#honestly it probably would have been easier to actually just shade this but i wanted to be lazy

[infinitenicknames]

be boop. colored some are for a fanfic i'm working on

#oh my goodness the effects on this were fighting me #honestly it probably would have been easier to actually just shade this but i wanted to be lazy #and some how lazy took way more time #i'm losing my mind gamers #i'll try to upload the next chapter later but i think i need a nap first #twisted wonderland #ace trappola #yuu crowley #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland yuu #deuce spade #twisted wonderland grim #twst #fanart #mine monster/overblot phantom #idk what it's called #my art #deuce twst #ace twst

[bisexual-horror-fan]

I know you’re requests are closed but I had an idea for a Mickey fic and I’m an awful writer and you’re amazing so imma just leave this here. What if reader and Mickey are both the Ghostfaces along with Nancy and they’re both like, literally insane. Like to the point where after they kill they gotta fuck then and there whilst covered in their victims blood blah. blah but in the end Nancy kills one of them and it makes the other completely fucking INSANE for revenge.

OKAY! SO! Anon! I fucking love this ask. I went so hard. I hope you enjoy this enemies to friends to lovers over 7K massive fic! I stretched out the timeline of Scream 2 because fuck you, this is fanfic and we can do whatever we want to! I love this request and where it leaves off? I already have a sequel planned and mostly plotted. So thank you Anon seriously. Also, shoutout to @mrsaltieri-real for helping me out on this one! You are the best.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.9K. Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Ghostface! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Reader Is A Killer. Reader Has Anger Issues. Fighting. Taunting. Teasing. Mickey And Reader Are ASSHOLES To Each Other. Blood. Gore. Murder. Death. Mild Fluff. Enemies To Friends To Lovers. Ghostface Partners In Crime Couple. Mickey Is Crushing Hard. Angst. Hurt. Crying. Emotional Pain. I Apologize In Advance.

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“So Good To You.”

—

You never cared much for the idea of getting a college education, or at least that is what you told yourself because financially it was way out of reach for you, an impossibility. That was until you got an offer you simply couldn’t turn down, what that offer was? It was for a free ride at a college by a benefactor with money to burn and some revenge she needed to be carried out. It would be a hindrance for some, but not for you. The reason you were chosen was because of not only your previous experience with this, but your outright willingness to spill blood. So you accept, you follow her instructions to the fucking letter and arrive at school in September. 

Once moved into your dorm, a few days into college you were meeting up with her in person, all the correspondence up to this point has been online and on the phone, meeting her had to be done carefully. The meeting is not even in town, the process must be delicate, and the wrong people cannot see you together lest there be talk and suspicion. When you show up and see that she is not alone you are confused, when you sit down, and she explains that you are not the only student she is “sponsoring” you are pissed.

You don’t hide this either, gripping your menu, so tightly it might bend, speaking in a hushed yell whisper, “Nancy, what the fuck?”

He, whoever he was, agreed, leaning forward and voice low, “Yeah actually, what the fuck?”

Nancy tried to have a measured response, attempting to calm you both, she set her own menu aside, fingers laced together, hands resting on top of the tablecloth. She says your name and then his, “Mickey-” you scrunch your nose, who the fuck is named Mickey? Like the fucking mouse? 

“-I have to make sure this happens. You both know the motive and I figured having two of you would make this better, all the easier. I can be very hands-off and honestly, you are both such great talents. How could I choose just one of you?”

That pissed you off further. You keep your voice hushed, not wanting to be overheard, “It sounds to me more that you don’t think I can handle this myself and that I need some shitty fucking guy’s help to kill.” 

Mickey scoffed, a roll of his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as he said, “Yeah, you are such an empowered woman who doesn’t need any help to kill. So tough. So strong. If you are so capable, why do you need someone to fund your college career?”

You hated him. Everything about him. His stupid spiky hair, the dumb shade of blue on his sweater, his face, his voice, what he said in tone and also in content. “It’s called a scholarship. I know it’s a big word, you’ve probably never heard it, and what about you? She thinks that YOU need a woman’s help to kill, how sad is that for you?” 

By the way his eyes narrowed, you feel like he doesn't like you either. Good. You don’t want him to. 

The dinner is tense, but you manage to make it through and Nancy makes it clear that if you want to go or if he does that you can, but she will pull her funding and whoever is left will get to do it alone. You don’t back down and neither does he, so you are forced to work together, and you accept this fact with extreme reluctance.

The plan is for you and him to get as close to Sidney and her friends as possible, to insert yourselves and get in the right position at just the right time to make sure that this happens just as Nancy wanted. You did, and you were barely able to restrain your rage against him, it comes out sometimes, everyone else thinks it is an affectionate thing, a long-running joke of both of you disliking each other and exchanging barbs, but no one thought it was serious. 

You had to get used to his presence, but that proved to be difficult, you would sometimes get so riled up after an argument with him that you felt like screaming and ripping your hair out, he got under your skin in the worst way possible. You got to him similarly it seemed, you sometimes knew he left your interactions being the one who could barely reign in his temper, part of you liked getting to him like that. 

Staying away from him and avoiding any time you and Mickey were solo was a must, but sometimes you can’t help it when you are in the same friend group like this. You and he were at the same party and Sidney left to go use the bathroom, and Randy went to go get a drink, and that left you and him in proximity.

You and Mickey were both leaning against the same wall. He speaks first, “Getting real friendly with Sid there.” 

You smile, proud of yourself, you were making a great impression, fantastic progress, you allow yourself to indulge in feeling pride as you agree with his assessment, “Yeah, I am.”

“She seems super invested. You do know that you need more than a low cut shirt to get her fallin’ all over herself for you, right?” He turned to face you, and you turn too as you respond, “Yeah unlike you, I am not a total slut, I am not trying to fuck her.”

“Why not?” He asked, and you laughed into your cup, making sure to keep your voice low enough just for him to hear, “Who am I? Billy Loomis? Gonna fuck her then gut her?” 

He shrugs before taking a sip from his own cup, a swallow before he says casually, “I’ve read your papers in film class, derivative is your whole thing.” 

“Is it now?” You ask and he says, “It is. Taking from someone great, and regurgitating it back out as if it is some amazing new or profound thought, something original all your own, when it very obviously is not.” 

He was such an insufferable asshole. 

You swallow what is left in your cup and then push off the wall, “I need another fucking drink if I am gonna have to be around you.” 

He lets you go. 

After lunch one day you, and he ended up in the same direction, you don’t want to deal with him and so you pick up the pace, walk faster, and he makes sure to speed up too, “Awe where you off to in such a rush? Gonna be late for your gender studies class, princess?” 

“Gross, do not call me that shit.” You say as you adjust your backpack, rolling your eyes before you retort, “You ready to fail that test tomorrow? I know you haven’t been studying.”

His hands are thrown up, eyes skyward and a grin as he says, “Heaven forbid, I wanna enjoy the college experience and make the most of it out and about, not with my nose in a book all the time.” 

“I think you could stand to be a little more well-read, you are painfully fucking dull whenever I am forced to talk to you.” Breaking off for the turn you head towards the building for your next class, he calls after you, “I am so, so hurt. Hey, don’t forget to spell women with a y, you’ll lose points otherwise, okay?” 

He knew just how to really fucking bother you. 

You know how to bother him, too. 

A different day, you and him were meant to have a meeting with Nancy. You were waiting for her to arrive, and he was boasting about how he had gotten in with Randy and Derek, you said, “Finally, took you long enough. It’s weird, though, considering that you are the fucking worst.” 

“I’m the worst?” He asked, and you nod, “Yes you are, I don’t know how you pulled it off, I have seen your acting ability.”

His hand rubs over his eyes as he asks, “You insult my acting ability now? What is wrong with it?” 

“Mickey. Virgin teens faking on prom night are better actors than you are.” 

His jaw drops, brows pinch together, and you pile on before he can respond, “You seem so chummy with Randy though, you blown him yet orrr?”

Nancy walked into you both locked in another augment, and she slammed the door, making you both stop. “Can you please, please, for the love of God, not fight for one day? I know it must be very hard, but do it for me?”

“It isn’t my fault she is such a frigid bitch.” He spits, and you say back, “Rich coming from the school slut, seriously, do you sweat chlamydia?” 

Mickey opens his mouth and Nancy cuts him off, “Please, save it! Can’t you be the bigger person here?”

Mickey doesn’t even look at her, eyes locked with you, he says, “I know you are a real maternal figure, but I am not your fucking son so can you not talk to me like I am?” 

You have to bite back the laugh you were about to bark out, and Nancy was just done, thoroughly over you both and your petty rivalry. “If you both don’t knock it off, I will call off the whole thing!”

That had you and he both turning to her, “You can’t!” 

It is reminiscent of a tired parent on a car trip sick of hearing, “Are we there yet?” and responding with, “I will turn this car around!” When she tells you both, “I can, and I will if you don’t play nice at least in front of me!” 

You and Mickey both know she is serious. You do your best to chill the hell out and just get through this without killing each other. 

The road is long until the first kill is meant to happen. You and he have ebbs and flows of seriously deep hatred, neutral times of acceptance and even an instance or two of actually kind of getting along, at least on the surface. Below that, you still find times of hating each other.

One night after yet another tense meeting, after yet more endless frustration, you and he locked in another fight it happens without you meaning to. Both of you are just too pent-up and when he spits, “I am so tired of you being such a bitch, have you tried loosening up sometimes?”

“How would you recommend I do that in between keeping a low profile, getting closer to Sid and the rest, and keeping my grades up?” He tells you with crossed arms over his chest, “I’d recommend you taking a good dick every once in a while.” 

“Does it always gotta come back to that? Just fuck my stress away and that will fix me?” 

“Why not try it?” And he says it so smugly, something inside just snaps inside of you, leading to you both being in your bed. Your clothes don’t even totally come off, it is a messy hate-fuck, “I knew you wanted me-”

Your teeth sink into his throat, a sharp bite that makes him jerk back, his hips faltering as you respond, “I don’t want you, this means fucking nothing, you mean fucking nothing, okay?”

 “Fine, fuck.” Another roll of his hips pulls a moan from you before he mutters out, “Crazy fucking bitch, just stop biting me.”

A terrible idea hits, and you execute it, a slap to his face as opposed to a bite and it is so shocking, catches him so off guard he has to actively fight the urge to cum. “Better?”

You ask sugary sweet, and he grits out, “I fucking hate you.” 

“I fucking hate you too.”

Hate fucking when the wait for the plan to kick off becomes a somewhat regular occurrence, one neither of you chose to acknowledge unless you were splayed over a surface together.

Currently, you were in Mickey’s place. You and he agreed to head over to a party together to meet up with everyone else, you were in one of those times when you didn’t totally hate his guts, just mostly did, so you could tolerate his presence. You were getting impatient, you were a punctual person, and he was not when it came to things like this. You were tapping your foot on the bottom rung of a stool as you sat at the bar as you waited, calling out to him while he is in his bedroom, “What are you doing in there? Jacking off? I’d like to go sometime this century.” 

“Yeah, I bet you like to think about that.” He called back, and you scoffed, “As fucking if.” 

While you waited, your eyes flitted over the bar, and you noticed there were scattered papers about, you are so bored you start to sift through them, looks like some kind of project he was working on. You look further, wondering what it was, you skim pages and words caught on, “slice” and “blood”.

You start to look further, flip through pages, and you find descriptions of murder, violent kills, strangulation, knives stabbed into warm bodies. You read of terrible brutality and the feelings that are invoked while experiencing it. You become so absorbed in the reading when his hand touches your shoulder, you jump nearly a foot in the air, heart hammering. 

“Catching up on some reading?” He asked with a grin, and you roll your eyes as you shake off his hand, “Creep.” 

“Says the girl who is currently rummaging through MY shit.”  Your eyes are back on the papers, ignoring what he said, and instead you ask, “What even is all this? Some fucked up project for a class?”

He takes the seat on the stool next to you, “It’s my work before coming to school.”

Your eyes go wide, you look at him, “Wait is this-”

He brightens further, “A scrapbook, yeah! I was rearranging it before you showed up, got a bit too into it, lost track of time, so I couldn’t clean it up before you came in, and then you were fucking rushing me-” 

“Holy fucking shit, you have a scrapbook of your previous kills?” You flip through, detailed accounts, pictures, small souvenirs, more still. It was amazing but also infuriating, how the fuck did you never think to do something like this? Most you had was scrawled out diary entries post kill, but this was truly in depth, a testament to his commitment to wielding a knife and bringing pain.

He leans closer, starts pointing out particular details, and you have to admit, an impressive body of work, clear effort put forth into this catalogue of violence. “She was the first. She was in my math class in high school, the kind of girl who thought she was way too good for everyone, you know the type.” 

His eyes meet yours, a taunting smile, and you find yourself letting out a laugh. He kept talking, and you kept listening until he says, “You are being awfully quiet.”

“Am I not allowed to be quiet?” You ask, and he laughs, “No. It just isn’t like you, normally you make your opinions very painfully known.”

You sighed, “I just can’t get over what a good idea this is, I’m fucking pissed I didn’t think of it myself.” You admit, and he laughed louder, “I got one up on you and you admit it? Fuck, it is a good night.” He gets up, collects the papers and puts them in the open box nearby. You try to stop him, “Wait, where are you going?”

You ask as he takes the box back to his room, and he says, “We have a party to get to, remember? I’ll let you read it in full another time for you to cream yourself over, alright?” 

Yeah, sure, cream yourself over is what you’d do. You are simply curious about his work before you both met, you liked getting a feel for him and what he had done, it only makes sense since you are going to work together. He comes back and you both leave, but that night you had to admit is what started the shift, you started to look at Mickey a bit differently, had more respect for him. He obviously had skills to back up his talk, it was a comfort as well as just nice to get to know him on this level. No one else understood that side of you, getting to talk with someone else who has killed, he understands the depth, the complexity and more, you didn’t know how nice it would be.

After that night, you and he talk some more about it, his kills and yours, it is bonding, and it goes from hating each other and somewhat tolerating to being more like co-workers. A different night you were in your dorm room alone and both going over what your pasts. He showed you his newly minted scrap book, and you read aloud from your diary about how your first date ended in your killing the guy. 

“How often have you gotten blood in your mouth?” He asks, and you gagged jokingly, “Too many times! You never think that it is gonna spray like that until the first time you slash a throat, right?”

“Seriously. Okay, okay. Least favourite part?” He asked, and you groaned, “Disposal, dead weight is such a bitch at times. Once a guy almost got away from me, I cornered and killed him at the bottom of some stairs, but once he was dead I had to drag him back UP those same stairs.” 

“Fuck, how did you do it?” He genuinely asked, and you tell him, “With ropes and determination. How about you?” He hums, “My least favourite part has to be when the chase goes on for too long. Nothing worse than being winded before you even get the knife in them, feel like I can’t enjoy it properly, and I hate to do a rush job like that. It’s like the option is taken from me.”

“Lack of control is truly the worst.” You agree. 

While you felt closer, a small kinship as well as more mutual understanding, Mickey could still be a bit much at times, you still clashed on occasion, but those times were becoming fewer and further between. It makes the path to the plan easier. You study on occasion, able to have meals together, Nancy is pretty pleased you’d both calmed down, and you find yourself consumed with regular daily life. The hate fucking isn’t so hateful and has also slowed considerably to a near stop.

When you got the go ahead, you and he were giddy. Alight. It caused one of the worst fights you had with him where you insisted that you be the first one to kill, you wanted to show that you could, prove yourself and also, it had been so, so fucking long since you had. Eventually, Nancy sides with you but insists Mickey be nearby in case shit goes screwy, and you can deal with that. 

You revel in it. The phone call, the break in, the case and the actual kill. You being on top of her, stabbing her, running her through with one hand as your other is over her mouth. She struggles and whines, and you feel powerful, watching the light drain from her eyes the same way the blood does. 

Perhaps you linger just a touch too long, but you just can’t help it. Mickey comes to get you, urge you out, and then he sees it, the aftermath. You still sitting on top of her in your costume, the knife to the hilt inside of her, and you turn, ghostly white mask with small spots of red and his breath catches. He read your accounts, you’d talked in depth, he’d killed people himself, but this, seeing it, you, post kill, was a totally different animal. 

You pull off your mask, hair a mess, face sweaty with the effort, a manic smile as you ask, “What’s up?”

He lingers by the door of the balcony you were on, stuck in the threshold, the sliding glass was acting like a metaphorical doorway as much as a physical one, a turning point, one that cannot be forgotten or ignored. A shifting tide, your relationship, how he viewed you, permanently changed. His mouth feels dry, he swallows and says, “We have to go.”

“Shit, yeah, you’re right, just got a little uh-” You look down at the body, pull the knife out and drive it in one last time, you sound gleeful, “-stab happy.” 

The laugh spills from you both unbidden and then, you flee the scene of the crime. Costumes stowed in bags and knife hastily wiped down. He couldn’t stop looking at you after that night. Every time he saw you, it was like you went from black and white static to live and in colour, as if he was seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you. He had it and had it so fucking badly for you, it was embarrassing. 

You could get him, understand him on levels no one else could or probably ever would. 

Mickey started treating you differently. You think it is because of what he saw, he finally was respecting you and sure it was part of it, but much more than you could have realized went into it. He was being much more than pleasant to be around, he was nice, fun to be around, he wasn’t an asshole like previously and slowly, much, much too slowly, after many meals bought, coffees given and notes shared you figure out that you think, he has a crush on you. It slips through even when with your “friends” and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Especially because he doesn’t hide it. He is kind, he flirts shamelessly, he makes his wants and intentions known.

You don’t know how to deal with or process that. 

So you don’t.

You let him treat you better, you feel previous hate and anger melt, but you write it off as friendship, nothing wrong with that considering what you were doing. You take his compliments with a smile, you laugh off his over the top promises of “I’d be so, so good to you.” with a wave of your hand.

The plan continues on, stretches out from days to weeks, Nancy claims she wants Sidney to really suffer, and you aren’t going to question or complain. 

The next kill is up to Mickey, you weren’t able to be there, but you got to see him after. Amped the fuck-up and excited, he told you about it all, how it went. “He was so pathetic, you should have seen him, begging for his life, crawling on the ground, oh my God.” 

You watched him pace back and forth, animated hand gestures, his t-shirt was sticking to him from the sweat, your eyes aren’t sure where to linger, defined arm muscles or that wide sick smile. He flops onto the couch beside you, a large exhale, “It was fucking incredible.” 

“And what are you feeling like, right now?” You asked as you looked down at him, and he says as his head pitches to look up at you, “I am feeling fucking starving. You want to order in a pizza?”

So you did. You ate sprawled on the floor and talked about the fact everything was meant to ramp up soon, that you and he were expected to both go in hard within the next few weeks. 

It still goes on, you and both grow closer, another kill here, one there until finally there is a night where you have to murder together. The talking beforehand is frantic, both planning what was going to happen, honestly excited to do this together. You and Mickey started off hating each other's guts, but that seems so far away now, you and he were actually good friends and a united front on this plan.

It doesn’t go well at first.

The struggle is hard, you and he almost lose the two people you were planning on killing, but you manged it. Watching Mickey up close, not only that but you both doing this together, it makes something in you and your perception of him change. It is startlingly intimate, you are so in the moment, weirdly in sync with very little verbal communication, at one point you are gutting one of them while he holds them down and even through the masks, you know your eyes are locked, you can’t see his gaze, but you feel it. 

It’s then. Between the smell of blood, the sweat making your black robe stick to you, over the screams of your shared victims, that all of it hits you.

It all comes crashing in, you thought he was the only one with a crush, with deeper feelings, that is not the case. You’ve come to realize that you have feelings for him too, deep and intense, scary and all consuming feelings, you care about Mickey and more than as a friend, a fellow killer, a partner in crime. You like him. Old memories flow through your mind now tinged differently, a highlight reel of neon recollection, synapses sparking, forcing you back, dragging you along to really look at those moments in the new light and context of your now fully exposed feelings. Raw and wriggling and out in the open air for you to contend with, screaming for acceptance and to be dealt with in some fucking fashion.

You had liked him for a long while and were far too stubborn and stupid to realize it. And you can’t ignore it any longer.

Snapped back into the moment you are staring. His strong gloved hands around the bitch’s throat, you can see the power he has, the way his arms strain from the effort, you can’t look away. 

Once it was over, once they are both dead, you and he had to separate, and it made your mind run. You were so nervous, you trusted him completely now.

You knew Mickey was more than capable, but still, the thought of him actually being caught, you don’t know how you’d handle it. The sudden change steals your breath, you feel crushed by your new feelings, the unexpected care you feel for him.

The emotions run high during a kill night on the best of times, but the rough and rocky start, the joined act of killing, the fact the police presence as stepped up, it all mixes together. You were worried, very fucking worried, and that makes you terrified. 

When you come back to the meeting point, he is already there, his mask is taken off, and you hastily remove your own. Staring across the space at each other, heavy breathing, and the look in his eyes upon meetings yours, he knows. He knows you feel differently now, and it can be felt in the air. You stride forward first as you exhale out, “Thank fuck you’re okay-”

As soon as you are close enough Mickey’s hands are on the sides of your face, pulling you to him and his mouth crashing into yours, swallowing you up in him, preventing you from speaking, stealing all words, you return his affection hastily, clumsily and with a moan of relief. Even during all your hate fucking, it wasn’t like this. There were no presses of your mouth to his, the only times your mouths were used were to bite, cause pain, or on occasion give each other some truly rough but brutal oral sex. 

You are greedy, need to make up for lost time. You kiss him hard, want to make him as breathless as you are, more than the chase made him. You and he end up on the couch in his place. Costumes are long forgotten on the floor. His hands wander, touch you all over, help pull clothes away and aside, “I’ve been thinking about this so fucking much.”

A laugh slips out as you straddle him, helping him out of his shirt and throwing it aside, “Yeah Mickey?”

He takes in the view of you in just your pants and bra perched on his thighs, his hands run up your sides, fingers press over an already flowering bruise left from when one of your murder victims kneed you in the ribs. You hiss slightly, a sharp intake of air from the stab of pain, you retaliate, fingers in his hair, you thread, twist and pull. He gasps, smile widens, and he nods as much as you allow, “Yeah, been thinking about you just like this.” 

“Just like this?” You grind on his lap, bare down on his clothed erection, short muted sounds of pleasure leave you both as you lose yourselves in the action, the friction before he manages to get out, “Almost, there are no clothes in the way, and I am buried deep again in that sweet fucking cun-”

You pull even harder and his sentence breaks off with a groan as you prompt him. “Stop talking and start doing.” 

He was losing it. Normally whenever he hooked up with people he was sure, in total control, but you got the drop on him. He should know better, especially after all the previous very violent hook-ups. 

At first, he was on top, or rather, he was trying to be, but all of a sudden a leg was around his hip and hands were on his broad chest pushing him until he fell onto his ass, back propped up on the arm rest of the couch. You settle into his lap quickly, straddling him and then lowering yourself, taking him deep, to the hilt, before he could protest. The moan leaves him on an exhalation at feeling how soaked and hot you are. His hands are on your hips, and he rocks up into you once before your hands are in his hair once more. Fingers thread anew, wrap around and twist before pulling, it makes his eyes shoot open, a harsh inhale from the pain, brows knitted together in confusion when you tell him firmly, "Stay fucking still. This is for me right now, not you."

He is shocked, stunned, your tone so harsh, leaving no room for argument, and you start to move, hips rise and fall as you ride him for all he's worth.

You look fucking stunning, gorgeous, and you feel even better. 

He didn’t know he could be so into this, but he thinks it is because it’s you. He has seen you kill, seen how capable and powerful you are, he is so fucking into you, feels so deeply for you, he thinks you could carve your name into his flesh and he’d beg for more. The praise tumbles out between groan and gasps, timed with the falls and of your hips, the rolls of your body, and it makes you laugh breathy, “You are really into this.” 

“Been a, fuck, while.” He confesses, and you slow your hips, “Mickey, have you kept it in your pants? Stopped fucking half the student body?”

You knew he was seeing other people in between your fucking for a while, but when you and he stopped, did he not get his fill elsewhere? He shrugs, tries to seem unbothered, but it’s hard when his hands are gripping your hips so tightly, browns pinched together, you clench on him and his head is thrown back against the arm rest of the couch. Sweat is down his temple, tendons in his throat as he swallows thickly, “Been busy.”

It is all he can force out. This is serious. Mickey the slut stopped screwing anyone else because he was crushing on you so severely. He did really like you, holy shit. Not an act at all, he was so consumed with you that fucking other people wasn’t something he wanted. 

The emotion radiating off him is filling you, bleeding back into you, and you let it take you without trying to show it too heavily. You fucking care about him, you really fucking do. 

Your hand below your waist, quick fingers bring you to your peak twice in short succession as you ride him before he finds his own high. The first time is frantic, needy, more about getting it out of your systems after so long without. It is undeniably satisfying and thoroughly enjoyable. 

The next time happens that same night. With reheated Chinese and in his bed. You talked about it all, how the kill that night went and in the process worked yourself up once more and made the shower you shared after your time on the couch utterly pointless from how sweaty you got again. 

After that night, you were together. You and he often fucked, maybe more than you should, but you just could not get enough. You’d been so busy that you hadn’t really fucked anyone other than him since getting here over a year ago. Times in your dorm or his, shared showers, traded oral in places that you shouldn’t like between library stacks. Once you had sex in the band pit of the theatre, your hands over his mouth and his over yours as you worked to keep quiet, him thrusting up into you, and you are slamming down on him as you worked each other over, bringing him and yourself to Earth shattering pleasure. 

Both of you kept it more hush, hush, but another secret just added to it. You didn’t run from your feelings, nor did you attempt to hide how into him, you were. The dates squeezed in everywhere you could also try to make up for your stubborn bullshit earlier. Affection was, often, moments of tenderness and vulnerability in private were shared. 

There is a moment that you keep coming back to. 

Another kill. You and he are blood splattered, you had a quickie next to the body, a rushed moment of passion with you pushed over a desk. Your legs were shaking from the strength of the orgasm he fucked out of you. Over the past while you’d gotten much more comfortable with him taking control, it wasn’t a fight for dominance, it was shared responsibility that you give into as often as he does. His cum was leaking out into your panties that you had just pulled back into place. You were heaving, body slick, and resting for a moment when he comes around the desk. His mask is pulled up, and he leans down, gloved hands come to your face, one hand holds the knife in his leather clad grip, the other holds your cheek. You feel the knife handle against the opposite side, and he moves in, he kisses your forehead half-in-half-out of his killer garb, and you melt. You smile up at him and he returns it. 

The lies and secrecy shouldn’t turn you on like this. Lying to Sidney and everyone else, the high you are both on from so far getting away with it is immense. You and he are too perfect of a fit.

It’s the day of. You and he are about to head out when the urge strikes. “Hey-“ Your hand quickly reached out and grabs his wrist, pulling him back from the door, so he was stood facing you again. His hand dropped to your waist, and he smiled down at you, that stupid damn devastating smile you used to hate that you now couldn’t see yourself living without, “- before we do this, there’s something I wanna tell you. Just in case.” 

He noticed you looked almost nervous, weight shifting from one foot to the other, he had never seen this emotion on your face before, and he knew exactly what was coming before you took a deep, unsteady breath and opened your mouth to speak again. “I lo-”

“Don’t.” He said quickly, eyes wide, raising his hand to place it over your mouth, an action you had both done to each other God knows how many times in a much different context. “Save it. Tell me after we’ve won, okay?”

You rolled your eyes slightly, prying his fingers away from your mouth. “God, you’re such an overdramatic dork, Mickey. Okay.”

It was stupid. You shouldn’t have listened to him. You should have said it.

You and he and Nancy were in the theatre with Sidney. The monologue was underway, big speeches, reveals, shock and awe. You’d been watching from afar, waiting for your cue to come in, when it happens all too quickly. Sidney made Nancy so angry so fast, unable to control herself, and she points the gun and with a simple move of her finger, the trigger is pulled and all of a fucking sudden just like that night your world is coming crashing in. He wasn’t expecting it, the bullet holes in his chest pour blood out rapidly. 

You are frozen in place. Rooted to the spot. You watch as his body falls. Here then gone. Stole from you in a single moment, no time to react, nothing to do, no time to process either. He was ripped from you, and it takes a moment for everything to come back into focus. Sidney and Nancy are struggling, and you find the strength. 

You move. 

The weapon in your hand is used on Sidney, not the way you’d intended to, the butt of your own gun is smacked full force on the back of her head. You knock her out and let her fall to the stage. You are left standing there with Nancy, who is wondering what you are doing. You are holding up the gun, pointing it straight at her, questioning her in the same way, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

“Why are you pointing that at me?” She asked in seeming disbelief, and you scoff, “Why do you think?! I heard you! I heard what you said, I watched you shoot Mickey, I know you want me dead next, right? Clean up the loose ends?”

You spit it at her with vitriol before you do your best impression of her annoying voice during her speech to Sidney, “There was a big scuffle, and you-” your foot kicking Sidney’s boot for emphasis, gesturing down to her with your other hand, “-shoot Mickey-”

Saying it makes you sob. Tears start to stain your cheeks, “I cannot believe you! Bringing us here, making us do your dirty work, and you were planning on killing us the whole fucking time!” 

“What, did you really think that he’d get away with it? His big plan about blaming the movies? What jury would believe that-” She shouts, and you stomp your foot, “Shut the fuck up, that isn’t the point!” You weren’t going to tolerate her speaking ill of him, not while he is still bleeding out in the band pit, you kept talking, “You double-crossed us!”

Your gun moves down, and you shoot, getting her in the knee. She crumples under the weight of her own body. She is on the ground, and she is the one sobbing in short order. You make your way to her, you step onto her busted knee, grinding your boot down into it and revelling in her anguished screams. Blood gushes and you still are not satisfied. You sink down, you lay into her. First the gun across her face, teeth are knocked out, displaced and rattle as they roll across the wooden stage. 

You hit her again and again, next the gun is dropped, your hand takes over, punching her, nose breaks, cartilage cracks, bones snap, she is coughing and wheezing and weak. Your knife is removed from the holster stored in your boot, and you hold it to her throat, “You are such a stupid fucking bitch.”

She was delirious, and you slammed her head against the stage, “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Her eyes are unfocused, but they are on you, “This is your fault. You are going to die, but you didn’t have to. You killed him first, and now I’m gonna kill you.”

The response is weak from her dry cracked lips, “Why?”

“Why?” You asked, a bitter laugh, you hold the knife closer to her throat, “Dumb cunt wants to know why? Sure, I can tell you.” 

A deep inhale before you say, “You brought me here under false pretenses, made me work with one of the most annoying and insufferable people I have ever met in my life, forced me to be around him and in the process made me realize that…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it, but you instead say, “-That I care about him. That I needed someone else who could truly understand me on this level, who cared, who showed me how I deserved to be fucking treated and then, you just…You kill him, snuff him out, like he was nothing!”

You feel the tears falling again, “After all we’ve done to make your fucked up dream of a revenge plot come true, and you expect me to just lie down and take it when you kill him?!”

You can’t see her properly, not through how watery your eyes were. A steadying breath before you say, “And the way you did it. With a gun? It is insulting! Where is the intimacy? The care? The artistry, if he had to die by murder, he deserved better! Do you care about the art form at all?!”

You are tired of her, the anger and sadness had been bubbling up, it all comes to a head and bursts, the knife slices through her throat, she is choking on her blood when you tell her, “I’m not playing along, I’m not doing your stupid plot, not anymore. I’m rewriting it, Sidney’s gonna live.”

You don’t stop there. The knife is forced into her over and over. By the time you are done, her stupid white unflattering white suit is stained completely red. 

Getting up from the complete mess, you look over your shoulder, Sidney is still passed out. This is your chance to run, but you can’t. Not yet.

Your steps are tentative, your knees hurt from how long you were on them while hunched over Nancy’s body while you were killing her. Your hands shake, and you peek over the edge of the stage and see him down there, amongst upturned band chairs, and your breath is stolen. You and he hooked up down there weeks prior, and now he was down there, looking wrong, totally fucking wrong. He looks lonely, and you hate that, you move quickly, one hand on the edge of the stage, and you jump down, it hurts your ankles from the height, you don’t care. 

You stay there with him. You cling to him, you are reminded of that conversation, your least favourite. Dead weight. Quickly going cold, lifeless eyes staring up, past you, to some point on the ceiling, unseeing. You let yourself cry. You want to say it, tell him the depth of your feeling want to force the words out, you want to tell him you love him, but now it doesn’t feel right at all. He should have been able to hear those words from you while he was alive, while you still had a shot at a future together, whatever it would have looked like.You let yourself say this at the very least. 

“You were right…” You sniff, you wipe at your cheeks and say, “The time we had was short but fuck. You were so good to me. I should have let you be good to me sooner. I should have been better to you, too.” The next words sit heavy on your tongue, no matter how much you want to they are left unsaid, and you make yourself leave him. 

Before you do, there is one thing that feels necessary, like you have to. Hands cradle his face, one hand still holding the knife, and you lean down, you press a blood stained kiss to his forehead, near his hairline just like he did to you before. A mirror of that previous act of tenderness on a scarlet tinged afternoon but so much sadder because it was the last moment like this you’d ever have with him and again still, it was totally wrong. He can’t feel it, because he’s dead.

You get up and with one last forlorn look to him, you run. 

Sidney wakes up unscathed but dazed, Mickey dead and Nancy too. You hadn’t revealed yourself, she hadn’t seen you, Nancy and Mickey hadn’t made mention of you, you’d been wearing gloves and there was none of your blood or DNA at the finale’ site, so you got away with it. They think the last person is still at large, but they have no clue who. 

Your sadness is understandable, your real grief is able to be spread around, it is believable that it is for Hallie and Derek and everyone else but Mickey on the surface. You and Sidney drift apart. You tell her it’s too hard and she more than understands, she was initially suspicious at first, but you were too good an actor, your alibis too well planned and airtight. 

The unmarked account that your tuition came out of was still full. You intend to transfer to a different college next semester. You can’t stay here, the idea of graduating from here without Mickey is horrible. You need a new state, a new school, a fresh chance to try and attempt to move on. It’s after winter break at that new school that you meet. 

The events happened over a year ago, and you were still not doing good. Still sad, you wonder how you can ever process this pain, this total loss, no way can you talk about it, no way another person could ever understand. 

Until that is one fateful day, you get a knock at your apartment door. You answer it and standing in front of you is a ghost, one person who you thought, just like everyone else, was dead, and maybe, perhaps, the only one who can relate to you. 

Brows furrowed and gripping the door, so your legs won’t buckle, you asked nervously, in total shock and disbelief, “Stu Macher?”

He grinned with a point to himself, “That’s me. Can I come in?”

#Mickey Altieri X reader #slasher x reader #Ghostface x reader #BHF asks #BHF writing #HERE #HAVE IT #ENJOY IT #FUCK #FINALLY #Been working on this one for a WHILE

[butmakeitgayblog]

If a god or goddess came to Medusa Clexa and offered them one wish, either for Clarke to get her sight back or for Lexa to be rid of the snakes, would either of them take the wish?

Oh I love this question

Honestly... probably not. Not because ultimately they don't want these things for themselves or because they don't think it'd make life easier, but because those things are such intrinsic pieces of who they are.

Yes the snakes are Lexa's curse, but they've also become her friends. Her family. They're a part of her now. While there are parts of her that wishes Clarke could know that young priestess with wild curls of chesnut and gold who laughed and danced around the midnight fires without a care, that's not who she is anymore. It's not who she's been for a very, very long time. And besides that, the snakes are a part of what Clarke loves about her. Taking them away from Lexa would be changing a very fundamental piece of the whole that Clarke fell for. Who is Medi without her snakes? Who is Lexa if not her Medi? They are one in the same and changing any of that takes away from the woman Clarke is hopeless for.

And when it comes to Clarke's sight... Well. Clarke has voiced more times than Lexa's heart can quite bear just how much she wishes she could have just five minutes to see her - how she would trade her cane and every wordly possession she owns, would wander the earth without a single guide for her hand for just five minutes. Five minutes to see Lexa's eyes and the tilt of her smile. To memorize the exact shade of her lips, the slope of her brow, the blushed pink of her nipples, the calloused scars of her delicate fingers. Nothing else. Only her. But... Lexa has told her just as many times that no one, not one person alive or dead, has ever actually seen her the way Clarke does. There's an intimacy in that oath, in the trust that Lexa has in her, and in those assurances that Clarke sees her soul better than anyone. Something about trading that trust for her own selfish wants would just feel... hollow.

#anon #medusa au

[campoverlook-if]

Hello there!

I'm wondering, and I know it would be a bit of extra work, but could you maybe put in a color palette on the description of the characters?

I always have a hard time imagine skin and hair colors and Google often shows different shades etc...

I'd like to doodle some of the characters at some point and while I might not even publish these, I want to be as true as possible. While I could potentially use artistic freedom for hair colors and do with different shades etc, I won't do that for skin colors so a color palettes could be my best bet.

I of course would understand if that's too much work, in that case I apologize in advance!

So I’ve been thinking a lot about this question for the past few days (which is why it’s taken me so long to answer 😅).

I’ve debated a lot about what you’re talking about, basically creating a vision board for my characters, and I honestly don’t think I can do it.

It’s not even that it would be hard, but I’m just not the type of person to go about creating things like that. I’m not as creative as I like to think I am 🙃.

BUT I did decide to try and see if I can find a character creator to give a base look of all the counselors. I stumbled upon Picrew and I’m going to update all the intro posts with these photos to give folks a base line on how the counselors look.

While there are a few things I wish I could change (mostly clothing) I’m very happy with them overall.

BUT PART 2, I also notice that you specifically ask about the color palette. That’s something that I actually never really thought about, I think that would actually be easier for me to do but it would be something I’d have to think about. When I think about most of the counselors I just think of a mix of blacks, whites, greens and browns. So that’s probably something for me to think about.

(Also while making these, I realized that most of the counselors have brown hair. I played myself forgetting about that cause I was POSITIVE four of them had black hair. Nope. 7 browns, 3 blondes, 2 black, and 1 ginger.)

So here below we have: Ruby, Ezra, Claire, Asher, Silas, and Lucas.

#camp overlook #asks #hosted games #character intros #picrew #makowka picrew #makowka #interactive fiction

[aburruso-capstone-uhwoacm]

Progress Update #6

It’s been a little over two weeks since my last post, and I have quite a lot to say about what I’ve been doing.

First of all, I finished creating the revised sprites.  They now have a bit more detail, and the servers and firewalls are drawn in perspective (I don’t know if that’s the right term, but if you look at the picture, you’ll get it).  I’m actually proud that I managed to pull this off, especially the shading in Sasha’s hair. Here's just some of the sprites I made (I don't want to put too many pictures in this post:

I also got a lot of coding done.  The biggest accomplishment (at least in my opinion) is finally making it where you put in the aim coordinates after Sasha finishes moving.  I feel like this will make the game a bit easier.  That being said, getting it done wasn’t easy.  It all had to do with the states I was using.  When I first made the states, they were all in Sasha’s object code.  However, since they would have to be referenced by other objects for this mechanic to work, I wanted to move the states to a new control object.  Put simply, this didn’t work.  The code that was supposed to make Sasha move just made the control object move instead.  So, I just kept the states in Sasha’s code, which actually works fine.

(Note: I fixed up some more stuff after I recorded this, such as changing the direction of the ray and making only one marker visible at a time.)

Besides revising the coordinate input mechanic, I also changed the controls.  Before, I had the player press buttons to change the coordinates.  However, I got feedback from someone saying that this was confusing.  Their main issue was that moving on the x-axis was being associated with up and down arrows; they felt it would be more fitting for it to be linked to left and right arrows.  At first, I was reluctant to do this (that might be putting it too softly) because I thought adding left and right arrow buttons would ruin the UI.  But then, I thought of a better solution: use the arrow keys instead.  So, the game is now controlled primarily with a keyboard (I also made it where you press enter to make Sasha move and shoot instead of pressing the Go Button).  I honestly think that this control system is better than the previous one, and I have to admit that the feedback was helpful in this case.

Of course, not everything turned out well.  The biggest frustration these past two weeks is that I can’t get a certain animation to work.  When Sasha went from moving to aiming, I wanted her to have a brief transition animation.  However, when I tried to put it in, the animation either looped indefinitely or didn’t play at all (instead going straight to the normal aim sprite).  I have no idea how to fix this, and considering how little time I have left, I may just have to scrap the animation…

On a more lighthearted note, I also tried to make it where Sasha didn’t immediately switch back to her idle state right after shooting.  When I tried to do it, though, I ended up with this:

It’s a little amusing, but it’s not what I want.  So, I just settled with what Sasha currently does.

I did some more stuff, such as making sure that a ray wouldn’t hit a server multiple times. This wasn’t an issue until I added the disintegrating server animation. The video above actually shows it in action (take a good look at the number of servers and score).

Still, I have even more to do, such as:

Fixing the shock SFX

Making a new background

Adding a “grade” system at the end

Adding the tutorial (this is the one I’m most anxious about)

Adding some fade-in/out transitions (this is probably the easiest task in my to-do list)

I have a little over a week left to get this all done.  I’ll try to get most of this out of the way by this week so I can focus on the tutorial next week.  After that, I’ll be done.  Let’s see how things go…

#cm491 #gamedev #gamemaker #capstone #sprites

[knowlesian]

stede and ed and communication and e8 breaks my fucking heart, the short version.

so: from stede’s end, he’s in an ever-more wildly spinning nightmare. he woke up to chaos and his shit getting blown up, jack is an ASSHOLE, he’s monopolizing all ed’s attention and ed is going along with it as well as not picking up on the array of hint flares stede throws at him and then understanding what they mean and reacting accordingly, the crew keeps siding with the frat pirate from hell, the pained smiles he starts throwing out this episode pain me— this sucks for him. this suuuuucks.

but from ed’s end, his bro from back in the day just rolled up and he’s excited to try and merge his old life and his new one. shades of jim and nana, but calico jack is no nana. he’s not factoring izzy’s fucking insane embrace of a bootlicking plan into things, so he thinks stede and jack are giving each other a shot, not that stede is trying his damnedest despite poor communication to give jack a chance and jack is just here to fuck shit up for eeeeeveryone. 

(because if nothing was Afoot, ed would probably be right! i get the sense jack would just say ‘fuck your nerd fetish, no chances shall i give ed this guy is weeeeeeeiiiiiird and super gay as in uncool, now let’s stab shit or fuck, unlike izzy i am a gross toxic pirate who actually fucks’ if he wasn’t here to be the world’s most arrested development flavored honeytrap. jack using tactics from stede’s world while wearing the aesthetic of ed’s world: veeeeery narratively cool.)

anyway. stede and ed both have no idea what’s actually going on there, re: The Plan, but here’s where things get really interesting— i think if two very small moments of communication go better, jack can’t work his grody magic and the episode unfolds very much another way.

moment one: when ed comes to check in with the... admittedly seemingly somewhat obvious if you think about stede for point five seconds ‘hey, should we like... not blow up your stuff???’ question. ed’s ready to hear he fucked up, he’s not going to take it hard or be mad at stede. he introduces the idea and assumes yeah: shit. look at him. i fucked up.

and then stede, having been trained in the ways of Never Being A Bother (OR FUCKIN ELSE) is like no! i love it when people blow up my things! this was something i would have done anyway.

he is obviously not telling the truth, ed is like ...well. that seems untrue but you said it, so... okay? either i believe this or you’re lying to me in a way i need to be wary of, because three episodes ago you explained passive-aggression to me and i don’t see it as a social nicety as well as a weapon, i’m only seeing it as a mode of attack.

which: in a way, this helps shove ed harder at jack. stede thinks he’s making this easier on them both by not acknowledging that YEAH, ed, that’s not cool? i AM annoyed? because honestly, if you’d been thinking about my feelings at all when you did it, this conversation would not even be happening. what actually happens is that now ed is aware stede’s unhappy but cannot be entirely sure why. that sets him off-balance again in a way they had been working past since e7′s breakthrough, fuuuuck i love this team.

so. if stede says there, because ed clearly is ready to hear it: yeah, you fucked up, that changes how ed approaches the situation going forward in terms of not just diving headlong into the thrill of seeing an old buddy and falling back into your old patterns together.

second moment: the breakfast table. if stede says in that moment something along the lines of ‘sure, jack can eat with us! why don’t we grab another plate. i don’t mind waiting to start until he has some food, too’, the gameboard switches up again. 

one moment of setting a gentle boundary and reminding ed that understandable nostalgic impulses aside, stede does not like being left out and is having a particularly rough time with this version of it, and jack’s shit loses power.

because ed doesn’t want to hurt stede. not even a little. he wants to have fun with jack, and i imagine is telling himself that if stede and jack can get along, this means stede can accept him but maybe even more: that ed can accept these changes in himself. (since izzy, the other avatar of ed’s past, was like literally the fuck i hate this man more than i’ve ever hated anyone and edward. edward. i RUN ON THAT SHIT.)

ed’s pushing on this so hard and needs it to work for reasons that are all about his own internal process, stede’s holding back for the exact same internal reasons, it’s all understandable.

and if two itttttty bitty moments go slightly different: nigh on entirely avoidable.

#truly i get mad at how good these writers are #because ed tries and stede is like no no no it's fine #and so ed goes... okay then. in an inverse of stede's whole thing where after being shut down once he shuts up forever #so if stede had been honest about the blowing shit up maybe ED is the one who says to jack hey asshole #that's his chair you can have my plate #i will wait stede you go ahead #because it's not all on stede OR ed #we can't always be great at saying what we mean and we can't always be great at remembering to ask #so the actual answer is a blend #somebody who never asks: are you cool with this? is not holding up their end #somebody who never says: i am not cool with this is also not holding up theirs #UGH SO HUMAN SO GOOD

[quinnonimp]

two things. one, your art is absolutely wonderful. i love the warm tones and style. two. got any like. weird art tips. like just weird things you do that work really well. or just art tips in general lol. there's something bout your style that makes me go ':D' lmao

aaaaaa tysm !!!! very glad u like my style <33 means a lot

and yeah id say i have quite a few with the way im very experimental n passionate abt art !

>> i think my weirdest one is rly just the main way i render tbh ? like, as u can pretty easily see with my main art style is that its all very crunchy n pixelated, n thats all cause i have anti-aliasing off for my brush . i render in a pretty unorthodox way but it makes things so so so much easier and more fun for me, even if its more time consuming for several reasons

heres a little bit of an infographic ive whipped up that hopefully u can get smth out of lmao . its 6am ive been up all night drawing as usual so im having a lot of trouble doing things properly sorry sorry

and the funny thing is this is aaaaaaaaall just cause i hate blending and am scared of committing to things (esp colors) so i just decided "okay whatever im gonna be goofy and just make it all pixelated idc anymore" and it worked !! (thanks homestuck) art is sm more enjoyable since i started doing this as it fits perfectly with the way my brain works and its helped me sm with getting better at colors bc of the way i have to do every single color manually (for several reasons like how i have to keep track of every color ((which makes me recycle them a lot more making things look more united)), gradients r the most fun to do but i have to make sure all the colors "blend" together nicely, i get to change them super easily, etc etc)

however these days i HAVE been trying to get back into working with anti-aliased brushes just to get out of my comfort zone n such, but tbh the only thing its helped me with is remind me how much more fun drawing aliased is and how absolutely dogshit i am at blending FDJHJKDF

also it makes me better at minecraft skins since im so used to working with pixels !

>> another little weird thing i have that honestly just goes against basic art rules is experiment by having ur values be as close together as possible without losing contrast . this is horrible as a tip, but fun as an experiment, and for me its just fun since i already know pretty well how values work and have enough experience to break the "rules" - because lot of times good shading colors r actually lighter than the original when put under b&w

so if ur like me i would recommend trying it out ! if u dont even know what values are then this ISNT good for u, do values properly as they really help

>> if u struggle a lot with side profiles, just learn from the gorillaz demon days album art . like literally im not joking that is THE thing that made me learn to draw side profiles and id say im pretty good at them now (however the effectiveness of this probably depends on the style)

and by learn from it i mean u can just trace it with any other characters, or study it, or reference it, yadaydayada . just do wahtever with it, damon albarn dgaf

obviously this isnt gonna magically make u great at side profiles but if u want a fun art challenge or ur a big gorillaz fan like me, it could get u kickstarted !!!! especially if ur doing it with ocs or characters u like that are in a band or something

ok thats all the tips ill be giving out tonight im a little sickly victorian child rn

hope it helped . uhm . bye

#anon #luckys art info #mailbox #quinnotalk #tumblrimp

[cookinguptales]

as someone who has shipped a lot of morally grey to ouright evil characters before i am curious as to what people expect from nandermo in terms of "deserving each other." i see a lot of that in the tag, nandor does not deserve guillermo, N has a lot of groveling/growing/changing to do before he deserves G. and it honestly confuses me because we all know these are not good people, they are very evil and i love that, i want them to be together even the way they are now, but what to people expect?

Yeah, I mean. Honestly, I've shipped far more toxic ships than nandermo lmao. They haven’t even tried to kill each other yet!

I've always kind of known what they are... I mean, I know I tend to write very fluffy fic at times but like... no, they are both pretty terrible people. And frankly, if I had to choose one who was worse, it'd probably be Guillermo. He has far fewer excuses for his behavior than Nandor does. Like... he also manipulated Freddie quite a bit in this episode, lbr. Freddie and Nandor and Guillermo were all kind of assholes, even if Nandor's actions did by far the greatest damage.

Like... being honest with you, I'm annoyed at the writers for such a mean-spirited episode and I'm mad at Nandor for what he did to Marwa, but I'm not that mad about what he did to Guillermo. I hated watching it, but I don't know if I feel angry, exactly. And weirdly, I think Guillermo also doesn't seem that angry. He's sad. He's hurt. He's despondent. He's bitter. But he really reacted with a lot less anger than I expected, especially after that one little spat they had.

He unfortunately knows Nandor better than anyone else on earth. He knows exactly what shade of awful Nandor is. And he gets that Nandor wasn't actually trying to be cruel this time. Maybe it would have been easier for Guillermo if Nandor had been trying to be cruel.

I think that he actually understands Nandor's motivations better than Nandor did... He understands the pettiness and ego and selfishness and covetousness. He understands Nandor's need to take. To conquer, even when it hurts those he loves. He's seen all these things for over a decade. He's seeing them now. And he still didn't leave.

idk. At this point I feel like Guillermo has made his choices and people can want better for him all they want, but Guillermo knows the bed he's made and he still insists on sleeping in it. You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped, and Guillermo has never, ever made healthy decisions in this show. He always chooses to get back into that cage, y'know?

I hated a lot of writing choices in this episode -- like, a lot of them. But I don't actually feel like my shipping took much damage, if any. If anything, Nandor and Guillermo seem more willfully codependent than ever. Just as they always have been, tbh.

#replies #wwdits tag #nandermo tag #wwdits s4 spoilers

[crossover-enthusiast]

If you haven’t already could you please spare some thoughts on the replacement fellas…? 🤲

Oooo yes yes yes!!

They don't have as much as John and Jack (for obvious reasons) but I do have some stuff for them based off OG The Captain and Shotgun Man + general musings

Gonna do the same as I did for John and Jack, them separate and then together

Got surprisingly long again, so read more time!

The Captain - "Police, BITCH!" - Isn't actually the captain (that would be John, technically), still calls himself that - While on-shift his demeanor is close to that of The Captain from Every StoryTime Animation and Mokey's Show, more reserved and Shotgun's straight man. Off-shift he's a lot more goofy - Acts like he has the braincell, really doesn't - Has absolutely used "Police, BITCH!" on a suspect before - A massive flirt oh my god, and most of it is cheesy gestures and sappy pick up lines - Him pulling down his shades was him trying to flirt with Jack, John, and Patty - He's tried to flirt with Patty before and she does not care for it lol - Tried to flirt with Evermore on his first day on the job and nearly got fired - Most likely bi - Mans the tip line. It's pretty uneventful (as far as this town goes, anyway), but he's noticed that every now and then this gruff-voiced guy will anonymously call in to report child abuse cases - Oddly though, any tips related to the cult seem to go missing when he's on shift, if they're recorded at all… - Still has that grey brick of a flip phone. No he will not get a new one - Orders his contacts by name and then an emoji of something he associates with them, e.g. John 🚬, Jack 🍩, etc. -- this makes them easier to search for, in his opinion. The exception to this is Shotgun, whose contact is instead BFF ❤❤🙂 - Has ~mommy issues~ - Is the one who drives bc Shotgun would absolutely try to run over potential suspects - Shotgun is the bad bitch he pulled by being autistic /j - He is actually autistic tho! Undiagnosed, probably isn't aware he has it - His sunglasses are not only cool but hide how he's avoiding eye contact most of the time B) - Readjusts his tie constantly - If he doesn't want to deal with something he'll most likely just shoot it - His favorite donuts are plain with pink frosting and sprinkles the cliche donut lol - The guy ever, a little weird but definitely one of the more normal people in town

Shotgun Man - "SHOTGUN POW!!" - Usually just called Shotgun, Shotty, or SG/SGM - Still has the shotgun, no one knows why - I don't think he has the safety on- - Has threatened many a perp by shoving the barrel of his gun in their face - Absolute menace honestly, it's a wonder he hasn't been fired yet - Sometimes leans on his shotgun (the barrel is pointed at the floor, he's not that stupid) - Almost never refers to people by their first name, instead using titles or last names (e.g. Sheriff, Nurse, Velseb, etc.). For some reason Jerald is an exception, and Shotty will always refer to him by name - Mellows out slightly when around Captain. Slightly. - Gets control of the radio and all he plays is either heavy metal or stations no one's heard of - Probably eats at Boys n Grills - Does finger guns by putting his hands together to make a single big gun - Would get along great with Dexter - GNC AF, would wear a dress for fun - Runs on cartoon physics similar to Skid and Pump, but only when it would be funny - He has ADHD :> Unlike the others he's actually diagnosed, tho he doesn't take medication for it because of course he doesn't - "POW" is a vocal stim - When he’s feeling mischievous™ he’ll rub his hands together - Doesn't know what he is but it sure as hell ain't straight - On Valentines Day he went into the station early so he could jump Captain, Jack, and John and give them surprise smooches - However bc this is Shotty it ended up playing out like a horror movie lol - Generally just someone big on physical affection and PDA, and he loves to fluster people: slinging his arm around someone's shoulder, random hugs, kisses, that kinda thing - His favorite donuts are cake donuts and he will fight people for them - Just a silly goofy guy, I love him

Both - The cops before John and Jack were real - Braincell pecking order is Shotgun Man -> Jack -> Captain -> John - They were officers at another precinct before getting transferred, and Captain actually was the captain there - Both are still friends and in contact with Jerald (the swat guy) - Even tho Jack and John kept their jobs Evermore still hired Captain and Shotgun, if only to get the press off his back about underfunding the police - "See, they're not underfunded, I just hired two new officers!" (they are still heavily underfunded) - Really they just kinda goof around, Jack and John handle the more serious cases - When they are on a case, they're... semi-competent - They're also both shoot first, ask questions later - This isn't a hc but more so an idea, but if they show up again I want them to interact with the Hobomen, there is ample opportunity to recreate the "NOOOO, IT'S PISS!!" joke with Tankman and Shotgun and that would be so funny - Both of them realized real quick that John and Jack have feelings for each other and they are such teases about it - Captain is more subtle. Shotty, in comparison, once shouted "OH, JUST KISS ALREADY!" at the two - As for their relationship to each other… - No one can figure out what these two are to each other and they think that's hilarious - For real tho, they just like being around each other. They are a package deal, no matter what way you spin them, and they ain't gonna be separated - I like the idea that in general they're a lot more upfront and casual in their relationship, offers a nice contrast to John and Jack - This also means Captain gets the brunt of Shotty's affections! You'd think Captain would be used to it but Shotty always seems to find a new way to fluster him - Are horrible enablers to Jack's pranks, and regularly help him pull them - John is so exasperated by their antics, please save him - Dunno who came up with this initially but I got it from @mallory-vallory so: I like the idea that their actual names are Scott (Captain) and Sammy (Shotgun), feels fitting. Almost no one calls them by their actual names tho - Also there's this art by Ratzzle/Charlieratqueen on twitter of the two wearing patterned scarves during Contagious Christmas and it looks so cute so that is part of my headcanon for their winter clothes now pls and thank u - If they actually had to work with John and Jack on a case it'd be fucking chaos, good lordy - Overall they're dumbasses and bad at their jobs, but at least they get it done

I'm honestly surprised at how much I had for these guys! They're definitely not rotating as fiercely as the other cop duo, but I've still thought a lot about them, both their original and Spooky Month incarnations

I think they have great potential as a comedic foil duo to John and Jack, hope we see them again in later episodes

#Spooky Month #Captain #Shotgun Man #Headcanon

[sagau-my-beloved]

Your wisp plushy is so cute! I’d love to know what alterations you made to the original pattern, or at least what yarn you used

I'll do my best to go through them all, but I'll just warn you ahead of time there's probably a more efficient way to do this and it gets kind of convoluted, not to mention tedious

So for starters, an easier way off the bat to do this is simply to crochet with fluffy yarn, but I can't properly express with words how much I loath crocheting with fluffy yarn, I can't see any of my stitches which makes it impossible to do anything and the final product always ends up so much bigger than intended because of how bulky yarn is, but I love the look of fluffy yarn crocheted plushies

So what really started this is I had to hit a local craft store in order to get some fine liners for a class and thought this would be a great time to stock up on materials and managed to find the softest yarn I have felt in my entire life, both in white and black, here's the label for that

So I buy those and get a variety of embroidery thread in colors that I think might work, get home and the first thing I do is split the yarn, futility thinking that it might make it easier to work with, it does not

So I default to plan B and find both a white and black regular yarn that's a similar shade to the fluffy counterparts and work with those

I do my pieces kind of out of order, and there is a reason for that, but I do start with the black void of a head first, and I knew going into this that I wanted to head to be bigger than what was shown in the picture because I just thought it would make him cuter, so after round 4 on the head I added in a personal 5th round, which was simply continuing with the increase pattern, so it would read like "*3 sc, inc* 6 times", then I kept the original 4 sc rounds in the middle and added a 3 sc dec before round "9" to combat the inc

After that I moved straight to the hoodie and after round 4 added another increase in order to make it bigger and accommodate the bigger head, same structure it was just "*3 sc, inc* 6 times", but this did cause me to have to change up the next line because the stitch count was no longer the same, so instead of the original "*7 sc, inc* 3 times" I did "*9 sc, inc* 3 times"

Another major change is I didn't secure the head to the inside of the hoodie to do the last round of single crochets, I kept them both separate and left a yarn tail in order to sew them together after I was done with everything else I intended to do, this was mostly because I didn't like the transition from head to hoodie, I thought there should be a little more of a "hoodie" look to it where it's separate from the head

So with the cape part attaching to the hoodie I did that pretty by the book up until the end, I was worried it was going to look to short because of the bigger head, but I think it actually ended up working out, so the two things I did different was I didn't sew the body before working the cape, I thought it would be easier to do it after because I didn't know if I would have to lengthen the body since I didn't know if I would be lengthening the cape to accommodate the head, and it was good that I held off on that because I did end lengthening the body a little bit

And the other thing was somehow my orientation was wrong, so the last step that involves crocheting the little diamond triangle thingies in the front was not done in the front, meaning I had to do an extra row in order to accommodate that, but that might have just been error on my part I don't know, I'm honestly not even sure I would recommend bothering with those because they get kind of buried in the fluff tbh

Oh and I held off embroidering it because of a pretty crucial thing I had to do which I will soon explain

So cape is done minus the embroidery, at that point I folded it back and sewed the legs in after lengthening them an undetermined amount because I didn't actually count rows, I just did it until it looked about right, and now we get to the tedious part

Well, I still had all that really soft yarn I wanted to incorporate, so I split it 3 ways so it was easier to manage, got myself a yarn needle and started sewing

Yep, I sewed the white soft yarn over every square inch of the cape, and sewed the black yarn over the head

The only place I didn't add yarn was the back of the head and the inside of the hoodie because it was going to be covered by the head, which was also the place where I tied off most of my yarn, but I even sewed the stuff under the cloak for the sake of consistency

Now the next problem arose when the yarn was actually a little too fluffy, I didn't like how much it covered the shape, and really thought it was just too long in general, so I'm sure you can guess what the logical solution was

I took a pair of scissors and cut it all myself, being very very careful not to accidentally cut the base of the yarn or the entire thing would unravel

There was fluff and fur everywhere, all over my clothes, all over my sheets and blankets, I had to take a lint roller to my mattress like ten times

I don't recommend, if I were to ever do this again I would probably go out and look for some soft fabric that I could sew over the cloak in place of doing what I did, it's just not worth it

So after that entire process, I made the two top feathers and the wing thing basically the same as how I did the cloak, which was crochet the base in regular yarn, go over it with the fluffy stuff, and then trim it

The biggest difference is I didn't use two different types of yarn like in the pattern, I simply stuck with white because I knew I wanted to dye it since I liked that gradient, which leads us to the dyeing process, and at that point I certainly felt like dying

I had a small pack of dyes on hand for the purpose of being used in resin, because I work in jewelry too, but my first thought was actually food dye, the other was a secondary thought since I didn't have any food dye on hand

The original blue I had was pretty good, but it didn't entirely match the color of my embroidery thread, which I wanted them both to match, so I mixed it with some greens and purples until I got a more accurate blue, but since you probably don't have the same dye colors as I do that isn't entirely relevant

After that I literally just applied it by hand, putting some on my fingers and rubbing it into the white fluffy yarn in a gradient manner, luckily it didn't really stain my skin

Obviously I did some test swatches first for color testing and to see how well it stayed on, soap will take it off but just plain water won't so that's pretty good, but yeah, there's not much more to be said about that

After all the pieces were dyed and dry enough I sewed them on their respective places and all that was left was working with the embroidery thread

So I did the little circle pattern around the clock first, didn't bother trying to do the cute little diamond shapes because it probably would have been covered in the fluff anyway, and for the centerpiece I kind of went off the cusp and just did it in a way that made sense to me

I'm way more comfortable working in a round than I am in a chain so here's my pattern for what I did in place of the original

Start with darker blue (I use the same yarn I used for the legs, just split so it was the same size as the embroidery thread)

Round 1: MR, 6 (6)

Round 2: *hdc inc, 2 sc inc* 2 times (12)

Switch to light blue

Round 3: *1 dc, 1 dc inc, 1 sc, 1 sc inc, 1 sc, 1 sc inc* 2 times (18)

Sl st, leave long tail for sewing

Then sew it as the pattern shows

After all that I finally decided to sew the head to the inside of the cloak, and cut the eyes out of some white felt in a few different shapes in order to play around with how I wanted them, then I simply glued them on

And there you have it, an entirely too complicated wisp Venti

Really the worst part was simply sewing the fluffy yarn on top of my crocheted base, and that could be entirely eradicated by just crocheting with fluffy yarn, so if you're not as bad at that as I am, I'd recommend just going that route, save yourself the trouble

I'm also happy to expand on anything stated here, or maybe even help troubleshoot for whatever problems you may be facing with your own wisp Venti project, I'd like to think I'm pretty good at finding work arounds, but I wish you the upmost of luck and hope you have an easier time

#hey look i'm talking #genshin impact #genshin venti #wisp venti plushy #wisp venti #That was certainly a mouthful #I wasn't lying when I said it was convoluted #like I said good luck #if you decide to pursue this route you're going to need it

[dragonmuse]

Hello! First, absolutely in love with your Leda!Verse series!! Honestly your writing gets me through my day so thank you for doing what you do!

To my ask - I really enjoyed how Izzy's home is a reflection of his character. With that in mind, do you ever see Izzy reaching a point in his growth where he's willing to have anyone other than Lucius over to his house?

(yesss, growth! and thank you so very much! Let's have a little shall we:)

Mary: I’ll be in town next week. Would you like to grab a cup of coffee? 

Izzy stared at the phone. He considered his options. On the one hand, if he handled this on his own, he would probably fuck up. On the other hand, if he asked Lucius for help, the mockery would be vicious. 

Fuck. 

Izzy: Mary wants to meet up.

The response was so immediate that Lucius must’ve been fucking around on his phone, instead of finishing a commission. 

Lucius: I don’t know if I’m excited for you or if I just want to watch this play out like reality tv.

Izzy: She just likes talking art. She wants to meet for coffee.

Lucius: Just invite her over. She knows you aren’t hitting on her and if she asks, tell her you like to continue breathing in front of new friends. You’re really kinky that way.

Izzy: Here?

Lucius: Yeah, goblin. Cope and deal. It’ll build character or something. My PE teacher used to yell that at me a lot.

With that rousing pep talk, Izzy got back to Mary. To his surprise, she eagerly accepted. He did not google ‘how to have a friend over’ because that would’ve been the death knell to his ego, but he was sorely tempted. Instead, he decided that he might as well make her a decent lunch.

The day before she came over, he did a sweep of the apartment, but it was as clean as it ever was. He folded the blanket over the back of the couch, but he didn’t tidy away the other signs of Lucius’ presence. They probably made the place look slightly more rational. The pile of books on the table, the candle (a new one, they’d burned through a few at this point. The latest one had a note of cedar that he liked), and a spare red cardigan tossed over the arm of the treadmill from the last time he was over and got cold. There was far more in the bedroom: clothes, books, pencils and a half-drunk glass of water that Izzy left as it was until told otherwise. That was actually giving him a bit of a migraine, but whatever. Orders were orders. 

The point was, it looked like a place someone lived. So that was good. Probably. 

“Oh, what a nice place,” Mary said warmly when he opened the door for her. She was in business casual, but there was paint on one cuff of her shirt. It made him breathe a little easier though he couldn’t say why. “I’m so glad you hung this one! I liked it so much.” 

She gravitated to the picture he’d put up in the hall.  He’d taken it lying on his back, tucked away from a target. He’d caught a feather adrift. It seemed to go with the crow. 

“Thanks,” he said weakly. “Get you something to drink?” 

“Water would be great. I really shouldn’t have walked the whole way, it’s just such a nice day. Did you look at that email I sent you? It was so early this morning. But I was thinking about what you said about the blue in the last piece.” 

“The shading?” He asked and got down two glasses. “I still think it’s a little warm.” 

“Do you know Doug said the same thing? I think men see color differently than women, I swear. What smells so good? I know you said you might make lunch, but it’s like a restaurant in here.” 

“It’s just a chicken thing,” he shrugged. Like it hadn’t taken well over two hours to make. 

“I’m a terrible cook. When Stede and I were first married, I used to buy ready meals at the supermarket and tell him I made them,” she laughed.  “Doug does the heavy lifting there.” 

“Did he believe you?” Izzy asked incredulously. 

“If he didn’t, he was too terrified to say anything,” she said, not without a little satisfaction. “Never would touch the greens though.”

“I once tried to feed Eddy a vegetable and she just threw bits of bell pepper at me until I went back out and got fried chicken,” he admitted. 

“They’re probably going to die of malnutrition,” she predicted. “Fuck ‘em. Tell me about that picture with the fuzzy outline. How’d you get the camera to do that?” 

“Didn’t. Dropped it.” 

“You didn’t!” 

“I know, lucky catch.” 

The food was good, the company better. And later when Lucius texted, Did you have fun?  Izzy just called him. 

“Oooh, the voice of my lover,” Lucius cooed.

“I had fun,” he said as monotone as possible, mostly because he knew it would make Lucius laugh. 

“Hey, maybe you could get real crazy and go to visit her one of these days. Or ooooh, have us both over at the same time!  You could throw a party!” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Izzy laughed too, quiet and pleased. 

#leda house and the kraken verse #goblin king and the pup #ficlet #Izzy Hands #lucius black

[21stcenturygworl]

Girl you've unleashed a monster 💀 It's currently 4:00 am and I just had an idea for a request do here am I! Also I saw the different caracther ask so this one is for the John Marston enjoyers.

Also I send a previous ask but I don't know if it actually sent it so answer this one just in case cause I revised the text in this one while the past one was probably a mess .

So this John is John after the gang slip up. John is in town doing things that a man working on a ranch would do like buy supplies and honestly just being a normal man for once when he notices a person looking very intensively at him. At first he's like "Do they recognise me from the gang?" but dismiss the thought when they see they're drawing something. And no-one would take time of their day to draw John so the person is probably painting something else and John is just being paranoid.

Fast forward some time and our man John is out in town when he spots a crowd forming near a building. And let's be honest he is bored so he goes to investigate. So apparently it's an art exhibition and look John has never been an art guy but a voice that resembles Hosea too much urges John to go take a look cause "it's never too late to have culture". So in he goes. John is looking around and yes some nice landscapes, pretty flowers and wait hold up is that a protrait of him? And well if it's not that's a shame cause it resembles John to a t, scars and all. And ok John has a mixed reaction to this. He's a wanted ex gang member and having his face anywhere is a danger but also he can't help to be flattered. And wow great timing is that the artist? John's goes up to them and he's like " Honest I'm flattered but I feel like I have to mention I have a wife and a son." And the artist is like "Oh I know." And points at another painting. It's Abigail and Jack.

Now your turn :)

this has been in my inbox for like, idk, a century IM SO SORRY TO HAVE KEPT YOU WAITING... but I'm here now bestie

i hope you enjoy!!

Picture Perfect

John Marston x Abigail Marston (mentioned)

John rolls his shoulders after the sack of cracked corn hits the wooden bed of the wagon with a thud. Oh, he knows the ladies back at the farm are gonna love this. The “ladies” being the chickens, of course. The distance he has to ride to town just to get supplies is a pain, but he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. Living an honest life is hard work, surprisingly.

Some part of him had always thought a “normal” life would all be easier, like a dream come true. The idea of being able to walk around without fear of being attacked or having to watch his back all the time had been a long-held desire. But, as he slowly acclimatised to his new life, he began to realise that perhaps it was not easier, nor more difficult than his old life was. It was just… different. He supposes that it’s not necessarily a bad thing, but rather a new experience that’s testing his limits and strengths in different ways. Although it’s still not at all what he had expected, he’s determined to make the most of it, learning lessons along the way.

John's moment of quiet reflection is quickly forgotten when he senses a presence watching him. He turns, scanning the area for any signs of who it could be, and then he spots her. Sitting in the shade of the awning in front of the baker's shop, she holds his gaze for a moment, before her eyes quickly dart away. It's almost as if she was expecting him to notice her. His brow furrows. She doesn’t look familiar. But it’s such a distance, maybe he should get closer just to be sure…

He feels himself physically relax when he notices she’s drawing. He looks to his side, figuring she was staring at the horses rather than at him. Arthur used to draw animals all the time as well. Hell, he’d be sitting just like that woman is, eyes darting up and down between paper and subject.

A sigh through his nostrils escapes him, followed by a smile appearing on his face. Well, that was a long time ago. Unfortunately, he’s going to have to take the subjects of the drawing with him. He climbs into the driver’s seat of the wagon. With the reins in hands, he begins the long journey home.

The next time John returns to town, he’s in a sour mood. This is due in part to the frequent arguments he’s been having with Abigail. Things have been tough lately — the two of them keep struggling to see eye to eye on many issues, and John is doing his best to keep it all at the back of his mind.

For now, it’s just him and his horse, and just for the afternoon he’d like to keep it that way.

Once his trusty steed has been seen to, with ample water and shade provided, John ventures further into town on foot to carry out his errands. As he goes about his way, he notices that one of the buildings he has been past many times before has now attracted a large crowd of people around its entrance. Intrigued, he steps a little closer to see what’s going on. As he gets closer, he can hear the excited chatter from the crowd and can tell that something special must be happening. Which is surprising for a sleepy town like this, honestly.

He pushes his way through the throng to get a better look, and to his surprise, he sees an art exhibition.

Here, in all places? John nearly scoffs at the idea.

Yet his feet betray him, staying firmly planted in the ground instead of walking away. John looks at the entrance to the building from under the brim of his hat. Smiling people exit the building as they enthuse about the pieces on display.

Ah, to Hell with it. Entry is free, anyway.

John takes off his hat and steps inside the building. It’s nothing like he’s used to. He’s never been the “artistic” type — that was Arthur, even though not many people knew it. Still, even John can tell that the person who made these paintings and illustrations put a lot of love into them. The walls are decorated with vibrant landscapes, still lives, portraits, and other works depicting the simplicity and beauty of… life. The room is filled with people admiring the artwork. John takes in the scene with a sense of wonder and awe.

He meanders through the exhibition, taking in the various pieces of art. He stops to admire a painting of a horse, which reminds him of his own horse waiting for him just outside. He can’t help the smile on his face. Then he moves on to the next piece.

To his surprise, he sees himself staring right back at him.

John blinks at the bizarre sight. That’s him. No doubt about it. From his clothes to his hair to the scars and — does he really make a brooding face like that?

Other visitors seem to have noticed, whispering with intrigued smiles when they see John looking at the portrait of himself.

“Oh!” a voice calls out from behind John. “Um, this is a pleasant surprise, I must say.”

John whips around and finds himself face to face with the woman he’d seen weeks ago. She smiles up at him. With a cheery voice she introduces herself, telling him her name. She’s the artist of this exhibition.

“I’m— I’m John Marston,” he responds, stumbling over his words. He gestures at the portrait behind him. “You painted me.”

The artist clasps her hands together. “I did! I hope you take no offence?”

John shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips despite the confusion. “No, no offence. I’m just… surprised.” He looks back at the portrait. It’s amazing. He can’t believe someone was able to capture him so accurately.

“Do you like it?” she asks, her eyes searching his face for approval… or something.

Awkwardly, John shifts his weight on his feet. He’s a little unsure of what to do with his hands. Suddenly he’s very, very aware of how there are many other people at this exhibition, of which many are watching his interaction with the artist. “Yeah, I do. I’m real flattered,” he begins, still trying to find the right words to say. He clears his throat, then lowers his voice, “I just… Erm… I’ve got a wife, and a kid…”

“Oh! Oh, I know!” the artist says to his surprise. She turns around, then points at another set of paintings towards the other side of the room. “I painted them too.”

John takes a few steps forward and sees the two portraits of Abigal and Jack, their faces bright and smiling. And there’s one painting of the three of them together, with John standing next to a wagon with his arm around Abigail. Jack is seated in the wagon.

His heart swells in his chest and his throat tightens, causing him to take a deep breath.

“I’ve seen the three of you in town together many times. You always seem so happy,” the artist tells him, wearing a wistful smile. “A picture perfect family. I… wanted to capture that.”

John leaves the art exhibition later, with a swirl of emotions that leave him feeling somewhat perplexed and overwhelmed. He can’t quite make sense of all the feelings surging through him, but deep down he knows one thing for certain: errands be damned. He’s going home to hug his wife and son.

#john marston #writing request #emo-markie

[goatlingsvent]

I actually joined because of Moonkitti, (aka user moon who wins the monthly referral constest almost every month with fault) if it wasn't for Moonkitti I wouldn't be in this site, or this blog, and probably this goes for like maybe hundreds of players. Honestly at first it was probably bad, but not that it's widdled down to like 10-20 new players per day that's probably much easier to manage.

Even if she was managed to be beaten one month by someone, she's still gonna be the lead for a very long time. And I feel like she's at a point where she doesn't bother reaping the reward and I don't mean this in a way to imply I'm attempting to throw shade. She's been playing for a while now, a LONG a while, she started in 2014, that's like REALLY early in the site's life, she's probably just has better things to do, and yeah fair.

I still watch Moonkitti, and almost religiously so. I've watched literally all her videos at least once, and I'm excited for the day she one-day talks about warrior cat sexism, full blast. And yeah, I've kinda stopped reading the books ages ago, but I still watch her videos. Chances are if you are a warrior cat fan who watches warrior cat videos you happen to know of her even if you largely do not watch her videos.

She has two goatling videos, one in 2014 (8 years ago), and another posted only 3 years ago in 2019. So you can't say she hasn't been directing people to the site only recently, she had made that 2014 video the same year she joined, y'know in 2014, and I'm sure most users currently on the site joined AFTER she did and maybe also because she made a video of it.

I fail to see why anyone would want to be 'lol, I joined before Moonkitti' most of those people, probably aren't playing anymore, and the majority of them that are still playing, are probably staff or former staff who retired from the team on good terms. Also, Moonkitti is a beta user. She's in the hall of Fame and has a beta goat and everything. You honestly cannot get any 'superior' than being a beta member, if you are being THAT guy.

And no, I'm not secretly Moonkitti with an I, I as in I'm not moonkitti, I swear. I actually joined this year and am doing decently with my goals I've made myself. All the last goats I've aimed to get are right now anyways under 100mil, and that may seem like a lot to some, I also have a mothman goat, which can be like 50-90mil on average, and I'm an artist, I should be fine all things considered.

Even if I misread things and people are saying preMoonkitti goatlings was somehow better- my dude that's like what, 2012, 2013 goatlings where goatlings didn't even have the monster masquerade, and wouldn't for like another five years, and not even the diamond dust shop with out yet with it's seasonal exclusive DD ad boxes.

🧨

#goatlingsvent #moonkitti

[k00299539]

Movement Project Artist Research - Mamoru Hosoda

Above: Guy has somehow looked the exact same for 20 years

Mamoru Hosoda is a Japanese animator and director best known for his family focused feature films. Hosoda got his start in the animation industry in early 90's with Toei Animation, initially as an animator before moving into a directorial role by the end of the decade. While his career was already on an ever accelerating rise, his work on the second Digimon film; Our War Game, catapulted him into being the most sought after talent in the industry.

While still an employee of Toei, he was drafted in to direct Studio Ghibli's feature; Howl's Moving Castle. This ended in disaster with Hosoda feeling as though the company wanted him to mimic Ghibli founder Hayao Miyazaki rather than direct on his own terms. Having abandoned the project it wasn't too long after he left Toei as well, going freelance.

He next directed The Girl Who Leapt Through Time for Madhouse, becoming a sleeper hit for them. This was followed up with Summer Wars, the success of which afforded him the opportunity to open his own studio; Chizu, and work truly on his own terms. He has since directed a number of films under the Chizu banner, with 2018's Mirai having been nominated for an Academy Award.

Above: Stills from Our War Game

...That was probably too many words. Hosoda is a director I'm overly familiar with and it's dfficult to sum him up in a couple of paragraphs. I guess if I had to sum up what it is about Hosoda I'm so drawn to it would be his unrelenting desire to express exactly what it is he wants to express on screen for better or for worse. I actually think a number of Hosoda's films have suffered as a result of his hardheadedness but I have to admit all the same that's interesting to see a film fail not for the myriad of factors it normally would but instead for the uncompromsing vision of it's director. I guess what I mean is, no matter what I make or whether I fail or succeed, I'd like to do it on my terms and take responsibility for the result. Now that I write that out I'm begging to doubt if it's even an admirable quality ...but that's how I feel and I don't want to rewrite this whole blog post.

The other thing I wanted to give specific mention to in regards to Hosoda is his continued use of the kagenashi, or without-shadow style. Hosoda's stated philosophy is to ignore shadows and unnecessary details and let the drawings speak for the themselves. He employs this approach in particular to capture the essence of children in his work. It is a style derived from a desire to portray something accurately, not realistically.

Of course this is easier said than done, as the drawing has to be perfect when you can't fall back on shading or detailing to convey information. Hosoda has a ringer however, Takaaki Yamashita.

Above: This is literally the only picture of him on the internet...

Takaaki Yamashita is Hosoda's right hand man, having mentored him early on in their Toei days and eventually following him to Studio Chizu. He has served as animation director on virtually all of Hosoda's films. He's also just really good at drawing and animating. For as good as Hosoda is, his philosophy in depicting life on screen through strict adherence to the kagenashi style wouldn't be possible without Yamashita's skill. Yamashita can create drawings that express themselves as open and honestly as children, this is something I try to emulate when animating (and usually fail).

Above: Yamashita's work on Slam Dunk, Below: a link to more of his work

#movement #lsad #animation #research

[missspringthyme]

February 27th, 2024

My meeting today got canceled because we were going to do a reading on the Greek girl, but she's sick. It's for the best anyway, I would have definitely been late. Unfortunately, it did mean that I wasted a cute business casual outfit. It's with the blue pants that I really like but have trouble styling for whatever reason. I don't have a lot of tops that go with them, and they're a very specific shade of blue, but I figured out a good look today. Ah well.

I was going to work on my research proposal today, but I'm not feeling enough panic to push me to do it. Instead I spent some more time researching places I can look for jobs when I'm done with my masters and making an application tracker in excel. I also watched the new episode of this show on dropout called VIP, which i love with my entire heart.

While I was doing this, German American was also sat in the living room stressing out because she had her last exam today. At one point, she went to the window and just started flapping her arms, so I made an executive decision. I turned on Sweet Caroline and made her dance with me. My favorite style of dancing is just a lot of jumping, but I feel like it's also a good way to get rid of stress. It did seem to work, but it was also a good reminder that my cardiovascular health is dog shit.

My dad also called me tonight and I brought up the idea of doing a German intensive. He suggested that instead of staying with a random host family, I stay with my actual family. It's a good idea to save money, but I'm a little iffy on the idea for 2 reasons. 1. They always want to practice their English with me 2. It's more embarrassing for me to look my German relatives in the eye and tell them I'm paying money to improve my German. I think I'll probably go back to the US in June, my dad really wants me to come and keeps asking. Honestly, I kinda don't want to, but what can you do. That also made me realize that if I stayed for 2 months then I probably could work a job part time while I finish my thesis and get some money. This then made me realize that my internship from last summer adored me and wanted to have me stay on but couldn't when they learned I wouldn't be staying in the US. They told me if I had time next summer to let them know, so I sent an email. If anyone would be willing to let me be flexible with start/end dates and hours, it'll be the people who I already know adore me. Plus, the internship is remote and super easy. It would be perfect.

So as it currently stands, my plan is June-July US and possibly do an internship to make some money, August come back to Germany, and then august/September do the intensive, September hopefully go to Italy, October graduate. That means that even when my lease ends in August I have places to stay until I graduate, and I continually have things going on. My thesis deadline is the same day my lease ends, so hopefully everything just kinda flows smoothly.

I make money, I finish my thesis, I do the intensive, I lay on a beach in Italy, I get a job and so on. In case you can't tell, I managed to make myself pretty stressed. Time is just moving so quickly and I wish that I had done a 2 year masters. I'm not ready to let any of this go. I'm just really happy here and I'm not getting enough time. I'm scared it would be difficult to find a job in Germany, and I don't want to leave. This is one of the first places that I could actually imagine myself living in for decades. I don't want to go. Most of the best jobs that i can do before my PhD are in the US and i'm so afraid that i'll keep making the easier choices and ill end up stuck. It would make so many people in my life happier if I lived in the US, particularly in Colorado but I can't do it. My parents are in their 60s, my dad is inching closer to 70 everyday and I cant bear the thought of losing him, but he's in Colorado. The only life T has ever known is Colorado, and he loves it there. I'm just not a full person there. I wish I could be happy there, that I could buy a house close to my dad's and have dinners with him and my sort of step mom. I wish that was enough.

There's also something else that's been knocking around in my head. I'm considering pregnancy. Not anytime soon, but my hard stance on never doing it is softening.

The reasons why I have been very adamant about never getting pregnant are as follows (1) I have PCOS and endometriosis, which both mean issues with fertility and increased risk during pregnancy. My mom had 8 miscarriages and I don't know if I can do that. (2) I'm terrified that it will permanently harm my health or, result in my death. Pain is not nice, but it doesn't scare me. It'swhat the pain could mean. Plus, I have a theory that my mom had post partum deppression after i was born. I know she had a big personality shift and suddenly lost interest in a lot of things that used to drive her before. Its been a few years since i met the diagnostic criteria for depression and I dont want to go back. Im so scared. (3) I know it will change my body and as shallow as it is, I don't think I have stable enough self esteem to handle that. I already have to be very careful I don't slip habits that look suspiciously like eating disorders now, it would be incredibly difficult for me post-pregnancy. (4) I hate how vulnerable pregnancy is, there's so many scary things and you have to trust so many people. I'm afraid I can't do that, I already have enough trouble with doctors as is.

Reasons why I am now considering pregnancy (1) I desperately want kids, it's one of those things that I'm just very sure about and have thought about a lot. (2) T wants a biological child and I have some ethical concerns with the adoption industry, although if I could I would love to foster (3) surrogacy is expensive and poses some logistical issues. One of which is I would be unable to pass on my German citizenship. One of the many reasons I want to speed run German fluency is that I would want my kids to not have to deal with what I had to. It also means finding someone we trust, and there's legal and medical red tape. Lots of things. Not impossible, and not off the table, but still. (4) It means I can make more decisions and have more control over the process (5) the more I see these amazing women who did it and the world didn't end, the more comfortable I am with the idea.

That being said, there are some things that I would need to be in place in order to feel even remotely comfortable enough to do it. (1) I would want to be in excellent physical health, and would get a physical trainer to coach me like I was about to do a marathon (2) not in the US, I don't trust maternity there and I would like adequate leave (3) I would want to hire a midwife, and ideally a confinement style post-birth recovery where the only thing you do is rest and feed your baby. (4) therapy, therapy, therapy.

This wouldn't be for years anyway, and maybe I'll keep changing my mind, but I'm finding it difficult to tell T. He knows how I feel and completely understands, but with how vocally against becoming pregnant I have been since people started talking to me about it, I feel like a fraud back tracking. Or like people are going to treat this like I finally stopped being silly. There's already such an enormous societal certainty that pregnancy is what you have to do that I feel like once I voice anything besides a hardline stance, I don't get any say in the matter. When we start having serious conversations about kids I'll think about what to say then.

In the meantime, it was nice getting this off my chest, didn't realize how badly I needed to cry.

#febuary #roommates #t #dad

[mugunghwc]

unprompted ask / always accepting

@badheart​ said: He sure caught her off guard with that question, as she had never quite thought about it. Overall, she knew him just barely. Just the surface, he showed to everyone else, and only a few traits in front of his few friends.  "I'm his daughter." Still clinging to that term, even if it meant nothing anymore. But usually it implied a deep connection, but they were not even related by blood. "You don't believe me," she huffed. "Why shouldn't he?" Looking almost offended, that Han seemed to imply that Akira was incapable of feeling that, or why was he sounding so doubtful. "I like you. So!" It should be true. Certainly liking something about Han, who also offered to be a possible bridge to reconnect with her stepfather. She still had his number, though nothing made him really reply yet.

 "...you?"  He could stop her, and coming this far, she sure seemed less out to fuck it up this time, but she was also quite mesmerized at this point as she kept staring. If her legs would play along, she would be already all over him. Her face turned into a deep shade of red, when he seriously thanked her. Personally, she could not tell, why she became so flustered over something so simple, but she certainly was weak to any kind of praise. It did not become any easier for her, when he called her cute (despite mentioning her less positive traits the second after). Fang had to cover her face. Come to think of it, she never was this close with someone so weirdly perfect. His choice to tan was probably the only weird choice he did. "Does that mean, you like me then?" She finally managed to lean down, after he had presented himself so nicely. Laying with her cheek flat on his abdomen, while her hand wandered over his chest, before pulling his shirt further aside, possibly opening more buttons in the process, before burying her face into his abdomen. Lips wandering over his hardened crevices, kissing his abs. Honestly, she does not recall ever doing some body worship. But she did not just want to feel but taste them. She actually dared to dip her tongue into his navel, while her hands held onto his hips, below his shirt. Pulling slightly away, with parted lips, some drool ended up right on his abdomen, trickling down. It was not accidental. Flicking her tongue right across the trail it had left. Down to the hem of his pants, while looking up towards him.

     “that doesn’t say anything about your relationship with him... does it?” just as his father was his father by blood, but nothing else. there was not even that between these two, & yet, she seemed to cling to that title despite no longer being a part of her life. if he hadn’t caught her surprise upon hearing that he knew of that man, han would’ve been led to believe that she approached him with that purpose—to indirectly get closer to that man. why was she so insistent over something she wasn’t so sure herself? that was the most confusing part of all this. her response appearing almost childish in nature, as if stating ‘ because i said so ‘. the fact that she liked him wasn’t a testament over having something in common with that man she called her father, but that of her desperation & the search in all the wrong places, if she made a habit of taking such risks for it.

     at this point, there was no more resistance from his part—simply curiously gazing at her & how far she’d go ; how depraved she really was. was sex all she sought for, or did she hope to fill a void that her stepfather had left upon walking away from his marriage? everything pointed at the latter. the effect that he had on her was clear as water ; joy was experienced upon seeing her cheeks gain colour over something so minor. she hadn’t given it a second thought when her hand reached for his crotch, but now the mere thought of having her lips explore his body seemed to overwhelm her. “as i said, i don’t host anymore.” meaning that he did not do this kind of thing with others, making her an exception, just futaba had been. she could make an answer from that, refusing to be straight-forward. he didn’t even know her name, but she was already asking with hope in her eyes if he fancied her. that alone, reflected on her immaturity.

     he remains completely relaxed as she leans down, wondering for a moment if the position was uncomfortable for her, or if it did not mean a thing since she could not feel either way. such thought led to other that were more lecherous in nature—wondering if her body still reacted despite her limitations. was her excitement evident in her underwear? that thought brought a chuckle from him, before focusing on the attention that she gave him. the contact with her tongue only caused his muscles to tense further ; while allowing her to have it her way, dragging her tongue along his torso until it reached his pants. han didn’t give her a verbal response, but a silent command when he gestured down at this crotch. he had given her permission to undo them while he remained with his arms close to his body—curious to see how bold she could be.

     “you said you have a big appetite, so eat.”

#badheart #.ic / locked & loaded finding your target #.ask / never have any regrets after the game #verse 01. theory of beauty / main #suggestive tw