Tumgik
#Demise drawing 1
falllpoutboy · 7 months
Text
idk why i expected for blumhouse to do a good job adapting fnaf but there’s some real irony in the fact that the games were always about the horror of the Afton family with the scary animatronics as the emphatic visual horror and the film adaptation is all about the scary animatronics with no mention of the aftons in sight lol
2 notes · View notes
buggachat · 9 months
Text
So, this is very important. Emilie or Amelie?
Tumblr media
(Answer: Amelie. But seriously, I'm getting ahead of myself, let's talk about it.)
This is kind of a long post. If you don't want to read all of my ramblings, feel free to skip to the final point. That's the important one.
A mysterious woman who is clearly one of the two Graham de Vanily twins was in attendance of the party at the end of the episode. But is she Emilie (Adrien's dead mom, revived by Gabriel's wish) or Amelie (Adrien's already alive aunt)?
Here's the thing. The answer to this question is actually extremely important. Emilie being alive would be a HUGE deal and would have extreme consequences on the narrative and themes of the show.
Seriously. We need to know whether or not Emilie is alive. So, let's discuss— what do we know?
1. Amelie should be at this party.
Seriously. Amelie would be at Adrien's party.
Tumblr media
You know who is in attendance at Adrien's party? Not just his friends, but also adults in his life. Nathalie. Su-Han. Jagged Stone. Penny Rolling.
You know what Penny Rolling's relationship is to Adrien? She's the manager/new girlfriend of his friend Luka's recently-undeadbeated-dad. And she was invited to Adrien's party.
Seriously. This is a party of any significant character. Everyone and their mother was invited and— hey wait, where's Félix's mother? Félix is here, and certainly our favorite mommy's boy would invite his mother along. Surely Adrien's aunt would be invited to Adrien's party.
You know, Amelie's aunt, who had a not insignificant arc in the story? A family member to the Agrestes, who we've seen struggle, who would well deserve a shot of her smiling at a party at the finale?
Amelie, who had some unresolved tension with Nathalie, centered around their respective relationships with Gabriel? Tension that would likely be rectified after Gabriel's demise?
Tumblr media
Not only would Amelie be at this party, but I absolutely believe she would be sitting next to Nathalie. (I mean, they do know each other. Who else at that party does Amelie even know?)
If that's not Amelie, then where is she?
Oh, and side note, what was the shot just before the shot of the mysterious woman? Oh, that's right. Amelie's son.
Tumblr media
2. She only appears for a brief flash, given no more significance than any other character in attendance.
There's a reason why everyone is using the same shot of the mysterious woman when discussing her. That is the only shot of her. There are more shots of Penny Rolling than of her.
Here's the thing. Either Emilie is alive in this final scene, or she isn't. So, how would you expect this scene to play for these circumstances?
Here is a complete list of everything I would expect if Emilie were not alive:
A brief shot of Amelie.
Here is an incomplete list of some of the things I would expect from a "Emilie, the mother of the deuteragonist and ghost that has been haunting the narrative for 5 Seasons, is alive now" reveal, at the bare minimum:
A shot that lingers on Emilie.
Emilie, seated with Nathalie AND HER TWIN SISTER.
A shot of Emilie opening her eyes during Gabriel's wish.
The newscast, which they watch during the party, having a mention of "... and Parisians are still celebrating the rescue of Emilie Agreste, who was previously missing but recently found!"
Adrien literally acknowledging that his dead mother is suddenly alive at all? AT ALL? Looking at her, mentioning her, literally ANYTHING from him? I mean, seriously, what did he think happened—
3. Adrien's perception of his mother's reappearance would need to be addressed. It was not.
Adrien does not know the wish was cast.
Adrien does not know anything.
Here's the thing. While, yes, Emilie has been described as "missing"/"disappeared" in the show, it is absolutely clear to the audience that Adrien has been under the impression that Emilie is dead.
We know this from the painting in the foyer that depicts Gabriel and Adrien in mourning. We know this from the way that Adrien (correctly) draws the conclusion that "Nathalie has the same illness as my mother, therefore she is dying". We know this from the way that Adrien speaks about his mother in past tense, how he encourages his father to move on and date Nathalie, how he has never once in the show seemed to be under the impression that Emilie could come back.
So, if Emilie suddenly came back........... someone would need to explain it to Adrien. He would need to be fed another lie about it. We would need to be made privy as to what he believes happened.
Examples of how this could have been easily achieved:
Again, the newscast. Nadja acknowledging that the missing Emilie Agreste had been found. Maybe mentioning that "she was found being held captive by Monarch" or something. I dunno, whatever lie that works.
Adrien, during his conversation with Marinette, mentioning what happened to Emilie from his perspective, the same way he vocalized to her what his perception of Gabriel's death was. I mean, seriously, Adrien was already doing this expositional dialogue... why wouldn't he mention his mom during it?
4. Leaked production material does not change the final product.
Yes, scripts were leaked of this season. There are deleted scenes in the storyboards. There are script changes and allusions to certain things and mentions here and there in these materials that suggest that the mysterious woman could have, at some point in production, been Emilie.
... at some point in production.
So, here's the thing. This is the most solid Emilie argument we have. In fact, I'd argue it's the only argument that holds any real ground at all. .......... and it's in content that we aren't supposed to have.
( Actually, it's the only real Emilie argument I've seen... period. The only other one I've seen is the fact her statue is gone, but I'd argue that the removal of her statue has symbolic weight no matter what. It was a symbol of Gabriel's obsession over her, the way that she haunts the narrative, the way she looms over the Agreste household. Alive or not, this is not the case anymore. So it makes sense to remove it. )
If your interpretation of the source material is solely, and I mean SOLELY based off of out-of-context snippets of things that were in the writer's room Vaguely At Some Point, things that now directly contradict the final product, things that the audience was absolutely under no circumstances meant to see...
You're not interpreting the episode. You're interpreting out-of-context snippets of a rough draft of it.
So, here's the thing. I've seen some of these leaks, I've seen a lot of people talk about these leaks, I've seen the rumors and I've heard the gossip. I'm not going to parrot it, because honestly, I'm still annoyed that the leaks exist at all. It feels a bit insulting to the art form, tbh, that incomplete scripts are being passed around and touted as significant and more accurate than the actual completed script.
But I'll say one thing:
If the rough drafts of scripts, deleted scenes, etc pointed to Emilie being alive.......
Why did they remove them?
(The answer is simple: because they changed their minds. And you don't have to stress about or mull over why they did it, because you were never supposed to know that it was changed, because you were never supposed to know about out-of-context rough drafts of the script in the first place. It doesn't matter. It's not the product. Writers are allowed to toss around ideas and scripts and then change them. It's unimportant and you're not supposed to be privy to it. It's not for you. It's not what they made. It's certainly not more accurate to the direction they're headed than what they settled on. )
Point is:
IF THE LEAKS DIDN'T EXIST, YOU WOULDN'T BE CONFUSED.
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE THE LEAKS.
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE CONFUSED.
5. So, Astruc on twitter.
Okay, I love perusing Astruc's twitter for snippets of information as much as the next obsessive miraculous fan. I have perused his twitter a lot. Astruc always addresses comments and concerns under like 20 layers of coyness.
People ask him, "is it Emilie or Amelie"? And basically, every time, he responds with some variation on "pay attention and you'll know".
Tumblr media
He's been shooting down people presenting the clues they find to him, on both sides of the argument. Some examples (which include the Amelie wearing black and Emilie wearing white thing):
Tumblr media Tumblr media
So, what does this mean, beyond the already known fact that Astruc likes to mess with us?
Obviously, I'm not Astruc. I don't know his mind. I also don't have much of vested interest in dissecting everything he says, nor do I take his word at face value a lot of the time (again, he likes to mess with us).
However, I think two things are fairly clear here:
It IS possible to know whether or not Emilie was revived by watching the episode.
It's not the small details he wants us to look at. Admittedly, color schemes and set dressings are small details. It's not the big picture. It's not important. It's not the heart of what he, or any writer in his position, would want us to interpret.
( Side note, but if nearly every single Emilie argument is based off of things NOT ACTUALLY IN THE EPISODE, then doesn't Astruc saying the answer is in the episode shoot that down right off the bat? But hey! I digress. )
So, what is the big picture? What are the things that writers are truly proud of? What is the thing that a writer would want us to pay attention to? What are the details of the show that can help point us to what transpired in the episode? What—
6. The WRITING of the ENTIRE SERIES, INCLUDING within THIS VERY episode, the dialogue, the themes, the character beats, the symbolism— Literally. All of it. Points to Emilie. STAYING. DEAD.
This is actually the heart of my point.
Emilie absolutely was not revived here.
Here's the thing. The themes of grief and loss and mourning are extremely present within the Agreste arc. Throughout the entire series, the following has been hammered in by the writing:
Gabriel is obsessive for wanting to bring Emilie back. His desires are not healthy or sound. He is delusional. He is hurting Adrien and Nathalie by living in this fantasy.
Gabriel should have moved on.
Nathalie wants to move on.
Adrien has already moved on.
EMILIE HERSELF wanted them all to move on.
Emilie is a nearly angelic figure. Adrien is literally the deuteragonist of the series. Nathalie is a morally grey character with a clear redemption arc. Gabriel is the antagonist.
The "better" the character is, the more certain they are that Emilie should not be revived.
The CORRECT choice, if Gabriel and Nathalie chose the "right" path from the start, would have been for Gabriel and Nathalie to focus on parenting Adrien themselves, instead of obsessing over bringing a dead woman who has already come to terms with her death back to life. That's what Emilie wanted. That's what Adrien wants. That's what Nathalie has wanted but was too afraid to say. That's what Gabriel refuses to accept.
Look, if I go in depth into the scenes where this is addressed, I'd be here all day. Instead, have a screenshot compilation, I guess.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Again. That's been a core message of the series this entire time. And while I don't have screenshots of it being spoken so plainly in seasons 1 and 2, Gabriel has always been depicted as sinister, and his obsession has always been framed in the wrong.
Now, if you're one of those people who refuse to analyze the text at all or interpret what the messages of the show are on the grounds of "the writing sucks so who cares, it's probably just inconsistent writing and they forgot about the themes in the final episode" or whatever, then like. Ok. But here's the thing— this theme is even more hammered home in the finale.
Guys. I'm serious. What the hell do you think the scene before the wish was saying?
Gabriel, at his lowest moment, brought down. Gabriel, detransformed and on his knees before Bug Noir. Gabriel, at the final hour of his life, near tears, still obsessing over his wife, still thinking of his wife his wife his wife above all else, as Bug Noir lays out the literal themes of the show to him in all their beautiful glory.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
And then literally forces him to watch the very videos that he had tried to force Nathalie to delete. Forces him to face the very words he refused to acknowledge. Forces him, at his lowest, to come face-to-face with the truth he denied.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
.... And it hits him. What she's saying hits him. Because how can he deny Emilie's own words? The very woman he's doing it all for? How can he bring her back to life when she would want nothing less? How can he force the love of his life to live knowing that someone had died for her to, when she didn't want that? How could he have lost himself so much in the madness?
And then Bug Noir comes in with THIS
Tumblr media
.... And Gabriel says....
Tumblr media
.... Note that, he does not continue to deny it. He does not plead his case that Emilie should be alive. He is no longer arguing that. Here, he has seemingly begun to accept the premise that Emilie should not be brought back to life. Instead, he has a new premise:
He does not want to be alive if Emilie is not.
Gabriel is not selfless. Gabriel is not a good man. Gabriel says, earlier in the episode, flat out, that he is more than willing to kill whoever it takes, whatever rando he wants, to get what he wants.
Tumblr media
Here's the thing.
Gabriel wants to be with Emilie.
Gabriel is willing to kill anyone, whoever it takes, to make this happen.
Gabriel realizes Emilie does not want to be alive.
Gabriel decides that he will honor Emilie's final wish......... only partially.
Because Emilie wanted both Gabriel and Nathalie to take care of Adrien. But Gabriel does not want that. It's not that Gabriel is above killing someone to save his own life, it's that he realizes that he, too, does not want to be saved. Because he does not want to live in a world without Emilie.
He would rather be dead, with her, than alive and caring for his own son.
Gabriel Agreste's wish is a suicide. I mean, we already knew this— but I mean, literally. It's not a selfless sacrifice. It's not one final act of goodness. It's a suicide. He decides he wants to die, and he decides that he will save Nathalie in the act— because it's what Emilie wanted, and Gabriel is obsessive. The only person who would reason with him is Emilie herself.
And what does Gabriel's wish look like? How is it depicted to us?
Gabriel and Emilie, cast in a white light. Emilie lifts from her coffin, notably still limp, as Gabriel rises up with her.
Tumblr media
He rises up with her, notably supporting her limp head with his hand. She is still unconscious. And he is joining her.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
One last selfish act. The final nail into his "trying to be a dad" coffin. He doesn't want to be a dad anymore. He only wants to be with Emilie. And he will gladly pass that responsibility, the responsibility of parentage, onto Nathalie— The only character in the show who has been showing an explicit, vested interest in LIVING to take care of and be a parent to Adrien.
Tumblr media
Nathalie is alive. Nathalie is well. A life for a life. One life for one life. That's all that's depicted. That's all that's shown.
Is it TECHNICALLY POSSIBLE that more could've been a part of that wish? Is it TECHNICALLY POSSIBLE that the wish could've been more complicated? Is it TECHNICALLY POSSIBLE that some random other person died? Is it TECHNICALLY POSSIBLE that all of that dialogue and that entire scene and the entire buildup of Emilie's recordings were just soooooo lol random and that Emilie just decided that she's totally cool with being revived and alive now and that the entire themes of the series were a lie?
I also think it's technically possible that Marinette has secretly been a hamster wearing a human suit this whole time, and Lila is actually secretly a sentimonster made by Gorilla. And maybe this show isn't a romance, actually, and that Adrien and Marinette aren't meant to be endgame. In fact, maybe the entire series was a big prank. Maybe I'm adopted and my parents lied to me about it.
But how it looks, from what I see, from what I've watched, what just happened is....
Gabriel accepted that Emilie is dead.
This made Gabriel want to die, too. Because he doesn't care about Adrien as much as he cares about Emilie.
So, he did. And he shirked parentage onto Nathalie.
Is this "winning", by the way? By any stretch? Is this "Gabriel getting what he always wanted"? Is this "Gabriel being proved right"? Is this a lack of consequences? Are we really going to call a broken man, who has been slowly turning to ash and rotting away for an entire season, who suffered and was beaten down and, at the very end, had the only people ever in his corner (Nathalie and Adrien) cursing his name and wanting him dead.... him being right all along? Is him committing suicide the series justifying his actions? Is him committing suicide (again, not a selfless sacrifice) him "doing good" and "being redeemed" by the narrative? Is a faux image of him, a false narrative, a complete fictional person that he never truly was being celebrated by ignorant Parisians, him "being redeemed"? I suppose that's another essay altogether. But I'm tired of writing.
also, there was still only one goddamn twin at that party
2K notes · View notes
starryinkart · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
[Click for Better Quality!!]
(Likes and Reblogs are Appreciated as they help my posts and blog reach others easily!)
Hey guys!!! This was supposed to be the last post of 2023 buttt I wanted to spend more time on it soooo HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! 🎊
This is based off a dream I had that Doll and Uzi will teamed up to find answers and a possible cure down in the Cabin Fever labs, but ultimately ran into some trouble along the way, particularly with a recently deceased friend (or enemy, depending what side you’re on 👀). They ended up fighting another holo spooky snake crab and end up having to put their differences aside to work together and get past it, using their solver powers. But time is ticking, the solver is slowly taking over the both of them, N is in trouble and they still need to last through the other mind games the solver has set up for them in the process.
At some point before this, we have the scene seen in the teaser trailer for episode 7 and 8, of N and Uzi standing in the cathedral hall, Uzi gets momentarily possessed, hurting Ns hand, but snaps out of it when they both hear a noise behind them. They manage to catch a glimpse of Doll, trying to sneak past them, when Uzi attacks her, a short fight ensuing. Doll is knocked to the floor by a marble pillar, her eyepatch gets knocked off her face. It was then revealed that her other eye that had been covered was indeed yellow, the color of the solver, like Uzi’s. After a short tension filled chat, it was then decided between the three drones that they would work together, if it meant they would find an answer to their looming issues and possible planets demise, when all hell broke loose…Whether they would win or lose, I never got to find out 🥺🥺😭
(It’s just an interesting concept my creative brain came up with while I’m patiently waiting and theorizing for the last two episodes of season 1 like everyone else 🙃 Might draw more of it at some point!)
Hope you enjoy!!💜✨ More art and Chapter 4 of Absolutely coming very soon!!
(Here’s a closer up version in case you wanted to see the fine details 👀👀)
Tumblr media
753 notes · View notes
mollish-art · 10 months
Text
Alternate ending for @ranboolivesaysstuff ‘s Generation Loss: gl!Ranboo is reprogrammed from being the “Hero” to “the Abomination”, aka the next villain in Showfall’s latest installment.
Tumblr media
As the mask doesn’t force the wearer to act in a certain way, but only changes their perception, reprogrammed gl!Ranboo believes he’s attacking the Showfall employees, when in actuality he’s attacking his reprogrammed friends.
His demise as a ‘villain’ culminates in his memories returning to him, and refusing to fight back when the new Hero at last approaches him; he is slain feeling nothing but guilt.
EDIT: As this has gained a lot of positive attention on several platforms, I will absolutely be drawing/writing more for this! Stay tuned >:)
EDIT 6/24: Chapter 1 of “Unperson” is out! Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47833267/chapters/120589285
2K notes · View notes
dizzy-n-busy · 4 months
Text
[can (and most likely will) contain SOME poly hcs!]
« Shaw Pack headcanons »
° • ° • ↓ • ° • °
Younger David and Darlin' had a 'platonic confession' - as Milo and Asher put it - with each other (they confessed that they were besties for the first time)
Younger Darlin' was hella touch starved and tried avoiding it at all costs bc it made them feel weird; Darlin' now is constantly being touched and completely immune to it
Angel and Asher are VERY touchy feely, love language of physical touch havin asses
David and Baaabe are the cooks of the pack - Baaabe also makes snacks for pack meetings bc David's too preoccupied (Milo and Sam are good sous-chefs !!)
Sweetheart loves buying things and going to expensive ass restaurants with the pack (they're restricted for special occasions bc the pack doesn't want them going broke)
Angel and Baaabe met each other in college but never found out each other's names till later
Everyone is immensely protective over Sam (esp during pack meetings)
Sam and Darlin' stay getting cuddled and clinged onto bc they think that they're outcasts
Milo learned how to stitch at a young age so he could personally tailor some of his clothes shorter; he was embarrassed to get them done professionally
Angel likes wearing short clothes/bottoms so when their shoes untie, the pack's literally dolphin diving tying it for them so they don't have to bend down
David gets called 'mama duck' and he literally hates it
Someone always records whenever they all hangout for memories (I'd say Baaabe, David or Sweetheart)
Darlin' and Sweetheart are menaces when it comes to pissy chrissy, they love intimidating him (Darlin' looms over him and Sweetheart jumpscares him with cloaking)
Milo has a daily skin care/shower routine which is oddly complex
Angel spams the gc with David smiling when they catch him in a photo or to lighten the mood - everyone loves it
Angel got Asher hooked on cheek kisses (or vice versa)
Movie nights or sleepovers/camping go crazy
The pack has, at some point in time, all fallen asleep on or next to Sam (he's too comforting for his own good)
It's always Milo vs Asher till you bring Darlin' into the picture (2 against 1 and they still lose lmao)
Baaabe literally obliterates everyone at arcade games
David has his last name tattooed on the back of his neck; he says how they'll be his demise /j
Sweetheart stress cleans (twinninem)
Baaabe gives fantastic pep talks
Darlin' takes Angel out whenever they struggle with sleeping and don't wanna bother David (Asher sometimes goes too)
Sweetheart is the go to for missing stuff, they always manage to find it somehow
Sam lets the pack play with his hair
Angel got David to match fits ONCE and they were literally vibrating in excitement
The amount of 'embarrassing' old pack photos and videos that David hides is FEDERAL
Darlin' gives really nice hugs
The werewolves all shift and form a cuddle party, it's very cute (many photos for evidence)
Angel likes riling Darlin' up when their shifted and gets chased like a bat outta hell - they have literally mounted the rest of the pack tryna get away
Sweetheart always gives the pack's shifted forms head kisses before and after rubbing their heads
David won't admit it but he loves hanging out with Sam on the sidelines while everyone else is playing around (shifted)
Darlin' got assorted matching piercing with the listener mates (angel bites for Angel, gages for Baaabe and either a tongue piercing or snake bites for Sweetheart)
Milo gets picked up a lot for some reason - it only slightly pisses him off
They were all matching for the Summit, I might draw it to show what I mean
Sweetheart and Milo LOVE making and holding eye contact, they like how it flusters ppl (they always win staring contests/j)
Angel's super into interior designing, they interpret it thru minecraft bc I said so
Group therapy goes crazy/lh
I have so many thoughts abt them, I might have ta make a pt2 💪💪
• ° • ° ↑ ° • ° •
497 notes · View notes
arcielee · 4 months
Text
Insatiable
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: Osferth finally has a moment with the barmaid he has been pining for. Paring: Osferth x Plus Size Reader Word Count: 1575 Warnings: AFAB Reader, kissing, titty sucking, grinding, pre ejaculation because baby monk is thrumming with life being tucked between your thighs, implied sexual themes. Author's Note: This was requested by the lovely, the wonderful @helaelaemond 💜 I hope this does justice to your request. Thank you @aemondsbabe for being my beloved beta reader for this hot mess I wrote at 1 in the morning and thank you @myfandomprompts for the title! 🥰 Dividers by @saradika
Tumblr media
They prefer your tavern and its reputation, your wit and your hired help–always the loveliest of girls you gave sanctuary too. In return, you enjoyed both their coin and their company, which was something all encompassing whenever they would enter your establishment.
On this night, it was the tittering of your barmaids that alerts you before the bawdy Irishman announces their arrival. He fills the door frame, his dark eyes settling onto you and you returning his cheeky grin. 
“Lord Uhtred and his pretty boys,” you greet and he guffaws. You begin to pull empty tankards from the shelves behind. “To what do we owe the honor?” 
Finan pushes up towards the bar, his teeth bright beneath his dark beard. “My lady, tonight we are celebrating!” 
“What are we celebrating?” You fill up a mug and pass it over to his wide grasp. 
He begins to gulp it down, ale spilling the corners of his mouth before setting it down, his smile roguish when he says: “First bloodshed.” 
Osferth had slain the great Dane, Sigefrid Thurgilson, and its tale was already webbing throughout the cities that settled along the river bank of the Temes, rising from the ashes of Beamfleot. 
Your brow raises with your surprise. The warrior monk was a recent addition to the motley swart of men that shadowed Lord Uhtred’s steps. Osferth was a solemn addition, tall and lean, with piercing blue eyes that would cut through the crowd, searching for you whenever they visited. 
You could not help but favor him out of all the men that served Lord Uhtred. He was handsome with his sharp features, but you noticed how they softened with your voice whenever you spoke with him. You relish his reaction, the soft pink hues that stained his cheeks, his soft timbre to answer you, and you actually began to mourn him, assuming his inevitable demise at the end of a blade. 
But instead, Osferth showed himself to be so much more. 
The wooden walls begin to vibrate with the jubilation of surviving another day as the locals pour through the doors, adding to the cheers of their heroism. Lord Uhtred and his men preen under the attention, always adoring your pretty help, your girls flutter throughout to refill mugs or fall into an empty lap. 
You were watching, sipping at your own cup, dressed to complement your curves, the low neckline of your blouse to draw the eye to your heavy bust, aglow with the umpteenth retelling of baby monk’s bravery. Only then did you notice that Finan was trying to call your attention. 
“Please,” his lilt was thick as he began to beg, his ruddy cheeks burning and his dark eyes finally pulling away from your cleavage to meet with your own. “Osferth has been so hopelessly besotted with you. I was thinking you should give him a kiss to congratulate that he is now truly a man.” 
His words, partnered with the ale, warm your blood with the realization, flushing your cheeks and your cleavage. It propels your feet forward, pushing through the crowd towards Osferth, whose eyes were already trained to you. They widen, bright and beautiful and blue, to drink in the sight when you lean over, his skin prickling with your whisper to his ear, “Come with me,” and he is quick to stand and follow after you. 
The cheers of his comrades are drowned out with the call for another round, and you leave it to your help to tend and to fawn over the rest of the men as you pull Osferth away.  
The oak door shuts out the noise and you look back to see his lithe frame leaning against the wood. In the intimacy of the room, you could smell the musk of the battle won, lining his angular features, his sandy locks disheveled with the uneven new growth of his old religious style. 
You reach for his hand, pulling him towards the bed, and he follows, towering over you, watching as your hands pull at the collar of his alb; he helps you peel it off, showing the pale planes of his chest beneath.
Even as he sinks to sit on the edge of the bed, he is still so very tall, and you blush, turning to grab a clean cloth from the basin, coming back to touch his jaw and to wipe away the ash smeared across his face. 
Osferth hums with your touch, leaning into your palm, and your blood thickens beneath your skin with his close proximity. Your eyes watch the rise and fall of his chest as he tries to steady his breath, and when he finally looks back up at you, you can see the lustful black swallowing the cerulean coloring of his eyes; they wash over you, drinking in your curves, and a bashfulness stricken your bones with his heady gaze.  
You take a step back to return the cloth, and only then does Osferth dare to push up, towering over you. His large palm catches your elbow and pulls you back towards him. “May I–?” but his question stops on his tongue, your hands already moving to pull him close enough to kiss. 
The taste of ale is present, but not overwhelming, his mouth pleasantly warm and his lips soft to press against your own. You melt against his chest and a soft sigh escapes, allowing his clever tongue to curl, to deepen the kiss and find its tandem with your own. His large hands move, respectful but appreciative of the tactile nature of your figure, touching your soft waist, moving to settle on your hips with a firm hold as he continues to draw the very breath from your lungs. 
You break away for air, for who knew he would kiss like a man starved? You see his lips still pursed, kiss swollen, the hue now darkening to a red stain on his cheeks and on the tip of his nose. 
“Forgive me,” he says after a movement with the same sweet diction you were always fond of, and he grows shy with his admittance, “but I have thought often of how you would taste and I now find myself insatiable.” 
You close the space between, finding his mouth once again, and his palms roam, his stance staggering as he follows the pull backwards, until you both fall onto the bed. 
His arms cage you against the mattress and he dips forward for another desperate kiss; your blouse laces are pulled to allow the natural slope of your breasts, your hands rutting your skirt up so he can slot his slender waist between your plush thighs. You softly whine with the pressure of his length against your clothed cunt, and his deft fingers travel to remove your smallclothes. Osferth then pulls back with a pause, a moment of admiration with the enticing way of how you now spill from your clothes. 
You burn under his gaze, your fingers bold to loosen his ties, his length straining against the crotch of his slacks, now flush and upright towards his bellybutton. Osferth melts against you with his soft groan, your own soft sighs echoing with the delicious pressure of him against your slick folds. Your fingertips move to dig into the divots of his lower back, pulling him to rock against you with the genial glide of the underside of his cock against your warmth, rubbing your clit, and a pleasure begins to lick at the base of your spine. 
He is lost in the rhythm, the now crimson flush spilling from his face to his neck to his chest, panting and trembling against you; his eyes search for your face and you pull him in for another quick kiss. Osferth groans into your mouth, breaking away to return his attention to the tops of your breasts, his hot mouth leaving blooms of color as he suckles and savors every bit of your skin now showing. 
You squirm beneath him, your soft moans spurring his motion, and his brows knit with a focus on your pleasure, your sweet sounds, but it shatters so easily with your breathless whisper of his name that tickles his ear, “Oh, Osferth…” 
With a strangled cry, you can feel the hot pulse of his spend between your thighs. You tighten them around his waist, supporting him as he lowers his weight on top of you. “Forgive me,” he is panting against your flush skin, the ripple of gooseflesh in the wake of his exhale. “Forgive me, my lady, it is no excuse but I…have been thinking about this, about you, for so long…” 
You press a finger against his lips and Osferth is quick to kiss the pad. You smile with his gesture, your hand moving to curl the back of his neck, bringing his lips to your own for another sweet kiss. “Would you like to make it up to me?” Your voice is sultry, velvet, and you can feel the twitch of his cock in response.
His eyes are soulful and wide, with the returning blue a stark contrast to the flush of red that remains on his face. “More than anything,” he vows, “I will spend all night right here, if you wish it.” 
And you kiss him again, unable to help the giggle that spills from your lips. “I wish it,” you whisper and you can feel his smile in return. 
Tumblr media
Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch
Tumblr media
320 notes · View notes
eddies-house · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |
Smoke Signals
Chapter Eleven - Hoedown
W/C: 8K
Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader
"Got love-struck, went straight to my head."
"Slut!" - T.S.
A/N: it's been a while...
Masterlist
Prev | Next
The air smells of cinnamon and caramel corn, arguably the smell of Fall though if anyone were to ask you, you’d say Fall smelled of spice and smoke from the chimneys of your neighbors.  The caramel corn was a tad overpowering, a huge batch being stirred back in the kitchen, courtesy of Donnie’s secret recipe.  Her loving husband, Nathan was doing the heavy lifting, clearing the room so that the center allowed for a dance floor despite Eddie’s protests.  Tables covered with checkered tablecloths along with chairs were set around the edges of the room and the boys had lugged in the hay bales that were stacked out back and set them where you and Donnie had instructed around the bar, the theme of the night coming together before your eyes.
Nancy was gently tossing the apples into one of the barrels in preparation for apple bobbing while Robin was organizing the table that had been designated for the pie eating contest, ensuring that they had all the pies queued up, ready to be devoured for the prize of free drinks the rest of the night.  It wasn’t very logical, filling someone up with pie only for them to be rewarded with endless drinks and most definitely puke everything up, but you weren’t going to strike down the idea after Nathan insisted it would draw people in, that “they’d pay to see that kind of shit”.  
Finishing off a quick makeshift arrangement of sunflowers and filler leaves in a mason jar, you set it among one of the tables proudly.  It was simple but it did the job.  Satisfied with your work, you continue placing the remaining flowers on each table.  Nancy had assisted in putting them together, doing her part as you both sat at the bar earlier in the afternoon, chatting and giggling, squealing even, whenever you made a joke about Steve falling asleep again the second they got him in the door the previous morning at Eddie’s house.
It took a village, some would say, to get the man settled in his drunken haze.  Steve had been babbling about how he could walk, meanwhile he would nearly crumble into himself the second anyone let go, his head going falling back and limbs going limp.  Nancy insisted that you didn’t need to assist any further, that you should go get some sleep, but you didn’t want the night to end yet, you didn’t want to go home.
“Sunflowers.”  Eddie mutters, his eyes glued to the arrangements.  He stops what he’s doing, apparently searching for something behind the bar.  There’s a twinkle in his eyes and the softest smile on his lips, lights creating a glow around him that leaves you in awe.
“Yeah, do they look okay?” 
Suddenly, it was so easy to be insecure, even in the presence of a man who proved time and time again that you didn’t need to be.  The people pleaser lurking within you had been awakened once again and it was targeting your downfall, plotting your demise.  If there’s even a hint of displeasure in Eddie’s face, it would surely feed on it, ripping you apart bit by bit, declaring that nothing you ever did would be good enough for anyone ever again.  
He’s lost in thought again, eyes glazed over with some kind of appreciation as he taps his ringed knuckles against the bar.  He almost resembles a kid in a candy store yet you nearly take it as pity, that vengeful little monster within you ready to pounce on its prey and feast on you for the remainder of the night.  
“Yeah.”  He exhales.  “Yeah, they’re perfect.”  It’s said in a whisper, as if he had only wanted you to hear him although no one else was close enough to hear.
“Are you sure?”  You ask, hands placed atop the bar as you lean closer to him, worry etched into your features. “Cause I can–”
“They’re perfect.”  He affirms, louder this time.  His gaze finds yours, huge chocolate buttons so filled with such adoration you become overwhelmed, palms turning clammy.  The monster inside of you has been smothered for the time being.
“Yeah, yeah, the flowers are gorgeous, where do you want this?”  Steve interrupts, carrying in another hay bale, gesturing to it with a nod of his head.
Before you can scan the room and provide him an answer, Nancy is pushing behind him, guiding him away as she instructs him where to set it before sending you a knowing glance.  
Knowing what exactly, you weren’t sure.  
Sparkly plastic jewels adorn the hatband of the once standard black cowboy hat.  You’d catered it exactly to Eddie’s style, opting to only glue tiny silver jewels and graciously leaving out the little tassels you had so desperately wanted to add on.  Then you decided, too flashy.  This way, he could remain in all black and still have a little wow factor.  He was the owner after all, he needed to make a statement.
What really made it scream “Eddie” though, was the bandana adorned in skulls and crossbones wrapped around the hatband just under the jewels.  It was certain to gain his approval, being ‘metal enough’ and all, as he would say.  You’d worked on it for hours before tonight, meticulously placing each jewel and criticizing your own work countless times.  It hadn’t been easy sneaking one his bandanas away from him either although you were able to snag it from his back pocket one night and he still hasn’t seemed to notice.  That, or he just hasn’t said anything.
“As promised, I have your final accessory.”  You state proudly, standing in front of the desk of the tiny office, Eddie raising a curious brow at you from his seat.
You hold the hat behind your back, almost too giddy to continue hiding it from him but refraining from showing it to him a second too soon.  He had changed his clothes since you’d last seen him about an hour ago after finishing up the final touches for Hoedown Night.  By that point everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off.  Now it was the calm before the storm, before patrons were let into the bar, before anyone could determine whether or not tonight would be successful or not, whether or not enough people would even show up.
From what you could see, Eddie wore his signature black jeans but rather than a regular black shirt or a faded band shirt, he wore a black button up that was slightly wrinkled and creased where it had obviously been folded previously.  He had it tucked into his jeans just right and though the creases should ruin the look, it only elevates it.
“Yeah?”  
His hesitation almost worries you although the slight purse of his lips and a raise of his brow indicate that he was more curious than anything.  A darling expression that could’ve gotten him anything he wanted should he ask.
“Mhm.”  Biting your lip in instant insecurity, you debate trashing the hat completely.  
He’s going to hate it.
It’s ugly.
He’s going to laugh.
“Wait…”  He interrupts your bombarding thoughts. 
Oh god.
“Don’t tell me you got me a hat–”
“I didn’t!”  You chirp, a lie clearly detected as you shut your eyes tight, the corners crinkling.  
“You did.”  
Opening your eyes only means being faced with the utter humiliation you’d brought upon yourself.  Why would you decorate a hat just for him?  You didn’t offer such courtesy to anyone else, he was going to think you were even weirder than you’d already lead on.  What started out as a nice gesture has suddenly turned into some kind of stalkerish behavior, your mind blurring the reality of the actual situation.
Except when you chance a peek, a nosy squint, all you can determine is that he was wearing a shit-eating grin.  Not the kind that was warning you that in seconds he would be poking fun at your little surprise.  But if not that kind then you were clueless as to what to expect.  No one sports a shit-eating grin without some kind of humor behind it, some kind of motive.
“That’s why you stole my bandana isn’t it?”
The tension in your neck releases, muscles relaxing though you hadn’t even realized they were straining until now.  You should be tense and stressed at the soft accusation but it just further pushes you gently into familiar territory.  The teasing tenderness between two complicated individuals who only seem to understand each other.  
“I-”  You choke out a laugh.
“You did steal it!”  Eddie points an accusatory finger your way, that big stupid grin still adorning his face.
“You weren’t supposed to know!”  You defend.  “It’s a surprise!”
“You’re not a very good thief y’know.”  
It’s not unlike you to shy away from someone’s gaze but the way he saunters out from behind his desk and towers over you causes your eyes to catch the ugly gray carpet.  Large brown irises were only going to force your honesty to display itself across your face like a giant billboard advertisement; honesty that even you yourself hadn’t even taken the time to address.
“I don’t tend to steal.”  You mutter bashfully.
A disapproving click of his tongue is all you can make out without viewing his face.
“No.”  He says sarcastically, maybe with a dramatic eye roll although you’re not brave enough to glance up yet.  “A shy little thing like you?”
You can’t help the tug at the corner of your lips, his perception of you somehow becoming so endearing despite your years of self loathing solely based on your timid nature and mumbled sentences.  At the moment, being shy didn't seem to be such an…inconvenience.  It didn’t seem so unattractive and repelling and moreso drew him in, it wasn’t a luxury you were often offered.  “Shy little thing” would usually constitute as insulting but when it rolls off his tongue, all you can feel is accepted as you are.  It didn’t secretly say “you need to get out of your shell more”, it stated “I like you as is.”
“I’m sorry!”  You whine, arms dropping to your sides and in the process, you’d long forgotten about the very hat you set out to hide and planned a grand reveal for.
“Don’t apologize.”  He gingerly grabs the hat, studying it from what you can see out of the corner of your eye.
Then it hits you.  
“Hey!”  You snap your attention to his face, catching a smug smile from him as he twirls the hat in calloused hands.
On instinct, you attempt to snatch it out of his reach, failing miserably as he extends it upward in the air, almost like a school bully would.  Your hands continue swatting at the air as if it will grant you any success in retrieving it but to no avail.  Once dull embers erupt into passionate flames within his eyes, something you haven’t quite witnessed yet, a playful and energetic aura haloing him effortlessly, like it had always belonged there.
“Whoa there, squirt.”  He jokes, waving your greedy hands away.
“Just–just tell me you don’t like it so I can go fix it or–or something.”  You demand with a childish stomp of your foot.
His features fall, gaze shifting between you and the hat in thought.  You’re in crisis mode though you can’t stop thinking about how good he looks with his button down, the top few buttons undone and showing off a portion of his pale chest, faded tattoos peeking out. 
“What?”  He shakes his head in confusion.  “Don’t like it?”  
“Eddie, just hand me the–”
“I think it’s perfect.”  He decides, plopping the hat on top of his frizzy curls.
There’s that word again.
Perfect.
The Bourbon had never been so alive-at least not in the past few months you’d become acquainted with it; in fact the closest it had been to being this animated was on Wednesday bingo nights.  Dusty corners that had never been touched prior were now spotless and though no one else in their right mind would care to inspect such corners, you took pride in playing a part in sprucing up the aging building.  The twang of a banjo and the squeal of a fiddle backed up by a cowbell filled the room, played by none other than Knife’s Edge famous trio, The Scott Brothers, also known as Donnie and Nathan’s lovely sons who had been musically inclined from a very young age, the band forming back in elementary school as Donnie explained.  They specialized in family gatherings and local events, a rowdy bunch that kept the pulse of any party going.  
Now you were witnessing it in real time, local superstars riling up the crowd that had accumulated in their best country attire, flannels and cowboy boots galore.  The pie eating contest was just about to begin, a group of burly men accepting the first challenge, hopefully encouraging others to participate in the next round.  Robin perched herself atop one of the haybales with her handy timer, a straw hat tossed over her dirty blond hair and a pale blue denim long-sleeve tucked into her high-waisted blue jeans.  
Jett had been in better spirits than you’d recently seen him in, a win in your book.  With a dramatic show of the boysenberry pies balanced in his hands, he made a point to “accidentally” stumble and nearly let the desserts fall face first onto the hay covered floor but managed to save them and earn himself a cheer from the crowd before setting them in front of the contestants.  You were just content that he wasn’t pouting anymore.
“You gonna give it a try?”  
His voice pipes up next to you, hands resting atop his flashy belt buckle as he nods to the commotion.  He reminded you of an oversized toddler, his boots a size or two too large for his feet that had been trudging around all evening and his hat lopsided on flattened hair.
“What?”  You cross your arms in a self-soothing manner, the act of becoming the center of attention inducing nausea in the pit of your stomach, blood pressure most likely spiking at the mere idea.  “N-no, I’m okay.”
“C’mon, why not?”  Jett shrugs.  “Live a little, Bambi.”  He chuckles.
It should have been harmless, though the name fell from his mouth and all you could detect was something vengeful within his intention.  It was unknown what exactly happened between him and Eddie besides Jett coming off as jealous and the metalhead not taking well to the younger man’s attitude.  Other than that, there was no determining what stirred up the disagreement in the first place and it only created more confusion in your swirling mind, why Jett felt some kind of possession over you.
“That’s not my name.” 
You avoid his eyes, only gauging his reaction out of the very tiny window of sight in your peripheral.  The goal was to set a very clear boundary however the task was proving difficult, confrontation never being your strong suit.  A human doormat was usually the role you slouched into at the first indication of discomfort in any conflict.
His shoulders stiffen, head tilting in your direction as he ponders your response.  You could just about choke on your breath, the air getting lodged in your throat as you held onto it in anticipation.  You only wish you could scramble over to where Dustin had been cracking peanuts and shoveling them into his mouth like he was an addict.  You didn’t even like peanuts.
“Not your name?”  Jett questions with a scoff.  “You sure about that?” 
There’s no intimidation, only slight annoyance written across his face which was far better considering that you were expecting an outburst.  Jett was still a stranger in a sense, he didn’t put any effort into really getting to know you and yet he had this sense of entitlement about him.  He was only a few years younger and it only got you thinking, were you so blissfully ignorant just years ago?
“Mhm.”  You begin fidgeting with your fingernail.
“Alright.”  He shows you his hands in surrender, the sentiment only being drowned out by the way his face contorts into a cocky expression.  “What are you being so short with me for?”  He asks, a humorless grin on his face.
“Excuse me?”  Your voice is smaller than you’d hoped for it to be.  Realistically you had no bite to your bark and really, the most you had was a pathetic yelp if anything.  “I-I don’t…Jett you’re the one–”
“Did Munson go off and start rumors about me?”  He laughs though you’re certain he finds nothing funny.
Robin shifts her attention to the current conversation from her perch on the haybale a few feet over, confusion taking over her freckled face.  You can barely make out “what the fuck” on her stained red lips, cherry pie most definitely that she had snuck more than a taste test of.  Your eyes widen, communicating almost telepathically, a silent alarm.
“Why–I’m not understanding.”
“You can tell me.”
He’s no longer that sweet kid you’d met a few months ago, his words were like darts targeting you and you almost felt the need to squeeze your eyes shut so you could brace for the impact.  He was calm but not civil, venom spilling from every syllable.  And you’d never once been involved in the quarrel he created in his brain, it wasn’t fair.
“Tell you what!?”  You manage to snap, desperately attempting to stand your ground and not scamper away like a wounded puppy.
“Bambi...”  Jett singsongs condescendingly.
“Stop!”  With clenched fists at your sides, you huff out a frustrated breath, no longer tiptoeing timidly around him.  “Stop…stop calling me that.”  Your warning tone has his facade faltering slightly, worry pressing into the lines forming between his eyebrows.
Robin makes her move the second your chest begins to heave and she can’t quite tell if it’s from panic or anger although she wasn’t going to wait around to find out as she throws a friendly arm around you to steer you anywhere else Jett was not, insisting that she needed your opinion on something.  
Everything felt hot, your cheeks were scorched and your veins were burning with embarrassment and undeniable betrayal at the hands of someone who was practically a stranger berating you over nothing in public.  Reality settled back in the moment Robin sat you down at one of the vacant bar stools, her shaky hands resting atop your shoulders.  It was obvious the two of you had been riddled with anxiety.  
“I-um, I didn’t know what to do and you were just–you were giving me that look.  Y’know, that look.”  She begins to ramble, big blue eyes darting around the room as if searching for her own reasons.  “The kinda look that’s, like, screaming ‘help’.  Like, get me the fuck out of here but also I tend to read things wrong so now I’m thinking I just booted you out of a conversation…”  She glances across the room over at Jett and then back at you.  “Oh god, did I–did I interrupt something–”
“No!”  You blurt out, grabbing onto her wrists as a means to soothe her jumbled thoughts.  “No, no, you did good, Robin.  Promise.”  A reassuring nod lets her know you’re sincere, her demeanor immediately relaxing.  “I don’t know what that was, honestly.  All I know is that I kinda feel like a piece of meat?”  
Robin nods in agreement, some kind of panic settling back in her wide eyes which only further worries you.  She had known Jett long before you afterall, maybe she knew something she wasn’t letting on.
“What–uh, what was he saying?  I, um, I only caught some of it.”  She questions with a nervous swallow.
“It…it’s stupid.”  You whisper, gaze falling to the floor.
“Try me.”  Her confidence momentarily overtakes her anxiety.
It was ridiculous.  You felt ridiculous.  The act of explaining why you didn’t take well to another guy calling you a certain nickname was the epitome of stupidity.  And yet you spilled it all to Robin, voicing your distaste for the word falling from Jett’s lips while avoiding your mind screaming at you that only Eddie was allowed to use that name.  Something told you Robin could read minds solely based off of the smirk she began to display amidst your ranting.  You ignored it despite your face heating up and your palms becoming clammy at the mere thought of the doe-eyed man.
“Steve!”  Nancy barrels out from the kitchen doors in her stylish checkered sweater tucked into the bluest of blue jeans.  You wouldn’t know she was attempting a cowboy getup if it weren’t for her straw hat covering her perfectly permed curls.  “Steve!”  She grits, hot on the man’s trail.
Steve continues to nearly strut toward the crowd of people awaiting the bell to initiate the pie eating contest.  Confidence drips from him, a cocky smirk painted on his face and a toothpick tucked in between his teeth as he rests his hands on his hips.  Tassels hang from his tan jacket, a blue button down underneath and some insanely tight jeans fitting him in all the right places.  
“Steve!”  Nancy hisses again, gesturing down to her jeans, urging Steve to glance down as she widened her eyes at him.  
“Alright, chill out, Nance.”  He pays no mind to her, eyes scanning the room in wonder.
“Steve, your fly is down and your shirt is stuck in the zipper.”  
His brown eyes nearly fall out of his head, hands rushing to cover the area as he rushes back toward the kitchen.  You can’t help but snicker along with Robin, Nancy shaking her head at Steve’s negligence to his crotch.  
“Whoa!”  You hear a surprised Eddie, only eliciting more giggles from you and Robin.
“Steve, if you were happy to see me you could’ve just said so!  No need to pull your dick out!”  
Thankfully, no one else idled near the kitchen doors, unable to hear the sudden vulgar outburst.  Covering your mouth and attempting to get a hold of your laughter, you rest your head on Robin’s shoulder in defeat, your body shaking with giggles while she almost squeals.  Nancy attempts to shush you both although she can’t contain her own laughter, her hand pressed into your arm as she lowers her head.
“S-stop.”  She gasps for air.  “It’s, it’s not funny!  Stop, he’s gonna be so embarrassed.”  She finally gets out, the corners of her mouth almost appearing to be permanently upturned.
“What’s so funny?”
Steve stands behind Nancy with furrowed brows and cherry red cheeks, hands resting on his hips in his standard pose.  Offense lingers in his voice, the kind that bantering friends exhibit only spurring the three of you on.  
“Oh–oh c’mon!”  He throws his arms up, shaking his head in disappointment.  “You too?”  He looks at you with a hint of a smile.  “You already corrupted her into joining your little ‘mess with Steve’ club.”  A harsh finger jabs against Robin’s shoulder, sending her stumbling back.
“I tried to tell you!”  Nancy shoves his arm with a large grin.  “You didn’t listen!”
“Not cool, Harrington.”  Eddie emerges from the kitchen, the perfect image of a bandit in an old western with his all black getup.  “You ever take a girl out before trying to get to third base?”  He jokes, throwing an arm around Steve.
This was the first time this evening you’d seen him in his full outfit, hat and everything.  You weren’t usually into cowboys but he made it look good.  The hat was worn pridefully on top of his wild curls and he’d accessorized with his signature handcuff belt.  The one thing you couldn’t convince him to do was wear actual cowboy boots, the man instead insisting that he would only be wearing combat boots but you weren’t complaining, especially not now as you witnessed the final product.
“Shut up.”  Steve mumbles.
Eddie steals Steve’s hat with his free hand, ruffling his hair, no doubt messing it up in retaliation.  Steve swats at Eddie’s hand, shoving him off and grabbing his hat back with a fond smile pulling at his lips, his stubborn act disintegrating.
“Buy me a drink first.”  Eddie winks, only pulling more laughter from you.
“Very funny.”  Steve says blandly, eyes squinting.  “But I’ve actually got my eyes on that blonde over there.  And I’m gonna ask her to dance.”  He says matter of factly.
Eddie bows dramatically and gestures toward the dance floor, the center of the room covered in a healthy layer of hay.  As if he couldn’t put on more of a show, he removes his hat and places it over his chest.
“Your maiden awaits.”  
With a playful shove to Eddie’s chest, Steve makes his way across the room.  You can vaguely make out Dustin’s voice amongst the loud cowbell and shouting, excitement bubbling out of him as he cheers on the contestant he bet on.  A familiar tune begins to consume the room, each individual glancing to their peers in recognition.
Robin and Nancy begin to drift off into the center of the room, bouncing to the beat.  The smile on your face physically hurts but you aren't complaining, you couldn’t remember the last time you smiled so big and uncontrollably.  You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d connected so well with a group of people, if ever.
You were perfectly content, for once.  A social setting that would normally have you chewing your lips to shreds and nervously rubbing up and down your arms was actually proving to be…fun.  Observing from your stool, you didn’t even feel left out as you usually would under any other circumstances.  You can’t quite recall a reason for your anxiety laying so low though you suppose it has something to do with the acceptance everyone had granted you.  Nancy and Robin being so kind and taking you in right away, Steve and Dustin already treating you like a sibling amongst their little group.  You didn’t know what you did to deserve such treatment but it’s apparent you had done something right if for only once in your life.
Tearing your eyes away from the scene playing out before you, several pairs dancing about the room without a care in the world, your gaze catches an awkward Eddie leaning against the bar just inches away.  One of his curls twists around his finger, a nervous habit you’d picked up on.  The room erupts into a collective, tipsy, rendition of Take Me Home, Country Roads.  Loud clapping and hoots and hollers echo off the walls, and everyone sings.  
You knew Eddie has always been considered an outcast throughout his entire life based on what he’d shared with you but you never would have imagined him looking as bashful as he did now, a true wallflower just like yourself.  Though, while you were content in just observing, he seemed more uncomfortable, more lonely.  
Glancing back to the dance floor, Donnie sways to the music with her husband, lovingly holding onto each other in a drunken haze.  Every so often he jokingly spins her and dips her, something you’re finding yourself envious of but quickly swallow back the feeling.  Anyone in their right mind would want to be treated like the sun.
Dustin makes his way over to Nancy and Robin, Robin making a scene by initiating that one dumb lasso dance move and pulling him in, earning them several cheers which only created bigger smiles among their faces.  You’re sure you could just saunter over and fit right in.  But it didn’t feel right, leaving Eddie to be a wallflower on his own.  Especially since he didn’t seem too sure of himself, his teeth now chewing on his nail while his deep brown eyes surveyed the room.
“Wanna dance?”
It’s uncertain when exactly Steve made his way back over to you, it seemed like he had just appeared out of thin air but you could probably blame it on the fact that you were too enamored with the energy of the room.  His hand extends itself toward you, his shoulders shrugging as if to say ‘got anything better to do?’.  
“What happened to your blonde maiden?”  You ask, hoping Eddie would hear and maybe you’d earn at least a chuckle.
You didn’t, Eddie hadn’t even been listening, too busy in his head it would seem.  Steve shoves his free hand into his pocket, shaking his head in disappointment as he retires his hat from his sweaty head, abandoning it on top of the bar.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”  He frowns.  “Just need my friends.”  A sincere smile tugs at his lips, his eyebrows knit together in that way that he almost looks worried though you know it’s his empathy coming through.
You nod, offering him a close mouthed smile as you hop off the stool and grab his hand, dragging him toward the crowd.  Taking both his hands in yours, you start to sway to the song, playfully singing to each other in an overdone country accent.  Steve assists you in spinning, getting more and more into the song with each passing second, his hair bouncing with every movement.
“I dunno how to dance.”  You giggle, accidentally stepping on his foot.
“That’s okay!”  He grins.  “I’m not sure I do either.”  
Amongst all the celebrating and the several toasts people are raising to each other, your eyes meet large round coffee colored irises, a certain sadness to them that was also diluted with a fond gaze.  Over Steve’s shoulder, you watch Eddie, and he watches you.  The biggest smile causes your cheeks to ache, your teeth on full display just for him.  His shoulders shake with a laugh, a whiskey and coke now firmly grasped in his hand as he shyly looks down into the glass like it could give him some kind of advice.
As Steve leads you both in a circle of missteps and stumbling, he catches sight of what had made your face light up like a damn Christmas tree.  It goes on for another minute or so, stolen glances between two pining individuals.  He can see it, he knows it all too well.  He’s worn that same look before.  It’s too distinct to go unnoticed by him.  
He used to look at Nancy like that.
“Hey, I think I want a drink.”
Steve wastes no time in dragging you behind him toward the bar.  It takes you by surprise and in all honesty, you weren’t quite done dancing and at least would’ve liked to get to the end of the song before returning to your little stool of solitude.  Steve calls for Jett’s attention behind the bar, ordering himself a vodka cranberry much to your surprise.
“I’m actually feeling a little queasy.”  He grips his stomach, twisting his face in discomfort.  “Think you could take over for me, Ed?”  
Eddie nearly chokes on his drink, setting the glass down as he clears his throat repeatedly.  He points to himself with a questioning look, knowing damn well that Steve knew he couldn’t dance.  It was even more humiliating that he’d never danced with a girl before and Steve more than likely also knew that.  Steve responds with a nod, his brow cocked, a look of urgency crossing his features.
“Steve, are you sure–”  You attempt to chime in.
“Yes, go!  I’ll be fine.”  He shoos you toward the dancefloor, giving Eddie’s shoulder a rough push.
Eddie resembles a deer in headlights, ginormous eyes glued to you.  His feet were stuck to the ground and as you tugged on his arm, he didn’t budge.  
“C’mon!”  You encourage him with a smile.
His mouth opens but words don’t form, a protest on the very tip of his tongue unwilling to make its way into your ears.  He couldn’t say no to you but he also couldn’t dance.
“I don’t know how.”  He manages to rush out.
Gently, you take his hand in yours, his calloused skin cold against your warmth.  You haven’t had a sip of alcohol and yet your confidence was through the roof, only for him.  You intertwine your fingers with his, his chunky rings giving you a challenge but you succeed.  
“I don’t either.”  You assure him with a squeeze to his hand, tugging him even further onto the crowded dance floor, much to his dismay.
The song continues, people bouncing around and getting bubblier by the minute which only seemed to overwhelm Eddie as his hand began to sweat.  As a means to distract him, you pull his hat off of his head, his frizzy curls now exposed while you boldly fit the hat onto your head instead.  His eyes shine but he remains stiff, not entirely convinced that he could freely move about the crowd.
“Let's learn together.”  You speak softly, a stark contrast to the screeching fiddle being played loudly.
Without a second thought, your arms wrap around his shoulders, his whiskey coated breath fanning over your face.  It’s evident that he’s unsure what to do with his hands, his arms limply hanging at his sides.  Despite his anxious body language, his eyes give him away.  He’s nervous but he’s giddy.  Stars gleam and glimmer within his sweet and syrupy eyes, no longer sad pools of pity.
“Right here.”  You guide him, using one hand to bring his touch to your waist.  “Like that.”  You whisper, unsure if even he heard you.  “And like this.”  You guide his other hand before resting yours around his neck once again.
“Like this?”  He takes a shaky breath, a thumb swiping over your hip.
Humming in approval, you take the initiative to start swaying to the song, a temporary fear flashing in his eyes until he feels your fingers toying with the curls at the back of his head.  He cutely stumbles every other step, suddenly becoming the equivalent of a baby deer though you don’t mind and actually prefer it, the image forever being burned into your brain, another moment for the wall you’d created in the depths of your mind.  
You don’t know how, you don’t know when, but your hand lands on his chest-his bare chest where the buttons have been purposely undone as a small act of rebellion.  His skin is warm and soft there, your fingertips gracefully tracing over a tattoo, skimming over the guitar pick necklace he always wore.  As the chorus kicks back in, you peek up at him, finding heavy eyes staring right back at you in awe.  
You start shouting along: country roads, take me home, to the place I belong.  He remains silent, watching you like you hung the moon.  You’re smiling, you’re happy, and god dammit he never knew he could be perfectly happy just watching someone else be happy but here he was.  If he could personally give you the moon he would, he’s sure of it.  He’d find a way.
An old memory resurfaces, one that usually only made him tear up out of sorrow but now, the perspective was shifting.  In a simpler time, he is six years old, dancing on his mom’s feet to old Chicago Blues.  He is young and innocent, full of life.  He is naive and blissfully ignorant to the horrors of the world.  And then in harder times…in current times, he is a Munson, a vessel for satan.  A nearly bankrupt idiot who can’t keep up.  A fuck up.  But now…in this moment, he rekindles the same feeling he once felt with Momma, a sense of innocence that he hadn’t felt in years, innocence that had been snatched from him over and over.  A warmth spreads throughout him, one that he thought was laid to rest when Momma passed.  He was certain he had bid it goodbye forever. 
Until now.
You make him lovesick.  Utterly and purely lovesick.  No doctor could ever cure him.  Not that he’d even seek a cure.  It scares him but he’d willingly die of a fever if it meant you’d keep looking up at him like he was someone.  Like he was a man and not a menace.  His legacy could end there with you, the girl that intruded on his life and made his stubborn ass soft.  The shy girl who cries when she gets yelled at broke through Eddie Munson’s titanium walls and stole his heart.
You can feel him start to melt into you, his hands sliding around to the small of your back, his chest pressed into yours as he begins singing along, finally letting loose.  Glancing over his shoulder at the feeling of a pair of eyes on you, you smile when Steve stares fondly, offering you a thumbs up.  
The song ends though you yearn to continue holding onto him, afraid that letting go would mean losing the moment forever, your memory serving as the only souvenir.  Before painfully parting, you glance up at him again, your nose accidentally brushing against his.  The contact sends electricity racing through your body.  It doesn’t help that he’s smiling so softly, so endearingly, his eyelids heavy and lazy.  Even if it was a side effect of the whiskey, you still reveled in it.
“Sorry.”  He whispers though you almost miss it as you study the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.
“Don’t worry about it.”  You mumble, your voice now small.
The next song picks up, something slow and steady that had you both swaying without a second thought.  You wanted to burrow into his chest, press your cheek into the skin and listen to his heartbeat.  If only it were that simple.
“Thank you.”  He speaks up again.  “Y’know for…all this.”  
A puzzled expression takes over your features, pulling back slightly to ponder his words.  
“I-I just helped, Eddie.  You should be thanking everyone else.  They really pulled through for this place.”  You remind him.
“I know, I know.”  He suddenly seems insecure, his fingers grabbing at the material of your shirt ever so slightly.  “I just mean–you didn’t have to get involved in any of this bullshit, my bullshit.” 
“I mean…I kinda forced myself in didn’t I?”  
He recalls the first evening you came into The Bourbon, the night you bargained with him, practically forcing him to hire you.
“I’m turning you away because you don’t belong in a place like this.  Things can get rough and you’re…too dainty.”
God was he wrong.  You were resilient.  Tough.  A badass.
“I’m glad you did.”  His honesty surprises even him.  He wasn’t big on getting mushy, never being offered the space to do so since his mom had passed.  But he doesn’t regret speaking his truth.
“Yeah?”  
Your lips are so perfectly pouty it devastates him, eyes so full of adoration that he wants to fall to his knees and officially devote himself to you even if you wouldn’t have him.  
“Yeah–”
“Eddie!”  Dustin screeches, hurling toward Eddie and eventually crashing into his side, eliciting a grunt from the two of you.  “Sorry, sorry!”  He breathes heavily.  “Eddie, you’ve gotta see this.”  
For a split second your heart drops, afraid that maybe something bad happened but you quickly backtrack those thoughts when you analyze Dustin’s grin.  It was good news.  It was definitely good news.  
“Holy shit.”  Eddie mumbles in disbelief.
“Holy shit indeed.”  Dustin agrees.
You stare in awe at the piles of cash Dustin had counted in the back office, opting to act as The Bourbon’s temporary treasurer in the mission to save the place.  According to the boy, there was enough to cover costs for the next three months if Eddie played his cards right.  After that they hadn’t yet come up with a solution but it was something at the very least.  It was hope.
“You keep hosting events like this every month and you should be able to keep things going.”  Dustin advises, his mind quietly working out the logistics.
“Not only that.”  Steve chimes in, leaning against the doorway to the office, the three of you glancing back at him.  “What if I told you…that I know someone interested in investing?”
Your eyes catch Dustin’s then Eddie’s, an anxious fog overtaking the room.
“Who?”  Eddie gulps, clearly nervous.
Steve only smirks, the anticipation building with every passing second.  A flash of realization falls over Dustin’s face, his head shaking with a huge grin.  
“No.”  Dustin whispers.
“Yes.”  Steve nods.
“Holy shit.”  
“Do you mind letting me, the owner of said establishment that is being invested in, in on this big secret?”  Eddie grumbles, his eyes narrowed at Steve.
“What do you think about being business partners?”  Steve proposes, his eyes shining.
“W-what?”  Eddie asks, almost choking on air.
“You know I’ve been working under my old man for however long now.  Well I finally have my own startup and I didn’t wanna tell you, didn’t wanna say anything until I actually had the money.”  Steve rambles.  “And y’know, I always thought about investing.  ‘S a great place.  Would be a shame to let it fall apart.”
“What–what the fuck.”  Is all Eddie can muster up in the moment.
“Also, I vote that we make Miss Bambi here the manager.”  Steve snaps his fingers before pointing your direction.  “Gotta trust the business in good hands and she’s definitely got a knack for running things efficiently.  And putting you in your place.”  He presses a finger into Eddie’s shoulder.
“I-I…”  You were speechless.
“If you’ll have us, of course.  Take some time to think about it.”  
Glancing at Eddie, you can see the information still being processed, the gears turning in his brain.  The state of shock leaves him blinking rapidly, unable to catch up to this moment in time.  One second he was fighting for this business, expecting the worst case scenario and the next he was being offered an investment by his best friend.
“I knew there was a reason we kept you around.”  Dustin makes his way toward the door, patting Steve on the back.
Steve playfully puts Dustin in a headlock, continuing on as if it were business as usual as the boy protests.
“So, how about it Munson?”  
“Steve, I swear to god!”  Dustin complains, making no progress in escaping the man’s hold.
“I dunno, depends.”  Eddie clicks his tongue, seeming to finally fall back into his body as he stands.  “I don’t like being told what to do.”  Eddie begins.  “And y’know I can’t have King Steve bossing me around, that won’t do…”  
“C’mon man, you know I know nothing about running a bar.”  Steve scoffs.  “I’m just the sugar daddy here.”  
“Steve!”  Dustin gags.
You can’t help but giggle, beaming at Eddie as he grins.  
“Alright then, we have a deal.”  Eddie extends his hand toward Steve, making it official with a handshake before hugging him, a brotherly exchange that warmed your heart.  In the midst of the hug, Dustin was released from Steve’s hold but somehow had gotten stuck in the middle of the embrace.
“I’m feeling the love and all but my neck is cramping.”  The boy whines.
“To The Bourbon!”  Eddie announces, standing proudly on top of the bar, tequila shot in hand as his closest friends raise their own shots in the air.  “Grandpa Roy, may he rest in peace, would fuckin’ hate this whole Hoedown but in his defense he was a better business man than me and I’m the one who ran it into the ground.”  Everyone laughs, smiling fondly.  “I also wanted to thank all of you.  If none of you cared this much we’d be fucked.”  He grins.  “In conclusion, you’re all stuck with Roy’s dickhead grandson for a long time to come, sorry.”  Eddie shrugs, throwing his shot back.
The night had been more than a success.  Customers had long gone home and there was still much to do in regards to cleanup but Eddie insisted that everyone call it a night, not without a celebratory shot though.  Cheers and whistles fill the room as everyone takes their mandatory shot.  Eddie hops off of the bar, earning himself several pats on the back as he insisted they give Steve the same praise.  He was glowing.
Nancy and Robin rushed over, each of them linking an arm with him as they congratulated him.  You’d never seen him so openly happy, so ecstatic.  His grin was permanent for the remainder of the night, his cheeks must have burned from never relaxing his face.
And when all was said and done, when it was time to go home, it was your turn to congratulate him.  You didn’t get much of a chance when the news first broke and now he was locking up the front as you waited patiently next to the bar.  Steve insisted on taking Robin and Nancy home in Eddie’s truck since they had a few too many drinks.  Dustin offered his assistance reluctantly after Steve sent him several expectant looks.  
The bar was empty, completely trashed from the night’s activities though Eddie told you not to touch a thing, it was already nearing 3:00 AM.  You just couldn’t help yourself, gathering glasses onto a tray and delivering them to the sink.  A round of dishes wouldn’t kill you while you waited.  At least this way you were occupied rather than just sitting around, waiting for him to lock up.
“What are you up to, trouble?”  Eddie makes his way behind the bar to replace the cap on a bottle before returning it to its shelf.  
“Trouble?”  You smile, suds building up along your arms.  Too much soap.  “If you deem washing glasses as troublesome you’re really gonna hate that I take an extra minute on my breaks.”
You can hear him scoff from behind you, glass clinking as he tidies up, going against his own wishes.
“You think I don’t know that?”  
“Thought you said no cleaning.”  You utter under your breath.
His presence sneaks up on you, his quick hand suddenly snatching up a wet glass, drying it with a fresh rag, repeating the process with each one you’d just cleaned.  Your nerves are on edge in the best way possible.  The big lights had been shut off, only dim lighting encompassing you, creating a mellow atmosphere.  
“Well some of us…”  Eddie pinches the back of your arm.  “...don’t listen, now do we?”
Something about the condescending nature of his words ignited a fire in between your legs.  You knew very well that it wasn’t his intention although it didn’t stop you from releasing a shaky exhale.  Goosebumps traveled up your spine, you were pathetic.
You hum in response, unable to trust your voice, the room becoming hot all too quickly.  His gaze was trained on you, a hint of concern creasing his forehead.  He was too handsome, his button down doing way too many favors for him.
“You okay?”  He asks, his voice smaller than before.
“Yeah, yeah.”  You manage to squeak out.  “Just tired.”  
Reaching over you, he shuts off the steaming water, tossing his rag onto the counter as he pulls you away by your arm.  You want to whimper at the simple touch, every ounce of your body on fire, embarrassingly so.
“Let’s get out of here.”  He sighs, clearly just as tired.  
Guiding you out the back, he makes it a point to grab his hat that you had put so much thought into.  Stepping outside, he locks the door while you admire the moonlight glazing over the parking lot.  Everything is so…quiet.  Snow flurries fall delicately from the sky, gracing your skin with tiny little ice crystals, intricate designs compacted into a singular art form now just melting with your body heat.  It’s cold but you won’t complain.  Not when Eddie is automatically draping his jacket over your shivering frame.
“Doors are locked, cash is locked up–”
“Eddie?”  You call for his attention, big brown eyes immediately seeking yours like you’d just sent out a smoke signal.
When you don’t say anything, worry begins to settle into his features, the opposite of what you had intended.  
“Yeah?”  He asks hesitantly.  “Did I forget to–”
The second your lips hover over his stubbly cheek he’s lost any and all thoughts.  It happens in slow motion yet it’s over before he knows it.  Your lips are so soft and delicate against his skin and he was finding himself wanting more, his selfish needs yearning to claw their way out of him.
“Congratulations.”  You whisper, your breath tickling him before disappearing all too soon.  
It lingers like a ghost, haunting him in the most breathtaking sense.  You make your way to your car and he feels it, the apparition of your lips against his cold cheek.  And he just knows.  You hold the power to screw him up forever.  You have his heart in your hands and god, he hopes you’re gentle with it.
~end~
Masterlist
Prev | Next
tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16
191 notes · View notes
violetscanfly · 1 year
Text
I doodled a bunch of a little mermaid au stuff last night with no intention to post it but now I'm posting it anyway and making it your problem
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
This is not even all of it, gonna post the rest later
Gonna ramble about this under the cut cause even tho it started as I wanna draw wwx as merfolk it somehow developed somewhat of a plot??
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5
So the beginning is pretty self explanatory but some background stuff would be the Jiang and Wen are merfolk but the Wen were discovered by humans and hunted down to just the remnants that wwx protects in canon, and the Jiang (and presumably other underwater clans I haven't thought about) also shun the Wen remnants and blame them for being discovered. Wwx disagreed with the others about the Wen being responsible of their own demise and left the Jiang to live with them. They aren't in danger anymore though, otherwise wwx wouldn't just fuck off to the surface even if he would come back.
The Lan, Jin and Nie clans are human and the characters hold similar social statuses as in canon. (Also I was just drawing with no idea about the world and just wanting to forward the story and the clothes definitely reflect that being western but the hairstyles being from canon and the Lans still having their ribbons and such.)
Wwx meets and saves lwj similar to the mousehouse version, but him turning human doesn't involve a third party or a time limit because his goal isn't to be human full time. He does a ritual that turns him human but it requires a sacrifice in exchange and he gives his voice. He can turn back at will but if he does he'll have to do the ritual all over again to change into a human again. His voice also returns when he's in his original form.
Wwx has seen lwj before saving him and has a little crush and after saving him he finds lwj's ribbon floating around in the ocean and not knowing the importance of it takes it as a lil memento of him. (Hence lwj in the sketches not having it.)
Also the merfolk are a lot more fishy than the average fairytale mermaids, with having gills, webbed hands etc, and due to gills wwx can't stay above the surface for long unless he's neck deep in water, same with speaking, he can speak above the surface for a bit until he runs out of air.
So after lwj finds human!wwx on the beach thinking he's been washed up from a shipwreck he brings wwx home and they find ways to communicate, he teaches wwx to write and they both learn sign language together and go on cute dates and have a good time and fall in love. Lxc is happy for his little brother but also worried because their uncle had been planning on an engagement for lwj and mm and is not happy about wwx suddenly popping up.
That's about it around these drawings, there'll be more to come later. This turned out way longer than I thought but if you read the whole thing I hope you had fun.
506 notes · View notes
reimenaashelyee · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The World in Deeper Inspection UPDATE Read: (Chapter 1: Pages 57 to 68) (COMPLETED)
About the comic
Grimsley confronts the man who set him on this goose chase.
And with that… that’s the end of the 10th Anniversary revamp!! Can’t believe it took me almost a year to get this short project done, but blame my school and day job for that! *drives the nail into the TWIDI IS NOT DEAD sign deeper into the wall*
It was enlightening to reinterpret my first ever completed comic (more complete than the strips and unfinished or one-off shorts I had done prior) – basically the one that started me down the road to a career as a published author. I was happy to see how much my style had improved – not just in the layout, flow and pacing – but in how my characters have become more expressive and energetic, and how comfortable I am with the cartooning. Here is the proof that drawing comics helps you get better at comics!! It only took 10 / 11 years!
Plus, after a long while of drawing with a more reserved, professional approach (see: Seance Tea Party, Alexander Comic), I enjoyed the abandon and whimsy of TWIDI. The lettering is inconsistent all over but that only adds to the handmade whimsical charm of TWIDI, so lol.
Anyway – I have the 10th Anniversary ebook edition up on my Ko-fi and itch.io! This edition carries both the original and revamped versions of Chapter 1. No new cover or illustration for it this time; I think they are perfect as they are.
I have been meaning to make a continuation of the end of TCM that bridges the start of Chapter 1. It’s a long time coming: a story that had somewhat existed since the early days of TWIDI in 2010. Hopefully I will find that stability in my life to return.
Open the cut below to see my notes.
There’s also nothing exciting here, EXCEPT I severely cut down on the number of panels (and the verbiage).
As with the previous spread I cut down and distilled a lot of the verbiage. I shifted the dialogue slightly so that the reveal that Mr. Brown is a Lord comes from Grimsley (in 2013, Mr Brown never admitted he was an aristrocrat until this page) – it made more sense since Grimsley had gotten the info independently from the newspaper article and Andrew, and Mr Brown not mentioning it himself fits with his whole lying thing. For this spread and the next couple of them I am zooming out the panels to include more scenery. The 2013 layouts felt very claustrophobic, with the over-reliance on bust shots of the characters to carry the tension of the conversation.
Some more dialogue trimming and background scenery. I decided to change the setting for the chase sequence to be within the cemetery – just ’cause it makes more sense than if it was done all around Brookham. The panelling for it is a bit more dynamic too – look, Grimsley is parkouring!!
I have no idea why 10 (actually, 11) years ago I had so much trouble conveying and pacing this sequence of Mr Brown being set on fire. That’s the hindsight of experience, I guess??? Anyway I added a few more panels for actual build-up, and the blocking is way better now – there’s more energy (especially Skeleton’s expressions) and clarity (omg we can finally see where and what’s happening to the lamp). The last panel is a new addition to better connect with the next spread. Also… I am excited to see how much further I can draw Mr. Brown’s demise.
Man, the difference some changes in pacing can make. I added some panels with witnesses to the fire, just to emphasise why Grimsley and Skeleton have got to run. It’s crazy enough if a Brookie has got to witness immolation in the middle of the Night, but two paranatural spookies??? Also human fat has such a colour hdsjkfhsdkf the things that come out of an immolated body are so eerie….
The 2013 spread is almost perfect. 18 Year Old Me got it.
81 notes · View notes
glitterypirateduck · 7 months
Text
GPD's CoD Recs - Series 2 of 2
Last Updated 11/21/2023
FOR UPDATES FOLLOW MASTER TAG GPDRECSCODSERIES
REC LIST 1
Please remember to reblog, follow, like, and/or comment on the author’s pages!
Most of the content I link to is mature. Read any and all warnings from authors before reading.
Some recs will fall under several categories, so they may appear in more than one list/post.
This list contains any SERIES recommendation I have ever made. For the purpose of this list, I am considering a series as any story line with 3 or more parts.
Tumblr media
Featuring All 141
Book of Atonement by @mykneeshurt  - a 141 Priest AU Series
oh bury me not on the lone prairie by @alittleposhtoad - You're a doctor on the frontier, and your life of solitude ends abruptly upon the arrival of four strangers one hazy summer night.
Featuring Ghost
Alford Plea by @luminousbeings-crudematter - Alford Plea: A guilty plea containing a protestation of innocence or Where you knew that fucking your boss could not possibly end well, but you did it anyway, because what else were you going to do?  Not fuck him?
Forbidden Fruit Series by @cowyolks​ - A prophecy written long ago stated of a human that would become the God’s wife and live in his domain for the rest of eternity.
I Never Missed You by @kneelingshadowsalome - You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.
Like Blood on Iron by @siriusleee - The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.
Mind the Gap by @darthglitterfanfiction - A series of one-shorts & short fics revolving around these two characters within their own universe. Ghost and a US Embassy Worker
White Flag by @roosterr - if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.
Featuring Konig
Adamantine Chains by @siriusleee - "Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus." "What does that mean?" "Love is rich with both honey and venom." "I suppose that is true." Or which in König finds you broken in the mountains. A retelling of Cupid and Psyche.
Little Mouse Series by @sprout-fics - During a routine covert op, you and Gaz are attacked by an unknown assailant, one who takes your unconscious form and carries you away into the night.
Masterlist by @saltofmercury - This link is to several one shots all within the same timeline.
Tear You Apart by @victoria-grimesss - König is kinda mean, dark and a little possessive but it’s all in good fun! A new girl catches the colonel's eyes, and he won’t let her go. Inspired by my favorite song Tear you Apart by She Wants Revenge.
Featuring Soap
Runaway to Me by @halcyone-of-the-sea (Queen of AU). Blacksmith Johnny and a runaway bride
Which Witch by @peachesofteal - Soap x Witch reader
Featuring Price
Bloodstained Honesty by @a-world-with0ut-dr34ms - Wounded, bloody, and just the two of you. A mission gone wrong leads to a long overdue moment between both you and your Captain, perhaps too late to count for anything. Not if either of you two can help it at least.
Girl Next Door Series by @soapskneebrace - John Price is your new neighbor
Professor Price Masterlist by @guyfieriii - Fic upon Fic upon fic of Professor Price!!
Songs That Sound Like Seafoam by @halcyone-of-the-sea - Mermaid and Fisherman Price AU
Featuring Alex
Strict Machine by @deadbranch - Set in the world of Blade Runner (1982, Ridley Scott), less than a year after Eldon Tyrell's demise and a year before Tyrell Corp's collapse. Human police officer and former soldier Alex Keller volunteers for an experimental program through Krieger-Meridian Automata. Los Angeles is being torn apart by corruption and civil insurrection. Alex's mind may hold the answer, if engineer!fem!reader can help him unlock it in time.
Added 10/14/2023
FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT by @kneelingshadowsalome - You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) 
Midnight in a Perfect World by @deadbranch - Despite being a soldier, you've inherited a farm. While figuring out how disposition of the property, you notice a monstrous beast is prowling the farm and the lands connected to it. This is no ordinary large predator problem. You had no idea about the hidden culture of werewolves until one figuratively fell into your lap.
Strip Search by @deadbranch  - Rodolfo is your new boss at the goth nightclub where you've been recently hired. He seems determined to dislike you from the get-go. Something changes between you. You hold onto each other desperately as your respective emotions surprise and push the both of you to be honest with what you want.
Added 11/21/2023
Light On by @peachesofteal - Simon has a new neighbor. His new neighbor has a baby.
Guile and Guilt by @the-californicationist - Your best friend has warned you to stay far, far away from her younger brother — infamous party boy, Sergeant Johnny MacTavish. However, when she asks you to be her maid of honor in her wedding, you and Johnny end up closer than you ever expected.
Mayor Que Usted by @shadowlali - You live a carefree and happy life in Las Almas now that El Sin Nombre is gone. Unbeknownst to the people, a new narco moves in with his eyes on you and nothing to lose. Alejandro steps up as your pretend boyfriend while Los Vaqueros stage a plan to take down this new threat. It's fake dating until it's not. You and Alejandro slip into the roles too well and lines begin to blur. Will Alejandro be able to let go of his own rules to allow himself the chance to find love?
Black Metal and Bourbon by @halcyone-of-the-sea - Biker Simon AU
171 notes · View notes
Note
A kiss like they're trying to convince the other to love them and/or a kiss in front of someone they hold captive
Yennskier
Here's a little bit of both, set in an alternate timeline where they managed to capture Rience during season 3, episode 1:
“We should probably talk about what happened in Kaer Morhen,” Jaskier says in what he hopes is a casual way.
Yennefer looks at him incredulously. “Does now seem like a good time for this conversation, bardling?”
“Why not?” Jaskier shrugs. “He’s not going anywhere.”
They both turn to look at Rience, who scowls back at them from the chair they’ve bound him to in dimeritium chains. Jaskier can’t help but feel a thrill of vindication at seeing the fire fucker as trussed up and helpless as he was a year ago in Oxenfurt, even as he keeps catching himself rubbing his fingers together anxiously. It helps that Yennefer is standing next to him and Geralt and Ciri are just in the other room with Yarpen.
Rience sneers at Yennefer. “What’s one of Tissaia’s girls doing, working for a witcher?”
Jaskier snorts. Even if they hadn’t already figured out that Rience isn’t the mastermind trying to capture Ciri, that would have given it away. No one with any sense would think Yennefer a lackey. Leaning closer to Yennefer, he says, “We really should talk about this.”
“About what?” She sighs, clearly realizing she’s not going to be able to evade this. “A lot happened in Kaer Morhen. Do you want to talk about Voleth Meir? All the money you still owe Ciri after all the times she trounced you at cards?”
“She did not…” Jaskier draws himself up, realizes he’s being distracted, and lets out a huff. “About our last night there.”
Yennefer doesn’t visibly react, but there’s a pointedness in the way she turns back to Rience. “Who’s your puppetmaster?”
Rience bares his teeth at her. “I’m no one’s—”
“I don’t believe for a second that you’re the one calling the shots. You’re a one trick pony, aren’t you? You can harness fire, but not much else. That portal wasn’t yours.”
“I just can’t help but notice that you’re acting a bit… off,” Jaskier says carefully, because he and Yennefer may be friends now, but he still doesn’t put it past her to curse his bollocks off.
Yennefer closes her eyes. “Did you learn this interrogation technique from Phillipa?”
“Gods, no.” Jaskier barks out a laugh. “Phillipa wouldn’t let me anywhere near an interrogation.”
“I suppose that’s why Redania is still standing.”
“See? That was almost mean. That was the first mean thing you’ve said to me in three days, and it wasn’t even in your top ten best jabs! Something is clearly amiss. Are you a doppler? Are you dying? Did you hit your head in the skirmish yesterday? Melitele, are you actually plotting my demise? Is this your way of trying to lure me into a false sense of security? Because it isn’t working, Yennefer.”
“If you want him dead, you can just let me out of these chains.” Rience snaps his fingers menacingly and Jaskier can’t help but step back, even though no flames appear.
Yennefer throws out a hand and Rience’s chair flies backward, slamming against the wall and capsizing. He yelps as his head bounces off the ground and lies there, groaning.
“Yenn?” Geralt calls from the next room. “Jaskier?”
“We’re fine!” Lowering her voice, Yennefer hisses, “This isn’t the time.”
“Well, it has to be the time, because you keep avoiding me. Is this about what happened between us? Because you didn’t seem to have any regrets the next morning? In fact, you asked…” He trails off, pieces starting to slide into place.
“I asked you to come with me, Geralt, and Ciri,” she says through gritted teeth. “And you said no. Years of you popping up at the most inconvenient times, bardling, and the one time I want you to stay, you left.”
“But…” Jaskier opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words. When he recovers his wits, all he can squeak is, “I told you I was needed at Oxenfurt.”
“Bullshit. You told me yourself that the Sandpiper organization would run just fine without you. The only thing you did going back to Oxenfurt was put yourself in Phillipa and Dijkstra’s sights.”
“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t want to come with you just to watch you and Geralt play house while I was just there so you could keep me out of trouble.”
It’s her turn to look taken aback. “What?”
“You said so yourself, you wanted me to come with you so I wouldn’t get myself killed in Oxenfurt. You, Geralt, and Ciri are a family, bound by destiny. I’m not—” He’s getting too close to all the things he doesn’t want to say to her, so he looks away. “I’m happy to play the fun Uncle Jaskier whenever you need me to. But the thing about fun uncles is they show up, let you win at cards a few times, and then they leave before the joke gets old.”
Yennefer doesn’t look exasperated anymore; she just looks sad. That’s somehow worse. “It took Geralt months before he would talk to me about anything but the weather, Ciri’s training, or telling me to duck because someone was trying to stab me. I have never once slept under the same roof as him and Ciri, even when we barely had the coin to afford one lodging, never mind two. It took until the winter before he let me inside to break bread with them. The shadow of what I did hung over us every day. We weren’t playing house, we were on the run, and you should have fucking been there.”
“Yenn—”
She talks over him. “You were the only person who could look at me when we were at Kaer Morhen. I asked you to come with us because I didn’t want to be alone.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” he whispers.
Her jaw clenches stubbornly, but she doesn’t answer.
Carefully, he reaches out to take her by the wrist, tugging her closer. “Watching the three of you leave Kaer Morhen was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. If I had known you really wanted me there, I would have followed you in a heartbeat.”
Her lips twitch into a half-smile. “Did you really think I was asking you to come just to be nice?”
“Foolish, I know.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I’ll stay this time.”
“What about the Sandpiper?”
“Vespula does most of the Sandpipering these days. I’m being watched too closely by the RSS.” Jaskier brings her hand to his lips. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
Yennefer looks like she wants to deny it, because gods forbid she or Geralt admit to being people with feelings, but she nods. “I’m sorry if I’ve been too kind to you. It won’t happen again.”
“Thank the gods. It made my skin crawl.” He leans down to rest their foreheads together. “Let me stay, Yenn.”
She doesn’t answer, but lifts her face so that he can close the gap between them and kiss her. It’s a tentative thing, not like the desperate, hungry kisses they exchanged on their last night in Kaer Morhen, as weeks of longing—well, probably years of longing, if Jaskier is being honest with himself—bubbled to the surface. There will be time for those later, once they’ve figured out who Rience is working for and ensured that Ciri is safe.
Across the room, there’s a noise of disgust. “If you’re going to make me watch this, I’d rather you just gouge my—”
Yennefer throws her hand out, not pulling her lips away from Jaskier’s. There’s a thud, a yelp, then silence.
“Don’t kill him yet,” Jaskier says, breaking the kiss to press his lips against her throat. “We haven’t gotten any answers out of him.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Geralt’s, the easily distractible fucker. He’s off chattering away with Yarpen while we do all the hard work.”
Yennefer rolls her eyes and mutters something that’s undoubtedly insulting under her breath, but she kisses Jaskier again, so that’s alright.
***
Kiss prompts
Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome @ladykardasi (sorry, it wouldn't let me tag your Witcher blog)
135 notes · View notes
hrefna-the-raven · 5 months
Text
Web of faith
Masterlist - BG3 masterlist
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 6 - 7
Words: 798
Warnings: death, emotional pain
Notes: I'd like to apologise in advance for this heartbreak 😅
Chapter 5
Tumblr media
“You don’t have to talk or tell me your name, if you don’t want to. We can just sit here together until you feel better”, you spoke softly, offering comfort and solace to the wounded stranger as you finished cleaning the wound on his lips.
You murmured the incantation of a healing spell, your eyes focused on the wound as it slowly began to mend.
"There will be a scar, but don't worry, you'll still look good.", you offered him a reassuring smile.
As the healing spell took effect, his gaze finally met yours, a glimmer of gratitude and trust reflected in his eyes.
"Kar'niss", he whispered, his eyes finally finding yours.
"What?", you asked, confusion flickering across your face.
"My name is Kar'niss."
Tumblr media
"Drider", Ketheric commanded, "the Absolute does not tolerate heretics! Kill them!"
Kar'niss hesitated, his gaze shifting between Thorm and the rest of the group. Thoughts raced through his mind as he heard the voice of the Absolute, though it was not as forceful as when he had first encountered you. She demanded your demise, much like Lolth did in the past, and he feared the consequences of defying yet another queen and yet....
"I will NOT kill her", he declared, shaking his head.
"I order you to eradicate these heretics!", Ketheric's voice echoed ominously in the eerie silence atop the tower.
Kar'niss winced, clutching his head as he fought against the tendrils of mind control. You closed your eyes and reached out to the emperor, but only silence greeted you. Desperate to aid your beloved, you connected your mind to his, assisting him in resisting the general's influence. It felt as though someone repeatedly stabbed at your head, twisting the blade. Just as you were on the brink of losing control, a soothing calm washed over you. The artifact floated before you, acting as a shield against the Absolute's sway.
"You worthless monstrosity!" Ketheric bellowed, launching himself at Kar'niss with his hammer.
The drider was still recovering from the attempted control, oblivious to the impending attack. You had just reunited with him, not willing to loose him again you would sacrifice everything to protect him from harm, even your own life. Without hesitation, you shouted and threw yourself between Ketheric and Kar'niss, taking the full force of the hammer blow to your chest. The impact sent you hurtling into Kar'niss' embrace and darkness engulfed your vision instantly. Gasps escaped your companions as Astarion and Lae'zel rushed towards Ketheric to mount a counterattack, while the others struggled to comprehend what had just transpired. Kar'niss held your unconscious body tightly, tears streaming down his face. This couldn't be real. After enduring so much and finally reuniting with his one true love against all odds, he was about to lose you once again to the madness of another deity. He retreated from the battle, clutching you tightly as he wept, feeling like he was about to loose the remainder of his already fragile mind.
"Tiny goddess of flesh, please return to us, we need you....I need you", he pleaded, but you remained lifeless in his arms, blood streaming from your nose and mouth.
Gently, he laid you on the ground, attempting various spells and even forcing a healing potion down your throat, yet you remained motionless. The weight of a reality without you shattered his heart. Meanwhile, your companions successfully repelled Ketheric, forcing him to retreat deeper into the heart of the tower before cautiously approaching the drider.
"Kar'niss?", Gale spoke softly, hesitant to draw any closer. 
Though the drider had shown friendliness towards you, there was still apprehension regarding this unpredictable creature. Kar'niss cradled your body tightly against his chest, retreating further backwards.
"You will not separate her from us," he sobbed, inching closer to the tower's edge, "we have only just found her!"
"I can heal her", Gale took a step towards the drider, offering his hand.
"You will take her away!", Kar'niss screamed, his eight legs teetering on the edge of the tower, dangerously close to tumbling down. 
He glanced over his shoulder, assessing the height. It was enough to make the leap, granting him a few precious seconds alone with you before both of you would reunite in death, locked in each other's embrace. Sobbing uncontrollably, tears streamed down his cheeks. The desire to end his own life had plagued him countless times and now it finally seemed like the right moment. The hopelessness of the situation engulfed him as he readied himself to make the ultimate sacrifice for the one he held dear. With one last glance at your lifeless form cradled in his arms, he tenderly pressed his lips against your forehead, inhaling deeply before surrendering himself to the void. As he plummeted backwards, whispering one last "I love you".
Tumblr media
Tags:
@orionspaperwork
87 notes · View notes
prior-medium · 2 months
Text
"Your choices do(n't) matter" -> Deltarune to Undertale
I have been wanting to make a post for a long time, but I have a free hour on my hand and a mind full of Deltarune soo allow me to draw my favorite parallels about how Undertale and Deltarune both tackle the concept of choice, and how they are distinct but both still tell a necessary story.
Also, if you are reading this post, I am assuming you have played through Undertale and Deltarune Chapters 1 and 2, because this post will have spoilers for both. Without further ado…
Tumblr media
Undertale’s approach when it comes to choice is one that directly targets and addresses the player. Much of the characters’ dialogue with Frisk often address them as “the human”, which, depending on your stance, could be a comment meant to speak to Frisk as a character, or to you, the player, as a human being.
In fact, as much as I adore Frisk as a character all of their own, they aren’t necessarily given any defining personality traits. They are, in the purest of senses, meant to directly be an in-game representation for the whims and desires of the player. “They” act, “they” fight, “they” flee, but it’s always you, the player, making the decisions. This isn’t necessarily a unique concept, but it’s the way that this is applied that makes this particular idea special in Undertale. 
Tumblr media
Obviously, the most noticeable instance of this is when Sans calls the player out towards the end of the game, explaining that those little levels and numbers that we, as the player, loved seeing go up, were affecting the world that we had just spent the last few hours immersing ourselves in. There is a direct effect of our choices on this universe. It is a pre-established place, and it will continue without us, the player, making an impact. In fact, in the neutral and genocide routes, you are actively making this universe a worse place! It puts the player in the position to act as themselves and make a decision about how they want to impact this virtual world. In essence, the decisions made by Frisk and you, the player, are presented as one in the same. Frisk isn’t necessarily seen as a vessel for your intentions, but rather, as your intentions themselves. 
This created a unique meta-narrative when it came to the idea of how we, as players, consume media in universes. It presented the idea that universes made by creators aren’t just things to pick up and put down, but that each game world has their own story that continues onwards, with or without input. You aren’t seen as some great hero, but rather a nuisance at best, a mass murderer at worst. This was the way that Undertale addressed the idea of stories in their universe: you, the player, were seen as synonymous with Frisk, the character.
Tumblr media
Deltarune took a different approach to this. Of course, it becomes instantly recognizable to players that “our choices don’t matter”, which is told to us almost immediately in the game. There are some sections of the game where the decisions you make don't directly influence the storyline, which differs from the narrative set by Undertale. It takes this idea of “choice” that we had pre-established going into the Deltarune experience by Toby Fox’s other works and toys with it.
Kris is their own individual. Kris has had a hard time making friends. Kris has a brother at college, and is a known town citizen. Kris is greeted by neighbors, classmates, and teachers. Kris loves chocolate and pies, shows anger at Spamton’s demise, and has a tendency to make some scary jokes (as referenced by Noelle). They are their own person. This is when Undertale and Deltarune start to split on the concept of choice.
Frisk was seen as the culmination of the player themselves, but Kris isn’t the player. This is what makes the ending of Chapter 1 particularly shocking– the idea that Kris could directly address us, the players, and our influence on them, by removing their soul. They don’t want to be the culmination of our actions. They want to be Kris. 
Tumblr media
This is where the idea of choices is twisted from our prior conceptions. Just like in Undertale, our choices in Deltarune are either praised or criticized depending on how we interact with the world we are given. However, in Undertale, we are judged as players by the characters aware of our influence. In Deltarune, we are judged in a far more intimate setting: directly by the person we are instructing to do our bidding. Because, at the end of the day, our choices do matter in Deltarune. They just matter on a smaller scale. They matter to Kris.
In this way, both games address the way our choices are impactful; they just happen to do so in two, unique settings. I think this is what makes both Undertale and Deltarune so interesting– they have a similar concept, but they completely flip the script on what that concept means, and how it applies to universes. 
61 notes · View notes
ranchthoughts · 7 months
Text
moments of ephemerality/permanence/YOLO/photography/control/hypocrisy etc. etc. in Only Friends ep. 4
There was a LOT of talk about various themes over the past three weeks, and last week especially, in this corner of Tumblr.
A quick review of where we've been so far:
Post Episode 1
Post Ep. 1 thoughts on ephemerality (@waitmyturtles)
Post Episode 2
Thoughts on ephemerality, permanence, YOLO, and photography post Ep. 2 (original by @ranchthoughts, additions on photography by @chickenstrangers and @lurkingshan)
Thoughts on control (@elizabethsebestianhedgehog)
Post Episode 3
Post Ep. 3 thoughts on plum wine, hypocrisy, and the demise of ships (@waitmyturtles)
Where we are headed post Ep. 3 (original by @ranchthoughts, additions on surveillance and voyeurism by @lurkingshan, @waitmyturtles, and @slayerkitty)
Photography and audio/visual in the series as of Ep. 3 (added in a reblog by @ranchthoughts)
Moments of ephemerality/YOLO/permanence in Ep. 3 (original by @ranchthoughts, additions on Yo, voyeurism, and permanence by @lurkingshan , @waitmyturtles, @twig-tea, and @imminentinertia)
Post Ep. 3 thoughts on control, consequences, and shipping (original by @waitmyturtles, addition on the ephemerality of control by @ranchthoughts)
Let's talk about trust and control (original by @slayerkitty, with additions by @lurkingshan and @distant-screaming)
Boston as photographer and voyeur (@lurkingshan)
Visual effects in the MV and BTS footage (original by @slayerkitty, additions on costuming by @distant-screaming)
Now I will dive into my various thoughts and musings based on episode 4 of Only Friends.
but first - something from another ep (I am not sure which one):
Spotted by @khaotunq! (screenshot courtesy of them too):
Tumblr media
Ray's jacket says "Is your life worth something?" An especially poignant sentiment given the beginning of today's episode, where we saw how deep Ray's feelings of being a burden run. This ties into the themes we've been exploring around ephemerality (life is short), and YOLO (you only live once, so live wildly and completely) and the associated lack of forethought and consequences. This gang of characters live fast and hard, without thinking about how their actions affect themselves or others. Due to their wealth (and youth) they haven't really had to confront the consequences of their actions yet or take accountability for them - @waitmyturtles wondered if this was a theme the show would look into. Living so recklessly, as if their life doesn't matter... believing they are a burden on others and therefore worth less... treating others as disposable/playthings in their quest for control and satisfaction... "is your [their/our] life worth something?" is a recurring question on this show.
ok now to dive into episode 4 proper:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
photography and permanence tied together again: Top set up a photobooth in his [family's] hotel, thus ensuring the logo will stick in their houses for a long time as people don't throw out photos. Photos are souvenirs, they are memories, they are important, we don't throw them out, they are physical objects we keep.
We've already seen a case of someone not throwing out photobooth photos, and the consequences of that with Nick finding some of Boston and Top's photobooth photos and that kickstarting his unhinged P.I. arc. Second time taking photos in a photobooth comes up in this show (and once again it's Top involved - ?).
Tumblr media
Sand once again wearing his You Only Live Once bag (I mean, we can expect to see it a lot. Sand is poor. He's only got the one bag.). In this scene he is (reluctantly) giving Ray another chance after he left him in the car the night before. Sand can see the red flags and almost inevitable end of his mixing with Ray... but those puppy dog eyes draw him in every time. Ah well. You only live once, right?
Control and Boundaries
I have been thinking more and more about control and specifically boundaries this week (in no small part due to @respectthepetty's post about Boston and boundaries). Boundaries can be permanent and steadfast and impermeable, or temporary and malleable and weak (here we go with ephemerality or lack there of yet again).
Setting boundaries this week:
Mew telling Ray they can't continue to be friends if Ray continues harbouring feelings for him
Top telling Boston to stay away from him
Nick telling Top to stay away from Boston
Mew saying he will have sex with Top if he quits drugs, Mew making it clear there will be no penetrative sex
Sand asserting to Ray he doesn't appreciate having everything paid for all the time
Mew asking for complete honesty from Top and promising complete honesty in return (sharing the details of his relationship with Ray)
Boston doesn't want intimate photos taken of himself
Crossing boundaries this week:
Ray continually texting and then eventually going to find Sand (and interrupting his rideshare) when he doesn't answer, Ray generally not taking Sand's no for an answer, Ray constantly trying to pay for things for Sand (paying the driver, offering to pay for the guitar)
Ray kissing Mew when he is asleep
Boston pushing into the elevator to corner Top
Mew conceding ground on his no sex rule with Top, Top demanding a (sexual) reward in exchange for giving up drugs
further fall out from Nick recording Boston and Top having sex in the car (he's now showing the recording to Sand)
Mew asking for complete honesty from Top, but Top not telling Mew about sleeping with Boston
Further assorted thoughts
Boston, voyeurism, photography, control, permanency/records
Boston refused to have a photo taken of himself. He can document others in vulnerable situations, and actively seeks out photos of these moments as (physical) souvenirs to keep, but no one can document him in these situations (unequal balance of power there). We have seen Boston use these permanently recorded moments to get his way (showing Top the photo of Mew and Ray kissing to sow doubt in his mind and get Top to sleep with him), and who knows how else he has used/will use the photos in his collection to serve his own ends.
Boston doesn't want intimate photos circulating because his dad is running to be a political representative and that could harm his campaign ... anyone else getting the sense that the existence/creation of intimate photos of Boston is going to become real relevant real soon? We've already seen the physicality and permanence of photographs (the photobooth photos of Top and Boston, the phone photos of Ray and Mew) come back to advance the plot and cause emotional strife...
Boston has already lost control of this situation/had this boundary crossed, though he doesn't know it yet, because Nick recorded Boston having sex with Top in the car. Based on what we've seen in the trailers and teasers around Nick and Boston, I think it is fair to expect further recording of Boston (and probably without his consent), and this time with visuals. Boston the voyeur, the documenter is having it turned around on himself.
Losing control
I mused last week about the ephemerality of control, and wondered if control would become more permanent/stable as we bring more permanent "evidence" into the mix (e.g., Boston's photos of Ray and Mew, Nick's recording of Boston and Top). This episode we got mostly an erosion of control again, though I remain interested to see where permanence of "evidence" = permanence of control or perhaps a permanence of consequences (especially given the above Chekhov's gun of a sort re: Boston not wanting intimate photos of himself - what permanent/serious consequences will this have for Boston and his father's campaign?).
Mew conceding his no sex rule with Top -> Mew has been trying to control Top through access to sex, trying to see how long he can hold his attention while dangling the promise of "sex eventually" like a carrot on a string. We saw that control slipping last episode and now this episode, Top asks for a reward for quitting drugs, clearly angling for something sexual, and Mew concedes. This is not to say that I think Mew was coerced or forced to have sex with Top, he chose to offer that, but I think it shows how much Mew's control is slipping and how he feels that. He feels like he needs to give something up, a concession, to keep Top around (to "win" this competition), so he offers sex and bends his previous rule.
Nick confronting Top and Top immediately gaining upper hand -> Nick calls Top to his apartment to warn him off Boston, but Nick doesn't realize that Top thoroughly does not want Boston and also immediately reveals his hand of how desperate he is for Boston's attention and care. Top asks Nick if this is blackmail (for money) and Nick says he doesn't want money, he wants Top to stay away from Boston. Top immediately understands the situation and reads Nick for it. Nick has lost control of the conversation; now it is Top who is lecturing Nick on staying away from Boston and Nick protesting he knows what he is doing.
Top rejecting Boston again, this time more firmly -> last week Boston showed Top the photo he took of Mew and Ray kissing and that seeded enough uncertainty in Top's mind he slept with Boston. This episode, Boston tries to leverage that control over Top again to get another repeat and Top firmly shuts him down. Boston is losing/has lost control over Top.
Public vs. private
Something else I've been noting is the continual presence of public, private, and public vs. private. @wen-kexing-apologist wrote about how the character of Boston hearkens back to the queer history of public sex and cruising. Other people noted characters hooking up in cars (Ray and Sand, Boston and Top), and in a photobooth (Boston and Top) - both public spaces. Other instances of intimacy have happened behind closed doors, in private (Boston and Boston's Hookup aka Drake [though was that a camera in Drake's room?], Boston and Nick, Ray and Sand, Mew and Top.
However, some moments the participants thought were private (or, as private as sex in a car parked outside can be) were not - Nick recorded Top and Boston having sex, Boston recorded Ray and Mew kissing. Boston's sexy photos of himself on his own phone were used by Nick as masturbation material. The private became public. This fits with the conversations we've been having around surveillance (cameras at the party, everyone having a phone in their pocket nowadays, etc.) and the lack of privacy in our digital age.
Next week, Boston and Nick walk in on Sand and Ray hooking up - they interrupt a private moment. Boston took photos of a private moment with Nick to keep - but will these photos remain private? With the Chekhov's gun of "Boston doesn't want intimate photos of himself" looming, will Boston's sex life remain private, or will photos and recording of him go public?
Comparisons
I've been thinking a lot over the last 4 weeks about comparisons, and how much this group compare themselves to each other. I don't really have any coherent thoughts more that that but I thought I would point it out. Boston compares himself often to Mew (always holding himself and his way of doing things as superior), especially when talking to Top; Boston compares Nick to Top (one is "cute" and "lovely" and the other is "hot" and "top tier"); Mew compares himself to Boston (more subtly - but there is definitely something "contra-Boston" there in how Mew thinks of sex, his relationship to sex, and how to wield sex as power); Ray compares himself to the others in the friend group (he is a "burden"); Ray compares himself to Top (Top is the first one to make Mew's heart flutter, Top is the one Mew has chosen); Nick compares himself to Top (lamenting that he feels like "nothing" compared to Top).
something about control (placing other people into boxes/making assumptions/limiting them to who you think they are)? something about instability of the self/self-esteem (comparing yourself to others constantly, perhaps as a side effect of being young, social media, etc.)?
There's an unformed thought here too about Ray and his crushes on people who "save" him (thinking of this post by @thatgirl4815). The idea of Ray being more into the saving/the kindness than the person themselves, of projecting his own ideas of who they are (saviour, hero, etc.) and what their actions mean (romantic declarations, etc.) vs. seeing them as a complete person in their own right...
tagging the ephemerality squad in (so pleased this list grows every time): @chickenstrangers, @clara-maybe-ontheroad, @distant-screaming, @lurkingshan, @slayerkitty, @twig-tea, @waitmyturtles
81 notes · View notes
Text
Welcome to the Ultimate Sword Showdown...Rematch!
In this tournament, we'll have 64 swords compete to see which is the true winner. This is the second iteration of this tournament, so there are some new rules.
New Contestants
New competitors will be chosen in the exact same way as before. I will personally sort through the list of submissions and choose a list of swords I think look or sound the coolest or most interesting. This means that receiving a high number of submissions will not guarantee any sword's spot in this tournament, although a high volume of submissions for one sword may draw my attention towards it where I had ignored it before.
Speaking of ignoring submissions, if you submitted a sword last time and it did not make it into the tournament, you may try submitting it again and you may have better luck this time. I will try to pay special attention to swords I glossed over last time. I will also of course be looking at swords that were not submitted last time.
Returning Contestants
Any sword that did not make it past Round 1 in the initial iteration of this tournament will be eligible for resubmission, and I will try to match it up with a competitor against whom it might stand a better chance. This means that a total of 32 original contestants may try their hand again. I have removed the barrier for entry, and any returning sword that receives even one submission will be automatically included.
A list of the swords eligible for resubmission, as well as a list of all swords disqualified from this tournament due to making it past round 1 last time, is under the cut.
Guide to the Form
Name of sword (e.g. Sting, Excalibur, Ghirahim). If the sword does not have a name, put N/A or something similar and be sure to put extra descriptions of which sword you are talking about in the other boxes.
Series of origin (e.g. Lord of the Rings, Arthurian legends, The Legend of Zelda).
Wielder (e.g. Bilbo/Frodo Baggins, King Arthur, Demise). If the sword is from a video game and is wielded by, say, both a boss and later the player character, specify the boss over the player. If the sword has two primary wielders list both. If the sword is wielded by a family line or something similar, specify the group as a whole. If the sword has too many wielders to list, put "many" and describe in the box below. If the sword has no primary wielders, put "none" or leave the box blank.
Describe the sword. This is where you get to gush about all the details. If there is no picture provided you can describe it physically, but also describe the ways it's been used, if it has any special powers, its personality if it is sentient, and anything else you think might be important to know. This is what will draw my interest the most!
Write up a description to be used in the tournament or provide me informational sources (new!). This box can be used to help me out in any way with putting the tournament together. You can write up a short but informative description that will be included under the polls in the same style as the ones I wrote for the last tournament. Alternatively, if you have a particularly informative wiki link, tumblr post, or any other source you recommend I pull information from, you can place it here as well. Anything helps!
Include a picture of the sword. Paste a link to a picture you'd like me to use for the tournament. You can also paste multiple links, with pictures of swords by themselves or while wielded. You can also link gifs you'd like me to include. I may include multiple pictures for more swords this time around than I did last time.
Notes about submitting swords:
I am hoping the definition of a sword is obvious, but a sword should have a hilt and a blade that is longer than the hilt. Daggers and spears do not qualify.
Any type of sword counts--everything from shortswords to broadswords to katanas.
Swords from books count.
The keyblades from Kingdom Hearts are...close enough.
Dual-wielded swords or identical swords in a set can be submitted together. More than like...four swords that are all distinct from one another should be counted as separate swords.
Sentient swords count.
Characters who transform into swords are allowed so long as that is their main gimmick (i.e. a character who transforms into a sword once in episode 30 and never again is not truly a sword).
You can submit as many swords from the same media as you would like (in separate submissions), but I will only include a maximum of three swords per IP in the final tournament.
The form can be found below.
Structure of the Tournament
The form will be open until December 12th. I will warn you 3 hours before I close the form. After the form is closed, I will begin working on the bracket and should have it up within a couple days of closing the form.
As before, I will be writing up a brief description for every sword. This will be pulled from a combination of the information I received through submissions, and whatever I can find on online wikis. However, a new addition to the tournament is that after I have gathered images and written up descriptions, but before the tournament starts, I will release a full list of descriptions and images, and there will be a ~3 day buffer before the tournament starts for you all to look over my work and correct anything I may have messed up--spelling a major character's name wrong, a mistake in the information, a picture of the wrong sword, etc. (all things that happened after the polls went up during the last run of this tournament). During this time I will also allow you to submit your own description, if you think you can write a better one. You can submit a description to me in the replies or reblogs of the post, through the askbox, or through DMs. Please specify what it's for. I will also post this new description for others to verify that your information is correct. Perhaps with thorough peer review, we can completely eliminate misinformation. *flexing arm emoji*
After this ~3 day period, the polls will be finalized and Round 1 will begin shortly after. All polls will run for 24 hours, except for the final one which will run for one week.
Rules
You can submit as many different swords as you like.
Please do not spam the submission form. As described above this will do nothing for you. Additionally, I use submission numbers to help me seed the bracket. Please don't screw up my seeding. Just...don't.
Propaganda is allowed and encouraged! Send it through reblogs, asks, or a separate post. Be sure to tag me in your posts, and if reblogging, add a tag like "propaganda" or something to let me know you want me to reblog it.
Please be civil to your host and to your fellow voters. If toxicity becomes an issue I may have to disqualify competitors from the tournament. Do not make me do this.
Also, please be respectful of me and my decisions. I am only one host and I cannot be perfect all the time, but I will try to make decisions that are fair. If you have complaints, please make them civilly. This was not an issue last time, but it bears mentioning again. People can be ruthless on their silly little social media blorbo polls.
Miscellaneous
Mod goes by The Bladesmith.
Original tournament masterpost
I have no idea what tournaments are still active these days, so I won't tag anyone this time. If any tournament hosts happen to see this, I hope you will help a fellow host out and signal boost this for me. It would also help for non-hosts to reblog if you would be so kind. *smily face*
Under the cut: List of tags, list of eligible returning contestants, list of ineligible contestants
Tags:
#sword showdown -- all posts related to the sword showdown.
#sword showdown rematch -- tag exclusively for the second iteration of this tournament.
#not sword showdown -- any posts not related to the sword showdown.
#sword showdown polls -- all sword showdown polls.
#sword showdown propaganda -- all propaganda.
#sword showdown updates -- important non-poll posts related to the sword showdown.
#the bladesmith answers -- answered asks.
#the bladesmith speaks -- general posts.
Contestants eligible for resubmission:
Sword of the Creator (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Dawnfang/Duskfang (The Elder Scrolls)
Leo's Katanas (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)
Rose's Sword (Steven Universe)
Serenade (Dead Cells)
Blue Rose Sword (Sword Art Online)
Sword of Sanctuary (Lego Ninjago)
Myrtenaster (RWBY)
Sword of Heroes (Kung Fu Panda)
Buster Sword (Final Fantasy VII)
Sword of Night (DC Comics)
Ninja Sword (Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja)
Aatrox (League of Legends)
Wirikidor (The Misenchanted Sword)
Masamune (Final Fantasy VII)
The Blade of Ahrah (Dust: Elysian Tail)
Exor (Super Mario RPG)
Demon Blood Sword (Adventure Time)
Nightblood (Warbreaker/The Stormlight Archive)
Murasama (Metal Gear Rising)
Tessaiga (Inuyasha)
Firelink Greatsword (Dark Souls 3)
Fusion Sword (Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children)
Dragonslayer (Berserk)
Crissaegrim (Castlevania: Symphony of the Night)
Falchion (Fire Emblem)
Need (Valdemar)
Stripes I and II (Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt)
Beacon (The Adventure Zone)
The Sword (Cardcaptor Sakura)
Excalibur (Soul Eater)
Monado (Xenoblade Chronicles)
Swords not eligible for submission:
Jack/Sumarbrander (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard)
Doomblade (Kirby)
Sword of Protection (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)
Sasha's Heron Swords (Amphibia)
Sunsword (Dungeons and Dragons)
Caliburn (Sonic and the Black Night)
Stygius (Hades)
Ghirahim/Sword of Demise (The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword)
Riptide (Percy Jackson)
Sword of Light (Dragon Quest)
Aegislash (Pokemon)
Sword of Fire (Lego Ninjago)
Lucky Seven (Xenoblade Chronicles 3)
Zangetsu (Bleach)
Galaxia (Kirby)
Pure Nail (Hollow Knight)
Excalibur (Arthurian legends)
E-Ming (Tian Guan Ci Fu/Heaven's Official Blessing)
Holy Moonlight Sword (Bloodborne)
Sword of Inigo Montoya (The Princess Bride)
Grass Sword (Adventure Time)
The Transistor (Transistor)
Diamond Sword (Minecraft)
Fierce Deity Sword (Majora's Mask)
Sting (Lord of the Rings)
Sword of Dios (Revolutionary Girl Utena)
Darksaber (Star Wars)
Brisingr (The Inheritance Cycle)
Master Sword (The Legend of Zelda)
Glamdring (Lord of the Rings)
Eyelander (Team Fortress 2)
Mortal Blade (Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice)
53 notes · View notes
evans-endeavors · 24 hours
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
D&D NPCs
Was reminded I should share more of my D&D NPC art
NPCs the party has met through the campaign.
Character info below the cut!
1. Alder Montgomery (he/him)
Dwarven king of the capital city. He's a legendary warrior who gained the title by defeating a necromancer and his undead army many years ago. He's stubborn, analytical, and brave.
2. Lawrence Montgomery (he/him)
Human cleric and husband of King Alder. He's the emotional intelligence of the couple, and tends to be the one citizens interact with most. Kind, caring, and wise.
3. Elma Honeyhand (she/her)
Halfling alchemist and mentor of one of the party members. Elma is a potion maker who serves the bustling farming town and remains joyful despite the town's terrible history. She's fiery, jovial, and boisterous.
4. Rosemary Tolld (she/her)
Human priestess of the Inventor. The party met her while she was tending to victims of a plague in the farming town. She's diligent, but a little morose, and quiet.
5. Andrick the Gold (he/they)
Half-elf cult leader, and prophet of the goddess of life. Andrick took over leadership of a failing cult after the previous leader's demise and has acted as a minor antagonist for the party very early on. They've grown in power significantly since the beginning, even becoming a "hero" in the capital city. He's manipulative, charming, and obsessive.
6. Aries (he/him)
Aries was met as a prisoner of a fey king. He bonded with the party, and they agreed to help him escape the Feywilds. Aries later turned out to be a black-gold dragon, and Prince of the Summer Court. He's tired of the rules and expectations of his mother, the Queen, and is rebelling by exploring the mortal plane. Angsty.
7. Clara (she/her/they/them)
Clara is the big secret of the Resurrectionists (a secret monster hunting group)
Clara is a young emerald dragon who keeps a hoard of knowledge. Magic items, books, artifacts, historical treasures. Their psionic abilities grow more and more, but she's still a child at heart so enjoys having fun. But most of their time is spent watching the world through a crystal ball. She loves to learn about the world this way, but it also helps the monster hunters get the jump on undead activity.
There's way more NPCs than this, but I don't always get the time to draw all of them. And before you ask. Yes. I do have a problem with filling my world with dragons masquerading as humanoids. I just LOVE DRAGONS
44 notes · View notes