughter after laughter poured over, filling the small storage room with hapless shrieks as Ayato's hands made the most of the custom sweater and its unfortunate victim.

"HeheHAHA! No! Cohohome ohohon! Stahahap PLEAHAH-!"

Despite the menace Ayato often lived up to be, there was still the other side of the coin, the merciful part that knew not overburden his favorite tickle victim. Per routine, the tickling ebbed to a relaxed rhythm, still procuring giggles, while allowing Thoma more leeway to breathe, before his fingers came to steady stop, drumming along Thoma's torso once more as they awaited the blond's next action. Now, with the loosened grip, Thoma used the opportunity to quickly detach himself from Ayato before his lord could have a change of heart, allowing himself to catch his breath, ignoring the smug smirk that Ayato wore well.

"I'm fixing this sweater," Thoma finally exhaled. 

"No! You absolutely cannot!" There was a genuine tinge of disappointment behind Ayato's voice, one that didn't commonly occur. "I put a lot of effort into making this."

"Yeah, a lot of effort for evil," Thoma snapped with a tilt of his head.

"It started out with love, I assure you," Ayato explained, shifting his eyes about. "I might have gotten sidetracked during the process, but I can make you a normal one, as long as you promise to keep this one.. and maybe occasionally wear it every once in a while."

Thoma opened his mouth to respond, only for a sigh to escape his lips at the ridiculous request, yet the puppy eyes Ayato flashed him practically forced him to reconsider. "Alright, alright."

"Fantastic!" Ayato's eyes lit up at the response.

"Uh-uh, but on one condition," Thoma tacked on, earning himself a curious glance. "I get to make you an identical piece. That way we'll be matching for sweater weather."

[wrtingsoftheunknown]

Vincent Sinclair HC

Vincent Sinclair hc SFW and NSFW

I’ve haven’t  been seeing my boy get repped recently so I have to do it myself. My first time writing something on here or towards this character ,I promise I will get better y'al,l I made this super quickly not proofread oops.

SFW

-While he can be insecure about his face he definitely has an ego from being the favorite child and having perfected his craft.

Lester drags him out to go for a ride around town or force him to come to his place for some quality brother time (Bo joins every now and then but wants peace and quiet dammit )

‘I know a lot of people have him learn sign language but I think he either writes what he wants to say, speaks as best as he can, or gestures, ( he was born in the south to parents that I don't think cared about communicating with him too much but he could have picked it up later in life maybe in his teen years or middle school era)

More sadistic than Bo when it comes to killing, he doesn't care if they are dead or alive when working on them and takes satisfaction in the result of his work

He prefers to work in silence but you can catch him humming now and then some country song or a guilty pleasure pop song from the 80’s( I see you Vince)

I think he partakes in multiple forms of art besides wax work.We see he’s able to paint, draw, but he also  takes pictures, , sews, writes, makes videos, anything artistic he’s learning and keeping up with new techniques.

Since he takes video of the killings at times I think they sell them as snuff films to make extra cash on top of stealing and selling victims stuff. (At least that’s what I thought when I first watched the film anyone else or just me)

Rarely happens but will keep victims that interest him like Bo ,but dispose of them when they get boring  or no longer match up the ideal version of them in his head.

-Does want a lifelong partner, the white wedding and picket fence, kids,  but knows it might be difficult with the line of work he does.

- He can talk but only does when it’s important or to emphasize something. He does have a southern draw like Bo and I imagine his voice to sound similar but raspier, maybe deeper/ quieter from not using it as much.

-like I said earlier you have to really catch his attention and be able to hold it for more than a week, if that happens then he’s obsessed and protective maybe a little too over protective.

Does indeed have a hair care routine I believe this full throttle and no one can can tell me otherwise I'm not listening.

NSFW

I don't know if he’s a virgin, I don't think he is something is telling me he isn't, but i’m not sure

He has no problem with nudity, bodies are seen as art, there's not as much of a sexual connotation with them as with Bo and Lester .

He wants to be in love with the person he is intimate with, he wants to be worship and worship his muse.

Drawings  of his partner naked as well as in the midst of a passionate night, he might tease them all night to make sure the sketch is as life like and accurate as possible

Good size and thick that's all I gotta say

Praise kink hard core, hearing his partner call him a good boy or how he makes them feel so good he will crumble

He starts slow and sensual, enjoys the control he has and having someone at his power.

I think he will edge you and leave you high and dry when you act out but he always caves by the end of the day and gives you what you need.

Can last a long time surprisingly

Mainly a giver but someone please for the love of god give this man the nastiest had he’s ever received will make the prettiest noises 

Is down to try anything new and more open about sex than you would think.

When he’s horny he comes up behind his partner and starts caressing every inch he can reach, while resting his chin on their shoulder acting as innocent as he can.

[bitsbug]

good evening rainworld community. look at my ocs NOW

YOU CAN ASK THEM QUESTIONS BTW. please do I’ve been marinating them for months. finely cured.

multiple paragraphs introducing each under the cut !

Curtains Drawn Over Bone - he/him

The first of my iterators, and frankly the most developed. Curtains is incredibly young for an iterator, made at the tail end of the last generation, and was subject to some.. negligent planning during his construction. He was placed in an area of dubious rain quality and worse ground stability; the conditions were considered acceptable back then, but millions of cycles later that's no longer the case.

 Despite this glaring issue, he's been handling it better than you'd expect. Having recognized the long-term affects of his placement early on, Curtains took an interest in maintenance and optimization in order to survive, completely disregarding the Great Problem. He's broken some taboos in the process, and surprisingly didn't contract rot while doing it. His efforts have paid off with a suite of purposed organisms and a significantly more advanced, upgraded facility.

 Some things would be impossible to address, though. Despite his best efforts, erosion and earthquakes now threaten to topple his can; something he's scrambling to fix.

 Curtains is generally regarded as a finicky, flighty person by his group. He's a recluse and a workaholic, driven by some desperate ferver to avoid the worst. When he does appear in chatrooms, he seems constantly wound up, often vanishing as quickly as he arrives. He was like this long before his current situation. But do not mistake his nervousness for ineptitude, because Curtains is very meticulous and dedicated in his endeavors, backed by his thorough understanding of iterator anatomy and a genuine passion for his work.

Twenty Taken in Vain - they/them

The only iterator in this damn group who isn't a social recluse. Built in the golden age of the Ancients, a time of prosperity and uneventfulness, TTiv found their place in the bustling global communities of their kin. They're of the belief that research is best done collaboratively, and constructed their workflow around this frame.

But, really, they never much cared for that work or their purpose. Devoting themself to tireless research for something likely impossible just wasn't a good use of time, nor did they find the process very interesting, so they sought to fulfill their life in less desolate ways. As much as a sentient, static building is able to, at least.

In particular, Twenty Taken in Vain pursues a variety of art forms! There's a critical lack of artwork made with iterators in mind (While interesting to discuss, most Ancient books can be read in less than a second for example), so they seek to fill that gap. Their main passion is literature, but they do dabble in many other subjects, such as digital painting, textile weaving, 'false memory' qualia fabrication, and DMing a tabletop roleplaying game for their local group.

Their social proclivities haven't served them well in recent years, because the global communications decay has left them more isolated than ever before. Losing contact with multiple close friends has drained them of motivation, and made them fearful of losing those they do have left. Imagine like, depression but on a supercomputer scale.

In personality, TTiv is as chatty as you'd expect of them, but without the energy associated with extroversion. Their charisma is carried in their nonchalance and humor, with an undertone of snarkiness - only occasionally with any bite to it. They're adaptable as well, without a fixation on one subject and a willingness to introspect. Since the comm failure, they've become a lot quieter and more irritable, stress they've barely kept under wraps.

Anxiety Practice - it/xe

Polite and inoffensive, AP is an easily overlooked iterator. It appears frequently in chatrooms, but always in the shadow of its kin, and rarely draws attention to itself. Despite this demeanor, xe certainly aren't shy or nervous - that's already taken by Curtains - xe just prefer xer distance and privacy.

 As it currently stands, Anxiety is the only member of its group actively working on the Great Problem. It prefers exploring more unorthodox theories for ascension, with a fixation on Karma flowers and their properties. As part of its experiments, its created a few.. curious organisms hybridized with the flower. It also collaborates closely with Distant Humming for information on the grander Cycle and general advice. Thus far, it's made a few fascinating discoveries, but predictibly no breakthroughs on the Triple Affirmative. Oh also, sometimes xe put karma-affecting drug cocktails into xer water intake. normal iterator behavior i promise.

 Even at xer most comfortable and nonchalant, AP keeps an aloof, almost stoic nature. Chronically icy cool, xe seem incapable of expressing anything besides calm indifference. This isn't true, of course, xer composure is just nothing to scoff at. It even uses its reputation for comedy at times, usually through deadpan delivery or 'breaking character'.

Distant Humming - she/Her

An anomaly in existence, the first iterator to almost reach ascension. Distant Humming became an echo by her own hand, using heavy adjustments to her retaining wall and filter pumps to essentially bathe her facility in void fluid, solving the issue of her kinds' distributed conscience by just addressing all of it. at once.

 Her subsequent failed ascension left her systems broken and mutated in impossible ways, but she functions nonetheless in her ethereal, undying state. The warping irreparably affected her memory and personality though; she considers herself a different person from the Humming before.

 Despite her uncanny nature and haunting appearance, Distant Humming is a surprisingly amiable person, if vague or foreboding at times. Her detached state of existence allows her the breathing room to appreciate the world for what it is, and insight into the Cycle that'd be impossible to gain from within it. She's happy to share her observations with anyone who'd listen.

 About once a year, Humming's karmic cycle aligns with that of her local group, affording her a limited time to speak with them. She appears totally non-existent outside this period.

THAT’S ALL BYEEE

[dangerouslyknown]

Hiromi Higuruma Headcanons 🌻

A/N: Ughhh I have been having literally 0 motivation for writing, kind of like an art block. I wanna write so much but something just prevents me lmao... But this man, I swear. He just sparked my will to write and hopefully also work off the requests and one trade with a friend I have been working on. Also I just haaaad to get these out of my head

Contents/warnings: Random general headcanons, relationship headcanons & NSFW headcanons. I am just writing about "his S/O" and referring to S/O with they/them. Doesn't contain spoilers from JJK story, just Higuruma and his existence

General headcanons

He listens to Modern Talking. Don't ask where this comes from, I just feel like he'd like their music. Also somehow I was thinking he'd like Bon Jovi, too? He isn't like a crazy fan for either of them, just likes various of their songs. Could see him listening instrumental music as well, like game/movie soundtracks

Surprisingly enough he isn't a huge drinker. He enjoys an alcoholic drink every now and then to refresh, but he knows his limits. He knows when it feels good and when it goes overboard

He doesn't have visible muscles for the most part, I'd like to think him having a bit of body fat which hides them. My man is an attorney, he hasn't been focusing in training or being physically fit all that much. He does like to keep himself in decent shape though, because healthy body equals a healthy mind

He's not tall per se, more like average height, definitely under 180 centimeters

He's a minimalist. He doesn't have anything "extra" in his apartment, just the necessities

Speaking off, his wardrobe probably isn't huge either. Maybe a basic suit or two, so he can wash the other and still have the other one wearable. Otherwise his wardrobe is filled with mostly casual comfortable clothes. He values practical clothes, too

If he ends up having time to play games, he'd definitely mostly be into single player, story focused games. Not into fps games. One of his favorites are, funny enough, Ace Attorney games (he also likes the soundtrack)

SFW relationship headcanons

He doesn't strike me as a person who would be into dating all that much, but if he finds so called a right person, he might consider it. He doesn't really sleep around with lots of people either

He values the personality of a person more than looks. Forming an emotional and a mental bond is what matters him the most when it comes to a relationship

He doesn't even have a type, really. He thinks he is capable of finding anyone attractive if their personality hits him

And while we are at it, I bet he would love to have conversations with his S/O about anything. He'd love to discuss anything, silly to serious to deep thoughts with the right person. He wants to hear his S/Os thoughts and share his own

He'd also love to have playful, sarcasm filled banters/debates with his S/O

Either quality time or physical touch are his love languages

Quality time, because he is often doing long days and working a lot so he might not be around as much as he'd like. But when he finally is around his S/O, no matter what they do, he is going to be very happy. He likes to do the most basic, mundane things together with his S/O. Having breakfast, watching TV, showering together, cooking together, sitting together in the same room...

And what comes to physical touch, he just loves to get touchy with his S/O and most of the time not even in a sexual way. It is like a way to make up for all the time he hasn't been around. All the little touches and kisses he exchanges with his S/O makes him feel so loved

Oh, and one thing he'd absolutely love is to get a massage from his S/O. He would literally melt to their touch

(NSFW under the cut)

NSFW relationship headcanons

I think he is pretty vanilla... But he is very open to try new things and kinks for his S/O and for his own curiosity. He'd also be pretty gentle overall, but he loves his sex passionate, with an intimate, personal feel to it

He is a heavy switch when it comes to dynamics. He can top, he can bottom. But I have a feeling he'd have a tiny little submissive side in the sheets. He isn't opposed to being dominative either, but like I said, he is mostly vanilla so these kind of dynamics aren't exactly what he desires in the sheets

He prefers to do all the sexy stuff mostly in somewhere private, only him and his S/O... but he can't deny that he has thought of taking them in his office. Something about the though of him fucking them on his desk turns him on

He would definitely love having sex with clothes (mostly) on. First of all, he can be a bit tired after long days (and lazy, too) but, like, just having his dick out of his fly... or both of his and his S/Os pants just slightly lowered. It's all just so hot for him

Oh, and he'd love to fuck his S/O anywhere (privately). On the floor, on the sofa, against a wall. He isn't picky, he just wants to feel good

I still feel like bed is his to-go, because he is often tired to do anything extreme and it's just overall more comfortable to get down to business in the sheets

Previously mentioned that his love language is physical touch which applies to this aspect too. Sex is also a part of that for him. Sex is also a way for him to feel deeply connected with his S/O, physically and emotionally

Sex with his S/O is his favorite stress relieving method

I'll say it: I never thought he'd have a big cock. Recently, I came across Kyo-00´s Headcanons of the dicks of JJK men, and I agree on her take of Higuruma. I had previously thought he'd be more like average sized or so

He doesn't need to have a huge cock though, because he knows how to use what he has. He also has his mouth, his nose and his hands to make one pleased

This could probably go without saying, but he loves when his S/O shows him that he is desired and cared for. He would get so excited if his S/O initiated intimacy and slid their hand to his pants to play with his still limp dick, stroking it while giving his neck and face soft kisses all over... (Consensually, of course. He isn't always in the mood for that stuff either) Anyhow, that just sends a message to him which turns him on. Who would even want to have sex with someone who doesn't seem into it?

I believe he wouldn't want kids, so he 100% would get a vasectomy especially if his S/O is a afab/female so there isn't a need to worry about pregnancy

[wispscribbles]

Mw3 spoilers (just a long personal ramble)

Hiii. So

As soon as the pre-release came out on, I hunted down spoilers, because I know myself and knew that if someone died and I got that information out of the blue, I wouldn’t take it well. Jokes on me, because I still haven’t been taking it well lol

I won’t talk about how Soap’s death was handled or the quality of the game. Plenty of smarter people are doing so.

I try not to talk a lot about myself and irl stuff on here, but will just say: I am very unwell, mentally. (Cue silence because that’s not surprising at all) Something I am very aware that I do, is that I latch onto fiction with my whole being, usually one specific character. For some reason, I always latch onto the character that ends up dead, usually in a way that make them only exist to further the motivations of other characters. It sucks.

So my hope for Soap has never been great, but for some reason I was still so shocked?? I don’t know, I tricked myself into thinking this time was different. Such an iconic character with so much good setup for great character development. I knew someone would die, but ow. To me, he was the element that made 141 seem more like family than coworkers. Soap’s interactions with the rest just livened up the games so much and made them all shine. Especially Ghost. Their dynamic, man.

Soap was the character that intrigued me enough to jump into the cod rabbit hole. It feels very hollow without him.

I keep telling myself that it’s silly to be so hurt over something fictional, and that I can just treat it as a mcd fanfic and move on, but nope. Brain’s stuck in the bad stuff. It’s a bad habit of mine to let something like this affect me so much, but well. Logic vs feeling and all that.

I really did find so much comfort in Soap this last year, that I severely needed. It feels a little like losing someone I know, someone who helped me through a rough time. I related to something in him and felt inspired. I only started writing after getting into ghostsoap, I started working out and I got back into art after a very long burnout. It may be fiction, but the impact is not.

So that was pretty much the worst case scenario of what mw3 could be to me. I always knew the risk, but, once again, ow. But there also seems to be plenty of good stuff in the game that I enjoy. I’m happy with the Ghost and Soap dialogue, the whole team working together and seeing Laswell and Farah and Alex and Nik. I hope I can be inspired by some of the new content once I’m calmer.

And I was worried they would ignore Ghost and Soap’s relationship after their development in mw2, but they genuinely seem to have gotten real close. It’s nice. I thought the shipping might scare the game devs into never having them appear in a scene together again, so that’s a plus.

Bottom line to all this is: I probably need a little break to get my head sorted. The grief is surprisingly real, it’s triggered some old stuff for me (haven’t been sleeping or eating, been stuck in some old thoughts). I’ll need to calm down and become a bit more normal about this again. Part of the grief isn’t so much about Soap himself, but also just the safe space that this account has been. The very nature of how the fandom is going to interact with Soap and Ghostsoap is going to change now, and man… I liked how it was, y’know? Could’ve used a little longer in that bubble. There’s going to be plenty of new fics and art, lovely stuff as always, but many of them will be tinged with grief, and I’m not in a place where that won’t break me a little.

I will hopefully come back to posting and making stuff once my brain settles down. I have so many drafts for fics and ideas that I hope I can return to. I’ve gotten so used to drawing these lads that I doubt I can stop tbh

The version of Soap that we love is already evolved from the games due to all the time and care the community has put into the character. The games may have killed him, but luckily, he’s fictional. We can do what we want, same as before.

I’m not even saying that I wish they hadn’t killed him. The games are crafting a story that fits their audience. It makes sense.

But I will choose to live in one of the many universes we’ve created for Soap, where he is alive and cared for, with a found family and a spooky lieutenant with a soft spot for him. Good for him.

Hope you’re all taking care of yourselves. RIP canon Soap (again). Thanks to Neil for a wonderful portrayal. And no matter where we go from here, thanks for a wonderful year of creating with you lovely folks. Seriously, some of the kindest people I’ve met in fandom. <3

Lastly: fuck you Kevin O’Reilly, but more importantly, sincerely thank you. (CallMeKevin video about mw2 got me into this mess. Otherwise I was keeping cod at an arm’s length, but he’s my fav youtuber, so I watched it. And here we are!)