#Whoa actually detailed art! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karmic-vibes · 1 year

Text

If I Can Dream

22 - Answer’s Gonna Come Somehow

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr / lazyjunebug on twitter. these specific panels are from the digital zine juno posted. go buy and support!!!!! there’s so many phenomenal works in there and it’ll warm your little heart.

cw: n/a :)

Year: 1995

“And what’s that?” Bobby pointed to Dustin’s book.

“That’s a character guide,” Dustin smiled.

“And that?”

“Guide to NPCs.”

“What’s an NPC?”

“Non-playable character,” Dustin chuckled.

“And those?”

“Villains. Bobbs, did you know that your papa is a dungeon master? He knows a lot more about this stuff than I do.”

“Whoa, really!”

“Yes, really.”

“And what’s the game called again?”

“DnD.”

“Got it. Papa!”

Bobby ran from her play room into the living room. Eddie was sitting on the couch, completing the finishing details for the campaign he’d be running later that day. Bobby crashed into the couch and rested her chin on the arm rest.

“Papa?”

“Hi, pumpkin,” Eddie smiled.

“What’s D-n-D?”

Eddie’s eyes shot open as he looked to his little girl. He set down his pencil and notepad as he slid to his knees. He braced his hands on Bobby’s shoulders and pulled her close.

“Bobby Judas, my sweet, sweet girl. I need to tell you, with every fiber of my being, that this is the best day of my life.”

Bobby smiled proudly as her father whisked her into his lap and explained what he was doing with his latest campaign. She reclined back onto him as she was sucked into the enchanting fantasy world.

“And what’s your character, papa?”

“I was initially a bard, but since becoming dungeon master, I’ve been a vampire—Kas—Vecna’s second lieutenant.”

“What’s daddy?”

“Daddy doesn’t have a character.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, pumpkin.”

“Daddy!” She yelled.

Steve’s ears rang at his daughter’s shrill shriek echoed throughout the house. He dried his hands on a rouge dish towel and wandered off to find the hell spawn.

“Yes, Bobby?”

“How come you don’t have a DnD character?” she asked.

“Because I don’t play.”

“But why not?”

“I never really understood it.” He shrugged and tussled her hair.

“Hey,” she whined.

“Oh, sorry, bug, I forgot you had hair clips in. Here, let me fix them.” He knelt to her height and unclipped her barrettes, promptly fixing them. “Better?”

“Mhmm.” She kicked her legs, accidentally knocking Eddie’s knees and shins.

“Ow, Bobbs, be careful, please,” Eddie said.

“Sorry, papa. So, do I have a character?”

“You do, actually,” Eddie smiled proudly. “On your first birthday, we threw you a DnD themed party where everyone came dressed as their characters. Since you didn’t have one yet, I made you one.”

“What am I‽” She gasped.

“You, my dear, are a first level Neutral Good Human Paladin.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you are destined to be the best person you could possibly be. You’re adaptable and take adventure seriously—I noticed all that when you were a baby, and I still stand by it.”

“Papa, can I play with you guys tonight?”

“I can ask the rest of The Party, but there shouldn’t be any issue, pumpkin. Dustin!”

“Yeah?” he hollered back.

“Why’re you still in my daughter’s playroom? Come here, please!”

“What?” He asked, running down the stairs. “Everything okay?”

“No, Henderson, why would you introduce my child to DnD?” Steve asked, hands resting on his hips. “Now it’s two against one,” he teased.

“Ignore him,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Would you mind if Bee joined us during our campaign tonight?”

“No, not at all. What would she be doing?”

“Well, I’ll start her off as second in command as dungeon master, then when it’s safe enough, we’ll work her in. Does that sound good, Bobbs?”

“Yeah!”

“Wonderful.”

“Does this mean it’s gonna be more tame?”

“Please,” Eddie scoffed, “as if my hell spawn couldn’t handle my sadistic campaign. Who do you think I raised?”

By four o’clock, the entirety of The Party arrived at the Harrington residence for an early dinner, prepared by Steve. The boys (and Bobby) dug in and by five o’clock, the game had started. Eddie lugged Bobby into his lap and leaned back in his masters thrown.

“Bee, you may begin,” he said.

In the deepest, gruffest voice she could muster up, Bobby leaned forward, only eyes peering over the master guide, and she set the scene for the campaign. Her voice changed with each character, however, sputtering a bit whenever she couldn’t pronounce something. Eddie would match whatever voice or tone she was putting on and sound out the words with her.

When Eddie knew it was safe for Bobby’s character to enter, he sat his daughter down in her own chair and set the stage to introduce her. He flipped his locks back and smiled proudly at his little twin.

“As you clear the luscious green hills after conquering the stampede of trolls, you encounter a lone traveler. Human, state your name and class,” Eddie announced.

“I’m Bonnie Priest, a level one, pala… pala… papa, help, please…” She leaned forward in her chair, kicking her legs aimlessly.

“Paladin,” he whispered.

“Level one paladin!” she cheered. “And I’m ready to defeat Vecna!”

Eddie quietly chuckled as he admired his daughter’s spirits. As she continued with her opening speech, he whispered, “that’s my girl.”

Unfortunately, the night came to an end quicker than usual, as Bobby’s bedtime approached faster than most assumed. Steve entered the basement at eight sharp to collect Bobby and get her ready for bed. With much protest, he managed to get Eddie to wrap up the one-shot and persuade the spawn upstairs.

But as soon as Steve scooped her up in his arms, she was dozing off within seconds. Eddie was left to say goodbye to The Party as Steve was doing Bobby’s nighttime routine. When it came to her bedtime story, she refused to sleep until Eddie read to her.

“Pumpkin, you’ve spent all night with papa—I’ve missed you. We usually have our movie and coloring night tonight. Can’t daddy read you a story to make up for it?”

“But papa does voices,” She pouted.

“I can do voices too. What do you want to read? Just tell me what you want, and if you don’t like it, then I’ll get papa, okay?”

“Okay…”

“What do you want to read?”

“Tell Tale Heart.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again…”

“Alright, I’ll grab it.”

While Steve put in a valiant effort, Bobby still demanded to be read to by Eddie. For days to come, Bobby clung to Eddie more than usual, taking a particular interest in his hobbies.

One day, when Steve was stuck at work, Eddie picked Bobby up from school on his own. He sent her into the den to complete her homework—he was over in the next room plucking his guitar and scribbling down new lyrics. When she was finished, she wandered in and sat at Eddie’s feet.

“Hi, pumpkin,” he smiled.

“Can I play?” she asked.

“You can try,” he chuckled. “It may be a bit too big for you, but go for it.”

He handed the acoustic guitar over to her, sitting behind her to hold it and guide her hands. While her strumming was deafening, Eddie still egged her on, not wanting her to give up on any potential hobbies.

“You know, daddy used to sing to you before you were born,” Eddie said.

“Did he?”

“Oh, yeah, it was horrific.”

“Was it?” Bobby giggled.

“No, it wasn’t bad,” Eddie smiled. “God, he has loved you since day one, pumpkin.”

“You didn’t?” she pouted.

“No, of course I did, but… I dunno… I initially never wanted kids, but daddy? He wanted like five of them. He was so excited when he found out I was pregnant. But me? Lord, I was terrified. I love you more than life itself, Bobbs, but I was so, unbelievably scared at first.”

“That’s okay, papa. Babies are scary.”

“Yes, they are,” he laughed.

“Hello?” Steve called, walking through the front door.

“Hi, honey,” Eddie beamed.

“Hi, daddy!” Bobby cheered, storming the door and attacking him with hugs.

“Oh, bug, it’s only been like eight hours,” he chuckled.

“I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too, pumpkin. What’re you doing? Playing guitar with papa?”

“Mhmm!”

“Learn anything?”

“Not yet.”

“But she’s getting there,” Eddie added. “Just a little more practice and she’ll be a pro.”

The family went about their evening as normal, ending with the boys putting Bobby to bed with a story of her choosing. Once she was sound asleep, they headed back downstairs to tidy up before hitting the hay themselves. As Steve washed the dishes, and Eddie scrubbed the counters, Steve let out a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think… have you noticed… uh…”

“Uh? What’s wrong, Stevie?”

“Do you think Bee’s been a bit, I dunno… off lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s just been bouncing from hobby to hobby. A lot more than most kids her age do.”

“So? She’s just curious.”

“No, Eds, what I’m…” Steve trailed off.

“What?”

“I think she has either ADHD or ADD…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about it, Eddie. Her grades have been slipping a bit, she had that weird stint with a temper last year, and now she’s trying to take on a million new hobbies at once. Her brain is going a million miles a minute.“

“So? I was that same way when I was a kid.”

“And you graduated high school three years late.”

“Yeah, alright, you make a good point,” he sighed. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I think we should take her to see someone… or at least start with talking to her teachers to see how she’s focusing and participating in class.”

“If you think it’s necessary, then I say let’s go for it. After all, this is your line of work.”

“Sorta.”

“Closer than mine,” Eddie shrugged. “But, Stevie, even if she has ADHD, would you really want her to be on medication so young? I mean, she’s barely seven.”

“I mean, kids can start taking small doses of medication as young as six. There’s a lot of research in this. I think it would be more beneficial to treat her and hopefully benefit her in the long run than to keep her off it.”

“If you say so…”

Several weeks passed and after a lot of conversation with several professionals, Bobby was eventually diagnosed with combined type ADHD. To accommodate both the boy’s wishes, she was initially placed in both behavioral therapy to try and gain control over some of her outbursts, then if that failed, they’d move on to medication.

Bobby wasn’t taking the treatment as well as they boys had hoped. She always threw a fit whenever they brought her in for her weekly appointments. She said that she felt like an outcast—a freak—and that was the last thing Eddie wanted for her.

Steve tried explaining that it was totally normal for some kids needing extra help in school, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. Instead, she barely spoke or even participated in her treatment sessions, so the boys were left with no choice but to start medication.

“I hate this,” Eddie sighed. “I really, really hoped she wouldn’t get any of my bad traits.”

“Bad traits? Ed, honey, it’s not a ‘bad trait’… she just learns a bit differently than others, and that’s okay. It’s normal.”

“She said she feels like a freak, Steve,” he teared up. “I grew up as the freak. Hell, even you, my own husband, used to call me a freak. I never wanted that for her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a freak, Ed. Hell, I was labeled a ‘King’, and now I’m nothing but a lowly social worker. But you? Eds, you have albums out, you open for huge bands, and you’ve been on tour. There’s worse things to be than a ‘freak’.”

“I guess so,” he sighed. “I just know the feeling and it sucks. Kids are so mean. I just hope no one’s being mean to her at her new school.”

“If they are, then we pull her completely and just home-school her. At least that way you’ll be able to tour again,” Steve teased.

“Pfft, please. I’d rather her stay in school.”

“Why?”

“So she gets socialized and makes friends. At her age, it’s more important than traveling.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Steve took a sip of his coffee before glancing at the time and choking on his gulp. “Shit, we haven’t gotten her up yet. She’s gonna be late.”

“Fuck, I’ll get her. You start breakfast. Go, team, go!”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #gay #st4 #lgbtq #lgbt pride #joe kerry #joseph quinn #parent steddie #steddie dads #steddie #transgender #trans eddie munson #Netflix #dustin henderson #dungeons and dragons

338 notes · View notes

cherryfennec · 4 months

Note

Hey I been thinking how would a au of Mr l joining the heroes would look like?

Hiya! There actually have already been some posts and even a fic considering this topic, which I'll link below! As for my perspective, we'll have to start at the obvious stuff.

When could Mr.L join the heroes?

We have 2 glorious encounters with The Green Thunder, one in the Whoa Zone and the other in the Sammers Kindgdom. These are really the only times he'd have a chance of changing sides. If we go with the Whoa Zone, Mr.L gets to go on around two adventures, if we go with the second option he'd only get join the heroes for one trip to Flipside.

Would Mr.L join the heroes willingly?

Well yes, and no. So Nastasias brainwashing isn't really explained but we as a community have agreed that she basically has to ability to sort through and remove whatever memories she sees as unimportant. She can also add behaviours and forge events as she sees fit so they remain utmost dazed. During the cutscene before Chapter 6 we see that Mr.L, despite being 'disciplined', is able to rebel which means there is potential.

With these two questions answered we have the possibilities of:

The heroes decide to take Mr.L by force back to the Flipside in Chapter 4. Basically they fight, catch him by the scruff and drag him away. Once back they could try to convince him to switch sides. My favourite continuation of this would probably be that he declines, and since they can't just leave him at Merlons they just tie him around the waist to Mario so he doesn't run. In shorter terms: they drag the chihuahua around on a leash. I just think the picture would be funny. He'd have to learn to cooperate with Mario in battle so they don't die. He could slowly question his current beliefs and change his mind over the span of the small adventures but by the time he'd be ready to fully switch he meets his and the heroes canon demise.

If you'd want to see a more detailed scenario where he does actually agree to join Mario, Peach and Bowser I can recommend you:

The Mr.L Hero AU made by brendathedoodler that takes place after the battle in the Whoa Zone and is based on that specific idea. They've made some art posts, writing work and even a short comic for it. Here's one:

https://www.tumblr.com/brendathedoodler/702687904346030080/hi-about-your-mrl-au-thing-what-would-tippis

The second possibility is they get to the next battle with Mr.L in the ruined kingdom and do a similiar thing from there. Maybe they didn't know it was Luigi during the first battle but by the time they realised he had already ran off, so they want to use this second chance. Now again it's either take back by force or convince with a good argument.

I'm going to be honest though, I think there is one great, already existing portrayal of this scenario. And it's all written in:

'Grey Lies', a fic by SnowyFrostShadow that takes place after the battle in the destroyed Sammers Kindom.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43425892/chapters/109168240

I think it went with the best route when it comes to getting Mr.L to join the good side at that point in the story. It could use some small tweaking but I think it's a good read, at least I enjoy it!

I hope I managed to answer your question. I maybe could try to go into more detail with the first one but I think this about covers the general idea.

#spm #super paper mario #askbox

42 notes · View notes

e-munson666 · 2 years

Text

Let me Brand You

+++Eddie Munson x F!Reader+++

WARNING: 18+ ⚠️

XxReally FLUFFY Smut with plot. Not giving away all the juicy sexual details beforehand (not sorry?) Language, drug use, name calling, branding, consent is givenxX

(Slight continuation from my blurb (("Secretly Braiding Eddies Hair")) and him pining for you since. He catches you alone and things get.......steamy)

[a/n: never written anything like this before so I really hope you guys like it. Its definitely a softer take on smut, not super detailed but I am still happy with it for it being my first one lol.]

🖤xoxo

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about you since lunch. The sweet wide smile on your face as he found the beaded braid you had put into his hair, (he presumes in first period while he was asleep) he'd liked you long before today, but became smitten when he saw you giggling at him, fingers twiddling your own identical braid. Now he just needed to find an opportunity to talk to you. He almost gave up hope for the day until he walked into the woods behind the school and saw you sitting, alone, at his usual bench.

You were sitting quietly, drawing the landscape when you heard twigs breaking and you whip around quickly. Eddie Munson was slowly walking closer to where you sat. "Whoa hey, I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to scare you" he says low and calm, hands in the air like he was surrendering.

"What are you doing out here Munson?" You ask cooly, trying to hide that he'd nearly scared you to death. "I could ask you the same thing, why are you all the way out here alone?" He questions, while slowly taking a seat right next to you. He notices your sketch and his eyes go wide with interest.

"I didn't know you were an artist" he says, pointing at your notebook. "Artist? Hardly. I just sketch every now and then. Helps keep the bad thoughts away." You smile. You had just noticed how close he was when he leaned over to see your sketchbook. "I" you cough "I actually have a sketch of you in here from one of your bands recent shows" you looked up and your eyes met his, seeing the intrigue and excitement on his face.

"Wait, are you serious?! You've seen us play?!" Eddie beams, completely stunned. His heart is beating so fast he swears you feel it on your shoulder. "Can I see it?!" He blurts out excitedly.

"Of course I've seen Corroded Coffin! You guys are awesome." You blush, flipping through the notebook. You stop on the designated page and nervously hand it to Eddie. His face fills with joy as he stares down at the drawn picture of him. He was on stage with the band, guitar in hand, singing into the microphone, hair bushy and wild. It was the single greatest thing he had ever seen. He couldn't break his gaze from it until he felt you shift in your seat next to him, brushing his leg.

"This might be the coolest thing I have ever seen in my LIFE" he says confidently. "Can I, can I keep this, please?" He asked behind his brown puppy eyes. You couldn't hide the shock on your face as he spoke. *He liked it!!??! He not only liked it, he was asking for you to give it to him! You gotta keep your cool, don't seem too eager.* "Whoa Munson, I'm not just gonna off and give away my masterpiece for FREE" you joked, turning to him and touching his arm.

Eddie blushed heavily. "Oh, no, no of course not" he stumbled over his words. "I definitely didn't mean...." "Im sorry...." he scrambles before hearing you chuckle. "Oh my God, chill Munson I am just giving you shit. Of course you can have it" you wink at him before putting your hand on his leg. It was just a reflex, you didn't even realize you did it at first, until you felt his leg twitch. You look up at him and he is still blushing at you hard, with a huge grin on his face. "How 'bout this, as payment for this amazing work of art" he says, waving the drawing above him "you let me take you back to my place and we can smoke a joint?" He asks getting up and bowing before you, hand outstretched.

"Oh um," you take his hand nervously "Eddie are you sure, I was just kidding, you don't have to do anything for me in exchange." He squeezes your hand in reassurance, "Please, I'd really like it if you came and hungout, for my sake, Its boring smoking by myself" he jokes. You smile and nod at him and he slowly leads you out of the woods back to his van. He firmly grips your waist to stabilize you several times in the uneven terrain, and you feel like you are about to crumble underneath him every time he pulled you closer.

Before you know it your are back in the school parking lot next to Eddies van. He quickly opens the passenger door for you and gestures "M'lady" he giggles, taking your hand again to help you into the vehicle. He shuts the door and hurriedly walks to the drivers side. He slides in and takes a long breath. "To Castle Munson" he jokes before starting the engine and driving off.

You pull up to the trailer park entrance and you can see Eddie tense in his seat. "So, its not so much a castle" he tries to joke, a nervous tone in his voice. "Eddie," you start, placing your hand on top of his on the shifter knob, "I live in the trailer park on the other side of town, no need to feel embarrassed" you reassure him, squeezing his hand. He smiles wide as he pulls up in front of his trailer. He quickly exits so he can rush to your side and open the door for you again. You sweetly thank him and kiss his cheek as he helps you up the steps to his front door.

At this point Eddies body is completely on fire. He had caught you humming along to his mix tape on the way over, could feel you staring at him, and noticed your hand linger on his when he put the car in park. If he wasn't smitten before the ride over here, he certainly was now. He didn't want to waste his chance to make a move tonight, he just had to be sure you felt the same and he wasn't hallucinating.

He leads you inside, still visibly nervous. "Sorry its so messy, its just me and my uncle living here and as you can tell, the maid took the week off" he joked, trying to scramble and pick up any trash lying around. "Is, is your uncle here?" You ask nervously, not sure what prompted the question. "No, he works nights, so it's just us sweetheart" Eddie says warmly, walking up to you. "So if your cool with it, I usually smoke weed in my room, helps keep Wayne off my back about the smell." Eddie says quietly, trying to gage your reaction. "Lead the way good sir" you tease, bowing slightly like he had done to you earlier. Before you know it he scoops you up by the legs and carries you to his room. "You know, its really not nice to tease" he chuckles before setting you down on your feet in the middle of his room. He looks up to see you giggling and blushing at him.

He plops down on his bed and pats the mattress next to him, "come sit." You sit cross legged next to him, knees brushing against his. You watched in awe as his fingers worked delicately to roll a joint on the magazine in his lap. He looks up at you several times and smirks. "You ok over there sweetheart," he teases, eyebrow raised. "I, I'm just, I've never been able to do that," you point at the joint, "and you make it look so easy." You smile at him as he places the joint between his lips to light it.

"Ah well thank you, one of the Munson family names many trademark skills." He says while he inhales a large drag. He reaches forward to pass it to you, but not before quickly brushing some of your hair out of your face, and delicately placing it behind your ear. You look up at him as you exhale, face hot. He takes the joint after your second puff and turns around quickly to find an ashtray. He heard you quietly giggle.

"Whats so funny?" He asks over his shoulder, confused. "You uh.....still have the braid in your hair," you point out, still giggling sweetly. "Oh I know I do." He says as he turns back towards you. "Been wearing this baby with pride all day sweetheart" He confesses confidently as he passes the joint to you again. His eyes catch yours as your fingers touch during the exchange. *its now or never* he thought to himself. He sweetly takes the small remains of the joint from your fingers, stubbing it out carefully before placing the ashtray on his table.

Eddie turns back to you and slowly places one hand on your waist, and the other on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. He leans into your lips and whispers "Stop me if I've got the wrong idea here" before slowly pressing his lips into yours. He can feel you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pulls you in for a deeper, more desperate kiss.

He breaks away from you long enough to quickly remove his jacket and shirt, his pants tightening around his boner as he turns around. You were now sat on the edge of his bed, chest bare, shirt and bra discarded below you. Round beautiful breasts perched delicately onto your body. Eddie swears he was looking at an angel, seeing how the low light of his lamp danced off your porcelain skin.

He was perched over you within seconds, kicking your legs apart to slide closer to you, bending over, kissing you fiercely. You could feel his warm calloused hand grab your breast as his other hand gripped into you hair, pulling your face up at him. You moaned as his fingers circled your nipple and Eddie growled into your mouth. He pulled away from you for a moment. About to speak before you stopped him.

"I want this Eddie, please" you say, panting into his chest. "Thats all I needed to hear princess," he replied, swiftly removing his belt and pants. He saw you start tugging at the hem of your skirt before he stopped you. "Oh no, leave that on baby girl" he says into your neck. A light shiver goes down your spine and your thighs tighten. Eddie notices your reaction and nearly short circuits.

Eddie reaches under your skirt and yanks your tiny, lace panties down your legs. You hear him groan at the sight of them. He tosses them aside and looks up at your face again. Beautiful, blushing, needy, ready....for him. He slightly picks you up and scoots you to a better position on the bed. His hands slowly trace down your body in awe. He'd only ever imagined what your (almost) naked body would look like, and he couldn't believe he was seeing it, touching it. He was in heaven.

He slowly moved his hands up your skirt and saw your pussy for the first time. He swears he died and went to heaven twice in that exact moment. He quickly perches himself above you again. "God you are so beautiful" he cooed, stroking your hair as he lined himself up with your entrance.

He waited for your reassuring nod before slowly pushing himself into you. You both moaned loudly as he bottomed out. He looked into your eyes hungerly, before crashing into your lips, thrusting fast, and deep into you. He was completely pussy drunk the moment he entered your small, tight vagina. He could barely keep from cumming as he felt you flutter around him, the intense feeling around his dick was driving him insane. He grabbed your throat and planted more deep, starved kisses on your lips.

The next 30 minutes were filled with lip biting, back scratching, hair pulling pleasure. Your bodies moved and intertwined with each like two puzzle pieces finding their mate. He slowed and quickened his movements at all the right moments, sending your body overboard with stimulation.

You quickly felt your orgasm rising in your core and you were moaning hopelessly, and loud. Eddie covered your mouth with his hand, shushing you while maintaining his pace. He felt you tighten around him, slickening his dick with cum, and he blew his load inside of you right at that second. He twitched a few times before pulling out of you, arms shaking to keep him up, breath hitched. He collapsed beside you and pulled you close. You laid in his arms for a few minutes while he stroked your hair.

"You know, I think this makes us official" you half joke, cocking your head to look at his reaction. A shit eating grin appears on his face before he springs up. "Uh hey, Munson, I'm sorry" you nervously spit out. He pulls up his boxers before quickly rummaging through a drawer. He grabbed a small torch and turned back to you, smile turning dark as he steps forward.

He slides next to you on the bed, not breaking eye contact. "Eddie?" You ask nervously as he takes off one of his rings. Eyes widening as he pulls up your skirt again slightly. "What, what are you doing?" You finally manage to choke out.

"Making it official." He smirks, lighting the torch near the prominent design of the ring he removed. As the metal turns cherry red he looks over at you, saying calmly "you're gonna want to hold really still sweetheart" stroking your cheek before putting his hand firmly on your back to steady you.

The next thing you felt was white hot metal making contact with your upper thigh. You squealed in pain but Eddies firm hand kept you secure, gently rubbing up your back as he cooed and shushed you. A few seconds later he removed the ring and examined the distinct brand he had left in your skin. He grinned at himself as he looked up at you, eyes a teary and wide. "Are you ok princess" he whispers, wiping your eye. You look down at Eddies brand mark and can't help but smile, "Ya.......Ya Eddie I'm ok" you whisper back at him, kissing his nose. "Thats my girl" he says softly. "Now let me go get you some ice for that" smiling wildly as he shuffled out of the room into the kitchen.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie the banished #eddie munson smut #fanfic

383 notes · View notes

aur0raaura · 1 year

Text

Twin Princes AU

LEGEND

Part one | Part two

Buy me a Ko-Fi!

AAAAND SCENE! Wow wow! I didn't expect for what was supposed to be another doodle comic...end up with me putting a lot of effort-!

Life got in the way plenty of times- making me take quite a bit to finish this...even contemplating on just putting this on hiatus and just do something else-

...but I did it! I didn't let any discouragement, nerves and bad feelings get to me.

Now I'm sure many are wondering- HOW did this come to fruition? Simple: my friend pointed out that my next comic should focus on Kyurem's involvement in this! Many were wondering what sort of role the old dragon played after the previous comic (Family) and the art piece that accompanied it (The Giant Chasm)! So I went for a more artistic approach to this, making the artwork look like a tale at first, but then shifting to a more crude and cold atmosphere- I was going to polish these last nine pages, yet my friend would tell me that the sketchiness helps with the narrative- and honestly, she was right! Thus I tried to add some subtle sketchiness on pages 7-11 on part one! I wonder if people noticed that detail...? Anyways, time for some fun behind the scenes stuff...!

Here's the very first concept of my Original Dragon design, including his human form!

You can tell I did some adjustments in the final product, but I really wanted to make sure this dragon had characteristics of the tao trio in some way, plus-- I wished for him to have a unique sort of feel- kinda ethereal? I also gave a teeny bit of eastern dragon influence because...well...tao trio. The tail is actually inspired by a plasma engine!

It's why I gave it a bit of a swirl to it- ...kinda reminds me of ice cream- His human design...well, I wished to make sure he looked like the princes yeah-? He is their dad after all! So I made sure to reflect that- Same with his clothing as well! Ah right...I should show the design of our princes yes...?

WHOA WHOA WHOA-- those faces... Hmm... I wonder if people can start piecing together why this au is called the "Twin Princes AU" with this and what was told in this comic...? The design in itself was conceptualized by a rough idea my friend sent me a whiiiiiile back, but asked me to refine it further! Make it fancy, royal, elegant--!! You get the point. XD Though this is the finalized design i came up with as I brainstormed this comic! I hope I could convey how magical yet refined they are! As for Kyurem....oh my! What a reveal as well huh?

What a throwback....! I drew these a while back!

Well, there's certainly some familiar design choices...! And another clue to this whole puzzle- unless some of you have figured it out! Let me know through my ask box! ;D

I really didn't expect such a warm reception towards this au me and my pal cooked up last year. To think mixing concepts from our ocverse (GUARDiANverse) with pokemon could work so well...! I suppose fantastical elements mixing with another fantastical setting aint such a bad idea...! This AU has kinda expanded since it's conception... to a point of having other stories of other characters that take place in this version of the pokemon world!

Though for now, I may need a bit of a breather. 20 pages was QUITE the endeavor! Yet...that doesn't mean I wouldn't be opposed to tell more of my tale in other ways! Shoot me an ask, tell me! Who knows, I may answer with a doodle comic! For now, I'll just slowly cook my next idea! Maybe I should give the witness to these tales some spotlight...? I dunno...but honestly, feel free to shoot asks. Well, I hope you all can be patient with me in the meantime!

#submas #sbms #pokemon #twin princes au #aura's art #oh man it feels good to finally show this to it's completion!#I was having quite the rough time while trying to finish this...making things take way too long #I also participated in the PokeMas art contest too! ...in which delayed things further #haha woops...! but i really wanted to give it a shot!#oh right! I also added a Ko-Fi link- i wasn't sure if to put it there...but it's there if you want to have a way to tip me!#I just hope it's not too invasive x'D #once again...thank you for the support thus far and for being so patient with me! i really appreciate it #im not used to such positive feedback and it means a lot that this many people are interested in our story

101 notes · View notes

maythearo · 20 days

Note

Yeah! The g3!! I know it has certainly been a uhhhh controversial topic lol

Imo draculaura looks sooo cute

Certainly lolll

You know how it goes I'm gonna ramble again so I'll put the read more thing for the sake of scrolling past it 😭

Well I'll start off by saying that, in this era of reboots and mass adaptations of every mildly old franchsie ever, is kinda impossible to avoid negative reactions from the people who were fans of the first generation of such franchises, because it happens, when someone takes something you grew up with and changes it to a modern audience most people's reaction will be "what in the world that's not how it was back in my days" + the phenomenon of older generations not liking the stuff that comes all for younger generations and etc. And I mention all of this bcs this definetely affects how people's opinions on things such as design (of MH in this case) go, there's lots of strong biases in this conversation of reboots and all

And tbh I wasn't immune to that 💀 at first I didn't like a lot of small decisions they made because I was used to the old one and "the og's always better" type of opinion, monster high was a big part of my childhood and probably a big boost to my interest in art! Which is what I live for baisically nowadays so ofc I felt strongly about it 😭 but when I came back after some time I realized, hey it's not that serious. I don't even remember specifically what those things I criticized were about, so that's an indicator of how much I actually cared, deep down lol. Like, pink Lagoona did not kill me, can you believe that? /s.

My opinion as of now, is that I think the g3 designs are really cute on their own!! I'm gonna stop myself from comparing it to the first gen because for the most part that's a waste of time and also a huge tangent from where I want to get 😭 recent reboots are a product of this era and they adapt accordingly. Sometimes they hit sometimes they miss, I think g3 mh is going well mostly!

(Talking about the concept designs and doll designs in this part) g3 takes from general modern fashion, clothing-wise the characters are not draaastically different from each other, they all just dress like how teenagers nowadays do but each got their own little motifs to their wardrobes. I don't think this "lack of difference" between each other's outfits is an enormous one nor is it inherently a bad thing because hey, if it looks good it looks good, and you can distinguish their clothings between one another just fine imo. In some cases I got some nickpicking in terms of "the pattern of this shirt is not working with these pants" or "whoa there's a lot going on with these colors" or "they really love to put bright pink lipstick on everyone huh" but it's rarely something I heavily dislike (only cases I can remember are that I wasn't a fan of was Heath 💀 feels like halfway through the process of his design mattel said "no you can stop now he's good like that" nothing is happening with that look, it's crazy, what happened to my boy. And Twyla, that wasn't as bad a s Heath's, but it just didn't work for me)

I can't say anything about the quality of the material of the dolls themselves bcs I don't have any of the new ones but oh my god, I also think Draculaura is adorable 😫 I think Venus dropped too recently and I'd buy her for sure!! The braided hair is everything and her fashion sense is probably one of my favorites so far? I also love Abbey's doll, and Frankie too especially that one line that they got a guitar? Instrument? Rockstar theme I think? (I'd cosplay that, no joke) from what I can see the designs are putting a lot more variety on drawing and sculpting different body types, features and details on the dolls and I think that's super fucking awesome! G1 also experimented with facial features and details on the body every once in a while but not as nicely done as now!

For the animated series I understand they had to tone it down to some extent because inserting all details the dolls and concept art had could lead to technical trouble (I think), so it isn't fair to compare them to one another. I'm just gonna ignore the animated series in terms of design for now, cause it's in the dolls and in illustration that a franchise like monster high work best anyway. I don't think much abt the cartoon tbh and I'm also not up to most episodes, idk who else dropped recently. But honorable mention, in the standards of the animated series my favorite designs are Deuce and Medusa for sure

That's long enough of a post so I'm gonna stop right hereeee, this was more of an overview of the g3 as a whole rather than ratings of each character, but yeah! I'm no longer a hater, I'm ok 👍 (if you're one of the people who heard me extensively complain over g3 before in another social, honestly I don't even know what it could have been about but you know what, disconsider it, it's easier that way 😭) I may have more opinions about it but that's all I could remember for now. Also my brain is fried.

And I can always change my mind on this, so there's that! Someone get me a Venus and Frankie doll rn please and thank you

#shut up may

7 notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 2 years

Note

Can I request a like head cannons or reactions to the arcane characters like Ekko, Jinx, Vi, Cait, Viktor and Mel seeing readers tattoos for the first time? Like reader is a badass with piercings, can take someone twice their size down and had piercings and tattoos all over their body?

This vaguely reminds of Horimiya lol.

Pairing: Ekko, Jinx, Caitlyn, Vi, Viktor, Mel x Reader

Tags: established relationship, fluff, tattoos, badass Reader

A/N: I love seeing tattoos on other people but I think my pain tolerance won't let me get one for myself.

Ekko isn't much of an artist but he does pain his symbol on his face every morning, seeing you tattoo made him think that maybe he should get something more permanent.

He wasn't surprised though, you were already a certified badass in his eyes. He only wishes you told him sooner, he could have incorporated your tattoo design into the hoverboard he made you.

"Firefly, you didn't tell me you have a tattoo. When did you get this done? Oh yeah? And how come I didn't know about it then? I figure you have more yeah? Can I see them too? How many do you have? I wanna see them all."

Jinx's eyes go wide in awe when she sees your tattoos. Hers is very much on display but yours were hidden under all the clothes you wear.

She studies them, slowly tracing each one with her finger, commenting like she's a tattoo artist herself. Well she does like to draw quite a lot so you think that she at least knows what she's talking about here. She would like to get a matching one to one of yours.

"Whoa sweetstuff. ya didn't tell me ya got these. They're pretty. Anything is pretty on ya. Oof ouch this one is in a delicate spot, must have hurt like a bitch huh? I know you're tough, but I think the tattooist could have done a better job here. Oh, oh hey, I know. I'll get this one too, then we can match! Think of it like a cooler wedding ring."

There aren't many people in Piltover that have tattoos like yours. Most are small, decorative.

Caitlyn is fascinated by them, carefully tracing the outline of each one, asking how many do you have, if there's a special meaning behind them. She think they look beautiful on you and actually would like you to show them off more, Piltover standards be damned.

"These are beautiful darling, why did you hide them from me? Ah, yes Piltover can be a little... strict. But you shouldn't hide who you are, these are part of you after all. Do they have a special meaning? Really now? That sounds lovely. You'll have to tell me more about them."

Well Vi's entire back and arms are covered in tattoos so she suspected you have some as well. She actually thinks that the two of you are pretty similar. Both badasses with tattoos and piercings, no wonder you get along so well.

She asks if she can give you a new tattoo. And you can give her one as well, anything you want. You don't have to be matching, she just wants to have something special from you.

"Damn sweetheart, where have you been hiding these? They suit you. Badass and beautiful. Am I hiding any more? Nah, you've seen all of mine. Unless... do you maybe wanna give each other new ones?"

Viktor was pretty surprised when he saw them. He seemed to study each one for hours, eyes narrowed in concentration but a gentle smile on his face as he asks about them.

There's definitely a curiosity in his voice about how painful one is. He's not sure if he can get one for himself but he's willing to get a temporary matching one with you, if that's something that you would like to see on him.

"There must have taken a long time to get done darling. Were they painful? Hmm, the artwork, the details and the lines, they're incredible. Me? Oh I don't know about that. I don't think I'd look nearly as cool as you with one of these. Haha, alright, alright, but just a small temporary one. Sure, you can pick."

Mel has seem art in many forms, she's an artist herself and loves to talk about it. She hasn't seen anything quite like your tattoos though.

She's ready to talk about them at length while kissing each one slowly. She's never tattooed anyone before but if you want she would be willing to at least design one for you. And also go with you when you go to get is as she wants to know more about the artform.

"Come now darling, hold still, how else can I get a good look at these. For someone who likes to act tough you sure are ticklish aren't you? I've seem many art displays before, but never one like this. Say, would you be willing to let me design one for you? I'm sure it would look absolutely breathtaking on you."

#arcane #arcane x reader #ekko x reader #jinx x reader #caitlyn x reader #vi x reader #mel x reader #ekko #jinx #caitlyn kiramman #vi #mel medarda #arcane headcanons #arcane imagines #league of leguends #league of legends x reader #league of legends headcanons #league of legends imagine

226 notes · View notes

midorisudachi · 1 year

Text

Two Grey Wardens: King Alistair Theirin & His Queen, Sairose Cousland.

This past [late] August & September, I played Dragon Age Origins again (I first played it back in 2011 or 2012: as a high elf and then as a regular/lower caste elf). I was feeling nostalgic in August and decided to play DAO after all this time & I still love it more than ever. It looked a lot smoother on my XBox Series X.

I had decided to play as the noble human from the Cousland family, but made her a warrior. I named her Sairose. And of course, Alistair is just way too adorable. He is the sweetest character ever. I loved his awkward attempts to flirt with my character & their interactions were precious. I wish I could find a real-life Alistair. ;) I also made the choices so that Alistair could become King of Ferelden at the end, with Sairose as his Queen. ^_^ So of course I had two draw them recently. I made Sairose wear a more simple armour (because the armour she had at the end of the game was super detailed & I just didn’t feel like drawing it, lol!). But I kept Alistair in his King armour.

I wanted Sairose to have a rose in her hair, since Alistair’s first gift had been a red rose. That moment was so sweet.

Another thing I absolutely love about DAO is the conversations between characters in your party and their bantering. Zevran’s dialogue is just the best & hilarious! I especially cracked up with this conversation (after Sairose & Alistair have been intimate in their relationship):

Zevran: Might I offer you a bit of advice, my good friend Alistair?

Alistair: I like my hair the way it is, thank you.

Zevran: Truly? As you wish… though my advice is regarding something else completely. It has to do with your recent… exertions with your fellow Grey Warden that I overheard.

Alistair: My…? Oh.

Zevran: It did seem as if you just got going when all grew quiet. You are… feeling all right, yes? Perhaps you are tired?

Alistair: We aren’t talking about this, are we? Did I hit my head?

Zevran: I have some roots from home that you may chew if you need energy. As for volume, perhaps you ought to try arching your-

Alistair: Whoa! Whoa! Awkward!

Zevran: You Fereldens are so finicky. How will you ever learn how to pleasure each other unless you talk about it?

Alistair: Not listening! La la la la la!

I also played Dragon Age II in late September & October, so I have fan art from that as well (with my character & her love interest, Zevran). I haven’t played DAII in a decade!

I started Dragon Age Inquisition about 3 weeks ago, and this is actually the first time I am playing the game. It’s incredibly detailed! And OMG, the maps/environments are HUGE! I love all the quests, too! I’m probably going to make Cullen my character’s love interest. ;)

This was drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens and then coloured in with a mix of Copic Markers (for the skin tones) and the rest is Ohuhu markers. The tan/beige parchment paper background was done in Photoshop Elements. I hope everybody likes this. Any other Dragon Age fans out there? Please let me know if you have drawn Dragon Age fan art! I’d love to see it!

76 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 8 months

Text

the parent trap

CHAPTER EIGHT: let's get down to business!

The boys begin to plot. Camp Walden trembles in fear.

⁂

“All right, then, chaps. To business.”

Remus looks around their other-than-them-empty cabin. “Chaps who?”

“You, Cuppy, and Paddington, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Remus mutters, giving Cuppy a look like can you believe this guy?

“I figure you should learn the layout of the house—I think our plot will be waylaid rather quickly if you can’t find your way to my room, won’t it?”

“Sure,” Remus says, and so Roman flips around one of the many, many posterboards Remus has filched from the arts-and-crafts supplies.

“Here—”

“Whoa, did you draw this?” Remus interrupts already, standing from where he’d been sitting criss-cross applesauce on the ground.

“Well, yes,” Roman says.

Remus takes the time to examine the posterboard; there are photographs of the house from the street pinned to it, as well as the occasional photograph of a room, a basic floorplan rendered in strict lines that might make an architect jealous, but the illustrations of each room are… actually…

“You’re really good,” Remus admits grudgingly.

Even if just in shades of charcoal, the images of the living room, the stairs, the hallways—all of them are rendered in loving, careful detail.

“Thank you,” Roman says, pleased. “Dad taught me, since he’s always sketching gown designs—do you draw?”

“Paint and photography, mostly,” Remus says absently. “Nothing as realistic as this…”

“I had a lot of references,” Roman says, before tapping at the photo of the house from the street. “I see it all the time, anyway. Here it is: Seven Pembroke Lane.”

“Seven Pembroke Lane. That’s where Dad lives.”

“And—”

“—and Uncle Logan who’s not technically our uncle and Grandfather and you—me, I guess, in a few weeks—right. Okay. So you walk into the front door here…”

“—into the main entrance hall—here.” Roman taps a sketch; a big, sweeping staircase winding sneakily up the left side; a hallway leading forward, an arch to the right, paintings dotting the walls. “Umbrellas here—try your best not to let them drip anywhere, it drives Uncle Logan mental—”

“Don’t let umbrellas drip, got it,” Remus says. “Then the living room?”

“—and the coat closet, but I think you understand the gist of that one. Right. Sitting room. Grandfather always says it’s the parlor. We usually spend evenings after dinner in here; if Grandfather starts smoking, he’ll usually step out onto the stairwell. Dad hates it when he smokes in the house, so Grandfather tries not to smoke where he can see.”

“Grandfather smokes?” Remus says, intrigued.

“Mm-hm. Cigars and pipes. He has a lot of opinions on them, but he doesn’t expect me to remember anything about what makes a Corona different from a Taro, or when a cigar is appropriate in comparison to a pipe. Just smile and nod and agree with him.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who smokes cigars. Or pipes. Except maybe businesspeople on fancy trips to the vineyard.”

“Well, you’re about to meet someone who does,” Roman says. “Right next to the parlor is Grandfather’s study—that’s usually where he sneaks off to smoke, there’s a window he cracks open—he or Uncle Logan are usually reading in there. The paper’s a safe bet, we get four—”

“Four?!”

“Yes. The Times, the Wall Street Journal, the Guardian, and the Financial Times.”

“Two Timeses?”

“They’re not the same, but yes: two Timeses.”

“And they read them every day?”

“Well, those and Vogue, but those are getting into magazines anyway. Dad gets loads of them.”

“Lots of recycling and/or scrapbooking materials, cool.”

“And then up the stairs are the dining room and kitchen—that’s usually Uncle Logan’s area—Dad’s room—his is closest to the stairs—and mine, just down here. We take tea in Dad’s room sometimes, just because he has this little alcove that looks over the street—here—”

Remus is already scooting closer to look at the sketch, though; an image of a man with a teacup in hand, his head turned to look out of the window.

“What’s that on his face?” Remus says.

“Birthmark,” Roman says. “He says some people call it a wine stain. He goes to the dermatologist sometimes to make sure it’s all okay—something about blood vessels, I think, he doesn’t talk about it much. I’ve kind of got one, don’t you?”

“No—where?”

Roman obligingly pivots, folding down his left ear slightly so Remus can see a nondescript, vaguely blobbish shape of red.

“It’s kind of funny that the twin with the wine stain didn’t end up in the vineyard,” Remus says. “Also, we’re going to have to figure out a way for me to duplicate that.”

“I guess it is rather funny,” Roman says thoughtfully. “And I suppose I’ll have to cover mine, too. I’ll add it to the list.”

He briefly leans over to jot it down on another posterboard, turned vertical, with a list of objectives they have to achieve before camp ends, finding a place for it under trim Remus’s hair and dye Roman’s hair.

Except, now that Remus is looking at Roman’s ear...

“Uh,” Remus says. “And.”

“And?” Roman says, blinking at him confusedly.

Remus pointedly pinches at his own earlobe.

His own unpierced earlobe.

“Oh,” Roman says, his fingers flying to touch the little gold-and-fake-ruby studs in his own ears. “Oh!”

“Yeah, oh!” Remus says.

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes,” Remus says gleefully. “I’ve always wanted to get piercings!”

⁂

Roman gulps.

“You’re quite sure of this?”

“Oh, yeah,” Remus says, holding ice cubes to the backs of his ears, somehow breezily confident despite the fact that Roman is about to stab him with a needle. “I’ve read all sorts of stuff on piercings. I’d’ve done it myself at home, except Virgil might’ve killed me for not taking the proper safety precautions.”

“That sounds rather contradictory.”

Remus shrugs as best as he can without dislodging the ice. “That’s Virgil.”

“Will they be very angry, do you think?” Roman says.

“Well, there won’t be much they can do about it by the time I—you—get back home,” Remus says, as practical as it can be. “C’mon, go ahead, sterilize the needle! The quicker you get it over with, the quicker I can have my cool new studs.”

Roman whimpers, but he obligingly strikes a match, holding it up to one of his spare sewing needles so it grows as hot as possible, hopefully killing off any bacteria. He blows it away before it can burn his fingers.

“Apple,” Remus prompts, and Roman takes it, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath.

“Okay, on the count of three,” Roman says, voice wavering. “Remove the ice?”

Remus does so eagerly, turning his head to bare his ear, the little dot they’ve painstakingly drawn on to match Roman’s own pierce mark. Roman places the cube of apple under Remus’s earlobe.

“Okay,” Remus says. “Ready?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you?”

“I was born ready,” Remus assures him.

“All right,” Roman says, swallowing. Aim true, old boy. “One… two… three!”

He jams the needle through, then quickly draws back.

But not quickly enough.

The droplets of blood trickle down Remus’s neck, and onto Roman’s waiting hands.

Roman’s ear-splitting shriek must rattle the whole camp.

⁂

“Wicked,” Remus says, turning his head back and forth in admiration of how cool he looks, rocking a pair of silver-and-cubic-zirconia studs stolen from Roman’s extensive jewelry collection.

“Wicked?” Roman says, from where he’s lying reclined on his bed, a cool, damp washcloth over his eyes. Remus rolls his eyes; honestly, he’s acting like the one who got stabbed, twice.

“You know, now that all the bleeding’s stopped, it does look really cool.”

“And the bleeding has stopped?”

“I think I’d know if I was still bleeding,” Remus says. “You’re acting like I lost a pint, or something, it was only a couple drops.”

“Only a couple drops, he says,” Roman says, “you weren’t the one with it running down your wrists,” but at least deigns to lift the washcloth from his face.

“All right, now that you’re feeling less faint—” Remus cheerfully hops over to his trunk, pulling out his hair styling supplies. “We’re going to need to fumigate out this bleach! Back to the sharp tools, Sweeney Todd, I need a trim while we’re at it!”

Roman groans, dropping his head back onto his pillow.

⁂

If Roman thought they’d looked alike before.

Remus, beside him, fluffs a hand through his now-shorter hair; his movement is the only visible difference between them now. They’d both changed into Camp Walden-provided shirts and shorts, to avoid damaging of the clothes they actually liked with any of the bleach. Roman’s obligingly swapped his earrings to match Remus’ silver; Roman has sternly repeated the warnings the piercer had given him about letting things heal.

“You know, I was joking when I said Sweeney Todd, but you did a pretty good job with this,” Remus says. “It’s, like, perfect.”

“Yeah,” Roman says, preoccupied with the way the bleached stripe of his hair catches the sunlight.

Remus grins at him in the mirror. “Freaky.”

“Absolutely.”

“We’re going to completely fool them.”

“Definitely,” Roman agrees fervently.

⁂

“So I don’t have that detailed of sketches, Da Vinci, but I’ve at least got,” Remus unleashes his posterboard with a flourish, pulling off the topsheet he’d placed on top of it. “Tons of pictures!”

“It’s so green,” Roman says, looking awed.

“Well, yeah. Vineyard,” Remus says. “Kind of goes with the territory. Speaking of—the grounds!”

He taps a pointer against an aerial drawing, with vaguely accurate measurements.

“We hang outside a lot, especially in the summers,” Remus informs him. “We ride with Dad on Sprout—”

“Wait!” Roman interrupts, launching to his feet and pulling free a photo. “You have a pony?!”

“Sprout is a mare, thank you,” Remus sniffs. “Not some rinky-dink little pony.”

“And a puppy too!” Roman exclaims, seeing the picture beside him.

“That’s Sammy—he is, to quote Pa, a big ol’ sweetie-pie.”

“I can’t believe you have a pony and a puppy.”

“Well, you have Grandfather,” Remus points out. “And an uncle. I barely have an aunt—”

“We have an aunt?” Roman says.

“Yeah, but we don’t see her much—Auntie Linda‘s cool, she just lives in Georgia,” Remus says. He remembers Roman is, in fact, British, and probably has very little idea on what constitutes the country’s geography, and elaborates, “Across the country and down, and camp here is across the country and up. So she flies in for holidays and stuff, but you probably won’t have to deal with her outside of her maybe calling Pa.”

“Okay,” Roman says slowly. “Auntie Linda. We have an aunt, a horse, and a puppy.”

“Right, Sammy!” Remus says, brightening. “Sammy’s the best, he loves me. If he gets a little nervous about you, just feed him some bacon or salmon and let him up in the bed when Virgil isn’t looking, you’ll win him over easy. He’s a good judge of character, Pa says.”

Roman jots these things down into a little notepad.

“Sprout’s good with everybody; she’s a good beginner’s horse, so if Dad asks you to ride her, don’t sweat it.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Roman repeats incredulously.

“They’re bringing in a donkey or something, aren’t they? We’ll go down and practice, you’ll pick it up in no time.”

“I’m pretty sure a donkey is different from a horse!”

“Well, the basics are the same.”

Roman gives him an incredulous look.

“Really!” Remus insists. “If you can keep your balance on a donkey, you can keep your balance on Sprout. Dad got her for me specifically because I was a kid just starting to learn how to ride. You’re gonna be fine.”

Roman pushes his hand through his freshly-dyed hair, looking a bit stressed, but obligingly jotting down the note anyway.

“Okay. Horse—we’ll practice—and bribe the dog.”

“Back to the grounds,” Remus says, turning back to his photographs. “We don’t help out much on account of that being child labor, but I know my way around pretty well and sometimes I demonstrate how to squish grapes for tourists.”

“Is that very difficult?”

“Nah, just get barefoot and hop up and down on it for a while.” At Roman’s wrinkled nose, Remus insists, “It’s fun!”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“There aren’t a lot of tours, but they happen sometime. Pa’ll warn me whenever there is one, though, and he never makes me go, so if you don’t want to go just say so, he won’t take offense.”

“Are the tours fun?”

“Sometimes,” Remus says. “Some business person gave me a twenty once ‘cause he spilled a chardonnay sample on me. Um, grape-squishing. I learn things like,” Remus sticks his nose into the air, “Why, what a lovely sauvignon blanc! Similar to the New Zealand method, you can really tell it’s preserved all of that herbaceousness.”

Remus pretends to survey a wine bottle, pushing an imaginary pair of glasses up his forehead to squint at the imaginary label, before he returns to an obsessive examination of his fake wine glass, whipping out a fake magnifying glass.

“Oh, what a lovely bouquet… I smell a hint of…” Remus swills an imaginary glass, inhaling noisily as Roman laughs, “That citrusy scent—lemon zest, I do believe—tarragon, some tree fruit—perhaps apple?—ah, how light and crisp on the palate—” a fake swishing, gargling, and noisy smacking of the lips— “Delightful!”

“How do you know all that?” Roman says.

“People at wineries always want to pretend like they know wine really well,” Remus says, “and I mean, I drink some—”

“You drink it?!”

“Not a ton,” Remus says with a laugh. “If I ask really nice, Papa lets me try a sample sometimes. Kids our age do that kind of thing all the time in Italy.”

“What if Papa gives me a sample and I don’t know what to say?”

Remus begins to tick the basic characteristics of a Parker Knoll chardonnay on his fingers. “If it’s a white wine, say something about a light profile, crisp aftertaste, aged with oak, hint of apple or lemon or pear. If it’s a red, say something about blackcurrant or blackberry, cherry, or some spice and vanilla. He’ll probably give you a white wine, though—chardonnay’s one of our signatures.”

Roman is studiously noting every flavor Remus says.

“Oh, and say something about how the California grape is the best!”

“California grapes are the best, got it.”

“And if all else fails, just make fun of the way people drink wine like I did. Not in front of a customer, though, Virgil will lecture us if it’s in front of a customer.”

“Lots of gurgling and lip smacking.”

“And swill around the glass and sniff it really obnoxiously, then you’ve got it,” Remus says. “Now onto the actual house…”

⁂

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong completely!”

Remus sighs, frustrated, stepping back from the five millionth time they’ve tried to practice this damn handshake. The sun’s started to set over the lake’s dock, for goodness’s sake, dying everything orange.

Roman, stressed, pulls at the new streak in his hair. “If you can’t do this, it’ll tip them off completely.”

“What did I even do that time?”

“You were a beat late!”

“A beat late! A measly little beat off, that’s what you’re so stressed about?!”

“I’m never a beat off with his handshake, I’ve known it since I was practically a toddler!” Roman insists. “We’re walking through it again.”

Remus groans but he gets into position.

“All right,” Roman says. “Now, I’m Uncle Logan. Here is my hand.”

Remus, moving slowly, takes it.

“Now up, down, once—up, down, a little faster, and again—”

Remus pumps his arm up and down.

“You stick out your hand—”

Remus does, and Roman slaps his on top of Remus’s, and Remus’s hand follows, and Roman’s last hand.

“And break down and hands together and clap-clap-clap—”

Remus gets this part just fine—it’s like playing the Tic-Tac-Toe clapping game. Hey, he should teach that to Roman!

“And down down down and hit your hip and snap jump—”

Okay, this is the part where Remus gets a bit muddled, but when they’re slowed down like this he does it perfectly.

“Bump hip, jump to switch sides, bump other hip—”

Remus is sorely tempted to bump hips with Roman so intensely it’ll make him fall in the water, just to bring some levity to handshake practice.

“Hands under chin and switch places and now shake hands again.”

Remus does it all. Pitch perfect.

“Again, but now to tempo,” Roman insists, and Remus grumbles but shuffles back into place to do it all over.

⁂

They’re curled up in their pushed-together beds again, sitting up, wrapped in their own blankets.

“Does Dad call you any nicknames?” Remus says sleepily, valiantly trying his hardest not to nod off, as they’ve both been doing for the past two hours. “Pa calls me a lot of nicknames.”

Roman yawns so wide he cracks his jaw, covering his mouth with his hand. “Some. Darling, dear, that kind of thing. Rome, if they’re shortening my name. What does Papa call you?”

“Everything,” Remus says promptly. “Sport, squirt, pumpkin, kiddo, honey, champ, punk. If there’s something that’s not a name that’s shouted through the house, it’s probably me. Sometimes Sammy, but mostly me.”

“He shouts?”

“Not in a mad way, just in a loud American way. Virgil and me shout too, by the way, you’ll have to get used to that. Come here, dinner’s ready, that kind of thing. Does Dad?”

“No. I’ve never heard him shout, except at unsafe drivers while we’re walking on the sidewalk. If he needs me, he’ll probably go looking. Our house isn’t as large as yours, I don’t think, there’s only a few places I’ll be if I’m not right in front of him.”

“That makes sense. You’re all squished up in a city block, we’re in the middle of a big old vineyard…”

“Mm,” Roman says, burrowing deeper into his blankets. “What’s dinner like, over there? What kinds of foods do you have most often?”

“Depends on the season. It doesn’t get super cold in California, but Virgil likes making a lot of soups and stews and stuff during fall and winter. My favorite’s his chili.”

“Chili?”

“What, you’ve never had it?! I guess it’s a pretty American food. Meat, beans, tomatoes, some spice, lots of cheese. Lots of chips and sometimes he makes cornbread to go with it. S’nice.”

“I suppose I’ll have to see.”

“What’s your favorite thing that—hey, who cooks in your house?”

“Oh, Uncle Logan, usually.”

“Huh. Really?”

“He says it’s all chemistry anyway, and he really likes chemistry.”

“What’s your favorite thing Uncle Logan makes, then?”

Roman pauses, considering, then:

“It’s very stereotypical of me, but I suppose it’s whenever he makes us a proper tea.”

Remus grins, propping himself up again. “What makes a proper tea?”

“That varies a lot from household to household,” Roman tells him. “But for us, it’s tea—usually an earl grey or an English breakfast—some sandwiches, some biscuits. If it’s a special occasion, Logan sometimes goes and gets some pastries from a bakery down the street… Oh, the jelly sandwiches! Those are my favorite; those sandwiches and his thumbprint biscuits.”

Biscuits, Remus mouths to himself, then, “Right, cookies! Biscuits are cookies. Okay, jelly sandwiches and jelly cookies—are you sure your favorite food isn’t just jelly?”

Roman grins sheepishly.

“Your favorite food is jelly?!”

“It’s a remarkable jelly!”

“Oh my God, and you think I have the weird eating habits,” Remus says, gently bopping his brother over the head with a pillow.

“You do have weird eating habits,” Roman says, bopping Remus in return. “I’ve seen the concoctions you put together at mealtimes—”

“—excuse me, trying to make decent huevos rancheros isn’t a concoction...”

“Oh, is that what you were doing? I suppose I didn’t make the connection when you just started piling every green vegetable they had into your scrambled eggs and the pieces of toast you tried to roll out onto the table and toast again on a candle…”

“Veggies are important in huevos rancheros! And it’s not my fault they didn’t put out any avocado or chilies or tortillas, I had to improvise…”

And so they bicker cheerfully into the night.

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

#my fic #my fanfic #tpt fic

14 notes · View notes

late-to-the-magnus-archives · 8 months

Text

This Dark Thing That Sleeps In Me - a Magnus Archives AU, Chapter Five

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead.

Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe.

Something truly new was coming this way—new to Jon, new in a way that frightened him, and he was so unused to being scared that it took the breath right from his lungs.

It approached, this thing, like a storm, like the tide, and everyone else in the room turned and bowed toward the door as if they were puppets on a single string.

AO3

Art by @iiiumihottie

Jon thought the carriage was amazing. He ran his fingertips over the dark red lacquer, stared with wide-eyed wonder at the gilded framework depicting battles and ocean waves and indistinct kings, studied the patterned seat fabric, which was unlike any fabric he’d yet encountered.

Martin kept checking around them. The next wave of Fingers weren’t close yet, so they should be okay.

“So you’re saying the date has to wait,” Mike said.

Martin gave him a look of such exasperation that Jon decided, on the spot, that he liked them both.

Before Martin could answer, Jon said, “What’s it like being a vampire?”

Martin and Mike both stared at him.

“How… did you know that I am?” said Martin.

Jon blinked. “I mean. Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?” said Martin. He looked at Mike for confirmation.

Mike shrugs. “Not really, no.”

“Oh.” So he’d said a weird thing. The yelling would come next. Jon dropped his gaze.

But Martin didn’t yell. “You can actually see that?” he said, light and chipper and not at all accusing, and Jon risked a single glance up.

Huh. No yelling seemed to be forthcoming “Yes.”

“What does that look like?”

In Jon’s entire fourteen years, no one had ever asked him that question. “I see red inside of you,” he began at once, leaning forward. “I see it like mist, just beneath your skin, but mostly from the side, not exactly if I look dead on. It’s a little like the purple storms that come sometimes, stealing life the moment they rain, but nobody else can see those, apparently, so I don’t know if you can, or if you know what they look like.”

“Purple,” Martin began, but Jon couldn’t stop now.

“I look at you, and I can see hunger, and feel hunger, and I can tell it’s for blood, and I’ve read books, and I know there haven’t been vampires like you since the First Iteration, but here you are, and that means you’re either very old or very young, because the Will of the End decided the new vampires were no good and got rid of them, though I certainly don’t know why, so either you somehow survived that ‘cleansing,’ or somebody made you new, and that’s just baffling because why would the Will of the End have left you alive so long, anyway? And also, what is it like to drink blood?”

Mike started laughing.

What was with this kid? “You see all that, do you?” said Martin.

“Yes,” said Jon, half hyper, half terrified. Any moment now, he’d be told to shut up. “So what’s it like?”

“Hungry,” said Martin, answering softly. “All the time. It means very patient friends who… help.”

“They let you have their blood,” Jon said.

“I want it to stay personal so it doesn't turn... wrong,” said Martin quietly, and redirected, tilting his head toward Mike. “What do you see when you look at him?”

“Whoa, now,” said Mike.

“You laugh, you’re part of the show,” Martin said primly.

Mike stuck his tongue out at him.

Jon looked. Jon shivered. “Tall jagged mountains, dark brown and spattered with white. I don’t know where they are,” he whispered. “Cold and sharp like knives. So far away you can’t make out the details. I think they’re enormous. The wind is so loud that it feels like your ears are bleeding.”

They all stared at one another.

“Eye?” suggested Mike again.

“Then why can’t we see him clearly?” said Martin.

“I’m not Aligned,” said Jon. “It never happened.”

“That really isn’t possible,” said Martin.

Mike nodded. “Looking right at you, I can see you… sort of. But if I turn my head away, I don’t—and I almost forget you’re there. It’s weird.”

“I think that's why nobody came,” said Jon. “When I turned ten.”

Martin sighed. “Maybe we’ll find out.”

“Bet your friend Sasha could make out a thing or two,” said Mike.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Who’s Sasha?”

“Works for the Heart of the End with me. She’s a natural philosopher.”

Ooh! One of those people who did experiments and discovered things. “So what does she do? Test things with fire and acid and such? Hey—is the Will of the End separate from the Heart? The books sometimes speculated Jonah Magnus was both.”

“Where did you read that? No, they’re two people,” said Martin. “Oliver Banks is the Will of the End.”

“How does that work?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there when it was all set up.” Martin checked out the window again, visibly nervous.

“Should… should we just let them get me?” said Jon. “The empty things were coming for me, after all.”

“The Fingers?” said Mike.

“Yes. Hey, why are they called Fingers? They have full bodies.”

“Because… well, I suppose because they reach out and grab whatever the Will of the End wants,” said Martin.

“Oh,” said Jon. “That’s more boring than I’d hoped.”

“What did you hope?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Jon. “Maybe they all came together like clay and made a huge, single hand. That’d be pretty frightening, right?” he said, demonstrating with his hands an approximation of clay being mushed together.

“I like this kid,” said Mike, and Jon reddened.

The carriage angled suddenly, front end tilting so Jon was pressed back into his seat. He gasped. “Are we falling?”

“Oh—no, we’re on the path,” said Martin.

Jon stared at him. “What’s that?”

“Ever made it to the far end of London?”

“No, I… it felt like I shouldn’t.” His past self had said to stay away from this side of the city, so he had.

Martin wrestled with the window, which opened with a squeak. “Take a look.”

Jon carefully stuck his head through. At first glance, they seemed to be floating. All around them was a precipitous drop, terrible all the way down to white, foaming ocean. Jon, of course, leaned right out the window to see more.

Martin grabbed the back of his jacket, discovered its structural integrity was suspect, and held his arm instead.

Jon gave him a panicked look.

“Just so you can look without falling,” Martin says. “It’s all right. Go on.”

Permission to see?

Permission to see! Jon never got permission to see. He leaned back out the window.

The cab (and dead horse) trotted along a gently curving path that rose from the ocean like a wall, and it was so narrow that the wheels skirted right along the edge. There was no room for error; there was no room for another carriage. Fascinated, Jon looked back at London.

He had never imagined anything like it. Books did a fair job of describing things, but they were nothing like sight. London sprawled. It smoked like one big chimney. People like ants crawled all over its streets, and carriages of various sizes and wealth reflected sunlight like knives. It was gloriously ugly; uneven, asymmetrical, an absolute mess of housing and occasional manors.

And Jon realized with a shock that he could not tell where his home had been.

He had no reference point. There were many alleys, many row houses like he’d seen from his windows, many old, out-of-date buildings looming between the newer builds. The place he’d grown up was… lost to him. He hadn’t liked it, but still. This was a very, very weird feeling.

(And a familiar one. You can never go home again came to him from his past self, which he didn’t understand, but felt hollow and powerful and true.)

Martin tapped his shoulder. “Look the other way,” he said.

So. That might have been the reason his gut said to stay away, because once he'd got an eyeful of this place, he wouldn’t have been able to.

This palace—fortress?—seemed to rise from rock thrust up from the sea, and it was a strange, black stone laced with purple chunks and purple branches, castellated and columned. Its edges matched the edges of the foundational rock on which it sat, and so its shape was odd; it had so many windows (and so many floors) that Jon was overwhelmed, forgetting how to count, and had to crane his neck to look up, up, up at the tallest, narrow tower, which rose so high in the air that its top seemed to narrow to a point.

“It’s something, right?” said Martin.

Jon didn’t want to come back into the carriage, but if he didn’t, he couldn’t ask questions. He compromised by pulling partway in before speaking. “It seems… large?”

Mike snorted.

“It is,” said Martin.

“Why is it so large?”

“The Heart of the End likes fancy things,” said Martin.

Well, it seemed fancy. “When was it built? How?”

“That’s before my time, I’m afraid,” said Martin.

“So you’re a young vampire,” said Jon.

Martin smiled. “I’m not that young—been doing this for over a century. Not entirely sure how long—lost a couple of years there, after my change.”

“It’s called the transformation, ” Jon informed him primly.

Mike snorted again.

“Be nice,” said Martin said to him. “I’m the only vampire right now, and the Heart called it the change.”

Jon looked betrayed. “He changed the name?”

Don’t laugh, Martin told himself. “He did.”

“I don’t like it when they change the names of things,” said Jon, his voice cracking. “Then nobody knows anything.”

“Probably half the reason he does it,” Martin muttered.

“Don’t need to know anything, though, do you?” says Mike. “It doesn’t really matter.”

And fuck, did the carriage get cold, and huge, though nothing had changed, and no one had moved, but suddenly they were so far away from each other that they could not see one another’s faces. Martin gasped. The irrelevance hit him in the chest, like it always did. They’d fucked like this, a couple of times, and it had its pros—all about pure sensation, no sense of self—but he didn’t honestly enjoy forgetting who he was or why it mattered.

It didn’t affect Jon that way. It didn’t affect Jon at all. “But it does matter!” Jon shouted, not angrily, but just because everyone was far.

“Mike, please!” Martin gasped, his voice sounding distant and tinny and tinny.

Jon looked around. “This is so weird!” he shouted, then winced at his own volume.

Mike frowned, and suddenly the carriage was normal. “He’s Eye,” he said. “Can’t mark him for the Vast.”

“He’s not marked by the Eye, either, according to Annabelle.” Martin was shivering. “Warn a guy, would you?”

“Sorry. But he should’ve been marked.”

“By all means, take it up with the disembodied eyeball.” Martin said, and rubbed his face as the carriage finally came to a halt. “Thank the grave, we’re here,” he muttered, hopped out, and held the door for Jon.

Jon looked fine. He hopped down, nearly lost his footing, and leaned into Martin’s grab.

This boy was skin and bone. “When did you last eat something?” said Martin.

“Yesterday,” said Jon. “I’m not hungry right now.”

Martin sighed. “Sure. Come on. It’s time to meet my natural philosopher friend.”

“Sasha.”

“That’s right.”

Mike followed.

“You sure?” said Martin to him, over his shoulder.

“Just because they don’t ring your bell like I do,” said Mike, left it at that, and followed.

Jon tried to see everything as they went inside; to note the pillars and archways, to wonder at the windows so high nothing could see through them, to ponder at the dark shadows left and right. So many doors, so many pathways. The floor hid some kind of shiny pattern in polished, dark stone; his boots, still soaked from his dunk in the sea, slipped on it more than a little. But then they turned away from this main, broad foyer, and through one of the arched and pointed doors.

It was a hall. Lined with more doors, and only a stone flag floor instead of shiny patterned black. This was a far less intimidating area.

Still. The weight of this enormous structure seemed to press down on him, and Jon hunched. “I’m sorry, I’m making a mess,” he said.

“It’s okay. Someone will clean it up. Come on.” Martin sounded like he meant it.

“Hey,” Jon said. “Are you nice because you’re a vampire?”

Martin blinked at him, pausing with his hand on yet another door. “What?”

“You’re nicer than anyone I’ve met,” said Jon. “The only factor not shared by others is that you’re a vampire. So. Does that make you nice?”

“Uh… I think being nice makes you nice?” said Martin, who had absolutely no idea where to go with this.

Jon looked dissatisfied. “That’s like saying fire burns because it’s hot.”

Martin took another turn. “All right, well,” he said. “I think being kind—which is more important than nice—is a choice.”

“Why is it more important?”

What was with this kid? “Nice is fake. It’s being polite when you don’t actually mean it, and not bothering when it costs you anything. Being kind is better. It means you don’t get anything out of it, and you’re choosing to do the right thing to others whether or not it hurts you.”

Jon suddenly felt off. “Is being kind to me hurting you?”

“What? No, no, it… I mean, it doesn’t always hurt.”

“Oh.” But something did. Jon knew. Martin’s kindness to him was dangerous to Martin, or… or…

He couldn’t hold onto that answer, and it was gone. He sighed.

“You’ve really never met anybody who’s just even nice to you?” said Martin.

“No.” Jon was quiet.

Martin took that in. “I’m sorry. People should’ve been,” he said, and opened another door.

It was a dark room, very dark, with a single table under bright white light and two silhouettes of people.

“Marto!” said a man. “To what do we owe the honor?”

“I have a conundrum,” said Martin.

“And so you bring your problems to me, as always,” said a woman with cheer, and stepped out of the gloom. She was pretty; her kinky hair was thick and pulled back in a bun. She was dressed in an odd white uniform, a long coat with too many buttons to be decorative, and on her head was some kind of bizarre contraption of brass and glass and limbs to move the lenses around. “Ugh. You could’ve just said it was him.”

“Yo,” said Mike over Martin’s shoulder.

“What? No, it’s this kid,” said Martin.

Both people startled.

“What… what the fuck is that?” said the man, coming forward into the light.

Jon knew him. Knew Sasha, too. He was beginning to get a feeling about all of this regarding his past self.

This man wore a positively indecent white shirt that didn’t even have buttons and just closed in a vee under the red sash around his waist. His black pants were so tight that Jon could see far too much; his earrings sparkled (and didn’t match, but that was somehow better). His lips had to be artificially pink, and so did the blue shading around his brown eyes; dark hair, tanned skin, and a grin that made Jon want to grin back all felt like something he knew like the back of his hand, though he had definitely never met this man before.

“This is Jon. So it’s hard to see him,” said Martin.

“Yeah, can see that. Why?” said the man.

“I can’t tell what I’m…” said the woman, who had to be Sasha, and bent down a little to make eye-contact. “You’re alive, right?”

“I think so,” said Jon. “If not, I’m annoyed that I still get hungry and need sleep.”

“A valid point.” She smiled. “I’m Sasha.”

“I know. Martin told me.”

“Did he, now?” she said, glancing over his head at Martin.

The man (Jon almost had his name) leaned in, peering. “What happened to you? You look like a wet cat.”

Martin sighed. “Kind of a lot? I had to fight Fingers.”

“Oh, nasty,” said the man with relish.

Sasha frowned, eyeing Jon’s clothes with clinical precision. “Underfed,” she said, leaning in. Her eye through that single goggle was enormous. “And you are Uncertain. I don’t know how, but you are.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m fourteen, Ms. James.”

“Tim, can you get some clothes for them both?” said Sasha. “Jon, you can use my chemical burn shower. Martin, use the one in my room. You both need it fairly badly.”

“Sorry,” said Martin.

“Can I watch?” said Mike.

“Not helping,” Martin muttered at him.

Tim grinned and opened his mouth to say something, and then he froze.

They all froze.

Something truly new was coming this way—new to Jon, new in a way that frightened him, and he was so unused to being scared that it took the breath right from his lungs.

It approached, this thing, like a storm, like the tide, and everyone else in the room turned and bowed toward the door as if they were puppets on a single string.

Jon panicked. Should he hide? What should he do?

Steady, said that self, that past, that source of Answers, telling him to brace, to be still, to be smart.

Jon tried to calm his mind, but couldn’t help holding his breath.

chapter six

#rusty quill big bang #rusty quill big bang 2023 #rqbb2023 #tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #magpod #magnuspod #tma au #the magnus archives au #tma spoilers #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #jonah magnus #annabelle cane #tim stoker #this dark thing that sleeps in me

7 notes · View notes

robotlesbianjavert · 11 months

Note

🤚Spinaraki🦎 14, 20, 39!!

yes. thank you. spinaraki forever.

14. How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

in regards to how their personalities complement each other, this is an aspect of my ideal leader/second-in-command dynamic: i feel like shigaraki is more of a 'big picture' kind of person. he knows what he wants (the destruction of hero society - you can debate about the underlying desires there, like his victimhood being recognized or what the fuck ever, but it all feeds back into he does genuinely want to see hero society destroyed), while the specifics of how he gets what he wants are more come as they may. (twice was the one who brought overhaul to the league and therefore the quirk-erasing bullets, ujiko and machia were already on tap waiting to be unlocked, the mla made the first move). it's not that he's lazy, but he's more about turning the situations that land in his lap to his advantage rather than proactively pursuing them. he deals with his emptiness with a future-forward focus.

on the other hand, i believe that in a situation where he could truly flourish as a second-in-command, spinner would absolutely love to deal with the details and logistics of reaching that 'big picture'. i think he's more in need of something to do NOW, hence doing something crazy like running away from home to join a terrorist group with only being a hikikomori on his resume after seeing a serial killer on tv. he needs something to fill up his day in between big inspiring moments like 'whoa so true fake heroes should be murdered' and 'whoa so true society should just be destroyed entirely'. so between the two of them, you get shigaraki providing a big picture for spinner to actually concentrate his energy on, and you got spinner gearing to do the dirty work to ensure shigaraki can actually craft that big picture.

that's also a central clash between them, which i think 220 demonstrates. shigaraki's not exactly being lazy in searching out the doctor to try and hit a new phase in his 'destroy society' goal, but he's not exactly turning over every rock to find the doctor either; they're surviving day to day. and i've expressed this before i think, but i strongly believe that spinner's outburst is partly because not being able to constructively work towards something, being stuck in a rut is too familiar to his empty hikikomori days. so you get that friction during periods where forward momentum just is not happening.

another personal headcanon for them that i think fits for this question (and is kinda at odds with my prior answer) is in regards to their gaming habits. i feel like shigaraki is a more structurally-focused gamer, wants to 100% the game and manipulate the mechanics to their fullest extent. even when he talks about the newly-formed league as a sims game in the forest training arc, i think he's conceptualizing it as using people's skills appropriately. conversely, i think spinner is more interested in the lore of a game, or the ways that games can be considered art. not that he's not up to snuff on game mechanics and everything, and he'll still play a beat 'em up to pass the time, but he gets more excited when there's some element worth getting passionate about.

in this headcanon, there's a lot of room for shigaraki and spinner to talk to each other about games and have rigorous discussions about each other's perspectives and preferences. but alternatively they can also think the other is an IDIOT and a CHARLATAN and a FAKE GAMER and mercilessly rib each other about it. <3

20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

ohhh boy. oh boy okay. man this is always a tricky question cuz it's so easy to just relate whatever good song to your otp. i did have this lil playlist from like 2019-2020 where i still really the songs to them, but i'd have to really sit down and consider this considering how much of my spinaraki understanding has evolved since then.

until then. crazy ex-girlfriend 'i hate everything but you' will never let me down.

39. Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

see now this is a tricky one cuz i don't think either of them would go out of their way to rescue injured animals. but i'll give it to spinner because a project like that would really help him feel good about himself. and shigaraki would see spinner taking care of this lil thing that everyone else has abandoned and ignored and resolutely be like i'm NOT mushy about this you cannot trick me into being mushy about this. me wanting to jump his bones and also fantasize about domestic life with him is unrelated.

i know that a lot of people take tenko's history with mon-chan to give him pets that he can love and therapize about, but as a jaded adult i think it would be a lot harder for him to bond with an animal. but that's all lead up to my secret true headcanon where he's like one of those dads who's like "no we don't need this pet i don't want this pet" but as soon as they get that pet it is napping on his lap and he's letting it and they are napping together. in that dad way. i assume for other guys' dads. it's a stereotype.

#thank you for the ask. my friend.#bnha bloggin #spinaraki #ask meme answer

12 notes · View notes

xjustakay · 3 months

Note

Kay I always get so distracted by your Jegulus that I forget to tell you how much I love the concept of tattoo artist Sirius!!! (criminal, I know, but better late than never)

Soooo if you feel up to indulging me in some more antidote lore, I would love to know: What is his art style? What kind of things does he like tattooing? Has he given Regulus any tattoos? Will he be giving Regulus any tattoos? James maybe?? 👀 Remus?! (sorry my brain is just running with this now and trying to give everyone tattoos lol) ANYWAYS. I hope you have a lovely day today! I adore you and your writing and your lore always<333

getting distracted by the jegulus is such a mood, it's their world i'm just living in it lmao. but!!! i do love me some tattoo artist sirius and it's such a small detail in antidote actually i didn't think most people would pay it any mind but i love it lol.

i do have a regulus gets a tattoo idea in mind actually so at the very least yes on that front! (won't get too into it bc it'll likely be a future chapter lol) james would be so easily convinced tbh, wouldn't take much for him to be like yeah sure sounds fun, whoa cool that's a sick design, do that one. but remus is more like "wow uh huh that's nice" about tattoos so he wouldn't ever get one himself. appreciates sirius' tattoos and the work that sirius does, obviously, but that's about where that ends.

as far as sirius' style goes, he's one of those artists that's like covered in black ink, specifically, for himself. like has all kinds of different styles and designs, but he doesn't really do color for the tattoos he has done on him. for his tattooing though, like what he does for other people, he's big on using colors, looooves using 'em and playing around with contrast and imagery and all that. neo traditional is where i lean for his tattoo style specialty, because it's similar enough to old school/classic american traditional stuff in some cases, but it's got a wider color palette to play around with, plus the line work is more varied, there's often more shading. it gives him more creative wiggle room to fuck around and do something really cool without such strict parameters (bc old school american trad tattoos are a really specific and well-known classic style). did i go on pinterest and snag some examples? of course i did: x / x / x / x

#smooching you always for humoring me and my Too Much gene pom lol #also i really wanna go get another tattoo now that i've talked about them ajdfkaljdk #ILY MWAH #pom tag<3 #fic: you got the antidote

4 notes · View notes

fractualized · 1 year

Text

It's that time again: thoughts on The Man Who Stopped Laughing #5!

Spoilers below, of course, and a reference to suicide and some definite body horror.

If there was one thing I didn't expect this issue to start with, it's Joker emulating his boyfrenemy.

The implied bat pun. The exposed midriff. … I def saw fan art like this once.

So it's been a few days since Joker escaped the hospital, and his getup indicates he's been investigating who his imposter is (if he is an imposter). And now he's in one of his old hideouts wondering why the Mad Hatter has set up shop there.

And of course since the Mad Hatter is usually relegated to Creepy Weirdo, there are some unfortunate kids here. Joker isn't worried about their welfare, but I'm pretty sure Jervis soon won't be in a state to do them any harm.

Jervis says he got the key from Other Joker, who is back in town, and Jason's own investigation on where his clown quarry soon leads him to the same information, after ruining Killer Moth's night.

So the Joker who ran off to LA is still seen as the real one, and word has spread there's an imposter running around.

Uh oh! Whatever Jervis told Joker, it's leading him to a trap! But what helpful information for Ja—

LOL Poor Moth.

Over in the trap, we see some fun effects with the speech bubble.

That's no reason for me to think Protag Joker is the real one but I do, okay, I'll take any hint

It's not a subtle trap, is it?

Joker looking at himself like 😍

And then…

Lmaoooooooooo of course he did. Joker smelled a trap, of course, and even got a lock to keep the other Joker inside so they could burn together. He says he doesn't want to die but boy does Joker always have doubtful ways of showing it.

There's an interlude with Jason and Stephanie, in which she talks about Bruce like he's in the city.

So I guess this takes place before the current Batman storyline. Or after. Or in some amorphous space. Maybe concurrently with the Punchline comic? Does DC actually give a crap about continuity?

Meanwhile back at the fire, the Other Joker's dialogue gets a little suspect.

Protag Joker's had a water gun this whole time, and I thought it had gasoline in it, but…

Well, acid works fine, and it gets him out of the cage. Though I assume he's not gonna jump out the new hole in the wall.

Back at the coffee meetup, we learn Bruce doesn't think Protag Joker is the real deal. :(

Which implies that Bruce is aware of the Joker situation and just left Other Joker to do his thing in LA?? That raises questions that I sure hope get answered, because huh??

The fire gets big enough for Jason and Stephanie to notice it, as Joker walks out of the building and tracks his double down an open grate.

I like the detail that Joker slides down the ladder. :)

And alright, here we go! Time to get some answers!

DAMMIT, JASON

Yeah, sure, Joker got run over by a train. See you next issue, buddy.

Well, I'm glad Jason got to shoot a Joker copy in a good comic.

Oh whoa WHOA! The answer! Other Joker has been Clayface all the long! Well, that's a little overdone, but I've been wanting to know—

DAMMIT, ROSENBERG! Why must you taunt me!

But we end on this amazing beachside image:

Okay, I forgive you, Rosenberg. The speedo, the flowy robe, the hat, the muscled manservant with the fruity drink… Di Giandomenico, I love you.

So apparently Other Joker is going back to Gotham for real now, but the end-title implies we won't see a real Joker-to-Joker confrontation next month. :( But I can deal so long as I'm still having a fun time.

Alright, backer time: we have yet another woman Joker is trying to woo, and yet another strange way to produce Joker copies.

Here the uninterested woman is Giganta, and my interest in this trope is waning, not helped by this joke:

Joker's been pursuing women in most of these backers, and I've been able to set that aside because they're so ridiculous, but it makes it hard to see this pun as unconsequential. I'm gonna stare at that last panel in the main story to feel better.

There's no mpreg to be found in this backer, just Joker working regular jobs to convince Giganta he's not evil. And when that doesn't work…

He calls up Etrigan, who doesn't think making a clown not evil is a good use of his time.

Lol Etrigan's unfinished rhyme

The demon gets his revenge, though, when he tricks Joker into reading the wrong spell.

I put this into Google translate and got:

"that his hands, head, and feet may be destroyed by worms, cancer, and vermin, and his medulous members may be destroyed"

Which sorta tracks with what happens, which is that Joker grows as big as Giganta, and then we get some body horror!!

Giganta, uh, remains uninterested and leaves with Etrigan.

I guess we can look at it as all of Joker's evil squeezing out of him like popped zits. 😬 But the marks are still left behind and so are all the little vermin. But at least they're supportive?

I have a feeling Fox News won't be interested in this one.

#the man who stopped laughing #joker #my jibber-jabber #spoilers #body horror

20 notes · View notes