Soap is a chronic lap sitter!!! No, you cannot convince me otherwise
Ghost: "The fuck are you doing?"
Soap: "Sitting"
Ghost: "On my lap?"
Soap: "..."
Ghost: "Johnny."
Soap: "Simon :D"
Ghost: "..."
Soap: kisses him though the mask
Gaz: "Mate, why are you sitting on my lap?"
Soap: "There were nae good seats left"
Gaz: "This is the only seat here that's taken. Literally every other seat is available"
Soap: "I said there were nae good* seats left"
Gaz: "..."
Soap: sitting in Price's lap and blocking his view
Price: "For the love of God, I'm trying to watch the game!"
Soap: "Me too, now be quiet"
Price, under his breath: "Some muppet is about to be on cleaning duty for the next week"
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I bought clip studio paint on a whim while it was on sale and made a silly little cryptid sketch to try and start getting used to the program. :>
@naffeclipse some early birthday flowers for you ♥️
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I literally do not care if they say he’s a widower or it’s simply poor coping skills—unless the man were suddenly possessed by satan himself—no amount of grief can turn someone so callously cruel. I simply do not buy the Jekyll and Hyde narrative.
We’ve been told Gabriel had been a normal parent once...then underwent a drastic personality change after his wife expired.
???????
Adrien’s autonomy and consent have been continuously violated since his inception. He’s unaware of the fact and unsurprisingly blames himself for bending to Gabriel’s will.
His son is crying, on the verge of breakdown—literally begging—and Gabriel is completely unfazed by this distress.
Just as Colt Fathom came to despise/blame Félix for his illness, I suspect Gabriel harbors some degree of resentment towards Adrien due to Emilie’s passing. He may not be conscious of it, but there is a clear undercurrent of spite fueling his behavior.
The series has drawn explicit parallels between the senti-twins. They mirror each other’s pain and story. Félix has experienced cruelty firsthand and I don’t think he would go through so much effort to free his cousin/brother for naught.
(Also, before anyone boards the Emilie-hate bandwagon, please note/recall Félix’s reaction to her portrait. He has strongly held convictions, especially with respect to sentibeings and misuse of the peacock miraculous. I don’t believe he’d feel such fondness toward someone complicit in Adrien’s mistreatment.)
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Poor baby, does it hurt so much? Not being able to move or speak for yourself? Having the vibe on your clit and those pretty ribbons wrapped around your wrists? Barely having my hands on you, which is what you waited so, so long for, all because you were so impatient? Touching your 'lil cunt as if you couldn't just wait for me to fuck you? I bet it hurts to be so overstimulated, so tortured— and aww, are you squirming? But isn't this what you wanted? To be fucked like the bitch you are? Oh, that's a shame. You brought this upon yourself, darling. If only you hadn't pushed my buttons all day then you wouldn't be here right now. If only you behaved, stayed patient, asked for it nicely, but no— you just had to be a little brat, with your tight-ass outfits and oh-so-innocent attitude. Acting all clumsy and bending over to tempt me, giving me that rogue look that I know all too well. I'm not that gullible, baby. So you fucked up big time, and now, you'll just have to endure your loss. Let's see how many orgasms it'll take for you to reach your breaking point.
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The night before Iwaizumi leaves for California, his mother gives him a gift. It's wrapped delicately in yellow wrapping paper.
Iwaizumi has a feeling he knows what it is.
"I know it's last minute," She says, sitting next to him on his bed in his childhood bedroom. "Your bags are all packed, I don't expect you to make room to take it with you or anything, of course." She watches him, hands folded in her lap. "Ah, and you'll probably think it's embarrassing any-"
"Mama," Iwaizumi interrupts, fighting back a little smile at her fretting. "Let me at least open it before you try minimizing it."
"Right, right." She laughs, waving her hand. "Of course. Go on then. Open it."
Iwaizumi doesn't take his time tearing it open.
It's a book. A scrapbook, Iwaizumi guesses. It has his name handwritten in both kanji and hiragana on the front. It's a little smaller than the other scrapbooks his mom has on her shelf. The binding is a dark forest green.
The only sound in the room is the flipping of pages. Iwaizumi takes his time to study each page, his chest feeling a little tighter the more he flips through the book.
Iwaizumi knows his mothers have always taken lots of pictures, ranging from polaroids to digital. His aunties too but he still finds himself surprised by the amount Sachiko has collected in the book. Including pictures she must have received from other people because neither of his moms were present at said event.
The pages are simple. Each one has about two to five (depending on the sizes of them) pictures on it. They're decorated with stickers and little notes written in his mom's graceful handwriting neatly squeezed where they can fit and still be legible.
Notes like "you gave your poor mother a fright the first time you came into the house with one of these" under a photo of Iwaizumi proudly showing off a jar with a beetle in it and "i'm surprised you convinced tooru to go, lol" by a photo from a fishing trip Iwaizumi took with the other third years.
"This is one of my favorite pictures," His mom says, watching as Iwaizumi flips pages over his shoulder. She points to a picture of the two of them when they first moved into the house. He was only three. They're sitting on the front steps together, neither of them are looking at the camera. He has his arms wrapped around hers and is looking up at her as she laughs.
And he breaks.
"Oh, Hajime." She says softly, pulling him into a tight hug. He tucks his face into the crook of her neck and she strokes his hair as he cries. He feels like he's five again, crying because he accidentally squashed a bug when he was trying to catch it. Ten, crying because he was sick with the flu and thought he was on the brink of death. Thirteen, crying because he and Oikawa had a fight and he thought he would never talk to him again.
Eighteen, crying because he's leaving the country tomorrow and it suddenly hit him that he doesn't know what he's going to do without his mom.
He doesn't say that though.
He doesn't tell her that he's scared, scared that he's going to crash and burn in California, scared that his friendship with Oikawa won't survive the distance, scared that everything is going to go wrong because he left.
Or that he's really going to miss her.
(Maybe he should have told her that.)
-
That night before Iwaizumi spends his last night in his childhood room, he wraps the scrapbook up in the hoodie that Oikawa gave him and tucks them both into one of his bags.
He thinks about where he's going to put it in his dorm room when he gets to California.
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we stan grandma Frankie guys
such a rare moment of calm, wonder when will it be ruined-
ah there it is
oh so Jekyll did scale up the Society building! …all the way up to the attic seems unlikely though, bro doesn't even look fit enough to last climbing up one floor
AND NOW HE LOOKS LIKE A MESS 😭😭 SIR WHAT HAPPENED
@quilna insists a bird attacked Jekyll offscreen but I think a cat coughed him up
where did his eyebags even come from??? don't get me with the hyde bullshit HE HAD A PERFECTLY FINE REST LAST NIGHT
this pose. this fuckin position. bro gave up on any attempts at dignity istg 😭 he looks like a rat slinking back to the sewers
no morning chase is that rough…is it?? to do this??
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