#background study turned into me wanting to draw will? YES!

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

✧˚ · .Painting their portrait ✧˚ · .

Note: I hope everyone is doing well 💖 I hope you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💖 If you want to commission me check my ko-fi and pinned post for prices. Thank you!

When he found out about your talent, he immediately bought you the most expensive equipment. Whether you like to paint on a canvas or on a graphic tablet, he will buy you only the best products. 

He's very old-fashioned and wants a classic portrait. He'll arrange a proper setting to fit his taste. With a fireplace in the background, an expensive suit, and some other decoration that screams old money, he’ll sit with his legs crossed in his comfy chair while he looks at you. A soft smile would appear on his face, especially when you two locked eyes. You thought about painting that lovely smile and contouring those sweet dimples, but you know him better and chose to leave a stoic expression on his face. His soft side is for your eyes only. 

He won’t mind sitting for hours because he'll have the greatest company. You two will gossip about the hottest tea at work, talk about his latest projects, and besides that, he'll have his romantic moments when he tells you how much he cherishes you. 

The final result leaves him in awe.

"Darling, this is astonishing." He said, amber eyes studying every inch of the canvas and feeling an immense sense of pride washing over him. He couldn't take his eyes off your masterpiece.

"I knew you had it in you," he began after a short period of total silence. "Yet you managed to exceed my expectations."

You breathe a sigh of relief. Even if he was your boyfriend, it was hard to please him. He didn't coddle you, so when he praised you, you knew it was real. 

He will hang that portrait with pride in his office, and he’ll tell everyone with pride that his partner made the incredible art.

With the corner of his eye, he noticed how you kept shifting your gaze from your notebook to him. Sometimes you'd stare longer at him, and sometimes your hand would go faster and then slower as if you were trying to remember something. Sometimes, you would scratch your head with the pencil and sighed in frustration. 

Whatever you were doodling, it wasn't coming along as you wanted.

Not being able to control his curiosity anymore, he slowly approached your desk. 

"Whatcha doing there?" he asked, looking over your shoulder, directly in the notebook. A wide smile appeared shortly. 

You didn't hide the page in time, and Leon saw the sketches with his face. You drew him from three different angles. Even if you were in a hurry, you still captured his soft features—his genuine smile and his gentle gaze.

"I- uh-I..." you fumbled, hands going in random directions over the paper.

"You don't have to hide it. I think it looks good." He smirked and went back to his desk. 

"Thanks. Listen, I was taking a break, and I felt a bit of inspiration coming in-"

"You don't have to excuse yourself." He chucked and turned to face you. In that moment, you saw a faint blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks great, given how fast you draw."

"And given how much you fidget,"

He chuckled. 

"Seriously, man, lay off that coffee." 

You both laughed, making some people turn their attention to you out of curiosity. A quick glance around, and you quiet down a bit. 

"If you want to finish, I'll try my best to stand still." 

"I would appreciate that." 

You both smiled at each other. Time went by fast, and by the time you finished, the office was empty. None of you felt the time passing by as you got to know each other better. Leon loved his portraits and "stole" your notebook. 

He loved everything you did. Every gesture, every tic, everything was just perfect for him. 

What he cherished most was your talent when it came to art. Everything you touched turned into a masterpiece, something so beautiful that it can’t be described by a simple man. So, when you wanted to paint him, he looked at you in shock. 

"Me?" 

"Yes, you." 

"Why?" he chuckled. 

"Because I want to. And because I want an excuse to stare at your picture for hours while you are away on missions." 

He pulled you closer and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

"Alright. Make sure to highlight my good side." 

"As if you have a bad one." 

Despite loving how affectionate and supportive you were with him, he never understood why. He viewed himself as a rough, cranky man who got on everyone's nerve. For short, an asshole. But to you, he wasn't like that. Despite the hardships in his life, he still maintained a soft gaze. 

Naturally, he wondered why you wanted him to be part of your beautiful portfolio. And more importantly, did he deserve to be part of it?

For the next couple of days, he waited for you to finish. He would peek in your room to see the progress, but you didn't let him. You wanted to surprise him.

When he came back from his mission, arriving in your comfy apartment, you shoved your art in front of his face. 

"Do you like it?" you asked excitedly.

He reluctantly took the canvas and stared at it for a few seconds. It's not that he didn't like it. It's the fact that he didn't recognize himself. His scars weren’t so prominent, his eyes weren't so full of sadness and anger, and his lips were curved in a soft smile. His features were softer, friendlier, even. 

“This… I know it’s me, but it feels like I’m looking at a stranger.”

"Why do you say that?”

“It feels like you retouched my face.”

“Hmm, no, this is how you look in real life. You're not as tough-looking as you think."

He loves it regardless, and he loves you even more. 

His muse in this life was you. Every time he looked at you, every time he saw your pretty face, his mood would lighten up in a heartbeat. A catastrophe at the moment would turn into something insignificant, something he could overcome with ease.

What he loved most about you was your talent. He was amazed at the beautiful things you could create with your hands, unlike him. He found refuge in your art, staring at your finished and unfinished projects for hours.

"Mi dulzura, what masterpieces are you creating?"

"Thank you, mi rey. Wanna be part of them?"

He smiled. He approached you with light footsteps, rubbing your shoulders gently when he reached your back.

"I'd be honoured."

He was thrilled. Being fascinated by your talent, he wanted to ask you long ago, but he didn't want to overcrowd you as you had many projects and clients. He didn't want to put more pressure. He simply told you that he doesn't want anything fancy.

He waited every day for you to finish, barely containing himself from asking dozens of questions. You had to kick him out multiple times from your room because you wanted to surprise him.

"Luis," you called out, "it's done!"

He came in a hurry, and as expected, he loved the result. He wouldn't stop praising you for creating another masterpiece.

"This is...I have no words. It's simply stunning."

"Well, you are stunning," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I guess I really am your Prince Charming."

You chuckled and were ready to say something, but he caught your lips in a quick, gentle kiss.

From that moment on, he becomes your one and only muse. You'd paint him in various poses and various clothes, sometimes with you as well. He would sit near you, watching you do your magic without saying a word. He loves and respects what you do a lot. 

#resident evil #albert wesker #leon kennedy #luis sera #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy x reader #albert wesker x reader #luis serra x reader #jack krauser #jack krauser x reader #fluff #headcanons

[lilyrachelcassidy]

'Amity' (Felix Catton x Reader)

A/N: Hiya, y'all. Welcome back after this what-seems-like-forever hiatus. Coming back with a fully-fluffy fluff, so if you are feeling mushy today, go for it.

Warnings: As much as I love exploiting TGs, today is not the day.

Summary: Some fluffy encounter with Felix.

Word Count: 0.6k

"Y/N, yeah?" asked a voice behind you.

You turned around, clearly startled to see no other than Felix Catton right in front of you. It was unforeseen, seeing as he had never engaged in nothing beyond a quick gaze exchange with you. You always wondered who would be the one to give in and finally initiate a conversation, should that ever happen in the first place.

"What's up?" you asked, innocently, bestowing him with a friendly grin on your part. Instinctively, he reciprocated the gesture.

"Uhm.. yeah. So I have seen you around the campus. Plenty of time, actually. We never really had a chance to talk... And I... you know..." He began toying with his fingers, momentarily losing your gaze.

Was he stressed? It seemed so... A bizarre sight it was, seeing a flustered man of two meters stumbling upon his words and blushing like a girl. Upon his downcast smile, your grin ever so widened at the cuteness of this scene.

But gosh, was he bewitching. These doe brown eyes and slightly too-long-hair played the tricks on your mind as he stood there, dwarfing over your figure with his lofty posture.

"You know, if you want to ask me out..." A taunting smirk pained on your lips. "I would be more than pleased to say 'yes.'"

He instantaneously, somehow with too much animation, looked at you from the ground. His eyes held a state of avidity and relief in them. After ogling you for a few seconds, frozen, he probably realized that he was gaping and so he smiled at you keenly with his gaze momentarily dropping to your lips. It was a hasty action, almost imperceptible if you weren't scrutinizing his face. But you noticed.

"Really?" he more sighed than asked. Even so, your eyes lit up and you nodded, trying to pull off the most composed version of yourself, yet failing miserably. "So that's cool."

You both laughed at that. You studied each other's expressions for longer than necessary, the two of you somehow locked in the moment and not able to draw away. Somewhere in the background, someone called out your name and it finally clicked that you should probably get going at this point.

"Listen, as much as I love talking to you... I have to go," you said with a pout which was actually genuine. You detested the fact that you couldn't stay out any longer, delve into the chat with Felix; but your teacher probably had already begun the lecture and it didn't deem ideal for you to lose another one of disquisitions after a day of a hangover break. Or a series of such breaks.

Felix pursed his lips, disappointment imparting on his features. With a mere nod of acknowledgment, he forced on a smile, making some nugatory movement with his arms as if suddenly not knowing what to do with them. "So see you after classes, yeah?"

"Mhm..." you hummed, casually smiling at him in response. Once he started to walk away, his long legs taking the strides that quickly carried him away from you, you determined to ask him one last question before departing: "Don't you want my phone number or something?"

He only twisted his head over his shoulder to get a better view of you. Then he beamed at you. "Already got it."

And he winked. A cocky, playful wink that made your insides flip.

A minute or two later, your phone screen lit up with the unknown number sending over a text: "So a picnic, next weekend?"

xoxoxooxooxoxoox

A/N: I feel like everyone at some point of their lives has to have a crush on Jacob Elordi. Imo the best version of him is the one in Saltburn, like *a girly scream of thirst.* As always, constructive criticism and whatever feedback highly appreciated.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton imagine #felix x reader #saltburn 2023 #saltburn #Jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi imagine

[startwelve]

I Love You Too

Pairing: Maddy Pérez x male!reader/reader Summary: Maddy makes up the reader and how they met Warnings: A bit of obscenity. Without checking. Not my best, but worst job. I think the gender of the reader is not mentioned. Note: Sorry for the absence, I have a busy life, but I'm back with this Maddy fic. Sorry, she doesn't have the same narrative as my other fics, but I wanted to post something.

"Please be careful. Don't poke my eye out"

Maddy laughed.

"Stop whining"

She was straddling you and painting your lower eyelid black. You're sitting on her bed with your back leaning against the head of her bed and your hands gripping her hips, drawing imaginary circles with your thumbs. And a Pink Floyd song in the background.

You and Maddy had planned to study for history at her house, ending in a make-out session in her bed and on the way to something else. But on your part there was no desire, then Maddy had an idea; Makeup. Even if you listen to rock, it wasn't your thing to be in eyeliner and all that.

You gave her a kiss and as she walked away, she smiled.

"Your smile is very pretty," you're flattered.

Maddy smiled even more.

You were so cute with her that she didn't want you to ever leave her side. All of her previous boyfriends of hers were very… Nate. And luckily for her, she opened her eyes at it.

After breaking up with Nate, she decided to take some time, clear some things up, and meet more people. Then one night out, she met you. You were sitting on a sofa in the corner of the room, away from everyone. A friend of yours had dragged you to the place. That environment was not your thing. Pop music? It made you vomit. You'd rather be at a Metallica concert. Therefore, you were sitting, smoking a cigarette, oblivious to what was happening around you. Until you saw her in the crowd.

Her dance had mesmerized you, and you couldn't take your eyes off her. Maddy captured her and that night they ended up in a room in that unknown house.

At first, it was just that. Both you and her did not feel that you had something in common to take those meetings to something more. Well, that's what you thought until one afternoon…

You kissed her neck, while you rubbed with the rough tip of your finger, her soft and swollen clit, causing moans and sighs to spill from her lips. She was already reaching the edge of her, her vagina clenching around nothing and her moans getting louder. I grab your face, she attracted you in a messy kiss and without thinking she whispered; I love you.

You turned away from her completely and frowned at her, confused by her statement.

"I love you too," you confessed and kissed her again.

After that event, you and Maddy started dating. There were moments of tension, but nothing worrying enough to end in a separation.

Going back to the beginning…

"I'm done," Maddy said.

I hand you a mirror, and she bit her lower lip as you examined the final work. You smiled.

"I like it"

-Yeah? Maddy asked.

"Yes," you confirmed.

"From here on, you will do it to me," you said without taking your eyes off your reflection in the mirror.

Maddy smiled. You thought of continuing with her in the future, and he really liked the idea of her, because it was one of the best things he had of her in her life.

#euphoria #fanfic #maddy perez x male!reader #maddy perez x reader #maddy perez #maddy euphoria #maddy perez smut

[guppyfish77]

Another year Another summary of Art! An Entire Year of Submas lets gooooooooooo!!!! This year I feel like I really pushed myself when it comes to illustrations and I feel like I've learned a lot! But at the same time I feel a little tired, next year I think I wanna relax and experiment a bit more, I gotta learn to loosen up! Might get more art out if I do :p

I also feel the Submas grip ever so lightly relaxing (unless they decide to do Unova remakes haha XD), so I might introduce some of my numerous ocs in 2024! I'll probably start with the conductor oc ;]

Thank you for all your support! (you are all very nice! ToT), I still have a good amount of submas stuff planned in the works so look forward to that (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

If you are interested, I also have some commentary and behind the scenes for some of my submas illustrations! I wanna talk about it and now seems like a good time to do so now that the year is over! (Beware! its going to be long!)

All titles are linked to the original post

Lunch Break

hoho! This one is the sort of AU thing in which the only thing that changes is that I give Emmet a Victini friend (not a part of his team, I dubbed them the "victory duo" because Emmet likes winning and Victini is the Victory Pokemon), I planned out a few wordless comics regarding the idea, they were all very lighthearted slice of life kind of stuff, usually Victini causing some mischief and the brothers having to deal with it

and here's the thumbnails for this piece! I played around with various angles but decided to keep it simple and choose a straight on angle. It was originally a snack break and Emmet sharing a granola bar with Victini, but as I was planning it, submas unexpectedly showed up in the Pokemon Anime where they were serving ekiben, after learning about it it quickly turned into a lunch break! (how fun when new information lines up with an art piece you are working on hoho! ^ ^) After studying what foods Ekiben usually have in them (there was quite a variety!) I took what I learned and try to make the food look like the gear station logo :D

In the background there are children drawings because in the battle subway one of the trainer classes you can face off against are preschoolers, and I thought at least one of them would share their drawings with the subway bosses (and of course why wouldn't they hang it up?), there is also a trophy in which you can get in the players room if you beat the subway bosses on the super trains (one day, battling competitively is not my forte), I did my best to make Emmet's office feel lived in by adding a little bit of clutter (like adding a note) but overall very organized

(hey hey that joltik mug looks familiar in the corner there, its the same one Rei is holding in the christmas drawing)

Bonus Emmet and Victini Drawings

aw come on dude, not on the trains!

ah this one, it gave me quite a bit of frustration! This piece I used to challenge myself on perspective, and challenge me it did! The version you see now is I believe the 6th iteration of this drawing! The reason for restarting so many times is because I originally wanted it to be in 3 point perspective, but I couldn't get it to look right so its now in 2 point... Haha Some valuable lessons learned there!

This illustration was inspired by the history of New York Subway Trains and Graffiti! I read about it when I got to visit the New York Transit Museum and found it super interesting!! Then I went I gotta do something with this! Since Unova is based in New York after all!

I got so many subway surfer comments, they don’t know I forgot subway surfers existed while making this and that I am a huge nerd lmao

I had a lot of fun designing the graffiti on the train (yes it says among us) stylizing the fictional letters was so fun! I studied some graffiti to see how they do it, I could've pushed the graffiti style more but then it would be illegible! I also mixed in elements of Grafaiai graffiti, and trainer that is running away is the artist trainer class in SCVL because they are graffiti artists! And the train that got graffitied is the Wifi Train, due to BW (and the DS) servers being shut down, I doubt that train gets used much anymore, which makes it a perfect target!

Derailed!

hohoho! This was a fun one! I'm not sure how many of you guys read my tags, but in there I did state that this piece was based off the fact that model trains are powered by electrifying the rail it runs on (very low watts mind you) and the fact that Joltik eats electricity, but thats not the only inspiration, it was also inspired by those videos of cats laying on the layout and derailing the train!

Theres quite a variety of thumbnails for this idea (including a comic!), and the idea was there in 2022, but this year I decided to fully commit to it! I started rendering the top right one and almost finished it, but it felt really boring to me, so I switched it up and made some thumbnails in a new perspective and viola! thats what ended up being finished!

The train that is being derailed are Sanriku Railway Type 36s, based off a model train I have in my collection! (While sharing this fact on the original post Haiku Bot detected it as a Haiku?! and this art went out of my target audience, that certainly was a day (⊙□⊙;))

Also I straight up put a picture of Thomas the Tank Engine in the background, I'm not sure if people noticed cuz its quite blurry, the fact that nobody said anything means I probably would’ve gotten away with it before sharing this fact, so hehe :3c

Unexplained Melancholy

eyy! this one! It started out wholly different

It was originally me dropping Warden Ingo in various natural landscapes around Hisui as I didn't feel like drawing anymore linear perspective (ah, but heres the thing, all environments require a little bit of perspective lol), and it was just going to be Warden Ingo hanging out in a lush forest, specifically by the train rock that was shown in his concept art! but after sitting on it, I realized I could do something more with it! by making it a snowy environment I could make callbacks to Emmet's coat being white! hence the "SNOWY!!!" being scribbled there, that was added like weeks afterwards, Then I realized I could push it even more by making the whole environment about Emmet's colors! So the new thumbnail is in color because thats whats its about!

The moon smile thing was stumbled on by complete accident, while working on it it felt empty there and I added Emmet's smile to fill the space before going "moon!!!"

The piece is also a sort of a parallel to last years piece “I am Emmet, I wish for Ingo and I to be a two-car train once more” composition wise, sort of, I tried to at least 👍

Black Tower and Whitetree Hollow

Ah! I was quite proud of this one! Black City and White Forest are some of my favorite places in Unova mainly because the parallels are so very cool!

As the thumbnails suggest it was all going to be in complete black and white, as I was working on it though I could not help but add some values in there so yup! I quite like both compositions but the perspective won me out, plus that one focuses more on the characters than the other one (as much as I love backgrounds, it really is supposed to be about Emmet and Ingo U_U)

Being places of duality and having a battle challenge in there, it really fit them!

Emmet drops the hottest single of all time 🔥🔥🔥

Not really much to say about this one since it was very much done on a whim, but

its not the first time I drew Emmet with his hat backwards, I did this little doodle around the same time I did the train graffiti piece, been wanting to do something with this silly idea, and when I heard that audio, I went :o

Following Some Rumors of a Time Machine

the finale! I decided to choose Area Zero because its a very cool place! I am inspired by cool places! and I decided to give it my all for this one!

The thumbnail I made was more for jotting down the idea, and the landscape was going to be more eyelevel? Later I decided to make it so you were looking down into the crater and you get to see the fog blocking the crystal caverns, to show that Emmet was going deeper into Area Zero and the Deepest part is his destination (the time machine, not the underdepths, I didn't know about that yet haha!) I was always going to make Emmet encounter a Slither Wing, with it being based off Volcarona, a gen 5 pokemon :]

Anyways, That's all I have to say! I hope you found it interesting! (and enjoyed my varying quality in sketches and thumbnails XD) Thanks for listening! see you in 2024! ✌

#Art Summary 2023 #Art Summary

[foli-vora]

Massive congrats Foli! Thanks for bringing joy and thots to us, we appreciate you! 💗

I’m being greedy and I know it: 110 “is that a drawing of me?” with Marcus Pike à la You’re Somebody Else? Angsty or heartbreaking smut? Or both?

my sweet, sweet angel! thank you so much for your request and your kind words. i appreciate your presence here! i'm always down for hopping into this universe - i hope you enjoy! x

rough lines [marcus POV ’you're somebody else’]

marcus pike (alex) x f!reader

word count: 1.8k+ warnings: angst. A N G S T. lies and deception, undercover work, soft moments, these two were so in love it fucking hurts me, soft sad smut/love making - not overly explicit but still very much 18+ ONLY.

It shouldn’t be happening like this, but it is.

He feels it everywhere. He feels it thrum through his system, mixing with the blood that runs through his veins. He feels it in the pit of his stomach, twisting and curling and threatening to tear its way up his throat and choke him. He feels it crawl over his skin, stretching over his being with rivers of trembles and sparks of something wonderful. 

Love.

God, he’s such an idiot.

What the hell is he doing?

This is a job—a case—and here he is, falling in love. 

Falling? No. It’s too late. He’s already fallen. He’s done for. He’s sold his soul and now has to live with the pain of knowing it has an end date. This wouldn’t, couldn’t, be forever, and it’s starting to slowly break him. He swears he could hear the tic of a clock.

Time patiently chips at his heart, the inevitable end lingers in the shadows of every tender moment.

There would be no ring. No house. No altar. No future.

He fights it. Of course he does. 

Despite his heart singing it’s relief, it’s joy, of finally finding another, he shuts it away. He ignores the thrill that shoots through his system. He ignores the way his heart starts to thud in his ears. He ignores the fire left in the wake of your touch.

You give him the affectionate name of Snoopy. You merely think he just likes rifling through your things, flicking page after page of your journals and sketchbooks out of curiosity and the want to know you on a deeper, more personal level… if only you knew. 

While, yes, that was true—he loved studying the curl of your handwriting and the notes you’d leave next to your drawings and memories and soaking in your voice as it recalled moments in the past—he was looking for things to lead him and his team in the right direction with the case.

He wasn’t doing it for the right reasons. 

You believed he was just asking about your friends after coming across photographs of you smiling prettily at the camera, when in reality he was memorising names to give to his fellow agents for a background check and to grow their lengthy suspect list.

Every bit of your life was under scrutiny, under careful observation, and you had no idea. None whatsoever.

He wasn’t expecting the guilt that would come with this investigation and the way it would grow, the way it would fester into this hideous beast of a thing that threatened to make him sick the second he looked at you.

It’s there now, bubbling on the back of his tongue—anxiety, nausea, mixing with the ever present words of apology and declarations of love. Words you’d never dream of hearing, yet words you’ll hear through ringing ears as your love for him morphes into red hot loathing. Hatred.

He won’t ever be ready, prepared, for that day.

The soft pat and stroke of your brush is calming in your apartment, lit only by your favourite candles lining every available surface. You weren’t into strong bright lighting, choosing to instead turn to soft, warm hued lamps and lighting wicks birthing a constantly calm, welcoming atmosphere.

He knows your favourite scents.

He knows your favourite lamp. 

He knows you prefer to lounge on the large, shaggy rug rather than any of your comfortable chairs.

He knows the way your tongue would peak from between your lips when focusing.

He knows you. 

The nausea grows.

He can no longer focus on the journal in his hands and flicks it shut, smoothing his fingers over the front cover with an air of apology for stealing from its depths. He slides it back into your monstrosity of a bookcase, the vintage dark wood stretching along your wall, ignoring the way your collection of trinkets and souvenirs placed over the shelves seem to jeer him.

“Are you okay?”

Your voice pulls him from studying the shelves, and he forces a smile in return, turning his head to find you sat comfortably on your rug with a small easel propped out in front of you. He can see the swirls of colour sprawling out across the canvas—an original, he notices with relief— and admires it as he wanders closer, sinking down behind you and warming at the way you comfortably recline into him.

“Yeah baby, just had a bad day,” he murmurs, kissing the bare skin of your shoulder where your cardigan had fallen from.

He rests his lips there, sighing quietly and closing his eyes, almost in pain, when your hand raises to cradle the back of his head, your fingers weaving and combing through the grown out hair there. Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and, just for a moment, he pretends he’s himself.

Marcus.

He’s Marcus, not Alex.

It’s bliss.

There’s no hiding, no secrets kept close to his chest or lies to burn his mouth. You know him, you know everything, and you’re still here, still open to him, loving him… but the moment can never linger. He returns to the present, to the truth of your situation, and languidly opens his eyes at your concerned tone. His fantasy melts away with the next exhale that blows along your skin. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask quietly, tilting your head so you could gaze up at him from where you rest against his chest.

“It’s work,” he replies truthfully, letting his head hang until his forehead presses into yours, “it’s just getting harder and harder, that’s all.”

It wasn’t meant to be this hard.

The feelings he holds for you had just developed so quickly, and admittedly, he had lost himself in the budding romance. The intel on you had left out how sweet you are. How caring and kind and compassionate and smart… he should’ve stepped back the second he felt that spark of true attraction.

Maybe it was selfishness, maybe it was the loneliness inside him crying for the company of another… either way, he was fucked.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you murmur softly, your fingers tracing his cheek, “is there anything I can do?”

Self loathing rolls around the pit of his stomach at your tone, at your touch. His exhale blows softly across your lips, his head giving a small shake of denial. 

“It’s just the way it has to be,” he admits in a whisper, trying to push his unspoken apology into his tone.

He hates it. He hates it so fucking much.

“I get it,” you reply with a distinct note of sadness, your eyes fluttering to a gentle close. 

God, he wishes you’d say more.

Maybe he could help you, maybe he could get you out before it all goes too far. Maybe there was still time…

You’ve been incredibly tight-lipped about your place in this whole illegal art ring, but with the more time he spends with you, taking in the cryptic marks you’d make here and there, he’s almost certain you weren’t into this life of crime as others may suspect.

It’s not like he could just come straight out and ask you, so he was simply left with his theories until you trusted him enough to open up. 

“No more talk of work,” you decide after a moment of silence, turning in his hold and looping your arms around his neck with a sweet smile.

He finds himself returning it immediately, unable to resist.

“Okay,” he grins, eyes closing at the delicate press of your lips.

Everything feels so easy with you, so natural. The way your lips mould with his, the way you both seem to fall into such an effortless rhythm. He burns under your hands, his heart launching into his throat as your nimble fingers drag his T-shirt up and off his body before exploring the planes of his bare torso. 

He’ll never get sick of the sounds that fall from your throat. Your whines, each and every soft exhale, the muffled moans that he swallows down eagerly when his own hands explore your body.

He memorises it all.

The feel of your skin, the curves and dips and soft spots that tear the prettiest of sounds from your lips; the way your back arches when he hovers over you, his mouth crafting its own path over your skin; the way you open up for him, weep for him, muscles clenching and tightening and fluttering around him as you meet your end. 

The guilt lingers.

It hangs there in the back of his mind as he moves, his skin like fire against yours as he fills you. He hides in your throat, squeezes his eyes shut when you start to whisper the name that doesn’t belong to him. If he focuses hard enough, he can almost imagine your sweet coo of Marcus ringing in his ears.

The shadow of it takes hold when he sits on the edge of your bed after spending the evening losing himself in you, chasing your end and kissing away your bliss filled tears. He tugs at his jeans, pulling them up his legs and relishing in the warm fingertips that trace up and down his spine, bringing a pleasant wash of electricity across his skin.

“Can I have my water, please?” You murmur tiredly from where you rest in the sheets, your face half hidden in the pillow you snuggle into.

He gives you an amused smile over his shoulder before stretching for the water jug beside your bed, pausing when the page of your open sketchbook resting on the edge of the night stand catches his eye, displaying a familiar face crafted from hasty, rough lines of graphite. His stomach tightens.

“Is that a drawing of me?”

You hum softly, accepting the offered jug and leaning up on an elbow, unbothered by your nudity as the sheet slips and pools around your stomach. You gulp at the water greedily, smiling when he catches the drop that escapes your lips and slides down your chin with the rough pad of his thumb.

“It is,” you admit quietly, “that’s not weird, is it?”

He chuckles, reaching for the sketch pad and shaking his head. 

“No, it’s not. Why did you draw me, though? I’m hardly the Statue of David,” he says with a heavy tone of amusement, his grin hiding the faint wash of pink that crawls along his cheeks.

You sit up more, shifting closer to him and brushing the strands of hair falling over his forehead with such a soft tenderness it threatens to knock him down. 

“Because you inspire me.”

His heart aches at your answer, the pain spreading throughout his chest and seeping into his bloodstream. It takes every bit of strength within him to not let the anguish twist his features as you soften into his side with a peace filled exhale, a single thought circling around and around his mind with a fierce, unrelenting force—

I’m so sorry.

---

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide, @artsymaddie, @untitledarea, 

marcus pike tags: @pedrohoe04, @evyiione, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @fuckoffbard, @dins-cyare, @eatommo, @serini-ty, @chaoticevilbakugo, @raphaelaisabella, @f*cklife_imdreaminghere, @randomchick546, @in-for-a-pennyx, @littleone65, @joelmiller81, @Curiouser-an-curiouser, @h-hxgirl, @thevoiceinyourheadx,  @shadowolf993

yse/rty tags: @kirsteng42, @insomniamamma, @albertasunrise, @oursubjectisntcool, @birdie-girl, @lepagera-blog, @maryfanson, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @cecilyjmorgenstern, @donnaa, @spishsstuff, @hungrhay, @tanyaherondale, @dreamcatcher121, @elegantmusicdragon, @aninnai

#foli's 3k #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader

[mintmoth]

What if kalim turned into a otter what will Jamil do?

So I could have very well drawn a goofy thing- but I'm not too great at drawing animals and my brain focused far more on Jamil's initial reaction to seeing Kalim as an otter and less him actively taking care of him (let's be real you know it's just going to be Jamil trying to study/work on anything while otter Kalim is running around in the background causing chaos)

BUT I ended up writing a little thing HA so I'm gonna throw that under a read more in case anyone wants to read since I'm trying to get back into writing occassionaly

"How does something as-" Jamil hesitated, mentally biting his tongue to remain composed in front of a professor, "How does something like this happen on accident?" There was clearly strain to his voice, the words hissing out in annoyance despite the best of his restraint to refrain from doing so.

Crewel responded with a heavy sigh, matching Jamil's attitude with his own furrowed brow and mild scowl. "It happens, when one- or should I say, two highly untrained pups, mess up far beyond their means."

Silver was unable to meet their gazes as the two spoke, head hanging in shame as he gave a small frown to the small otter he was holding in his arms. "I'm not sure what went wrong." His voice was soft but heavy with regret. "This isn't even close to what we were supposed to be making."

Another sigh left their instructor. "Obviously. Yet somehow here we are." A beat passed and the air changed, the man switching back into his more professional demeanor. "There's nothing any of us can do as of right now. He should be more then fine by sometime tonight- something you two can thank your incompetence for, for once." Another soft apology left Silver as Crewel once again set his attention upon Jamil. "I assume you have no complaint in regards to keeping an eye on him?"

Jamil felt his soul wither out of his body. Of course. Kalim fucks up in class and gets turned into an animal and it's on his shoulders to look after him. Outwardly his eye made the smallest twitch but otherwise showed no emotion towards the situation aside from a perfectly practiced polite smile. "Of course. He's already in my care so it shouldn't be too different then normal." Ah, perhaps that was a little too rude.

Nonetheless he found himself being handed the strange creature- er Kalim, he supposed. It was hard to think of the animal as him, if Jamil was being honest. At least until it was settled within his arms, looking up at him with big shining eyes and an almost smile upon its small face. Okay yeah this was Kalim alright. "Though I should ask- is he more animal then human or..?"

"He may behave instinctively, but rest assured he has still retained his human consciousness." Crewel spoke matter of factly, his response earning a small sigh of relief from Silver. "So he should understand me perfectly when I tell both of you that there will be many make up lessons for this little slip up." As if on queue the otter within Jamil's arms stopped staring up at him and whipped around to squeak in horror as Silver let out his own small sound of terror.

It was all Jamil could do to not roll his eyes. No doubt he would find himself helping with those as well. "I suppose we should get out of your hair then." In all honesty Jamil was less than eager to spend the rest of his night tending to this mess, but did find himself drawn to the idea that he might be able to work things in his favor to be quieter then an average night. Already Kalim seemed far less loud as it were.

With a few more apologies and sighs of annoyance the conversation wrapped up proper, Crewel shooing the three from his office and bidding them a final good evening. From there it wasn't hard for Jamil to shake off Silver, assuring him that care for Kalim was covered, yes he understood that it was an accident, and the briefest mentioning of Malleus before he was finally set back on his path to the familiar halls of Scarabia.

Thankfully the small otter within his arms wasn't putting up any of a fight, far too preoccupied with batting at the small metal pieces within Jamil's hair to care about much else happening in the world. Jamil gave yet another glance down to the creature as he entered the hall of mirrors only to see that Kalim was now chewing on one of the bells in his hair. He freely gave this action a scowl.

Where in the hell was he going to put him? The fountain outside might be fun for Kalim and would surely keep him quite occupied, but wouldn't be suitable for the entire night until he changed back. The same went for Kalim's own room, the large open windows to the balcony giving him far too much access to allow his temporary animal brain to take over and send him running. Jamil set foot through the mirror and felt the familiar push of magic wash over him, like breaking through the surface tension of water as the sensation rippled across his body, leaving the coiling heat of Scarabia in its wake.

He gave another glance down, the softest twinge of pain rocking in his chest as he thought about the terrible fate of having a human's consciousness bound to an animal form, no way to properly communicate with others or to pry yourself away from unfamiliar base instincts. It was an awful way to be trapped. Thank everything this was temporary.

Kalim ceased his incessant biting of the tiny bell to look up at Jamil with curiosity, giving the other a small concerned tilt of his head as he saw the look that had carved its way across Jamil's features. The softest squeak left him as he moved to rest a tiny paw against the other boy's cheek.

Jamil pulled back instantly, now wearing a scowl. UGH. The disgustingly familiar act of pity. After another squeak pierced over the sound of Jamil's hurried footsteps he was finally ripped away from his inner monologue. "You're too vulnerable like this, and far too susceptible to-" once again Jamil felt a tug at the bells in his hair. "My point exactly. So you'll have to spend the night in my room. For your own good."

As the small otter that was Kalim cried out in what was clearly pure excitement Jamil did his best to keep ahold of the now thrashing creature. "IT'S NOT A SLEEPOVER. NOW CALM DOWN."

#ask #feithefandomizer #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #jamil viper #twst jamil #kalim al asim #twst kalim

[tmbswhodunit]

WHO DUNNIT MBS CHALLENGE: The Interview

Sticky received the letter months ago, but had never acted on it. Indecision was the primary party responsible for his inaction, but Curtain’s Ten Men has been kind enough to provide him with a convenient excuse for delay by breaking out of prison. When everything had finally been resolved, he’d assumed the window of opportunity had passed. Surely they would have found someone else to fill the position, and he could move on with his life without ever confronting that uncertainty. In this assumption, he was wrong. One morning, Sticky Washington was distributing mail to the proper recipients within the Benedict house when he discovered a letter from Acriton Chemical Testing addressed to himself. It was identical in every way to the earlier letter, exclaiming how “thrilled” the prestigious laboratory was to interview him for an “exclusive” head research position.

From the moment he’d slit the paper seal, his fate had been decided. Sticky Washington would interview for the job. If he had truly wanted to decline, he knew his family would have still supported him, but Sticky couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t take the opportunity. For everything he’d been through, for all the times he’d thought he would never live to see his 18th birthday, Sticky refused to let his fear keep him from this. He owed it to himself to apply.

Now, he sat alone, simply waiting inside Acriton’s industrial headquarters. The room he was in was sparse of both furniture and comfort. Resting on the gray carpet was just one table, two lightly cushioned chairs, and a dying houseplant that silently begged Sticky for a drop of water. He took pity on the poor thing and gave it a splash from his bottle. Besides his own thoughts, the only sound in the room was the steady hum of the air conditioning system, which was chilling Sticky thoroughly. He thought ruefully of his mother’s insistence he take a jacket with him. At the time, he’d declined, insisting on professional dress and pointing out the warm weather. Now, however, he was wondering when he’d ever learn to start listening to her. Deprived of mental occupation, Sticky’s senses focused on the increasingly vivid, lemony scent of carpet cleaner. It smelled nearly identical to the one his father used when renovating homes. Mr. Washington’s was a powerful bleach, capable of removing any sort of stain or blemish: dirt, juice, paint, even blood.

The door opened. In stepped a smiling, elderly man Sticky had seen on the brochure. Dr. Arnold, he recalled.

“Doctor,” he extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Haha! Good firm shake you’ve got there.” The man let go and flexed his hand approvingly. “You’re Sticky Washington?” “Well, it’s only my friends and family that use my nickname. I mainly go by George.” “Hm. Very well, George. Have a seat.”

Sticky went to pull out his chair, but it caught on a bump in the carpet and nearly tipped over. A flush rose to his face as he caught it, but Dr. Arnold appeared not to have even noticed, his mind working away at some inner calculations, gaze locked on Sticky.

“So Sticky—” “George.” “So George,” the doctor corrected. “You know why you’re here, yes?” “I was under the impression that I’m here for a background check.” “Yes, yes” Doctor Arnold waved a hand dismissively. “Security and formality and such. Always a bother, but a necessity. We can’t just welcome any old fellow in here, you know? Our work is of critical importance.” “Of course. I appreciate your structure.” This he said with complete honesty. “I understand how my history could raise a few alarms, but I am honored that you still considered me for the position.” “No need for humility, George. We would be fools to turn you down after seeing your extensive portfolio of independent studies.” A flicker of pride swelled in Sticky. He reached into his bag and began to draw out a collection of papers. “I’m glad to hear you were impressed,” Sticky said. “Here, I’ve got the proper documents with me; all officially authorized. They should account for any concerns.” Sticky passed the papers over to Doctor Arnold. He gave them a cursory glance, skimming their titles, and then he tossed them over his shoulder with a light throw. Sticky watched as they scattered, gliding slowly through the air before settling on the ground. He opened his mouth, but found he had nothing to say and closed it, waiting for an explanation.

Doctor Arnold folded his arms and reclined. “I’m not interested in paperwork, George. Too tedious. Gives me a migraine. I’d rather hear the facts straight from you.” “Oh, well, if that’s what you prefer.” “It is. Tell me about the infamous Ledroptha Curtain.”

Sticky, who’d been fully prepared to launch into a discussion of his radioactive byproducts research, hesitated. “I beg your pardon?” “Tell me about him. What he was like, what your interactions constituted of, what your impressions of him were…” “My impressions?” “Yes.” “Well I can’t say I’m terribly fond of him. He seemed like a nice fellow besides the whole mind-control thing. And the kidnappings and the cover ups and the—.”

Dr. Arnold snickered, the creases on his wrinkled face doubling. A chill crept up Sticky’s spine. “Come on, George,” He smiled, “You can do better than that.” “I don’t know what you want from me.” “What was the Whisperer like? Did you see it? Feel it? Use it?” “How do you know all this? This is confidential—” “I’m your friend, Sticky.” That name, his name, felt wrong. Wrong in this man’s mouth. It was a mushy, rotten, poisonous word.

“Were you afraid, George?” Sticky looked up and met the doctor’s gaze. “Yes,” he paused. “Yes, I was afraid, of course I was afraid.” “Are you afraid right now?” For the first time in many years, Sticky felt the urge to polish his glasses, but didn’t dare allow himself to flinch. “No,” He whispered.

Dr. Arnold watched him intently for a moment, assessing his veracity, before relaxing with yet another irritating laugh. Sticky fought the urge to ask what was so hilarious. “Very well, Mr. Washington. That will be all for now.” Dr. Arnold rose from his chair and smoothed the creases of his lab coat. “If you’ll just wait here a moment more, we can finalize the details of your employment and…”

“That won’t be needed.” The words left him in a rush. Dr. Arnold turned back to him, confused. “I beg your pardon?” “I haven’t the faintest idea who you think you are, but I want nothing to do with you. Give the job to someone else.” Sticky got up from his chair and began moving towards the door. “George, come back. I’m sorry—” Dr. Arnold caught his arm. Sticky turned to him with a steely glare. “I’m not.” He yanked his arm from the man’s grasp and pushed out of the room.

Several people in the starkly clean hallway beyond jumped as he came striding out, Dr. Arnold close behind him. Men toting clipboards and women pushing unwieldy carts of chemicals all stepped aside as their boss chased after the new recruit. “George, this is the opportunity of a lifetime!” He called after Sticky. “Don’t care.” “No one could do the job like you!” “Too bad.” “Sticky…”

Sticky had reached the end of the hallway. He rested a hand on the door that led out into the parking lot. Turning back he saw every set of eyes locked on him, including those of Dr. Arnold, who had finally abandoned his grin. “Sticky please. I can’t let you leave. Don’t force my hand.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Sticky had spent weeks, months, imagining this day. Stepping into the future, making a difference. Acriton Chemical Testing was supposed to be the resolution to all the wandering thrums of his heart that ached for purpose. But even here, with all his hopes realized, there rose that familiar undercurrent of malice that threatened to sweep him away from all the people he held dear.

“Thank you for your kind offer.” His voice reverberated through the still hallway. “But I’m afraid I must decline.”

“Don’t walk out that door, Sticky.” The doctor warned.

Sticky smiled apologetically. He opened the door. And just as the warm August air enveloped him, the most peculiar thing happened. Everything went dark.

#the mysterious benedict society #tmbs #who dun it mbs challenge #sticky washington #warnings for some hurt #who dunnit 2 electraboogaloo

[asena-graywolf]

I Love Make You Angry

You were an art student. As long as you can remember, drawing was your favorite hobby. You had talent and wanted to develop it. You wrote the Art department in the first place in your university preferences and you have been taking drawing lessons for two years in your dream department.

You wanted to be a famous manga illustrator after school was over. The person who supported you the most in this regard was your boyfriend Tsukishima. She even modeled for you. You drew her portrait.

He hung the portrait he had drawn for her on the board in your study so that he could always see it while he was working.

Yes, you both rented a house near campus when you enrolled to college and have lived together for two years.

That evening you were at your desk to practice drawing again. The area was very quiet. Having sound, you turned on a music from the phone. Maybe it would be strange for the person who sees it from the outside, but you enjoyed listening to this kind of music while you were drawing. The music you turned on was a kind of Christian chants. Along with the music, there were also ambient sounds in the background. You felt like you were in a church library. The ambience had the sound of rain and the splash of water drops falling on the stone floor.

You were so immersed in drawing and music that you didn't even hear your boyfriend come home and call out to you.

“Y/N! I’m home!"

Noticing that you weren't responding, he thought he was drawn to drawing again. The situation became even more awkward for him when Christian chants music came to his ears.

He approached the room where the music came from and finished behind you

“May it be easy y/n”

You turned over your shoulder and looked at him.

“Tsuki? I didn't hear you come"

You got up from your chair

"It's okay... so, what is this?" he said pointing to your phone

"What could it be? It's the music"

Tsuki had a hard time not laughing, but she couldn't help giggling.

"So what? Christian chants? How long have you been listening to them? Couldn't find another song to listen to? Or are you a Christian and I don't know?"

You answered your boyfriend while muting the music on your phone

“Oh Tsuki! It’s just a music! Listening to rock 'n' roll music while working is tiring for my brain. This kind of relaxing music helps me to relax and concentrate better. It's like a kind of meditation"

“You're really funny. How did I not notice this interesting habit of yours? You were so unappealing about the choice of music"

You frowned. Your face turned red with anger

"Excuse me, I forgot music is your business. What's wrong with the music I listen to?"

“What if you are listening to Christian chants? If you love it that much, I'll take you to church on Sundays and you'll hear it live.

Tsuki was still reeling you in

"It's not funny! Do I interfere with your musical taste? Then don't mess with mine either!"

Your nerves shot through the ceiling but Tsuki knew what would calm you down.

"Come here"

He took you in his arms, pressing your head to his chest. You punched his chest to get rid of it

"Let go of me!"

“Shhh! Okay, calm down. I was just kidding"

He kissed your top of head. He stroked your hair. I knew you were different from the day we met.

You lifted your head off his chest

“Tsuki! You really are an asshole"

He pinched his cheeks hard

“I love pissing you off. Because you're so cute when you're angry. Did I say that before?"

“A hundred times”

You grabbed his hands that pinched his cheeks and slid off him with a swift move.

You said, "my wise guy darling," and you grabbed his nose.

So he’s 1.90 meters tall, you had to stand up on your toes to reach his nose.

He kissed your nose too

“You are so cute y/n. I wasn't serious in what I said, I'm sorry if I offended you"

"It doesn’t matter"

“I know how to win your heart. Let's eat dinner. I'll order for you your favorite pizza"

“Let it be so”

You rolled your eyes and smiled sweetly at your boyfriend.

#haikyuu!! #hq x y/n #haikyuu x imagines #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsuki x y/n #tsuki x reader #hq tsukishima #hq x you #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei x you #art student reader #haikyuu scenarios #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima kei imagine #tsukishima kei x y/n #tsukishima scenarios

[abednadirsgf]

TROBEDISON ROOMATE HCS PLS I WOULD LIKE 2 HEAR!!

YES LETS GO TROBEDISON !!!

midnight icecream together!!! they're all in their pjs (troy and abed got annie a set of pjs for their first christmas/notchristmas/notpresent/hanukkah/holidayday/gift not gift that matched theirs but in purple :)) they eat icecream with sprinkles, with chocolate syrup, with marshmallows, with chopped nuts on top, with multiple flakes, with m&ms - the whole shebang. they might have some inspector spacetime in the background whilst they talk and giggle and make funny faces at each other. they leave the dishes in the sink for later that morning and probably end up sleeping and cuddling together on cushions or on the sofa for the rest of the night.

annie has lots of pillows and bears and plushies etc, a whole collection. so, troy and abed decide to get her a new plush every birthday/not Christmas Christmas holiday day or just when they see one that looks cool and so her whole bed is just filled with different animals or weirdly shaped cushions they found in charity shops or drugstores or furniture stores or ebay or something lol (they make sure they clean them beforehand obviously so they smell of nice lavender fabric conditioner) and annie allows them to name some of them too ;)

Annie listens to Mitski, she a mitski gal like me, and she tends to listen to 'bury me at make out creek' or 'lush' albums when she's sad or feels overwhelmed with emotions or feeling insecure :// so when Troy hears the familiar sound of Francis Forever through her door when he goes to ask if she wants takeout tonight, he knocks on the door before entering and seeing her on her bed with a tear stricken face :( he gives her a big big hug, turns the music off and just holds her and tells her the things that happened in his day, like how he saw a cat with one eye outside the apartment building and tried to feed it the leftover chips he had at lunch but it might have scratched him and the cut on his hand don't look so good and then annie bursts into laughter and slaps troy's chest calling him an idiot and fixes up his hand so it doesn't get infected

abed and annie watch the xfiles together, they go through s1-s9 and even dress up as fox mulder and dana scully respectively for one Halloween!!! they watch the movies together and think up of their own conspiracies about the show or real life government. and it's partially what pushed Annie to pursue forensics and the fbi further and Abed 100% backed her and encouraged her (also got her to promise to give him a special fbi hq tour and may or may not write his own spin off special episode take on Annie working at the fbi hehe and also makes sure she reports back all the tales she has for script inspo) when the latter seasons of 10&11 come out whilst they're apart, they Skype each other and do watch parties and britta might pitch in too.

Abed loves his buttered noodles and Troy loves eating pizza all the time and as much as Annie loves takeout and easy eating, she knows its not healthy to have it all the time (and its expensive!!!) so they have a day of the week (I'm feeling Thursday) when they cook a proper homecooked meal together like lasagna or chili con carne and save leftovers for lunch the next day too. Annie also makes sure they eat some fruit so sometimes when they study she makes them all fruit cups and adds a little bit of sprinkled sugar ontop of strawberries ;)

Troy loves to bake. he loves it. he loves making a mess of flour and sugar and having his friends and family tasting his creations. he learnt a lot from Shirley and makes a realllll good pumpkin pie for thanksgiving every year. he loves making apple crumble bc of the texture and he loves decorating cakes and cupcakes (though he does like drawing dicks with icing and makes jokes whenever someone eats one lol) and although he doesn't celebrate birthdays, he still makes abed and annie a cake and he gets them to decorate it with him so it has a some of the flair of the not birthday person. I feel like baking is one of his love languages and he just loves to feed his family the delicious treats and gets super happy when they like them or bake with him :)))

obviously movie nights!! binging tv show nights!! movie marathons!! popcorn galore!! they all know each others comfort movie/show and just watch and cuddle on the sofa when they need it

pillow and blanket forts <33 they might have little studies sessions in them or troy and abed just go to Annie's room and sit in her bed on the many pillows she has hehe

they just love each other and are always there for each other <3 I love them and they're my fave trio <3

#trobedison #community #abed nadir #troy barnes #annie edison #trobed #asks!! #for: quillsink !! #community headcanons

[lovesick-panmess]

The Sun Lives Forever (Until it Dies)

Raphael looks out to the demolition in front of him, wondering how long he can trick himself into thinking that the monstrous pink tentacles are actually the green pines in the forest way back then. When the worst monster they had to face was made out of ancient armor, all he needed to do was have faith in his brothers to catch him, active the ninpo that rested deep inside that reassured him that he wasn’t alone.

He was falling and his brothers were nowhere around to catch him.

-------

‘I don’t want to die.’ A childlike cry comes from inside himself, the tears blur his vision back to reality where he is, in fact about to die.

As kids, Donnie enjoyed assigning them roles that correlated with whatever topic of interest he was studying that week. 

It started with the four elements of matter, in which Raph was Earth, Donnie was Fire, Leo was Water, and Mikey was Air (this sparked a lengthy debate between the brothers as well as a TV marathon of ‘Avatar the Last Airbender’ whenever their dad wasn't hogging the TV), and even the parts of a cell (Raph will never understand Donnie's cried insistence that he was the mitochondria but wore it as a badge of honor anyways).

Then came the solar system. 

It had been exceptional for one topic to entirely hold their attention, and Mikey's delicate touch in artistry always complemented Donnie's narrative of a vast and fascinating space. Raph was content to simply listen to the cosmic realm that lay far beyond the swearing, while Leo enjoyed examining and reading the interesting factoids.

"Keeping it within the Milky Way, Raphie would definitely be the Sun in my brilliant mind. I don't mind being specifically the moon of the Earth, albeit I might hop a little. Given that his ego provides more than enough fuel to keep him blazing, Nardo is the stars, and Angelo is the comets since he would be responsible for destroying the dinosaurs just as he is for destroying my technology."

Mikey attempts to kick away the scrap metal he was currently painting on. 

The slider leaped up and down in excitement despite the soft-shell’s jabs at him, shaking Mikey fiercely as he did so and saying, "Whatever Don-Bon. Be a dull moon; I'll be a star! I am the stars’ ruler; Michael, you gotta draw me-“  When Raph turns to Donnie, who is still reading intently, the two youngest brothers' chatter fades to the background. "Dee, why is it so obvious that I'm the Sun? Raph thinks Mikey fits it better, he shines so brightly with that smile of his.”

As any rational thought would be quickly swept away and the victim (yes, you heard that correctly) would become a mindless slave for the time being, the box turtle's smile was a sight to be avoided and adored. Despite that, Raph would be more like the Sun than Mikey because of his shining, gentle demeanor, which held an ineffable warmth to their days. "You have to be", Donnie begins to shake his head while waving his palm in the air and looking away from the eldest. "Because you are the center of our universe, it only makes sense for us to revolve around you. And you, Raph, are like sunshine personified. You shine sufficiently bright.”

Raph now has to look away before he ensnares Donnie in a bear hug for the remainder of the day as the genius's face twists and he carefully looks up, obviously questioning whether he said the correct thing but the goofy grin on his brother's face gives him all the answer he needs. As Leo and Mikey's disagreement intensifies, Raph turns around and hastily holds out his arms to keep the two of them apart before they collide.

“The stars are prettier!”

"Comets are stronger!"

“Well the Sun is pretty and powerful, it can also never die. So Raph wins and you two bozos can stop arguing.” He responds with a triumphant grin, shrinking slightly in the face of the death glares he receives. He turns over his shoulder for Donnie to support him, but the genius had already left the premises.

Donnie returns with a presentation that is tilted ‘The Moon is superior, now bask in my glory..” He doesn’t make it past the first slide before getting tackled.

——-

Raphael feels the sensation of a falling star.

Most likely as a result of him actually falling. (Obviously)

Raph wonders how long he can fool himself into thinking that the pink monstrous tentacles are truly the green trees in the forest from back then as he looks out at the devastation in front of him. The ninpo that lay inactive inside him now, when it once reassured him that he wasn't alone and activated when the scariest creature they had to battle was made of ancient armor and all he had to do was trust his brothers to catch him.

His brothers aren’t here. 

The tears start flowing immediately, and yet the regret does not. Leo's portals weren't working, Mikey was unresponsive, they were encircled, and Donnie was on the verge of shutting down, which wouldn't help them any. He recognized what being the bait could cost him. Leo's expression of panic and futility could be seen from far away, and the slider was unable to come up with a solution.

But that was okay, Raph is the big brother, he picks up after his baby brothers. (They’re little, they don’t know any better)

‘I don’t want to die. I don’t wanna go.’ A childlike cry comes from inside himself and he swears that he has been falling forever, his heart clenches in terror as his mind flashes through remembrances of Leo's laughter and jibes, Donnie's ramblings of various scientific findings, and Mikey's experiments with different dishes, and the cold, horrifying realization that he will never experience those again.

“But you saved them. They are safe in the turtle tank by now.” Mind Raph replies, images of taking Brother Kraang with him but, of course, the monster was forced to use one last resort. Raph tries to ignite his ninpo once more, but the red flicker that envelopes his wrists quickly fades and serves as final proof that fighting is hopeless.

As he sobs and wails in the face of death, he tries in vain to console himself by wrapping his arms around himself. Mind Raph can be heard softly humming, "A memory then. A distraction.” 

Since the sight in front of him is already transitioning, Raphael is unable to reply.

——-

It was Leo’s pick for movie night and he has grown a love for horror movies at the ripe age of 10. Raph catches himself blinking in surprise and quickly moves to remove his brother from sight before frowning in frustration and responding, "I don't know Leo. Are you sure that Donnie and Mikey can handle it as well?” The cover art wasn't particularly horrifying, but the pool of blood at the bottom was realistic enough to give him a slight uneasiness. 

“Disregarding the fact that I am being discussed as if I am not even present. I have done significant research on the movie, certainly not sufficient to be spoiled, but other than three possible sequences I should be able to watch this film without concern.” Donnie says, citing the lists of highlights and drawbacks for the eldest to see on the screen. Mikey pips up, “Pluss, my favorite actors Jackie Duff and Ashton Canon are in lead roles! So there is no way I am missing this masterpiece.” 

From a great height, Leo could be seen grinning and encircling Raph, remarking, "And I know losing 3 to 1 is a defeating loss, bro. But, ask Dad like you always do; after all, you are his favorite.”

Even trying to fight against his brother's puppy eyes was pointless (Raph loathes being such a pushover, but their happiness was truly contagious and he just can not say no). He nods simply before heading to their father's room from the living room.

The fact that their father was even engaged in their activities was one of the many illusions that Raph worked so hard to maintain. Most of the time, the 12-year-old had to check in twice a day to make sure that their father is even still alive.

Because one day he’ll forget, he’ll forget to check and Dad would be dead for hours. 

Holding the poster, he shakes the notion from his head while gazing into the rat's lifeless eyes and paying attention to the rat's ears as they occasionally twitch. “Pops?” He speaks quietly, but he is fully aware that there will be no reaction. Instead, he makes an effort to time himself; if Raph could do it, their "chat" would go no longer than three minutes.

There had been times were Raph used to talk, hoping it would be encouraging enough to get some kind of response but hope had been sucked out of him as all he could look at was his dad’s empty shell. The room felt suffocating and he had already woken up more anxious than usual today, he can not stop himself with the instinct to run out so run out he does. 

Splinter doesn’t even blink when the door slams.

“Well? Well? What did Dad say?” Mikey asks with Raph’s return, bouncing off the couch eagerly and into his arms, giggling when he gets twirled. “Pops says we can watch, but we still need to go to bed at 9 like always.” That earns him cheers and a light kiss on his cheek from Leo, it suppresses all the bad feelings, even for a little bit. 

“Let’s go make dinner so we have plenty of time to watch.” 

The film wasn't as bad as his imagination had made it out to be; some scenes had him burying his face in the cushions as the protagonists ran through the haunted mansion. Mikey was enjoying the sarcastic quips as well as pointing out the symbolic meanings tied into the monster's backstory, while Donnie and Leo were both loudly commenting on how moronic it was for the heroines to lock themselves inside the residence to hold back the monster. Overall, it was an exciting night that put them all to sleep easily.

Raph, on the other hand, couldn't sleep.

His mind replayed the scene in which each family member was picked up and dragged away, the grief-stricken wails echoing loudly. He hugs Captain Snuggles even tighter, his gaze fixed on the door at the slightest sound. 

Footsteps can be heard down the hall, and his heart quickens as he listens intently, his brain quickly registering the steps as Donnie, who always tried to be quick and quiet, but the creeks of the floor gave him away. He opens the door, beating Donnie to it, but is stopped by the sight of stray tears.

The soft-shell turned away, wiping away tears of embarrassment, and gently tugged on Donnie's sweater sleeve, Raph pulls him into a hug but decided to leave space in case it became too much. “You wanna talk about it, Dee?” The silence between them lasts until Donnie pulls himself away slightly in favor of signing. 'My brain is exacerbating the dinner scene. It's as if I can hear the blood, it's so disgusting- Leo picking on me before I came to you wasn't helping.'

If Raph had to guess, Leo is probably scared to, but the need to act as if he isn't causing the slider to deflect with jokes. ‘ You know how he is, always gotta be the brave one. Sleep with me? If you want. You’re always welcome too.’ He suggests, pushing the door open with a small grin in response to Donnie's nod. He was completely right about the movie being too much, but it wasn't the time to point fingers. They’re little, they don’t know any better.

Raph turns as Donnie climbs into his bed, hearing sniffles and Mikey's loud footsteps, which sounded identical to his own. The box turtle was by the doorway, and all it took was for the youngest to jump into the comfort was to leave his arms outstretched and open. “Aw the movie was scary, wasn’t it? Don't worry baby…Raphie’s here." Despite the youngest's recent claim to independence, it was good to be able to hold him tight like this. Raph places a kiss on Mikey's temple, becoming a little overwhelmed with emotion.

Mikey was the quickest to fall asleep, now basking in the presence of his brothers and Donnie's sleepy expression proves he is not that far behind. Still, Raph is alert and tries to ignore his own fatigue for Leo who hasn’t made his way towards his room, and no footsteps to be heard. He gets up, deciding to simply retrieve the slider himself, and makes his way down the hall quickly turning at the sound of the door creaking open. 

They make brief eye contact before Leo quickly closes the door, "Go away Raph! I’m all right." The lie feels natural, but the tremors in his brother's voice upset him. Raph leans against the door, putting light pressure on the wood. “Leoo..” He softly hums his name, just like he used to when he was trying to convince Leo out of bed when they were little.

It works, just a little bit because he's able to see the red markings peeking through the crack in the door. Raph smiles wide enough that his snaggletooth appears and does it again for good luck, “Leoo..ruler of the stars.” He can hear the defeated giggle and pushes the door away in favor of scooping his brother up in his arms.

"I didn't mean to tease Don, just—I don't know... It made sense in my head," Leo confesses after a while. "I didn't want to be scared.” What Leo really implied was that he didn't want Donnie to be scared, which goes unsaid "It's okay if you're scared, Lee; I was too." The look of disbelief on his face causes laughter to bubble up in his throat, "It's true! Big brothers get terrified as well. Every time. But you know what really helps?" He starts walking back to his room, Leo by his side.

"I know that I got the moon, the stars, and the comets looking out for me.”

When they return, Donnie is still awake despite his exhaustion, and it's clear that the genius was awaiting them both. He easily slips out of Mikey's grasp, and Leo shuffles awkwardly but lets himself be dragged to bed by his twin, who fondly flicks his brow. Raph is mystified by the sight but decides to chalk it up to twin telepathy, despite Donnie's adamant denial.

The snapping turtle settles in last, the weight of his own anxiety keeping him from rest; he feels everything, and the hammering of his heart is certain to set him off. ‘My babies’ His heart cries out in fear, clinging to his sleeping brothers with a ferocity that, surprisingly, does not wake them. He’ll protect them, he will he swears it.

Fragments of emotion bind him, but it's as if the puzzle is damaged. The pieces don't quite fit, as well as tides of emotion that threaten to whisk him away squeeze at his heart. The love of a father inside the body of a brother.

The sensation evaporates almost as quickly as it emerged, and an unsteady inhale grounds him as his heart speaks again.

‘ My babies.’ Soft and fond this time, with a gentleness.

‘ My boys.’ His mind responds with a fuzzy warm feeling in his chest, and he unconsciously hugs his brothers tighter.

In the bliss of a memory, Raphael doesn’t even feel when his body hits the ground.

———

Donatello detests it when they separated, even though he sees the advantages; after all, one Kraang wouldn't be capable of pursuing them all in various directions. He knows Raph, they all do, and his altruistic brother always does something unsafe for their benefit, never his own. He'd just yelled at Leo for pulling the same stunt during one of their expeditions.

He supposes it was the pot calling the kettle black.

Still, their older brother hadn't arrived at the rendezvous point, causing Leo to worry, and Mikey's hopeful smile didn't last the walk back to the disintegrating building. The soft-shell is glad to have updated trackers on his brothers now more than ever (the apocalypse providing all sorts of technological advancement), but he tries not to focus on the fact that Raphael's tracker isn't moving.

Mikey is the first to notice him, tears streaming down his cheeks at the state of the snapping turtle, and he does his best not to rattle him awake, "Raph! Guys, he's not waking up-" Leo blanches with one look at his brother, quickly turning around and clutching the handles of his swords, his voice wavering, "Donnie, scan and do what you can, I'm going to teleport us back to base."

Protest feels ineffective because he knows Leo will have trouble opening the portal from the distance they were from the base, and they are all exhausted from the battle just moments before. Raph, on the other hand, doesn't have time for doubts, and a quick scan of his body tells Donnie what his heart already knows: 'Raph won't make it.’ Mikey covers his mouth and shakes his head in disbelief, implying that he said it aloud. The box turtle focuses his hands on his brother's plastron. "I'm going to heal him, I know I can do it!"

Even if stubbornness is an Hamato trait, Donnie is grateful for it right now.

Raph's eyes open slightly and turn to gaze at him while he watches Mikey's mystic energy surround their brother, and Donnie swears he will never insult the realm of mystic abilities again. He could see the strain on his hands and knows that Mikey is only buying them more time.

That is a terrifying thought.

'Keep him awake, keep him awake until Leo makes a portal,’. His brain prompts him to speak, but the words die on his tongue as Raph's gaze softens. "Hey, Dee... It's fine to cry, you know... You are always welcome to sleep with me." Donnie doesn't understand, clutching the snapping turtle's hand tightly and trying to keep the sobs from raging through his body, seeing how distant Raph's eyes appeared.

The magic comes to a halt with the youngest appearing to be on the verge of passing out and new cracks running from his fingertips and down his arms; Mikey cries against Raph's plastron, completely overcome with grief, but Raph remains reassuring. “Aw that movie was scary..wasn’t it? It's all right, Raphie is here." The crying intensifies, yet Mikey covers his mouth to quiet his sobs to no avail. Donnie activates his ninpo creating a shield to cover them as well as muffle their sounds; they deserve this moment without fear of being heard.

Raph’s expression becomes troubled, unable to see the slider next to him despite looking as far as he can, Donnie watches Leo’s ninpo barely flicker but he keeps trying, swinging his weapon in different directions and bitter determination in his gaze. His brother will not die. He can’t. 

“Leo.”

“Look if Raph is trying to lecture me, tell him to save it for the base-“

“Leo,” Donnie repeated himself, burning rage in his gut because it's a waste of time to keep trying, Leo is wasting time, and Raph doesn't have much left. He has to lean in to hear whatever whispers his dying brother is uttering, but he tries regardless. "You know how he is...always the brave one." It rips his wrath apart, staring down at Raph and then back at Leo, taking in his twin's trembling stance with his tears soaking the ground underneath him. “Spirits, Donnie, why isn’t it working?! Why can’t I do this?”

Silence replied, mocking them for their failure, and Leo bristles in fury until Raph speaks, obviously, the lingering feeling of death is not enough to stop him from consoling his brothers. “Leo..” The snapping turtle hums in a familiar tone of childhood, coaxing and gentle, breaking Leo's heart even more as he shakes his head. "Leo…ruler of the stars.” Raph smiles, and all of his determination evaporates as the slider races to the eldest side, apologies and loving affirmations spilling through his lips. “Raphie...Raphie..” He calls out his brother's name fervently.

“It’s okay if you’re scared Lee. I am too..”Raph’s voice wavers, his eyes becoming less distant and far more clear than before, Donnie can feel the way he stiffens and feels his own heart drop. 

“I don’t wanna go..” 

Donnie clenches his teeth, knowing that his brother does not deserve this. Raph deserves life, the longest possible life with his brothers, and endless bliss that not even the spirits could bring. His mind rattles on and on, spiraling in his thought because for all his genius and intellect he can not give his brother the life he deserves.

‘You could give him rest?’ His heart suggests, his gaze now fixed on Raph's tears as the notion of dying dawned on him, the soft-shell recalling the distant look in his eyes just moments before. Donnie nods determined that he will be the one to provide his brother the rest he deserves rather than death.

"It's okay, Raph." Words start to freeze in his throat, but he presses on, even attempting to be reassuring as he smiles through the agony, cupping Raph's cheek, and trying not to shatter at the undivided attention. "It's fine if you want to sleep."

Mikey's eyes widen as he realizes what he's doing, but it doesn't quite register with Leo as he takes in Raph's look. The snapping turtle's brown eyes fluctuate as he walks the border between reality and the memory provided to him, but he lacks the strength to fight for awareness and slips back with ease. Donnie breathes a sigh of relief, ignoring Leo's intense glare but still grabs his twin's hand, "Need to make sure Leo and Mikey don't have any nightmares, plus Raph isn't exhausted."

It's difficult to determine which memory Raph is in because he's been caught so many times for warmth after a nightmare, but the argument was there on the tip of his tongue, childish and full of errors but it had worked between the two all the same. "Well, since you're half asleep and I'm wide awake, I'm the most awake older brother by default, so you have to listen to me."

He laughs and for a brief moment Donnie feels so much relief in the rumble of the snapping turtle’s chest, “That doesn’t make sense Dee…” He laughs wetly, even in memories, Raph’s fondness never fades. Donnie squeezes Leo’s hand tighter and rubs his thumb against the scars that decorated the eldest’s cheek, his own heart begs for some sort of release from the anguish still he persists for Raph.

“It makes perfect sense, Raphael! Who is the genius here? Me or you?” The way Raph’s eyes threaten to close makes his blood freeze, he watches his own hands tremble and feels how faint his brother’s heartbeat is. “You are..” Another laugh more quieter than the last, “Just a small nap, okay?”

“The smallest.”

“Wake me up later?”

Donnie's source of strength? He didn't have an answer, but he allowed the last words his brother ever hear to be a lie. "Of course, Raphie...I'll wake you up later," he says, even as he sobs, ignoring the way his skin is burning. He watches the lights of life leave Raph’s eyes, death claiming the snapping turtle and taking his last breath. 

Their Sun dies right in his arms. 

The world around them grew darker, time passed, and all Donnie could hear were Mikey's muffled screams. Comets collided with the Earth whenever the youngest smashed the surface below them in rage. Leo, spirits, appeared dead himself, expression blank despite the flood of tears and his fist over his chest as if grief was about to destroy him before collapsing into himself like a dying star. Donnie dreads leaving Raph's side, but he needs to because he cannot lose another brother in the span of seconds-

After all, it’s his job as the eldest now.

———

“Raph? Why are you still up?”

The soft-shell returned much later in the night with a glass of water; his glasses were off, so the time stamp was blurred, but he could make out the 2 in front as well as his brother's guilty grimace. “Hehe..just wanted to stay up. Make sure Leo and Mikey don’t have any nightmares, plus Raph isn’t tired.” The snapping turtle shrunk back as Donnie squinted, seeing how hard the eldest was fighting to keep his eyes open. 

This would be the start of a very long road for the eldest, successfully creating an Atlas that would carry the world and let himself be crushed underneath it. It will eventually lead to his death. 

But 10-year-old Donnie is unaware of this; all he knows is that his brother is growing as fast as they are and that he deserves to rest. He shuffles back on the bed, careful not to the others and crossing his arms, “Well theoretically speaking since you’re half asleep and I’m fully awake, I am the most awake older brother so. You have to listen to me.” Raph’s yawn gets interrupted by his own snort, his tired gaze filled with amused fondness.

“That doesn’t make sense, Dee.”

“It makes perfect sense, Raphael! Who is the genius here? Me or You?”

“You are..” The eldest retorts, sleep taking him by the minute, and he eventually gives in, "Just a small nap, okay?" The genius beams triumphantly at the praise and success, adjusting slightly to allow the other to lean against him, "The smallest. I'll wake you up later, okay?” With no response, he glances down, Raph already asleep and snoring, making Donnie quietly laugh.

The soft-shell whispers into his ear in a moment of intimacy soaked in moonlight.

“I may be the genius but you’ll always be our big brother.” 

--------

UMMM I've had this idea for the longest time and writing this was horrible 3 days one trying to put my dreams into words. I've seen soo many different ways that Donnie and Raph have died in the bad future and I think the concepts are so interesting so I wanted to throw my own hat into the ring, a parallel I had yet to see in a Future Raph death is when he falls in the forest during the Shredder arc! It's such a pinnacle moment for Raph and I wanted to twist it on its head but also to focus a little on the eldest pipeline. Instead of Raph to Leo (because you know the whole leader stuff), I wanted a Donnie and Raph focus especially after seeing so much evidence that Donnie is in fact the oldest twin (though I don't think it's been declared canon). The burden of the eldest hehehe hoped you liked it!

#rottmnt raph #angst #rottmnt #rotmnt #donatello #raphael #leonardo #hurt/comfort #raph angst #raph and donnie #celestial #get ready to cry #gimme your tears

[fandxmslxt69]

howdy howdy, can you tell us about your 1920s mafia based character 👀

HOWDY FRIEND!!!

let me just go copy paste my whole character chart bc its SOOO MUCH i cant type it all out

Leila is the daughter of some business man (Moroccan Mafia!!!)  associated with the mafia, and to make good business her father and her man’s father set them up to make business ties!! She just moved back to New York after finishing her studies abroad. She tries to blend into the background and typically doesn’t like drawing attention to herself, but she won’t hesitate to bite if things start getting questionable. She & her man (NAME TO BE DETERMINED) have a sort of like…enemies(ish) to lovers vibe solely because they don’t want to do this fake marriage thing, but she’s ready to protect him fiercely. While she’s kind of just seen as a castaside, she’s been working in the background to get rid of her father and take over his business - she’s slowly managed to turn parts of her father’s business and partners to be on her side and change loyalties. 

She spent all those years away from New York building her own empire slowly, and now she's back - her father may think she agreed to a marriage just out of being clueless obedient little Leila but it's a lot more than that - all her steps are counted for. She only agreed to such a marriage because she knows this man has good connections within the mafia, and she's managed to strike up a good business deal with him!!! get this marriage running, convince people that they make a good powerful duo that can build a successful empire, and get rid of her father. she gets to build her empire and he can help her with it on the business front and get to own some of it!! its all good!!

So ever since she got back and got married, she spent that time attending parties and events to try and win over her father's customers and partners, and strike up new deals that are better and bigger than what her father had, and win over people her father has been chasing after. All of this done because yknow of course she's already built a decent underground on-the-downlow company but she's got the connection to this guy she's now married to which wins points!!

Every time someone mentions this obv to her father he's like "oh please she's just little old Leila. she can't even open a door herself" and she's very good at keeping this role she's playing up. the perfect daughter, the shining wife.

this is a murder mystery duh, so her motive for murder is her ambition. she'd do anything to be better and bigger than her father, and to get rid of him - even if it means needing to kill the wrong people (his close circle/his board of directors/loose ties who can't keep their mouths shut etc)

umm yeah. will my teacher have a HEADACHE reading this bad boy to plot the murder mystery? YES. do i care? NO!!!!!!

she's my #1 girl. umm her man.... is silly too. He's kind of obsessed with her - like yeah they're business partners, but he's so obsessed with her ambition and that obsession leads to falling for her (CREDITS TO @the-lady-amphitrite FOR BEING SOOO SMART TO PIECE THAT TOGETHER.)

anyway

i love her

i;ve talked abt her to like 10 friends and each time im just copy pasting all my rambling onto the character chart to fix her up. she's my bae. thats her whole backstory. :DDDDD

#THANKS FOR ASKING IM OBSESSED WITH HER!!!!!!!! #sighing heavily as i open a new google doc titled MAFIA IDEA #clem talks <3

[attonitos-gloria]

Daemon/Laena, Night King/Corpse Queen, Cersei/Euron, Rhaegar/Elia?

ahhhh love these. thank you <3

daemon/laena: C (not a bad ship) for the book version in which he duels for her hand, E (i don't really like it) in the show. i think my favorite part of this marriage is whatever is going on in the daemon/viserys/corlys dynamics in the background... and i do like laena a lot; i think she deserves better than daemon. this applies to virtually every woman in daemon's life... i don't know, i just think only viserys and rhaenyra can actually love this man.

night king/corpse queen: oh, ok. great one. listen: i think i am waiting, in the next two books, for a version of the war against the Others that is all-consuming and turns the world upside down in such a way as to be an actual apocalypse. I want a long night that is actually worth the name and the build up of five books. and the story of the corpse queen and the night's king could add to the lore that would make the Others more interesting. i need this. whatever is going on with the children of the forest, with the Others, beyond the Wall with bran, i need to see it developed so badly and i need the impact of this War to be like, devastating, life-changing, i need Westeros to never be the same after them. i like very much the idea of the corpse queen being an asset to the Others - to seduce men so they willingly give their life and souls to frozen monsters. like what is it about her that made him do it? was it because life in the night's watch was boring, the end of the line? was it something else, something more? i would read this story. i think this pairing could be a window into something great. it's an A for me.

cersei/euron: if euron is an actual monster and an evil god who can control the minds of animals and men: A, yes, sure, i want cersei paired with this kind of thing. but if he's just edgy and mad in a slightly uncomfortable human way like in the show... nah. D, i'm indifferent.

rhaegar/elia: huge F for me. i can excuse many evil things (see: all my favorite characters) but i draw a line at abandoning your wife and children with your cruel, mad father to impregnate a young girl because of a prophecy or whatever rhaegar was doing. though, to be honest, i think i would love to know what was going on in this marriage before rhaegar went batshit insane. like. were they friends. were they ever in love. were they allies until rhaegar crossed that line. did elia always hate him from go. i love elia very much, she's my favorite Narrative Ghost in ASOIAF (right there with Joanna Lannister) and i think, if i had any sympathy for rhaegar, i would be invested in this pairing as a study in terrible marriages (which, of course, i adore.) as it is, i find rhaegar a huge disappointment and my favorite things about him are not about him, they are about dany. so. NOTP #justiceforelia

ahhhh i want to hear your thoughts about these ships.

#ask me stuff

[istorkyou]

When We Were Wild (Modern!Ivar AU)

A Modern!Ivar x F Reader.

Warning - Mentions of violence. Language.

Synopsis - Best friends until….

Note - Everything in italics is a flashback.

Word count - 3263

As always, massive love to @punkrocknpearls​​​​ for talking me through this, the amazing beta (pretty sure she got the characters better than I did!) and for the fabulous moodboard above. You da BEST!

Tag List - As always, let me know if you want on or off

@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @grimeundglow @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @freydis-tyrsdottir @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh​ @bragisrunes​

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 - Final Chapter

You and Ivar have been together for five blissful months before the family business once again intrudes into your life together.

You are in a restaurant waiting for Ivar and he is late, not unlike him but it’s getting past an acceptable delay for you. You message him.

Where are you? I’m sitting here on my own like a shitting lemon.

“May I sit here?” The voice is deep and certainly does not belong to your Ivar. You look up into the face of a very tall, intimidating looking man, dark hair, dark beard. 

“No, my boyfriend will be coming soon.” You go back to your phone and see the message isn’t delivered. 

“Ah yes, Ivar will be here soon. In fact, he is just sitting outside in that car.” He points to an SUV with blacked out windows and sits down. “My name is Oleg, and you are?” 

You close your eyes and draw in a deep breath. So this is how it starts, how it's going to be forever? Until when? Until he turns up dead one day, or just disappears and you never know what’s happened to him? Until the fear takes over and you let your addict genes kick in and become an alcoholic to cope? Is this your life now? 

You’ve felt so settled recently. The anxious feeling that usually ticks along in your background has gone, the feeling of impending sadness has left you. You’ve been feeling nothing but a secure happiness, a contentment that you have never previously known. Now this asshole sitting in front of you has wiped all that positivity away and has replaced it with fear, dread, terror and a growing anger. On the plus side, at least you know how to function with those in your blood.

You open your eyes and look straight into his, no apprehension at all. “I’m none of your fucking business that’s who.” You look back to the car. “Show me him.” 

“You have no need to worry, he is perfectly fine,” he drawls slowly.

“Show me him or I will shove the steak knife into your neck without a second thought and deal with whatever consequences come after with a genuine fucking smile on my face.” A calm fear has settled over you. You are scared but you won’t show this man. The fear has made you hyper aware of everything and you notice two other men at another table who are clearly watching this all play out. 

Oleg studies your face closely, and raises one eyebrow at you. “This is not how I like to be spoken to by a lady.” 

“Well you are shit out of luck because I don’t care what you like, and I am not a lady. Show me him.” You move your hand slightly towards the knife. Oleg motions his hand and the window of the SUV is lowered and you can see Ivar’s face; he has a busted lip. His expression is one of terror; you know it’s for you and not for himself.

“Alright.” You turn back to Oleg. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t want anything from you, although I did not know you would be this feisty and calm. I am simply showing your boyfriend and the rest of his family how easy it is to get to the ones the Lothbroks love. Do you work with the family? Your attitude would suit this work well.” 

You look back to the car but the window is up again and you can’t see Ivar now. 

Oleg leans forward and reaches out to your face but you slap his hand away without thinking. The two men you noticed stand up abruptly but Oleg motions for them to sit back down. 

“I like you.”

“Lucky me, give me back Ivar now. You’ve made your point.” 

“Yes, Ragnar should understand our reach now. I don’t think you should be mixed up with this family. Even Ivar stays on the periphery. He was a very easy target though…..”

You interrupt him, the fear for Ivar is building to a level inside that you are worried your calm exterior is going to slip soon. “Yeah, yeah, all very interesting. Give me back my guy now. He’s my guy, not Ragnar’s, he’s barely involved in the shit, whatever it is you all do. Pick someone else next time.” 

“I don’t think you are in any position to dictate to me.” 

“And yet I am. Hey, you” –you shout to Oleg’s men across the restaurant --“get him out the car.”

They look totally perplexed and look to Oleg for instruction. He is watching your face with an approving smile. You just raise your eyebrows at him in question then look back at the car. He motions again. 

“You are a fascinating creature. What are you doing with Ivar?”

You don’t even look at Oleg, your eyes are on the car. “Living my best fucking life.” Your body lets out a shuddering breath as you watch Ivar get out of the car. He is okay apart from the lip. You grab your coat and bag as you get up from the table. Oleg’s hand finds yours softly. Your eyes swing to his hand.

“I would very much like to get to know you better.”

You twist your hand out of his and run out of the restaurant to Ivar. You don’t hug him, you just grab his hand and lead him away, the need to get as much space between you and these people is what’s moving your feet. 

You hail down a cab and tell the driver to just drive and you direct him, you don't give him an address, you don’t want to risk going to your place or Ivar’s and being followed so you start directing him towards Ragnar's home. You finally look at Ivar whose face is covered in silent tears as he stares at you. 

“I’m so sorry…” he sobs out suddenly. You slide across the seat and wrap your arms around him, pulling his head to your chest. 

“Shhh shhh. Don’t say anything here.” You look at the taxi driver. You don’t trust anyone. 

When you get near the house you get the driver to pull over a few blocks away, pay him and walk in silence to the house. It seems empty so you take Ivar to his old bedroom and shut the door.

“My love, I’m so sorry, I am so sorry. I didn’t tell them where we were meeting. I promise you, I thought they were going to take you, or... Oh God, I’m going to be sick.” You run and get the bin for him to puke in. When he is finished you take the bin and clean it out. You still haven’t said anything to him. 

“What did he say to you? Are you okay?” He grabs at you and pulls you into him. “Love, say something!”

“I need to leave.”

He pulls away from you and stares into your eyes, you can’t make out the expressions that are racing over his face. 

“I’m leaving, Ivar. You are either coming with me or you aren’t.” You shrug at him. “You don’t know that I picked your mum up from rehab earlier this year do you?” He shakes his head and you and furrows his brow. 

“You we’re all in some talks about something so Ubbe asked me to. Anyway, she doesn’t want this life for you. The family business. She petrified you will lose yourself in the violence of it all. We all know you enjoy it, but you’ve held back, for me she says.”

He looks at you through the side of his eye. “I’ve always been scared you will be dragged into it and you were today. I would die if something happened to you.”

“Your mum said something to me that scared me. She said she can’t leave Ragnar because she needs his protection. I don’t want that to be us, Ivar. I won’t be used again in my life. I won’t be threatened, I won’t feel scared for the rest of my life just because of what you do. It took me years to feel secure and what’s happened today has just set me back months, years even. I basically saw my life flash before me if I stay here, the constant fear of not knowing if you are going to come home every evening, the anxiety every time I answer the phone or someone knocks at the door. I know how I would end up coping with that level of stress. I would do what my parents did, what your mum did. I would become my parents. So I am leaving. Are you coming with me?” You are emotionless. A barrier has gone up within you. 

He reads you like a book. “Don’t do that. Don’t cut me out, I can see the coldness in your eyes. Please don’t look at me like that, not me, love. I’m so sorry…” He pulls you for a kiss, cupping your face gently. “Don’t cut me out, of course I’m coming with you. Let’s go. Go now. I’ve got cash, our passports are at my place from the holiday. We can buy anything else we need. It’s us, love, forever. I’m so sorry.” 

The whimper that leaves you reflects how you feel: pure relief. You don’t know what you would have done if he said he wasn’t coming with you. Your legs turn to jelly and you sink to the floor in front of him, barriers down, all your hardness gone in an instant. 

He sits on the bed and you put your head in his lap and start to cry. “Oh, thank fuck!” you whimper between sobs.

“Silly little Shitball! As if I would allow you to leave without me. There is not one thing in this whole world I would pick over you, love” he says softly and he smooths your hair. 

“Ivar?” Aslaugs voice comes from behind the door then walks into the room. “I’ve got money. We talked about this didn't we, dear?” She nods at you. “Sorry for eavesdropping. I don’t know what happened today, but you two should leave. Soon. Here,” –she hands Ivar an envelope stuffed full of money --“You two have something too special to waste in this life.”

“Come with us, Aslaug.” You grab her hand. “You can get away.”

She gives you such a regretful smile that your tears automatically fall. “You are so kind, dear. I cannot. I will visit a lot when everything is safe. I will explain to Ragnar. You’ve managed to keep out of the business enough that it shouldn’t be a problem, you will get the clean break you need. I’m very excited for the pair of you. Do not get married without me, I am warning you both!” She pulls you both into her for a cuddle. 

“I said it from the minute I met you, Dear. You were always each other’s destinies. Now go, call me when you settle on where you are going. I love you both.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The year you have been travelling with Ivar has been the most fun of your lives. You have been to sixteen countries and have had adventures you didn’t think you ever would. You've experienced cultures so interesting it’s made you both not want to leave, but you need to go home now. 

You’ve decided to settle two hours away from where you both grew up: far enough that he won’t get dragged back into the bullshit but close enough that his family and your friends can still be part of your lives. 

Ivar has spoken to Ragnar who assured him that the two of you will be safe. That all potential issues were ironed out months back and that the man from the restaurant is no longer in operation. Whatever that means; you don’t want to know. 

When the plane lands, you look at each other and he gives you a soft kiss. “Onto the next adventure, Shitball.” 

When you walk through the arrivals doors you hear a cheer from your right and then total silence. Aslaug, Ubbe, Hvitserk and some of your friends are waiting to greet you. All their faces are in total shock, as they look you up and down. All except Aslaug, she just looks ecstatic.

“Surprise!” Ivar jokes as he gives your swollen stomach a rub. “She ate too much in the Philippines.”

“Ugh, he’s all about the dad jokes since he knocked me up.” You roll your eyes. 

Aslaug walks towards you and embraces you tightly. “Didn’t I always say you would give me grand babies?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shitball, we need to get going, come on, love,” –he slaps you on your ass –“get up or we will miss the boat.” 

“Ivar, I don’t want to go, I don’t feel great, I was sick in the night. I think it was the fish, do you feel okay?” 

“You were sick? Why didn’t you wake me? I feel okay, we had the same, right?” He leans over and feels your forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”

“You go, I will sleep it off.” 

“No way, I’m not leaving you if you are ill.”

“No, you are definitely going. You missed out snorkelling in Bali because of the storm, I don’t want you missing out again, you’ve been so excited. I will be okay, I will probably feel better later anyway.”

“Are you sure? I’ll keep my phone on and I will be back if you need anything.”

“Take the waterproof camera, get great shots, okay?” 

He peppers you with kisses, shouting out he loves you as he leaves your room. 

You go back to sleep but wake up exhausted and are still feeling so sick. You are staying in a hut over the water, well, it’s not really a hut, it’s a villa, very posh, and upmarket with an outside area looking out over the ocean. You’ve been staying in hostels and crappy hotels for the last few months and Ivar needs better conditions for a while. His legs haven’t been playing up too badly but he hasn’t been resting them anywhere near enough because he doesn’t want to miss out on anything. You decided to use some of his Mother's money to have a luxury three week break in Fiji.

Mid afternoon you call for room service; the nausea is still with you but so is a ravenous hunger. When the food is delivered you let the woman from the resort into your room but you have to leave her to vomit again. 

“Miss, are you okay?” You come out of the bathroom and sit on the edge of the bed trying to breathe away the sickness. 

“Sorry. Don’t feel good today.” You smile as she pours your fizzy water. 

“Ginger will help, Miss.” She gestures toward your stomach. “It is good to settle the baby sickness.” 

You take a sip of your water and then register what she has said and laugh. “Oh it’s not that. It’s something I’ve eaten.”

“Oh, sorry, Miss. I just assumed…” 

She uncovers your lunch and you tip her nicely for having to listen to you being sick. 

As you eat your fruit you try to remember your last period. Where were you? What country? New Zealand? No. Fuck! Was it the Philippines? You get up and grab your phone. The Philippines was 9 weeks ago. 

Fuck. 

You’d run out of your contraceptive pill months ago, you didn’t have the time to refill it before you and Ivar took off but you’ve been using condoms. Mostly. 

Fuck. 

You puke again. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shitball! It was fucking amazing! I’ve booked us to go again in a few days, it was incredible. Shitball, where are you? How are you feeling?” 

“Outside.”

He drops onto the loungers next to yours. You are sitting with your legs drawn to your chest and you are still crying. 

You turn to Ivar and watch as his face drops. “What’s wrong? Oh fuck what’s happened?” He is next to you in a heartbeat, pulling your legs down so he can hug you closely. He pulls back and cups your face. 

“Tell me what’s happened. We don’t lie to each other.”

You can’t look at him, you just gesture towards something on the side table. He leans over and picks it up. You can’t look at him. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniff.

“What is this? Is this a pregnancy test?” His face is blank but his eyes are wide open. 

“I’m sorry, Ivar.”

He just stares at the test, then at you, then back to the test. 

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry.” 

His head drops into his hands. “I can’t believe it.”

“I’m sorry,” you start to sob as you watch him process what you’ve just dropped on him. 

“Hey! HEY! Why are you crying? Why are you apologising to me? This is the best news of my whole life, love!” 

“You’re happy?” 

“Of course I am! Aren’t you? We are going to have a baby,” he says quietly. “WE ARE HAVING A BABY!” he shouts out into the ocean, then turns back to you with elation in his face. His excitement fades when he looks at your dejection. He pulls you to him and smooths your hair down soothingly. 

“I can hear your thoughts,” he whispers. “You won’t be like them, you won’t be anything like them. You will be an excellent mother, the best mother in the whole world, love. You know that’s right?!”

“What if I am like them? What if I freak out and can’t handle it? What if it’s too much? What if you leave us?” 

He lets out a gentle laugh. “My love. You are nothing like them now, why would having a baby change that, hey? I know you know I’m never leaving you, so I won’t answer that, you are just freaking out, we will be together even when we are ghosts, love. How many months are you?”

“I think maybe a little over two? No period since the first week in the Philippines.” You grab the bin you’ve taken from the bathroom and puke into it, unsure if it’s the pregnancy hormones or nerves that are making you sick now. Ivar shifts on the seat and rubs your back. 

“What are we going to do? Go home? Carry on travelling? Shit, we need to get you a checkup by a doctor. No more sushi, no more alcohol, no more… I don’t know what else pregnant women can’t have!”

At the mention of sushi you throw up again. He leans down to talk to your stomach. “Stop giving Mama such a hard time, little one.” He sits bolt upright like it’s just hit him. Using the word Mama made it hit him. “Oh my God, we are going to have a baby. Oh my God!” He stands up then sits back down, then stands up, then sits back down, hands laced behind his head, face pale.

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Ivar, are you okay?Just breath, love.” 

“Oh my God, we are going to have a baby!” And with that he bursts into tears. Happy tears. 

“Oh Ivar, my love. Get a shitting grip,” you exclaim in exasperation. “No God is going to help you now. You’re basically fucked, especially if this baby grows into a teenager who is as wild as we were…”

He turns to you with dread on his face and you both start laughing. 

FIN

Thanks so much for reading :) 

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #modern ivar x reader #vikings fanfiction #ivar vikings #modern vikings #ivar the boneless #modern!ivar x reader #vikings au #vikings fanfic #vikings modern au #modern!au #vikings #ivar fanfic #vikings ivar #vikings fic #modern!ivar #modern ivar au #ivar imagine

[agentravensong]

The inevitable Employee 432 / Settings Person and Narrator comparison analysis post

Or, a rumination on stagnation versus "progression" and what counts as an ending, feat. a detour to discuss [REDACTED]

Of all the games to include actual, genuine lore, I honestly did not expect TSP: Ultra Deluxe to be one of them. After all, part of the point of the original game is that everything's a contradiction.

But then Ultra Deluxe took Employee 432, a background gag character, and made them a god.

Why?

To serve as a foil to the Narrator.

I. What's 432's deal?

For people who haven't heard the whole lore, this post has the video where Davey Wreden explained it plus a transcript, but to paraphrase:

Employee 432's one job in the company was to sharpen pencils. But they never had any pencils to sharpen. No one would give them any if they asked. They had nothing else on their desk, nothing to their name. Just a single, straightforward goal that the world refused to provide them the means to fulfill.

And all the while, they were being observed, studied, their coworkers writing a room's worth of peer reviews on them. It was all just one big experiment.

It's good to collect data.

Over 3,000 days (nearly 9 years) of this, of this surveillance, of not being able to fulfill their purpose, eventually drove 432 "so psychologically mad that they become the fabric of the universe", with their new purpose being "setting things for you".

Now. There's a lot that could be said about. All That.

I want to focus on the character's perspective and ideology re: The Stanley Parable itself.

432, despite everything they've been through, despite what the Office did to them, does not want to end the story, or to destroy it in some spectacular fashion. No, they want to destroy it another way: by endlessly recycling the game into its own sequels, only changing the title screen.

The Stanley Parable is not sacred, we do not need to protect it. Screw the legacy! Let's keep making Stanley Parable games until the sun explodes! Let's run this franchise into the ground, let's drag it through the mud and back.

How did 432 come to this conclusion? Well, in one of the logs on them new to Ultra Deluxe, we see that, eventually, they started repeating a certain phrase:

I must keep the wheel turning.

Settings Person says the same in the Epilogue, right after saying:

The Stanley Parable cannot end. It can only spiral in on itself, forever.

This wheel and spiral imagery is typical for discussing cycles, yes, but I also think it ties specifically to 432's former job: using the pencil sharpener. Over time, without being able to actually do their job, they became obsessed with the fantasy of it, the idea of sticking a pencil in there and having the machine rotate it (sharpening it). So obsessed that they took it to this more abstract, all-encompassing level, as a fundamental law of the universe (the same as happened to their very being).

The machine must run. The wheel must turn.

But, in this obsession, they forgot the purpose of the pencil sharpener. You're only supposed to sharpen a pencil up to a point. Otherwise, it breaks, or you wear it out until there's nothing left.

And then, how will you be able to say anything at all?

II. The analysis of the Narrator an anon asked me for days ago

By virtue of 432's newfound position as a "god" of the narrative, there is an inevitable comparison to be drawn between them and the Narrator. 432, in fact, draws it themself.

And if people hate it? Who cares! You see, that was the Narrator's problem. He was so obsessed with what people thought of his work. Don't make his mistake. Don't cling to the legacy. Let it burn.

This obsession is a large part of the Narrator's characterization. After all, the Skip Ending happens because he gets so hurt by the negative reviews that he implements a feature they suggested without realizing it goes against everything the Parable is made for, against his very existence.

But it's important to acknowledge that what the Narrator counts as "his work" has changed from the original to Ultra Deluxe. It's not just about his one intended path anymore, with every diversion seen as a backup at best and an entirely unintended blemish at worst. If that were the case, then why would the Memory Zone contain fond memories of any ending other than the Freedom Ending, his original story? No, over time, the Narrator seems to have accepted those other games as being part of the Parable, to have come to an understanding that they are what make the game what it is. They are a part of its legacy. And he's become nostalgic for the whole thing.

The Narrator in Ultra Deluxe is defined by nostalgia and legacy. He only goes about making The Stanley Parable 2 because UD's "new content" is disappointing, just a gimmick tacked on to the original, and he feels compelled to save the game's legacy. And yet, all his attempts to make something new "from the ground up" that genuinely expand on the game end up being just that: little add-ons that are either totally divorced from or actively get in the way of the original content. Is this because the Narrator genuinely doesn't have any other ideas for stories? Or is it because he's too stuck in The Stanley Parable - too afraid of ruining to make any major additions (like a third door that actually leads to new paths), or just creatively burned out by working within the confines of the world of the office for so long?

The figurines are probably the best implemented of the new features in terms of encouraging exploration of the game's content and providing a new goal to work towards without being obtrusive, which may be why the Narrator grows such a fondness for them. The ending you get from collecting them all really drives home the Narrator's nostalgia, and how it's his downfall. The Narrator gives what sounds like genuine lore/backstory about why he created the Parable, or at least Stanley, in the first place, and then resolves that, as much fun as he's had telling the story, it's time for him to shelve it, to take control of his life again, to tell new stories...

After one more go.

So you play again, thinking (if you're me) that this might just be your last run, and you get an ending. And then another. And another.

And you realize that the Narrator, in deciding to give it one more go, has unknowingly passed up the one opportunity he had to move on. Because he doesn't remember as much/well as he thinks he does. He's been at this so long that it all blurs together. There is no "one last time". Or, rather, he doesn't get to be the one who determines that. He'll never get to go out on his own terms.

the end is never the end is never the end is never

So, there's an obvious contrast between the Narrator and 432. The Narrator holds The Stanley Parable as something sacred, as having a legacy worth preserving, whereas 432 wants to tear it down from that high place, to burn the legacy. You could say the moral takeaway is the synthesis of their thesis and antithesis: you should hold some respect for the past, enough to recognize what things from it are worth keeping and learning from, but you also can't hold on to it too tightly or you'll be stuck in it.

However, if you look at it from the right angle, you'll see their positions are remarkably similar:

They are both stuck in stagnation, in a form that's dressed up as progress.

432 is self-aware about this. They are, with our help, creating "sequels" without any actual new content, just slapping a new label on things.

The Narrator is not. He tries to make The Stanley Parable 2, but ends up making The Stanley Parable With A Bucket, Collectibles With No Associated Reward, And A Fancy New Title Screen, which is just + 1 bucket and 6 collectibles from being what 432 does. He can't make anything truly new as long as he's stuck within the framework of The Stanley Parable, as long as he clings to the legacy.

Either way, the game ends up "spiral[ing] in on itself, forever", digging itself an infinitely deep grave.

It only ends when you stop playing. The "canon ending", the end of the story, is wherever you stopped, whether that be after the Freedom ending, or the "Not Stanley" / "Real Person" / "Incorrect" ending, or the Broom Closet "ending", or the Epilogue, or the 8 room.

That's what the Curator was going on about, isn't it? That turning the thing off is the only way to set them both free?

But, of course, neither 432 nor the Narrator want you to stop playing, because... well, they're video game characters, who were created specifically for you. To set the game to your specifications. To tell you a story.

432 seems a bit less needy in this regard, or at least better capable of hiding it. They're fine!

They're fine.

Narrator, on the other hand?

It was the vessel [someone listening] I needed, Stanley. Not the outcomes, not the story, none of that matters anymore. I'll give it all up, I'll give up every branching path, I'll burn my story to the ground!

(i wonder if i bolded that bit because it parallels a line from 432 that i previously bolded. hmm.)

Oh, Narrator. Just listen to him:

If I knew that my life depended on finding something to be driven by other than validation... What would that even be? Heh, it's strange, but the thought of not being driven by external validation is unthinkable. Like, I actually cannot conceive of what that would be like!

...wait, isn't that from-

III. This post is about The Beginner's Guide now

Why? Because why not. I mean, take it from Wreden:

But, more specifically, The Beginner's Guide also features a conflict between stagnation and progression represented by a pair of game makers / storytellers, one who speaks to us and one who we only hear from via text.

Here is where I say, to those who haven't played or watched a playthrough of The Beginner's Guide, that the rest of this post will spoil shit, and this is one of those experiences that you really should go into blind if you can (especially since it's relatively short). I'd put a second "read more", but I don't think tumblr allows that, so, read on at your own risk.

We good? Good. (also, a note: I will be using they/them for Coda because there's some Gender Stuff in the background of TBG that makes their gender not 100% clear.)

Where the Narrator and 432 both represented a combination of stagnation and progress, the dichotomy with Davey and Coda is, at least at first glance, much more clear cut.

Davey is all about progress, specifically toward a destination. He skips you past the maze on the ship, the slow stairs, the multi-hour wait in the prison, and the obstacles of the tower, to get to the bits that he thinks have meaning. He cuts off the cleaning game, because

"You can't stay in the dark space for too long, you just can't, you have to keep moving, it's how you stay alive."

He adds lampposts to mark the endpoint of each of Coda's games (after Down / The Streetwise Fool), making his reasoning very explicit (though he attributes it to Coda):

I think up to this point he's been making really strange and abstract games with no clear purpose, and maybe you can only float around in that headspace for so long. Because now he wants something to hold onto. He wants a reference point, he wants the work to be leading to something. He wants a destination!

Coda, by contrast, seems happy to sit with an idea and not have it lead to anything. They made the cleaning game to be endless, and Davey admits this was a time where they were very happy. "Grossly happy" in his opinion, but still.

Right before that one, they made nearly a dozen prison games back to back, a process Davey describes as "awful to watch, to see a person basically unraveling through their work". He even admits later that this was where he first started suspecting Coda was depressed, but... maybe they just liked making prisons. And though Davey says Coda "doesn't have that voice telling you to stop, that particular mechanism of defense against yourself", they do, eventually. Unlike 432, they find the point, and they stop the machine.

Also, if you actually read the dialogue from the two trios of cubeheads in the Down game, right before finding the first of the lamposts, then... I'll let you read it for yourself.

Coda also parallels 432 in how they don't seem to have any nostalgia for their own games, reportedly throwing them all into their computer's trash bin as soon as they're completed. In fact, you might be able to argue that Coda is afraid of having a legacy. When you're destroying their games in The Machine, you have the option to say either that Coda's work dies here, or that "I’ll make sure you are known forever!”, which positions the two thoughts as equivalent. Allowing Coda's games to be seen and gain notoriety would, to Coda, kill the games.

An attempt to secure legacy only destroying the integrity of what came before... now where I have heard that fear recently?

So, Davey is progress, and Coda is stagnation. Neither mentality is totally healthy on its own. Coda admits to having had frustrating moments of getting stuck while trying to come up with new ideas (even if that didn't mean they were depressed), and there are certainly games of theirs that feel like they build to a certain Point. Meanwhile, Davey's stubborn obsession keeps him from recognizing why Coda actually liked their games, what they got out of game making, and thus all his attempts at analyzing Coda's authorial intent end up twisting the games into something else.

And so then, in Ultra Deluxe, we take this simple dynamic and complicate it by having the Narrator and 432 both represent a kind of stagnation masquerading as progress.

...except, it's not so "simple" in The Beginner's Guide, either. Let me just copy-paste this paragraph from my beginner's guide video script doc* real quick:

Davey derries Coda’s prison games and the cleaning game for being stuck on one idea, being content to repeat the same cycles, instead of progressing. He highly values moving forward, working towards a goal. And yet, Davey’s so hung up on this one goal of fixing (his relationship with) Coda that he’s found himself trapped in such a loop, one that’s actually destructive. He doesn’t let himself really interrogate his feelings, he just replays Coda’s games, repeats the same ideas he’s always had about them. He appears to be moving, but he’s really stagnant.

*No I have not made the video yet. Do you think I'd feel the need to go on this whole diatribe if I had?

In order for Davey to move on, to actually make progress, he has to let go of his relationship with Coda. Of Coda's games. At least for long enough that he can come back to them with a truly open mind.

Coda, meanwhile, has (hopefully) already moved on. Davey says they stopped making games, but remember that a) Coda has cut off contact with Davey, and b) Coda never shared their games with anyone else. So how would Davey know? It's only the end of Coda's game making career from his perspective.

Endings are all a matter of perspective.

All Stanley could think about, all he could talk about, was going back, doing it over again. [...] "This isn't an ending! This is just a hole in the ground!" The bucket sighed. True, it wasn't an ending, but it's where we happened to be. And maybe, possibly, if we accept the reality of things, maybe this will become an ending eventually. It's what the bucket was counting on.

IV. A Kind of Conclusion

There's a lot more I could say here - especially if I went back to Employee 432, aka Settings Person, aka the Time Keeper. I could start rambling about their whole "what is time, anyway?" mentality ties back into the idea of there not being any definitive endings. I could talk more about how tragic it is that they, in their "escape" from the office, have come to perpetuate the very cycle that broke them, and that the best we can do for them is to indulge them in their vengeance, keeping Stanley and the Narrator and everyone else trapped. I could speculate about what their transition from regular office worker to entity above the story could mean for the Narrator's backstory.

I could also say more about the Narrator. About how his perspective, his relationship to us, to Stanley, has changed from the original to Ultra Deluxe. About how fucking sad the Skip Ending is, my god.

I could say a hell of a lot more about The Beginner's Guide, but I'll save that for the theoretical video.

I think it's about time this post came to an end. Thanks to everyone who decided not to nope out of this beast early. I hope you got something from it :)

P.S. - If you guys really wanna feel something, go read the text for Interview, the part of The Beginner's Guide that The Machine would later replace. It's. Something, all right.

#the stanley parable #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #tsp:ud #the beginner's guide #davey wreden #tspud spoilers #narrative nonsense #IT'S DONE! #...what if i made this into a video? #...let's save that question for another day

[rotblume]

what I really have to do: work and study for Uni

what I also need to do: learn for the theory test of my driver's license exam

what I should do, other than that: household chores

what I actually should do, if I didn't have Non24: be asleep for several hours already, cause it's half six, now 6 in the morning on a weekday and theoretically I have lectures starting at 8, but I'm finally becoming tired, so I'll just miss another round of courses

what I could do besides: continue writing my WIP fics, bringing those darn scenes to paper which are floating around in my head and finally finishing another chapter

what I actually do: doodle and sketch yet another random scene and not even be happy with how it turned out

I wanted to start actually getting back into drawing with enough practice, really do some anatomy exercises for example, or just generally figure out my style after years of no painting

but what I put to paper instead are two males gazing into each other eye's, without knowing why they do it

that conversation from the other characters in the background was me trying to decide what was happening, and I'm still not completely sure

are they arguing over who the better pilot is? are they flirting? WHAT IS GOING ON?

and yes, I know, theoretically Todd's starburst marking is on the wrong side, but before spontaneously adding the conversation, I mirrored the painting for a better text flow and didn't want to lose the tattoo over it

also, hands are a pain .. I mean mine are either way due to chronic pain .. but no, they are a pain to draw, especially after years of no attempts of painting

#my art #creator vs creation #creators on tumblr #artists on tumblr #painters on tumblr #writers on tumblr #authors on tumblr #wip #Invisible Disability #Chronic Pain #Non24

[broken-bottle-chandelier]

" And now here I am, to my waist in water and getting drowned on the regular. "

Looks to the Moon being reminiscent of memories she no longer has... ...Featuring, my design take on Moon! Yaaay! This is my first time actually sitting down and fully coloring and fleshing out the look, wow!

This was originally for the Rain World art month, but as it approached the end of the month I just decided to finish it on my own time, and as is often the case, my own time is usually about a month- TT+TT [Though drawing the very last-minute background that I had NO planning beforehand other than the realization "Oh, right, Twitter doesn't do transparent images" most likely did not help...]

Despite having said all that, I actually am kind of proud of how long this took me! I tried a lot of new techniques for this! For instance: I knew I wanted to show motion with Moon's wires and incorporate them into the piece but I wasn't really satisfied with how I draw wires, and drawing two parallel lines by hand would have taken substantially more time. SO- to counteract this I did some research into properly making my own custom brushes for my software, I use Paint Tool SAI so I don't necessarily have the luxury of softwares like Clip Studio Paint to have catalogs of brushes sadly, and was able to make my own 2-point brush! It definitely needs some tweaks and revisions, despite being the 5th one of its kind that I made for this piece, but it served itself well for this piece and was a great help! The texturing was also a custom brush, made by someone else but heavily tweaked to match my preferences so that I could replicate skin refracting the rain. That in itself took a LOT of time studying references and watching tutorials and tips. [Thank you Sinix Design for all you do for the art community...]

However, there's more that I wish I could've done for this piece and it is FAR from perfect. I really wanted to make the red parts of Moon's body much shinier to show that they are a different property than her skin. Part of me really wanted to add in some rain falling from the ceiling too, to better sell the look of her being in the middle of an active rain cycle. Alas, my art program was really struggling to keep up with the number of layers I already had on the canvas and... also I didn't want to spend another few hours learning how to draw raining in free fall... there was also that... [Also I promise I am much better at drawing water and waves than this, I DID NOT plan how that shape would look in a third dimension at ALL and it suffered as a result- Oops--]

But! She's done and I'm comfortable enough with how this turned out! I'm glad to have finally properly drawn an iterator finally! It only took 6 years...

And thank YOU, yes you... for reading all my ramblings on my work and the process I went through!

#rain world #looks to the moon #finished art #digital art