#like i asked my dad specifically how he would feel if i made him items SPECIFICALLY so i could gauge if he would like them for instance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dixons-sunshine · 2 months

Note

Soooo I just read your Shopping Spree fic with young Daryl- and ohmygosh it is one of the BEST fics about young Daryl I've read!!

Your writing is absolutely incredible!!

I'm not sure how busy you are, and don't feel forced to do this pls I really just got on here to thank you, but perhaps a part 2?

Seriously, thank you for the amazing writing :D

Make sure you drink water- and don't skip sleeping for writing!!

Dyeing For The Haircut | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Part two to Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams, but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: After months of watching you practice haircutting- and hair dyeing techniques on multiple people around the trailer park, Daryl's curiosity lead him to ask you for one of your "magical" hair transformations—hair dye and everything. His request turned out to be one of the best decisions ever when you gave him the best, most loving hairstyling experience of his life, as well as some kisses inbetween.

Genre: Fluff, some angst if you squint (mentions of Daryl's dad.)

Era: Pre outbreak

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to money problems, sexual content but nothing major, Daryl is low-key a thigh guy in this, reader's mom is implied to be a single parent.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: Thank you so much for the request lovely. And thank you so much for your kind words! When I saw your ask in my inbox, I legitimately teared up at the compliments you gave me about my writing. Writing is something that I do to pass the time and I never thought that people would actually like it, so reading that really made me feel like I was on cloud nine. And that you think that my little story about young!Daryl was one of the best you've read? I can't even begin to explain how honoured that makes me feel 😭. I've read a few young!Daryl fics worthy of being actual novels, so that is the best compliment I've ever gotten in my life. I hope that this is an okay attempt at a part two. It's kinda random but since there weren't any specific requirements I had to meet, I went with my gut. I hope you like it! If you specifically wanted a part two with the reader's mom confronting her and Daryl after catching them making out, let me know! (btw, the same goes for you. Stay hydrated and rested, lovely ❤️)

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests.

—

“Are you sure? I might make a mistake, you know.”

“I know, but I gotta know wha' everyone's ravin' 'bout. Besides, my hair's gettin' too long fer my old man's standards. I'm one growin' hair strand away from bein' told my hair is too long to be considered manly.”

You shook your head at your boyfriend with a small laugh and motioned for him to follow you into your trailer. Once inside, you headed into the bathroom to retrieve the pair of scissors you've used for cutting hair multiple times over the past few months, as well as a towel, a comb and a hand mirror. Satisfied with the items in your possession, you walked back into the living room and saw Daryl seated on a wooden chair, his legs crossed as he read the back of a box of hair dye he bought earlier that day, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips.

At the sound of your approaching footsteps, Daryl lifted his gaze from the box to you, a boyish smile gracing his face as his eyes followed your movements. You placed the items in your hands down on the ground next to him and motioned for him to give you the hair dye, to which he complied.

“Are you sure you wanna dye your hair? Once I do it, there's no turning back,” you asked for the hundredth time since your boyfriend had asked you to do his hair, uncertainty clear in your voice.

Sensing your hesitance, Daryl gently grabbed your hips and tugged you over to him, bringing you to sit in his lap. You straddled him and wrapped your hands around his neck, watching him take the final drag from his cigarette and turn his head to blow the smoke away from you. He leaned down to put it out in the ashtray on the ground and then turned his attention back to you, bringing his hand back to rest on your hip.

“'M sure,” he finally responded, running his hands down your body to rest on your things. “I've been wantin' to go brunette fer a while now. Jus' never had the money to go to a salon and I dun' have the balls to try and dye it myself. I trust ya. Yer gonna be fine. 'S jus' me.”

You nodded and gave him a smile. You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before withdrawing. “You're amazing, you know that?”

Daryl scoffed and ducked his head, the tips of his ears reddening, a telltale sign that he was blushing. “Nah,” he denied, shaking his head. “'M not. Yer the amazin' one. Ya make me want to be a better person.”

“Aww,” you gushed, using one of your hands to gently cup his cheek, Daryl subconsciously leaning into your touch. “Careful, Dar, or I might start to believe that you actually care about me.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Nah, I actually despise ya. I jus' keep ya 'round 'cause ya kiss real damn good,” he joked, a teasing smirk on his face.

You let out a mock offended gasp and playfully shoved his chest, making Daryl laugh fully, a rare sound that you cherished whenever you heard it. You laughed with him and leaned forward to lay your head on his shoulder, your body wracking with laughter. You could feel Daryl's arms move from your thighs to wrap around you, bringing you into a loving hug.

“'M jus' jokin'. I do care 'bout ya,” Daryl whispered into your hair, his chin resting on top of your head.

“I know. And I lo- care about you, too,” you replied, pressing a feathery light kiss to the exposed skin on his shoulder, eliciting a small hum of satisfaction from him.

The clearing of someone's throat caught your attention, and you hastily got off of your boyfriend's lap, turning to face your mom, who looked at you with a small smirk on her face.

“I'm leaving for work,” she started, her eyes trailing between you and Daryl. “I'll be back around midnight. Just thought I'd say goodbye to my daughter before I left.”

You could feel heat flushing on your face. You hastily nodded at your mom. “Okay, bye Mom. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she responded, before turning her attention to Daryl. “Bye, Daryl.”

“Bye, ma'am,” Daryl bid quietly, refusing to meet your mother's intense gaze.

“By the way,” your mother started, grabbing her jacket that was draped over the couch. “This isn't a Mary and Joseph situation. I'm not gonna believe that my daughter magically got knocked up. Anything happens, use protection. There should be a box of condoms in the bathroom.”

“Goodbye, Mom!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, hurriedly pushing your laughing mother out the door and shutting it. You turned to Daryl and saw his bright red face, his eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Sorry about her,” you apologized, moving over to grab the scissors and towel. “She has no filter when it comes to embarrassing her daughter, apparently.”

“S'fine,” he said, straightening his back. “Compared to wha' she told us the first time she walked in on us all those months ago, I'd say this was alrigh'. It was pretty tame.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, recalling the embarrassing memory from the first time you and Daryl kissed and confessed your feelings. “After you went home the next day, she gave me so much shit and so much unneeded advice on safe sex and all that lovely stuff.”

“Sorry I got ya into trouble.”

“It's fine. My mom walking in that day was awkward as fuck, but I wouldn't change anything. Things changed for the better that day,” you replied, shaking the towel out.

“Damn straight,” he agreed, eyeing your movements. “Ya gonna cut my hair now?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, draping the towel across his shoulders.

“Wha's the towel fer?” he questioned, accepting the handheld mirror you offered him.

“To try to prevent any hair from falling on your clothes. Hairstylists use these cape things, but the towel will have to do for now,” you explained, using a hair clip to clip the towel together, keeping it in place around his shoulders, before moving to get the hair dye ready for use when you needed it.

“Ya do the same thing with the others?” he asked, watching as you finished mixing the contents of the hair dye together in a disposable container before grabbing the comb and scissors, moving to stand behind him.

“Yeah. Basically everything I do right now while cutting and dyeing your hair, I do with everyone. Except, of course, for charging you. The others have to pay me.”

“How much do ya charge 'em?”

“Depends on what I have to do,” you started, softly combing his hair, smiling at the small shiver you felt go up his back at your gentle movements. “And it also depends on how well-off they are. For instance, I wouldn't charge Mrs Hathaway as much as I charge Mr Langdon.”

“'Course not,” Daryl agreed. “Mrs Hathaway is a pensioner. She dun' make nearly as much as Langdon does. Guy's an accountant. Only reason he even lives in this shitty trailer park is 'cause he's a fuckin' cheapskate and dun' wanna give his girl a better life.”

You smiled at your boyfriend. “Yeah, Mr Langdon is a dick. But he pays okay, though. Even tips me from time to time.”

“Ya do know tha' the only reason he pays you tha' good is 'cause—”

“He has a thing for me,” you cut him off, bringing the scissors up to his hair to start cutting it. “Yeah, I know. That's why I bring pepper spray with me whenever I go over to his trailer. If he tries something, his eyes are gonna burn like five hells.”

Daryl chuckled. “Smart girl,” he complimented you, earning a small giggle from you in return.

“Thanks,” you thanked him bashfully, continuing to snip at his hair with the scissors.

After a few more minutes of cutting and measuring to ensure that his hair was at an even length, you softly tapped his shoulder to signify that you were done. He held the mirror up to his face and examined his new haircut, humming in approval.

“Good job,” he complimented, lowering the mirror before turning his head to look at you. “My hair's still longer than my usual cut, though.”

“I know,” you acknowledged, nodding your head. “I know we have to keep your hair on the short side so that your father doesn't get mad, but I like your longer hair. It compliments your features more. Besides, I remembered you mentioning that you've been wanting to grow your hair out but he won't let you, so I only trimmed it to the point where your father won't get pissed over how long it is.”

Daryl looked at you, awestruck. “Thanks. It looks good.”

He vaguely remembered mentioning that he wanted longer hair, but it was a small thing that he didn't think you'd remember. So hearing you say that made him adore you even more, made him fall in love with you even more. Those three important words—I love you—almost fell from his lips at that moment, but he quickly caught himself. He was scared to admit that he loved you out loud, scared that if he did, the universe would somehow take you away from him. No, he couldn't let that happen.

You locked eyes with him for a moment before setting the scissors aside, moving to grab a pair of disposable plastic gloves and the container holding the hair dye. With the container in hand, you turned to Daryl and adjusted his head so that he was looking forward again, before going to work on dyeing his hair.

The entire process of applying the colour changing paste was spent in silence. You were silent because you were focused on the task at hand, and Daryl was silent because he was focused on the bliss your hands in his hair was giving him. His eyes were shut as your hands moved through his hair in gentle movements, all of his racing thoughts fading away.

Once the task was complete, you put the container aside and moved to the garbage can, throwing the gloves away. You turned to Daryl and saw him watching you, and you gave him a small smile that he easily returned.

“Now wha'?” he asked, standing up and stretching, his back cracking after sitting for so long.

“Now we wait for half an hour before we wash your hair and apply the conditioner to keep the colour in your hair.”

“So we got half an hour fer some fun?” Daryl asked suggestively, a small smirk on his face. He walked over to you and brought you into his arms, his hands going to rest on your hips.

You giggled and took his hands from your hips, entwining your fingers. “Slow down, Romeo. We're not doing anything until that dye is washed off. I don't want to stain everything.”

“Worth a shot,” Daryl replied playfully, earning a small, playful shove in return.

He laughed before pulling you back into him, leaning down to give you a slow, hungry kiss. You wrapped your arms around his midsection and returned the kiss, kissing him back deeply. After what felt like an eternity and only a few seconds at the same time, you pulled back with a breathless giggle.

“You wanna watch a movie while we wait to wash your hair?”

“Sure,” Daryl agreed, untangling himself from you and allowing himself to be pulled over to the couch. He sat down and watched you grab a random movie from the limited supply before doing the small task of getting it into the player and pressing play.

After the opening credits successfully started playing on your crappy television, you moved over to the couch and sat down next to Daryl. Instead of resting your head on his shoulder like you normally would due to the dye in his hair, you rested your head against the back of the couch. Daryl moved one of his hands to lightly grip your thigh, keeping it their for the remaining 25 minutes.

After the time passed, you paused the movie and got up, extending a hand to Daryl. He took it and followed you into the small bathroom, following your instructions and sank to his knees, leaning his head over the tub. You then gently started washing the dye off his hair, making sure to be careful and not get any water in his eyes.

In no time at all, you were done. Daryl was towel drying his hair, looking into the mirror in the bathroom with an impressed look on his face.

“I'll be damned,” he hummed in approval, looking at you in adoration. “It looks good. Ya should consider openin' yer own salon or somethin'.”

You smiled shyly. “I'm glad you like it.”

“Everyone was speakin' the truth. Ya truly are a magician when it comes to hair. I dun' think my hair's ever been cut this good, and the dye job looks like it was done by a professional. Ya really did good.”

“You don't regret dyeing your hair?” you asked curiously, moving to embrace him from behind as he continued drying his hair.

“I wasn't sure if it was a good idea at first, but I like the way it looks. I dun' know if dyein' my hair will be a regular thing, but I dun' regret dyein' it now,” he admitted, casting the towel aside and turning around. He moved his arms around you and brought you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head.

“You look good. I might have to start fighting off the ladies soon. Everyone's gonna want a piece of you now,” you said playfully.

“Nah,” Daryl chuckled. “I doubt tha', but if they do, I'll be tellin' them all about my beautiful girl.”

You smiled and withdrew from his hold. You looked at the small window and saw the sun setting, a few stars already appearing in the sky. “Do you wanna stay over?”

Daryl hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Ya sure? I can go home if ya want.”

You laughed lightly, a sense of deja vu flooding you. That was the same response he gave you all those months ago. “No, I want you to stay over. It's been a while since you've stayed over, anyways.”

“Alrigh', if yer sure,” he relented.

“Come on, we've got a movie to finish.”

Together, the two of you walked back to the living room. You sat down on the couch and pressed play on the movie you were watching, the sound flooding the trailer. Daryl sat down next to you, but instead of focusing on the movie, his eyes remained fixated on you.

Feeling his gaze on you, you turned to him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah, 'm jus' wonderin' how I got so lucky with someone as amazin' as ya,” he confessed.

You smiled lovingly at him. “By being amazing yourself.”

You moved your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. Daryl turned his head and kissed your palm, before moving his feathery light kisses to your wrist. After placing one final kiss on your wrist, he pulled you into his arms and cuddled up to you. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. You focused back on the movie, but your attention shifted back to him when he muttered three words into your hair.

“I love ya.”

You smiled up at him, your heart beating faster at his confession. You placed a tender, loving kiss on his lips before resting your head back on his chest.

“I love you, too.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

242 notes · View notes

digitaldiarystuff · 4 months

Text

The Interview

Hi guyss! Thank you so much for the support for my last post, here’s another idea I’ve had and if you want a part 2 to any of my stories feel free to reach out to me!

————

summary: You’re an actress in Spain who supports atletico and are asked in an interview about Joao’s goal against your team, you playfully answer and receive a notification afterwards.

genre: fluff

pairing: Joao Felix x Y/N

————

So, Y/N, we’re coming to the end of our interview but before that, I see here in my cards that you’re a die hard Atletico fan. Is it true?” Jim, the interviewer asked. You giggled.

“It’s true Jim, growing up, my dad was a football man. We spent every weekend watching games in the stadium or at home and I still do, just not going to games because of my crazy schedule, just watching them with my Griezmann shirt at home. We’re all big fans.” you answered truthfully. You loved watching the games but sometimes it was hard to catch up.

“So, did you watch the game they played against Barcelona?” he asked, intrigued.

“I did, actually. It was heartbreaking.” you said.

“Oh yeah yeah. Felix scoring the goal.”

“Yeah, it was hard to watch because I always knew he was a good player, seeing him score against us was hard.” you answered hoping that nobody would get upset because as much as it was true, you knew you had to make interviews professionally. Especially the live ones.

Soon after, the interview was done and you were in the backstage grabbing your items to head out. It was an off-day and you had planned on going home and not do anything.

When you went into the house, your dog, Biscuit was waiting for you at the door. You played with her for a few minutes and then grabbed some treats from the kitchen and a blanket to make yourself cozy and watch some TV but your phone vibrating like crazy meant the interview was up and everyone had seen it. You weren’t a big time celebrity but your recent role in a Netflix series has gained you tons of attention.

You were going through your message requests seeing the good and the bad things people said until one name caught your eye.

Joao Felix

Sorry to break your heart 💔 he said. You stared at the message for what felt like an eternity.

Maybe one or two footballers slid in your dm’s in the past months but none had any effect on you but Joao’s single sentence made your tummy flip. Was he mad? How could you respond to this, if you were to respond of course because you shouldn’t. Right?

It’s a little late for that, what’s done is done, you wrote but deleted right after, was it too harsh. You always had a weird sense of humor and enjoyed banter in flirting but you didn’t even know if this was flirty.

Well, you could always make up for it, you wrote then but feared it might be too forward, what if he was just apologizing genuinely to a fan? Oh god that would be embarrassing.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just your job” you wrote and sent. This is the most appropriate, you thought. And maybe, he wouldn’t even respond after this.

You were wrong, he replied back in a minute.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

Okay, this wasn’t about all fans, you thought. Because he specifically asked what could he do for you. Breathe Y/N, breathe.

Before replying, you quickly went onto his page, he was an amazing looking athlete there’s no denying and you’re single so you shouldn’t feel bad about the butterflies in your stomach.

“You could start with a dinner.” you replied and threw the phone on the couch scared of his response. Oh god, you hope you didn’t misread the interaction.

After a few minutes you decided this was stupid and picked the phone up.

“My pleasure. Tonight at 8?” he wrote and you nearly screamed, this gorgeous man was taking you out tonight and you were already shaking.

You quickly said ok and decided to have a long shower and get ready since it’s already 5. He also asked for your location to pick you up at 8.

After the shower you went into your closet trying to decide on what to wear and ended up with a navy dress and did your makeup. Just as you were putting on earrings, you heard the door knock. You tried calming yourself and opened the door and saw the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on with a big smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Hi.” he said sheepishly.

“Hi.” you replied equally giddy.

“Are you ready?” he asked, eyeing you up and down.

“Yes, here just let me take those of your hands and we can go.” you said, blushing because he was looking at you with no shame.

He drove you to a fancy restaurant which you’d once been with your manager as a celebration but he reserved a secluded table for the two of you.

At first, you were a little nervous about being on a date with him but that quickly went away as you talked about anything and everything. You quickly realized he was the most down to earth guy and wasn’t full of himself. He listened and gave you compliments as you described your life and you listened about his career. Before you knew it, it was nearly midnight and you were having the time of your life. You didn’t have to put on a facade with him and say whatever.

When the bill came, you of course offered but he wouldn’t budge and paid for the night and helped you walk to the exit with his hand on the small of your back. You got goosebumps just from a simple touch.

You went in the car and he started driving so you put on the radio and singing along the song when he joined you. You giggled.

“What, do you not like my voice?” he asked offended.

“No, I actually do.” you said. It felt like you knew him for years.

“I had fun tonight.” he said while walking you to your door.

“Me too, thank you for everything.” you said as you walked up the stairs to your door.

You stood just looking at each other’s eyes, lost in the moment.

“I sho-“

“Do you want to come inside?” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“Yeah.” he smiled as you walked in the door.

He started looking at your home, analyzing details and when he saw the pictures of your family, he smiled.

“Did I also break your dad’s heart?” he asked.

“Why, are you going to buy him dinner too?”

“No, that was all for you.” he said as he walked over and held your waist looking at you intensely.

You looked up at him and smiled. He leaned in and stopped, as a way of making sure this was okay and you gave him the permission by pressing your lips against his. He smiled into the kiss and started moving his lips immediately. You lost yourself at his touch and placed your hands behind his head, playing with his hair. His hands roamed over your body trying to hold you closer.

“Y/N, I think I like you.” he said after you broke the kiss to breathe.

“I think I like you too Joao.” you said smiling widely.

“Now take me upstairs.” you said in a quiet tone, needing more of him.

He nodded immediately telling you to jump and wrap your legs around his torso. He carried you upstairs and you strengthened the connection you found today, until the sun came up.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling a presence next to you and it was Joao. He was still sleeping. After you went to sleep, your mind wandered if this was just for one night but seeing him next to you happily snoring made that feeling go away. You carefully escaped his arms holding you at place to wash your face and go down to the kitchen. Just as you were passing the living room, you saw the flowers he brought last night. Smiling to yourself, you picked them up to put in a vase when you noticed a card sitting in between pink tulips.

You opened it up to see what was inside and found a note from him and smiled even wider if it’s possible.

“I hope this is the beginning of a great story”

————

Ahh, this was sooo sweet even when I was writing I was smiling, hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is always appreciated luvs 🌷

#joao felix #joao felix imagine #joao felix barcelona #joao felix atletico madrid #football #football imagine #football oneshot #football x reader #joao felix x reader #joao felix x y/n #football x y/n #football fluff

186 notes · View notes

storebranddisaster · 5 months

Text

I made a reference sheet for my version of Toby! ^^

In my version, Toby still kills his dad at 17 and after training, officially became a proxy at 19. However, he has been a proxy for 4yrs now. Media has given him the nickname "Ticci Toby" due to his tourettes. Its not a name he goes by nor' do his friends call him that. He actually hates the name and if someone were to call him that to his face, he'd likely deck them at the very least. He has facial hair and newer hatchets that include survival rope for when he's out in the woods. He still wears his hoodie, but it's a little small on him now that he's not a teenager and is more muscular in general. He keeps it safe the best he can because his mom made it for him and its the only thing he has of her.

His goggles and mouthguard serve a purpose in my version too other than aesthetic reasons. His goggles are actually safety googles with more ovular lenses rather than circular so he doesn't lose depth perception when wearing them. It protects his eyes from smoke. The mouthguard works as a ventilator to help him breath. This is so he can commit arson after his murders to hide evidence which is a signature to Toby's crimes specifically. The mask and goggles can work as separate items to be put on but can be attached to eachother by a button on the side of his ear in order to keep them secure on his face when he's moving around quickly.

Another thing I changed is his mouth gash. In the original there is no place of origin for them because its technically not cannon to the original story. So for him I decided to make it more subtle and realistic. He has mouth scaring instead from wounds he's obtained from victims over the years. Toby also has canine bites but he doesn't wear his peircing as much as he did when he was younger.

But yea ^^ idk if you would want to hear more, but I have a ton decided on him writing wise. If you would want to hear it, feel free to comment or ask. Anyways the drawing took 47hrs and 29m, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I did a lot of new techniques and experimentation with it. I ended up with 57 layers overall which is the highest amount I've ever had. I can't wait to draw more of him and creepypasta in general ^^

Anyways, hope you like the art ^^

#art #artists on tumblr #creepypasta writing #creepypasta art #toby erin rogers #ticci toby #toby creepypasta #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby fanart #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta

66 notes · View notes

urfavstargirl1 · 1 year

Text

So for dia de los muertos, I was thinking about what it would be like if Latina!reader (specifically Mexican-American bc it is a Mexican holiday but her family lives in the US) introduces Eddie to the holiday

Even though they’re dating or best friends, he’s only mentioned once that the reason his mom isn’t in the picture is because she passed away several years ago. He doesn’t like to talk about it much, but she knows his mom meant a lot to him.

So she explains how “Day of the Dead” is a holiday celebrating the lives of our loved ones that have passed over. That we celebrate their life and what it meant to us. To help keep their spirit alive. Even though it’s mostly celebrated in Mexico, her family carried on the tradition here.

So she explains that the holiday is celebrated by setting up an altar with a picture of that person, a candle, and some of their favorite foods or items. Some people even go to visit their gravesite if they were buried and bring the items there. They also tell stories about that persons life and their favorite memories.

It’s a bit unusual to him at first. He’s not a particularly religious or spiritual person. But then he finds comfort in the idea that his mom’s spirit is still out there, watching over him and Wayne. That even though she’s gone, there’s a chance a part of her is still with him just not in a physical sense.

So he asks for her help in setting up small altar in the trailer. It’s just a small photo of her he keeps stashed away in his night stand and a small tea light candle he found in the junk drawer, but it’s something. He finds some wild flowers in the woods behind the trailer park and lays them down in front of her picture. He even goes to pick up some moon pies from the grocery store because those were her favorites, now of which are his favorite too.

“If I went to go visit her at the cemetery, would you come with me?” Eddie would nervously ask her. And of course, she’s more than happy to be there with him. They even go so far as to pack a small picnic.

They sit on a blanket in front of his moms grave, lay some flowers, and sit in silence for a bit before she asks Eddie about her. She starts off light by asking what his moms favorite music was or what she liked to do for fun. She even asks Eddie about his favorite memory with her.

And somehow, maybe it’s because it’s a holiday, but it feels easier for Eddie to talk about his mom. It doesn’t hurt so bad when he imagines she’s there, smiling down on them.

“My mom never really liked the metal stuff. That was more of my old man’s doing. But she did like the happy stuff. She always raised the volume whenever they were playing Elvis or The Beach Boys on the radio.”

“She liked to sing too. My old man always hated it, but I thought she had the prettiest voice I’d ever heard. Even if she was just humming as she did stuff around the house. She was the one who encouraged me to start playing. I’m pretty sure I get all my musical genius from her.”

Eddie continues to tell stories like that and slowly he starts to become happier. Like saying everything he’s ever thought about her is lifting an invisible weight off his chest. He likes talking about his mom again, even if it’s just to her, well, and Uncle Wayne too.

For a while, it was hard to even think about her. It always made him sad that she was gone and angrily with his dad for how he treated her. But the less he thinks about her, the less he remembers, and he vows to himself that he’ll never forget the most important person in his life.

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #urfavstargirl1

83 notes · View notes

willowser · 10 months

Note

Stoooop now I have to ask what you think the other jobs are good matches for him?!?!

oh, fun, fun !!! though now that i'm thinking about it, they're all honestly very similar, just different Flavors (TM) LOL

my first and favorite one is you working as a lil' protégé of masaru !! and i like to hc that his job is still in fashion, but also in the hero world ?? so i put him as a designer of support items ! getting blue-prints of all the parts that are needed, making sure they're cohesive with the theme of a hero outfit while still being effective. and my favorite thing about this one is that you can write it as, like, someone that knows his family bc of it ? but you could also write it as strangers to lovers, or whatever. like i'd love to write a fic in which bakugou knows who you are because you've come to dinner parties and stuff at his parent's house, he's seen you in his dad's office — so like he knows OF you, and is maybe a little jealous of all the time you spend with his dad and how much masaru likes you LOL, but he doesn't know you personally, and then something would go from there.

my other favorite is, like i said, very similar, but it's being in actual hero costume design, and maybe working on his or something. a job that puts you working professionally with him, but not necessarily for him ?? but you two have to email and have meetings and you'll sketch what changes he wants to make. you're not actually making any of the support items, but you're working around the way they're designed so that it would still look good with his outfit. so it's almost like the sister-job to the previous one !! and i like this one because you can grow from a professional relationship to a romantic one, and you still sort of have that base connection with him.

and lastly, i will always have love for actual support item engineers. i think it works so well with bakugou bc i like to think he's someone that likes to know exactly how his equipment is made. he doesn't mind getting his hands dirty in order to get down to the wiring and what-have-you. if he had more time, he'd probably be in the lab with you, telling you how to do your job LOL and you could be chatting and shooting the shit while you're printing steel plates or something. you always leave the lab really late and maybe bakugou knows that so he comes to check and make sure you're LEAVING like you're SUPPOSED TO. and then maybe he buys you dinner bc he knows you worked through lunch 😌🩷✨️

like i said, all very much in the same vein !!! all three of these jobs would work in conjunction with each other LOL i think the creative aspect is really important bc i like to think it was such a huge part of bakugou's childhood, seeing his parents work. i just feel like fashion and aesthetics and design — that's natural for him to see, to watch someone study, to watch someone sketching designs or making blueprints on the computer, and so to have a partner that also works on those things would feel, idk, natural to him. i don't think ??? anything specific is mentioned about masaru's actual job in canon, but !! that's my lil spin on it !!!

i hope i made any of this make sense.....it makes sense in my head, but i might have butchered my explanation LOL but thank you for asking !!!! omg this was so fun to write about 😌😌😌🩷🩷🩷✨️✨️✨️✨️

#my favorite thing about the first one is that i think you'd have to have enough knowledge about both aspects of the item #like in order to design it you have to have at least a basic understanding of how all the parts work together #from an engineering perspective #while also keeping the aesthetic aspect of it in mind as well #i think it's a dual brained job LOL and i think bakugou could appreciate your ability to do that #YEAH SO ANYWAY whenever i think of bakugou and my lil oc/self insert stand in — i always give her that first job he he he #waaaahh this was actually so fun thank you !!!!!#✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: bakugou

14 notes · View notes

pinkboxess · 4 days

Note

⭐️I want you to do a little directors cut so bad but I don’t have the time right now to pull out a specific scene from one of your fics so you chose!!⭐️

Okay, after thinking, I'm going to talk about sunflowers, again. I'll add a cut since this will get long. Also this is like....heavy and sad, so sorry about that.

This is one of my fics where I actually put more artistic thought into it. I wrote the fic after I visited a Monet exhibit in February. It made me think about Ted's visit to the Van Gogh museum in season 3, and the connections between him and Van Gogh (sunflowers, suicide), and thus the fic was born.

I'll give some more behind-the-scenes details about some of the sections

“Do you have any guns, knives, or other weapons on your person?” the employee asks. “No siree bob,” replies Ted. “Only guns in the room are these bad boys.” He flexes his arm comically, causing Rebecca to choke on a smothered laugh and elbow him in the ribs.

When I visited the Monet exhibit there was a security agent who asked us about weapons. I just imagined how Ted might respond to the same thing when he's feeling anxious and rambly

In the next room, the museum has placed Cafe Terrace at Night and Wheatfield with Crows adjacent to each other. They have similar colours: bright mustard yellow, a deep, powerful blue. Whenever Rebecca looks at art, she imagines herself inside of it. What might it be like to order dinner at that cafe? Or to chase the crows away from the wheat?

This is often how I engage with art. I imagine myself inhabiting it. I am really interested in historical clothing (and furniture and items generally, to a lesser degree) and I love to go to museums just to look at items and imagine who wore them, used them, and inhabited them. Imagined what it would be like to be the person who wore that dress. Place myself within their perspective by gazing at something that once was part of their life.

“He did it cause he didn’t think he was a good dad. Didn’t think he mattered.” “Oh, love,” Rebecca soothes. “But look at this guy. He thought the same thing, but here we are, all these years later lookin’ at his art.”

This section is heavily inspired by the Van Gogh episode of Doctor Who. I'm not really a Doctor Who fan, but a friend of mine made me go watch a clip of that episode specifically, and it has violently imprinted itself into my mind.

In the episode, Vincent time travels with the Doctor to a museum displaying his work. The Doctor is doing it to convince Vincent that he is famous in the future and people love his work. He's hesitant to believe it because in his own lifetime he wasn't valued as an artist.

Then the curator of the museum says to a visitor that Van Gogh is possibly the greatest artist who ever lived, and Vincent hears him, and he gets it.

It is just so striking to me to imagine an experience like that. It's something that never could really happen, because it's sci-fi, but it's incredible to think about. What if you could know how people think about you decades or centuries in the future? After you're gone? What if you could see your legacy before it's even happened, and see that you even have a legacy at all?

We don't know anything about Ted's dad really, but I suppose in my imagination I think he's the type of person who would be changed by the experience of watching Ted go to therapy and process his trauma. If he thought he was someone who didn't matter in life, he might be surprised to see how Ted engages with his memory after his death. Ted's statement of "I still need my dad" is my attempt at something would impact Ted's father in a way that mirrors Van Gogh's reaction to the words of the curator. And I think Ted might think, in his own mind, that by healing himself, he is also kind of healing what happened with his dad, in some way.

Even later, a few weeks after their museum trip, Rebecca comes home to find a print of Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers hung up in the kitchen. She doesn’t ask him about it. She doesn’t need to: she sees his quiet smile as he looks at it while he cooks for her.

This ending is a manifestation of that feeling for Ted. He's not avoiding Van Gogh-- in fact he's actively bringing it into the house-- because he thinks of it as part of the healing process.

#ask answered #this got very philosophical very fast

5 notes · View notes

apupp3tw0-strings · 3 months

Text

The Crazy Part

Date: October 12th, 2131

Okay so wasn't able to finish telling what happened yesterday before I had to go to bed, but I barely got into what made yesterday so intense.

Usually when its time for CK and I to leave Castle Town and head home, we say goodbye to Spamton and Jevil and leave with Kris, while I assumed those two also went home (apparently not, unless you can call a garbage bin a house...). Today however, Spamton asked to come with us. Kris questioned him, mentioning that he'd turn into an item in the Light World. After that Spamton started begging, saying it was terrible whenever we left (at the time I thought like "oh, terrible like how you don't want to stop hanging out at your cousin's house" now I know that's not the case. Even if I didn't know Spamton was homeless and living on the street, can you tell how guilty I feel?) Kris mentioned something about if it was so bad, Spamton should've stayed in the inventory, to which it reacted even worse to. At this point Kris brought up the whole Darkners-becoming-items-in-the-Light-World thing before eventually deciding to show Spamton what would happen "the hard way". Yeeeeeeah, Kris isn't... the nicest? To these two specifically? Particularly Spamton but Kris doesn't like Jevil either. With Jevil though, he doesn't seem to mind, instead joking and ribbing Kris back.

Anyways, with both Spamton and Jevil in Kris's pockets (don't ask me how that works I don't know) we headed back home. Upon exiting the closet though, something... unexpected happened. Like I mentioned, Darkners are supposed to become items when entering the Light World. Spamton is actually a spam-email while Jevil is a joker card. The thing is, when we tumbled out of the closet and into the Light World. Spamton and Jevil... didn't. They didn't become items and remained Darkners. Kris is still confused and frustrated by this.

And that's when Papa and Auntie Toriel caught us.

After that there was... a lot. Papa said one of the words I'm not allowed to repeat and Auntie Tori fainted at least 3 times. Plus seemed like she was gonna faint the whole time we were all talking in the classroom. So um, yeah. Now our parents know about the Dark World. (Apparently Aunt Tori's been to a Dark World before because Kris opened one in their house sometime during their adventure, but she thought it was all a dream.)

Also after learning the state Spamton and Jevil are in (ie living on the streets, plus not mentally stable) Papa declared it was our duty to help them. He explained it to Dadaton as "rehabilitating them until they can get back on their feet". Aunt Toriel was initially hesitant and apprehensive, but eventually reluctantly agreed (mostly since Kris said they could watch and help out with Jevil as long as it was just him, to which Toriel said they weren't getting out of this doing any less.)

So long story short, Spamton's staying with us now! Which at first was exciting but then we quickly realized was gonna be... chaotic... He might've sorta, kinda,, accidentally blown up the living room with one of those blue eggs (which are apparently called "Pipis"), its okay though! We sorted it out and cleaned it up. I even helped Spamton write an apology letter to my dad! Er, well, made it write one because it was also a little inappropriate towards Dadaton and we were trying to convince him to not just throw Spamton out of the streets again. (Jeez Louise, this man's social skills are even worse than mine..)

Even if I've only known Spamton for a bit, he's already definitely proved to be... interesting to say the least. And raised a lot of concerning flags. If he wasn't always a puppet, what happened to him? Whats with the abrupt screaming of burning and Spamton's strange fascination with the sun? To the point of staring directly at it and the sky as soon as we were outside? Who exactly is this "strange someone" and why are they driving Darkners to madness? Do they relate to the strange man from my dreams? What's up with the Dark Worlds? Why do they exist and will CK and I encounter anymore apart from Castle Town? Who are the other "secret bosses"? Can we really help any of them?

There's so many questions, and the more answers I get, the more questions seem to pop up. Its both exciting and a little scary but in like the fun thrill seeking way. I feel regardless of what happens, this is gonna be the start of an exciting new chapter and I think it'd be a crime for me not to record what happens. Even if its mostly just for me to sort out my thoughts.

Call it... a sort or expirament, if you will? In darkness and seeing how much any of us can help these guys.

... On second thought, expirament's a bad word. Call it an adventure instead.

#chicago #deltarune au #deltarune: fool's fate #fool's fate #undertale au #undertale ish #writing #spamton #ck #comic kings #kris #jevil #toriel #papyrus

5 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 11 months

Note

What were your top 10 favorite interactions on Tumblr?

(Thanks!)

1. When necarion-blog made a version of my long post in real LaTeX:

Let me explain to you some things about College

\begin{enumerate}

{\item[{\bf 0} there are no classes

1. This is because everyone in college is secretly a slacker

2. this is not true

3. 0 points}]

2. The first time I talked to one of my non-online friends after reading Floornight. I explained one of the characters to them (it was Arjun), and they asked me "are you saying the character is a nekobo?" and it took a moment for me to realize that, yes, he was a nekobo. It was just a very weird moment

3. Meeting all my internet friends at the same time IRL

4. The NAB chatlog from March 8, 2013

4(a). You know, that one

5. That time my cousin sent me an email expressing confusion about whether the phrase "Prince Namor" referred to a person, and I had to explain that it referred to a character from the Marvel universe. He asked me how that character could be a prince given that he was from the sea, and I had to explain the concept of "title" to him. That was really fun

6. The party where I told a story about how I had licked the ground a lot as a kid because the "ground was a flavor" and a friend told me I should check out "the show with the blue horse" ("My Little Pony")

7. The first time I learned that the person I had a crush on since the summer before 7th grade was "into me" (she gave me a Valentine's Day card at school)

8. My godfather and I had been having a long, frustrating conversation about theology in which he kept bringing up the arguments of William Lane Craig and I kept saying "but there are other Christian philosophers" and he kept saying "I don't know who they are, who are they?" and I mentioned Richard Swinburne (not a Catholic, but an influential Christian philosopher) and asked if that name sounded familiar. He said it didn't, and I said "OK, how about John Hick" and he said "ok, that sounds familiar, it sounds like a drug"

9. Noticing that I could not feel my left hand when I looked at it and my first reaction was to check to see if I was actually in contact with it, and determining that in fact I was (I had gone numb during a nap)

10. The time I took a 10-minute walk and decided that a specific hole in the ground was really cool and decided to document this by creating a Google account and a Google+ account both named "ThePitOfAwesome," of which the only content would be a picture of this hole and a post about how cool it was

10(a). I was about to post to Google+ until I realized that this would make me expose my actual identity to the world and decided it was for the best that I did not do this

10(b). I deleted this Google+ account yesterday because I was worried I would forget about it and later find out I had posted a picture of ThePitOfAwesome to my actual Facebook account

11. I got a new prescription for glasses this year and this morning was the first time I got to wear my new glasses to go outside and when I got up from the dinner table my dad asked if I wanted some water and I said "Yes, I'd like the water" (as opposed to "I'd like water") and my dad's response was "You know, you're talking like someone with glasses on now, it's so obvious" and my mom's response was "Well, duh"

12. When I was 6 or 7, I was playing with my little brother in the living room and I said something was "kind of green" and my dad said "that's just a stupid thing to say, no color is just 'kind of green.' 'Kind of green' doesn't exist" and I remember being really angry and saying something about how I would prove him wrong but realizing that I couldn't, because you couldn't have a color which was 50% green, 50% yellow, etc. The next day he finally caved and said "fine, greenish yellow does exist, whatever"

#henbane-heretic

13 notes · View notes

wrenaugustine · 1 year

Photo

Wren returns back to her hut to show off her findings from the Bridge while @akbartheolder has a surprise of his own to share. Just a moment for the two to chat, make plans and inch a little closer ever since the doppelganger forced some distance.

Sometimes Wren's trips to the bridge in search of new, interesting things to take home with her didn't end with the best results but this trip of hers she felt like she hit the jackpot (if she knew anything about the lottery). The main thing she was excited about was a guitar in its soft black case and everything. When she opened the case up to see the acoustic guitar with stickers across the body she knew that this specific one belonged to her dad. He had told her about it any time he would play Tomas' guitar and reminisce about how he missed his own.

So once she found it, she was excited to take it back to her place to keep it somewhere safe. "Emre! Hey, check this out!" Wren called out when she saw him out in front of her place (or rather their place. She felt like she was getting more comfortable considering it to be both of theirs by now). "You will not believe the stuff I found at the bridge today." She walked over with the guitar on her back and her arms full with books and other items that were probably more trash than treasure. "I think this is my best haul yet."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

After abandoning his home, Emre at least had Wren's home. It was sparse - much less luxury than he'd built for Iyaz and himself at the Akbar house. Wren's home wasn't as damning as the Fisher's Hut though, and it wasn't as distressing as the Akbar's house mocking emptiness.

But Emre couldn't bring himself to move into Wren's little home completely. Living outside wasn't so bad; the makeshift 'nest' he'd made on her porch was serviceable, when all he needed was a place to rest his head. He felt transient; without Iyaz, that unthered feeling burrowed deep inside him, deeper than superficial comfort.

And then there was Wren. Her chirpy, bright voice woke him from a half-slumber and Emre sat up in the nest. The guitar case he spotted immediately. "What you got in there? An AK-47?" he joked, then realized Wren wouldn't get the joke. He compromised by teasing. "If you stole Tomas' guitar, mans gonna be pissed. His third daughter, that thing."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

Her mouth opened slightly and her brows furrowed at his question about what she had, not understanding just like he knew she wouldn't. For a moment Wren wondered if that was some type of guitar that she never heard of because she couldn't imagine how he wouldn't be able to tell this was very much a guitar. "No, I didn't take Tomas' guitar, this is much better." At least to her, she didn't imagine that Tomas would agree with that sentiment though.

She quickly scampered over to sit next to him on the porch, putting the other stuff she had down between them before taking the guitar off her back. There was a big smile on her face as she reached over for the zipper, pulling on it and opening up the case so she could pull out the guitar she had. "This one is in much better shape than Tomas' guitar, probably cause it's been in this cover all this time. Isn't it nice?" she asked as she ran her fingers over the body, tracing over the different symbols stuck to the wood.

"It's my dads. I know for sure it is. He told me he had it on him when he was on the Outside but when he got here he couldn't find it. And now, here's a guitar that matches the description he crammed into my head on the bridge with everyone elses lost items. How amazing is that?"

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Wren's confusion had to be one of the cutest sights on the planet, with the way she jut her bottom lip, her delicate brows pursing over her eyes. But she cottoned on to the tease at least, tutting about how much better this was. "Look at her, so excited," Emre encouraged, shifting in his nest to make room for Wren. She lolloped over like an excited rabbit, and plopped down with him. It was nice, at least, that she didn't mind getting close. Maybe there was a bit of wariness still; they hadn't gone into another doppel-whatever debate since the first time. And frankly, Emre was glad for it. The longer he lived with the waswasah, the more confused he got about what was real, what wasn't.

If he could touch Wren, he'd know she was real. But he no longer trusted himself, now, and it was an upsetting fear. He let himself be warmed under Wren's brimming smile, as she unveiled the pretty guitar with a flourish. "It's bare gorg, darling," Emre said, reaching over to strum at the strings with his fingers. No tune, just to hear the sound.

It was her dad's no less. Emre gawped in surprise. "Are you joking. This is your dad's? Mashallah, beta..." Emre touched the instrument again, as close as he could get to touching Wren. "You find anything of your mum's nearby or that?"

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

"Well yeah I'm excited, you'll see." she replied as if his remark was meant to tease her for being excited about what she found. Honestly, he might have been but if that was the case then Wren was just too excited to care that she was being teased. Even if it wouldn't have meant anything to him, she knew he would completely understand how important this was for her, so not only was she happy about finding something that used to belong to her father, her excitement also came from the fact she wanted to show it off to Emre.

Her grin stayed plastered across her face as he looked the guitar over and gave it a mindless strum. It was like watching someone admire your most prized possession, fully aware of what made it so special. "Oh, I wouldn't joke about this. But I mean, I can't believe I can't believe I actually found it. When I say he would not shut up about how he missed this thing, I mean he brought it up every time he held Tomas' guitar in his hand as if it compelled him to do so." she explained with a chuckle, plucking at one of the strings.

Emre asked about if she found anything that belonged to her mother and she wasn't sure if he meant now or in general but at least she had an answer either way. "Not during this outing, no. But a while back I did find a notebook that had her name in it, I think it was some kind of journal of hers. I looked through it a bit but I kind of felt...weird going through it, so I haven't really touched it since I found it."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Musician types is like that..." Emre hummed, fondly. "My dad could play tabla - erm. Two little drums, like. When his family moved homes, he lost them in the move. Thirty-odd years later and he still ached for them innit. Yeah, musicians is like that." How bittersweet, for Wren to find her father's precious guitar now. Her own father less-than three years dead. Did he have to die, for her to find this? Or was it just random chaos that the man was so close to finding his treasure?

"So you going to learn to play it then?"

A journal of Wren's mum. Emre suddenly recalled the little book, tucked in Wren's little sparse home. Emre hadn't read it either, although the truth was he had been tempted to take a peek. He didn't think it belonged to Wren, after all. Did Wren know how to write? Reading probably made sense to learn, but writing? Maybe a bit, but. That was besides the point. "You will one day," Emre decided. "Read mum's journal, I mean. When the time is right, you'll know."

A press of his lips, and Emre then nodded to her home. "Right. Have you been inside yet."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

"Oh, that's interesting, I didn't realize that was how all musicians were. Sucks that he lost them though. Did he ever find them? Or get new ones?" Wren assumed that finding instruments out there was a whole lot easier than finding them around here. They didn't have to worry about waiting for things to wash up, they could just make as many of them as they wanted. "There were times where my dad would find me some coconuts and sticks and he'd have me hit the coconuts like they were drums." she told him, using her hands to mime out the action of using drum sticks. "It didn't always sound that great but it was fun."

He asked if she was going to learn how to play it and she hummed, in thought about what she might do with it. "I don't know if I could learn it. I was actually thinking...I might give it to Kaz. He and my dad used to play when Kaz first arrived here. I think he would get more use out of it than I would." She admitted with an absentminded smile on her face. It definitely held sentimental value to her, but she wondered if it might feel that way for Kaz as well, as an added bonus to being able to play music whenever he wants. "I think he deserves it, after everything, and the picture of Estelle he drew." Wren was hoping to do something nice for him in return that he would hopefully appreciate.

She had her reasons for not going through it, but she wasn't sure she wanted to talk about what she did skim through with Emre right now. Especially since he was trying to reassure her about reading it, like it was only a nerves thing. So she nodded in agreement, before raising her eyebrow curiously at his question. "Well, I've been out here with you this whole time since I got back, so no. Why? What happened?" she asked, turning to look at the door and then back at him to figure out what was going on.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"I assume. My abu weren't a musician, as much as erm, like. A poet who liked music. An artist," Emre settled on the catch-all term. Memories swaddled him like a blanket, his voice soft and solemn. "Abu said us Akbars come from a long line of poets, musicians. Artists and that. Dating back to Akbar the Great innit. Biggest Mughal Emperor in, erm, them olden days innit." Wren shared a more earthly tale than Emre's grandiose claims. "That's brilliant. You must've been quite the little drummer-girl."

Wren wanted to give the guitar to Kaz; it was the sweetest of intentions and even Emre lit up at the idea. But more story unfolded - "Kaz used to play music with your dad? When he first arrived here? Are you serious?" Emre had taken to learning the Life of Kaz in bits and bobs, and this was news. Math mentally scribbled and - "Bloody hell, both Kaz and Tamzy knew you when you was a little thing." Emre snorted and smirked. "Pervs."

Maintaining the light mood, Emre gave Wren a wide-eyed warning glance about the inside of her home. "Dear me, Wrena-behna, I reckon one of the water-buffalo got loosed innit. Proper did a number in your home, it did." Emre pushed himself up, taking Wren's hand as he gravely said, "Leave the guitar here. We don't want to traumatize it. Just you and me should take in the damage innit."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

Wren clung to Emre's story as he spoke about his dad and his family, their history of artistry. She might not have known the significance of being the biggest Mughal emperor but he made it sound impressive that was for sure. "That's so cool! Knowing all that about your family and history. So what's your artist thing, then?" She asked, knowing that Emre was capable of doing many things around here, so she was sure he had some sort of artistic gift in him.

"Yeah, I'm serious!" She answered, nodding her head with a smile on her face. "My parents liked him, my dad especially I think liked having another guy on the island to hang out with. So he tried to bond with him over their interest in music." Wren probably didn't need to clarify how little she was when others knew her, but his addition of calling them pervs made Wren pipe up. "A bunch of people around here knew me when I was little. And I mean, I wasn't that young when Kaz arrived you know." But he was the only one she could excuse so he was the only one she mentioned. "I had to have been about like, eighteen when he got here? Terrible time for him to arrive and for my parents to think bringing him in as a guest was a good idea. Imagine being an eighteen year old girl and all of a sudden he shows up looking like he does to live in your house for like a week? You'd never be the same again."

Emre claimed a water buffalo had gotten loose in the house and messed it up and she just stared at him in disbelief. "Shut up. That's not true." She tried to argue as he took her hand to lead her inside. While she didn't believe it was a water buffalo that showed up, but the way he spoke she did still anticipate something had gone wrong. "No, seriously what happened? Did you break something? You can tell me if you did, I won't be mad at you, just don't go blaming the water buffalo."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Erm, appreciation," Emre replied. A silly answer, but it had been on his father had lovingly given Emre with every frustrated attempt to draw, every poor lesson in harmonium, every shoddy poem. He defended his answer, half-mocking himself, half-protest. "Gotta have people who admire and appreciate innit! Not just appreciate the artistry, but a bittersweet awe innit. Because I never can."

Emre listened, trying to imagine that disoriented, younger Kaz, angry and frustrated at being stranded, taken in by Wren's parents. It was darling. It was so darling a fantasy in Emre's head he almost burst out in tears imagining it. Instead he burst out a laugh, when Wren rightfully described her horny teenagd crush. "Honestly, luv. No offense to Tamzy, or anyone else on the island." But he knew Tamyra would be most offended by his next statement. "You and Kaz have to be the prettiest pair on the entire island. I mean drop dead gorgeous innit. Your parents likely wanted to match-make." Emre teased, nothing else.

Just like he was doing about the water buffalo, but Wren defended her animals and Emre looked wounded. "Are you saying I'd cause a ruckus and blame it on an innocent beast, then? Bruv I'm gutted. Fine - I suppose all this is on me then. I'll take the blame."

A perfect premable as he brought Wren to the front, pushing open the new bamboo-door, with a little window cut out.

The window was covered by two pull-away drapes. Inside, was like an island version of an IKEA showroom. Furniture neatly rearranged, including Wren's desk, which now sat under shelving with more storage. Her bed was behind an elaborate bamboo structure with a beaded curtain door. All the windows had pull-away drapes. There was woven trestle bedframes suspended above, that Wren could use a pulley system to lower. When not in use the trestles could easily be used to hang things, store things. The shelving was piled with blankets and stuffed blankets, for pillows, makeshift mattresses, etc. She had a little cookstove now - a chulha, in a built-out corner of her house, with kitchen utensils, plates, her food stores, etc. Little plastic stools arranged around them, for sitting or counter space. The framed drawing of Estelle proudly displayed between two windows, away from direct sun. "The buffalo didn't have time to properly ruin a bathspace for his caretaker, but. He's working on it innit. That'll be outdoors."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

Appreciation. It seemed like a cop out answer, because she was sure he could do something more than just appreciate. "Well, you know I think weaving counts, like the prayer mats you made, thats pretty artistic." She pointed out to him.

Wren couldn't help but snort in amusement at his claim. She could easily agree with how pretty Kaz was, but the idea of her parents seeing a younger guy like him and their first thought was to set him up with their daughter was silly, but amusing. "Yeah, I don't think so. If anything I think they were always watching and listening to make sure nothing happened while he was hanging around." And it wasn't like her parents realized at that time she was starting to explore the topic of sex so they were probably right to keep an eye on them. "But he left relatively quick to find his own place. Was probably getting annoyed with how in his face we were."

Emre looked offended in the playful way he loved to do and Wren gently patted his arm as if consoling him. The change of tone did make her think nothing was really wrong but she was still confused as to what he was doing. But when he opened the door she looked around in awe. No destruction to be found but the entire hut was made up completely different from how she had left it. There was so much more stuff, curtains and dividers and storage, even a little kitchen area! Her jaw dropped as she let go of Emre and stepped further into her hut to take it all in, trying to find words to express herself.

"Emre, this is so....it's amazing. You did all this? How? When did you even have the time?"

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Weaving counts? Guess I'm an artist then," Emre said with a smile, not because he particularly believed it, but he could tell Wren was trying to be generous for his sake. Perhaps she believed everyone should have some artistry in them, but Emre felt rather pleased at the idea of appreciating, even if he couldn't do.

"'In his face'? What were your parents like? I can imagine that you got in his face all the time. You're a little bother, innit," he teased, very obviously. His words soaked in fondness. "What makes you so hard to resist, honestly. People just got to give up and...let you in."

Emre wasn't nervous exactly, to see Wren's reaction. He didn't worry about what he'd done meeting her approval, because if she wrinkled her pretty nose at anything, Emre would just take it down. He wasn't attached to anything he'd done, it was for Wren's pleasure and not his. So he watched her like a hawk, searching her face for every micro-expression to see if she was just being polite, worried about his feelings over something she disliked. Emre trot after her.

"Been gathering things since...we chatted and that. Honestly it's not much, half the things is just reclaimed innit. Useful things." Emre pat the privacy screen around her bed. "The cot's a little cozy, I realize. Not a lot of room for two people, know what I mean." Emre smirked, still intently watching Wren's face. "Then I started wondering, like. Right - so our sweet little Wren wants a place she can have people sleep over, yeah. And made me think - she wants sex parties then? Bloody hell, she's a wild one, innit."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

"My parents, they were...so sweet and so friendly. I think they really cared about a lot of people if not everyone they met around here." Wren started to explain, a soft smile on her face as she reminisced, though shooting Emre a playful glare for calling her a bother. "I'm always bugging Kaz, that's just how we are. But I think my parents were in his face in a different way then I was. I think they really just wanted to help him adjust and make sure he was okay. Learn more about him, take care of him til he was properly settled." Which was probably where Wren got her desire to turn her place into something homey. Just like her parents.

And now that hope was coming true as she admired the work that Emre did, absent mindedly touching all these new items as if she didn't believe they were real. She was still in shock that he had done this, it was unexpected but so like him to go out of his way for her. She felt like she could cry seeing all of this but luckily Emre was able to lighten the mood and make her laugh instead. "Oh, shut up. You know that isn't what I meant. Not everything has to be about sex you know." She teased as she looked over the cot as he pointed out its size. "I'm sure I can make it work."

Wren definitely wasn't going to complain about it even if she wanted to after Emre had been collecting these things for her. She went back over to him and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you for doing this. You really didn't have to but it really means a lot to me that you did. This is much better than anything I could have imagined or done myself."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Emre smiled, enjoying hearing about Wren's parents almost as much as about Kaz. "My parents was the same. Not collecting strays, but well-community oriented innit. Reckon that's why I like the idea of the farm so much. Seems like what my parents would've done." Emre shook his head and frowned with his eyes closed, feeling rueful and strange all of a sudden. He breathed, trying to re-centre himself. "You know...Kaz knew my mum too. Back in his home town. In America."

Wren seemed to drink it all in, her curious nature making her wander, touch, make sweet little noises of joy when she particularly fancied something. He had to make her laugh, and looked perfectly innocent at her chide. "Only trying to be practical here! Right. And there's a folding table out on the porch as well. Not sure if you'd want to do your jewelry-making inside or out. Or both, now."

Normally the hug should've been expected - anticipated, really. Why wouldn't Emre do anything for her, to get one special Wren-hug. But recently it had taken such a dark, salacious turn, thanks to that bloody fake. Emre had pared down his familiarity with Wren. And now that she tightly embraced him, he pat her back, careful if pleasant. "I don't have to do anything for you, but I wanted to."

It's guilt, the waswasah whispered, and Emre clenched his jaw, frowning. You manipulative bastard. You just want her back. "Of course I want her back!" Emre yelled, arguing with himself as he pulled away from Wren. He opened his eyes, and held his head, blinking at Wren. "Soz, luv. Sorry. That's - it's not you. Just...them waswasah innit. Fucking hell...we'll never be rid of it."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

"Community oriented. I think that's a good way to describe how they were. I think around here you have to be, at least a little, otherwise you won't survive on your own. It's a good trait to pick up." Wren liked the parent stories they swapped, she didn't recall Emre talking about his family much besides Iyaz so it was interesting to know more even if it was just small, offhand remarks. Though Kaz knowing his mom was definitely the most interesting. "Seriously? That's crazy, how long have you known that? How did he know her?"

It was all so exciting for her to see what this place was able to look like after being an organized mess for so long. She really just wanted to touch and interact with everything and couldn't wait to try it all out. "I will definitely do both in and out now that I have the option. And I'll have to keep working on my cooking skills now that I have all of this to work with!" When she hugged him she hoped for something bigger, more than just a pat on her back even if she knew they weren't on the same level they used to be. She was hoping this was a change but maybe they weren't there yet. "Well thank you for wanting to. It's incredible, I wouldn't change a thing."

Wren was startled by his sudden outburst as he pushed away from her. Her big brown eyes were filled with concern as she looked at Emre, eyes shut, hands on his head, angry about something. The waswasah, the voice in his head. She wanted to step forward again and place her hand on his cheek but worried if getting closer to him would just make it worse. "What does it say? When it talks to you, what does it tell you? Does it ever...say anything about what happened?" She asked curiously, hoping he would tell her the truth.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"I reckon some people survive here without community oriented...orienting," Emre mused, but he wasn't trying to debate. He was too tired for that and circled back again to the subject that soothed him. "I like hearing Kaz's story. Not that I can't ask him; he'll chat but -" Emre smirked at Wren. "Is Kaz innit. Hearing your parents side of things is just different." HIs humour faded though, as Wren asked about Urmilla. "Erm, since - erm. Memory-jacking jinn. It took mum's shape, but older. Kaz recognized her, called her by a different name. It's - it's a long story, man. And I barely know a sliver of it."

He watched Wren exploring her home, a maelstrom of feelings inside him. Her joy offset by the sombre memory of being apart from Kaz, the pain of his mum's mystery - and it all returned to Iyaz. Seeing Wren so happy, reminded Emre of Iyaz. It hurt. He missed Iyaz terribly. He felt badly for Wren, like this was all just some sort of sham. Like he was faking (like his fake), pretending he could love Wren the way he loved Iyaz. Tricking her. That wasn't fair to either sweet Wren, who just wanted to love, be loved. She chose Emre. It was a gift to be loved by Wren Augustine; and look how he treated her. And it wasn't fair to Iyaz, for so many reasons.

"Why is it so...difficult. To just. Allow things to be alright." Emre whispered. HIs eyes closed, but he didn't pull away from Wren's warm touch. Wren asked direct questions, something to focus on. Emre tried. "It takes my own thoughts. Everyone's got bad thoughts innit. Even you, all of us. But usually you got sense and reason, right. And that sense tells the bad thoughts they're bad. It's like the waswasah killed that sense. All I think is bad things, and it feels so real."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

"I'm sure Kaz would tell the story very differently. But my parents liked him, they would have let him stay with us as long as he needed. I don't actually know why he left so soon, you can always try and get that piece of information out of him if you want to hear his side of the story." As Wren listened to Emre recall the discovery that Kaz knew his mother, she found it fascinating the way the island connected people like this. He claimed it was a long story and she would have been willing to listen to it but maybe it was a story for a different time.

For now her focus was on what seemed to be going on in Emre's head. This voice that everyone in the trees now had to deal with. She didn't know much about them, nobody really talked about it much, all she knew was Kaz mentioning the voice that lured them to the trees in the first place. But now it was apparently saying terrible things, making Emre (and probably everyone else) feel terrible, letting their bad thoughts win. She wasn't sure if anything she could say to him would reassure him, but she should still try, shouldn't she?

"But you know...you're not bad Emre. I think the only person believing that is you. This waswasah is lying to you, cause I have never seen a bad person do as many good things as you. Or worry so much about being bad. I promise, you're a much better person than you and your waswasah claim you are." Wren paused for a moment, looking towards the door and then back at him. "Can I...show you something else I found out on the bridge?" she asked without really waiting for an answer before making her way outside to grab one of the books she found and bringing it back inside to show it to him.

"I don't think I've seen a book like this around here before." she told him as she began flipping through this childs colouring book, full of poorly coloured in or not coloured at all Disney princesses and characters. "I don't really get it but there's one page in here that I really liked." She tried to flip through faster to get to her point and finally reached the page she was looking for and showed it to Emre. An uncoloured in picture of Jasmine and Rajah. "I saw it and wanted to show you cause it made me think of you and me." she explained with a smile on her face, hoping he saw it too. "I don't want you to think I'm scared of you or don't want to be around you. I miss you, and I want things to be alright too."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Everything Wren said just reminded Emre how little she actually knew him, or really his history. What he'd done, what he was capable even now. He wasn't in the right mind to even begin to explain. And besides - what did London or Afghanistan even matter to Wren? Jacking cars, shifting drugs and weapons, beating and killing like wild dogs in a pen...what did any of it matter to a child who grew up on Meridium. He breathed slowly, and sunk down on one of the chairs.

Who even was he, that Wren thought she saw? Without Iyaz, without his monstrous actions, without his past?

Emre head cradled in his arms, as he heard Wren mention something else from the Bridge; then she flitted away and Emre was grateful for the moment alone, to just close his eyes and recalibrate. Get up. Be better. Man up. Don't act a bitch. Emre sat up, just in time for Wren to return. With a children's colouring book. Something Disney - that Aladdin cartoon, in fact. He huffed, amused, softer memories flooding his mind. His excitement to see the film in the cinema. The way he and his mates found it so hilarious, such an absurd mangle. But great songs! And Jasmine was peng. And Emre thought Jafar wasn't so bad a bloke. And, the tiger.

You and me, Wren said. Emre's gaze flicked to Wren's hopeful, darling little face, then back at the drawing. He touched the page, feeling both exhausted and docile, like how it felt after a hard cry. "So...you're the tiger, then? I'm the Princess?"

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

Wren watched Emre with her wide and hopeful eyes. She didn't know how much it might mean to him, she wasn't sure if he even recognized these characters she was showing him, but she wanted him to understand that even though she was worried before, she didn't see Emre as a hunter looking for her as prey. To her they were family, she wasn't against him even if she was trying to figure out what everything with the doppelganger meant.

Her lips pursed together, waiting for a response or even just a hint of a smile to make her feel like she was on the right track. When he reached out to touch the page and make a quip about him being the princess she was able to relax a little and grin. "You can totally be the princess if that's how you're seeing it. I think it could work either way. But I was mostly thinking...I think I remember you telling me your dad had a nickname for you. Something tiger related that's why it made me think of you. Unless I'm totally off then I think you would make a great princess with me as your little tiger friend."

"But they look sweet together, don't they?" she added, glancing down to admire the image herself. "I like it, I was really happy to find it. I thought it might help a bit cause I know things have been...different. And I'm sorry about that."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The tension - generated completely by and within him, except from an unwanted invasive force - drained away like sick lymph. So long as Emre alternated his gaze between the drawing and Wren's small, earnest face, Emre felt like he could remain in stasis here. Preserved in a warm, succulent comfort, detached from the infection in his own mind. They did that in sci-fi films that Yaz loved. They'd freeze people, until a cure could be found. He wished he could stay frozen in this one little tableau.

Why not indulge whilst he could? "You'd make a much better Princess than me. Right. So this bloke here -" Emre flipped the pages, and pointed at Aladdin. "He gets a lamp, what's got a jinn trapped in it. But the jinn is good, and grants Aladdin three wishes. Aladdin falls in love with the princess Jasmine. And this is Jasmine's tiger, Rajah. Rajah looks after Jasmine and protects her, because honestly her baba's a bit daft innit. Jasmine can look after herself, don't get me wrong. Feminism and that. But Rajah's been her best mate since she was an infant. Best of friends, them."

Emre hummed. "Honestly I was a bigger fan of Lion King - that's another story with drawings like this. I'll tell you that one day, you'll like it more." Things have been different. Emre exhaled sombrely. "I know. I'm sorry too, luv. I wish I weren't...like this. I wish I could be better. Look after you like Rajah looks after his Princess."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

When Emre started to explain the story of these characters, Wren paid close attention. She was curious, especially when it came to the mention of a good jinn. That was probably the most interesting part considering the jinn they've had to deal with around here. But his recollection was bare bones and he started telling her he liked another story even more and would tell her about that one instead. "Aw, come on! I like the sound of this one. I wanna know about these three wishes the jinn grants this Aladdin guy, and what does Jasmine need protecting from? You gotta get better at your storytelling." She teased but would gladly listen to whatever story he would want to tell her.

Emre apologized to her and maybe they both considered themselves to be in the wrong while looking at the other as being innocent. Wren didn't want to put any more blame on Emre than he was already putting on himself, all because she had been hesitant to believe his intentions with her at first. "You don't have to be better, Emre. This...it's my fault, not yours. What the fake you did, I know you would never do that to me, treat me like that. I should have trusted you from the beginning. I was just so wrapped up in wanting to be right about my theory that I made you feel like you couldn't be trusted. But I trust you completely."

Wren kneeled down in front of him and put her hands onto his knees, showing him that she wasn't scared about getting close to him. She waited for his eyes to meet hers, hoping that the intense look she had would prove how serious she was as she told him, "I want you to stay here with me. Not outside in your little nest on the porch. Here, on a more proper bed inside. With me. Please, akhi."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Right, well. Might be remembering it wrong..." Emre flipped through the colouring book then, trying to form a new story. One about Princess Jasmine, because why not? Wren connected to the character, likened Emre to the tiger, even. Which of course pleased him an inordinate amount. But his happiness felt like a soup in a covered pot. Emre knew it was there but he couldn't lift that lid and taste his own happiness. But the least he could do for Wren, was give her stories. "Let me think on it and then I'll tell you all about Ala - erm, Jasmine and her adventures with Aladdin, yeah?" He smiled. "I'll save the Lion King for Flozzie."

Wren unfolded her wants first, making room for Emre. Granting him access to explore his own wants. When she sat by his feet, hands perched so lovingly on his knees, she captivated his full attention. "You don't believe in your theory no more? I've been giving it some thought too, honestly. Not to beat up on myself, promise. Just...trying to understand why it all happened. But I can barely focus on work, never mind complicated questions like 'why'."

But she'd forgiven him, in a way. Ready to move forward, which encouraged Emre. " Cheers, ukhti. I want to - believe me, I do. By 'better' I don't mean, erm...morally-like. I mean mentally-like." Emre tapped his head, and kissed his teeth. "My brain's gone sideways. Like a broken yolk in here. Everything's - nothing's controlled. I'm not the only one, I know others feel this way too, but. I know what I'm capable of, right. I - I tried to drown Doctor Nesh. I beat on Nick. I'm doing bad things and I'm scared and tired, darling. I can't take that risk with you but - but maybe we can work on it, yeah? Slow work, if you're up for that."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

Wren obviously didn't know anything about the actual story of Aladdin so Emre offering to tell her this story where Jasmine and Rajah were the supposed main characters was something she was completely on board with, not realizing it wasn't the actual story. "I'm looking forward to it. But you know, I'm not saying I'm completely against hearing about this Lion King." She pointed out, something about him wanting to save the story he liked more for Flora making Wren feel the need to defend herself. "You can still tell me about that one too, I wanna hear about the stories you liked from the Outside."

He asked if she stopped believing in her theory and she pursed her lips together, bobbing her head from side to side as she tried to explain how she could still believe her theory but still trust Emre. "It's not that I don't believe it anymore. I just think it might not be exactly the same for everyone. Like with Kaz it was more...exact. He wanted to make up after our fight and the fake version used that. With you it's less one to one I guess." She paused, followed by a deep breath. "You miss your brother. You don't want to be alone and, let's face it, sex is easy intimate company. So I think you might want to be close to someone right now and the fake twisted it to cause harm."

She wasn't sure how he would take her attempts to analyze him and his brain and why his fake did what it did, but she hoped he wouldn't take it the wrong way. But while she thought she had a grasp on what was going on before, Emre had to explain what he was going through now. It wasn't so much what he thought he would do but what he could do that worried him. Wren didn't realize how strong this voice in their heads was and while she trusted Emre, he didn't seem to trust himself with the waswasah still in his head.

So as much as Wren wanted to make things work, go back to normal and keep Emre close, he wanted to approach it slowly. "Okay." She agreed, a bit sadly with a nod. "Sure. I'm good with slow if that's better for you. Whenever you're ready, there's tons of space in here now."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Oh, Lion King is sick," Emre promised Wren, with enthusiasm. "But Jasmine and Aladdin is fun too. They's supposed to be Muslim characters innit. Kind of, I think. They got a jinn. And a prayer rug, but it flies. and a monkey name 'Abu'." Emre grinned, reveling in not just recalling the story in bits and pieces, but the heady power of being able to spin his own tale, for Wren's entertainment. Shirazad style. "A baby won't understand anyway, not like you would."

Wren pieced together two bits of a puzzle that perhaps wasn't intentional, but certainly struck true. Even Emre didn't see it coming, until Wren laid the two pieces before them, like a broken shell. He loved Iyaz so deeply and intimately, but obviously with no sex. He used sex in all other attempts at intimacy. He used to joke, in fact, that Iyaz was married to him (Emre would then mock Iyaz's embarrassment and polite Peter's odd looks. Almost pitying, Emre realized now).

And now he wanted to treat Wren like a little sister, and that meant..."You saying I want to fuck my brother?" Emre asked, in forced-mock offense. When in doubt, fall back on making a joke. "And that the fake picked up on that? Wren, man - that's - " A callout? Understandable? Psychologically relevant? "-- well galaxy brain innit."

Emre pressed his lips together, at Wren's soft, muted response. He thought of Tamyra, really. Her expectations on Wren, how Wren gave in and likely to the poor thing's detriment. So he decided, "You can tell people, right. Tell them we're planning to live together. I'll tell people too. Maybe...maybe even get help on it. On fixing myself, so we can make it happen. Yeah?"

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

Maybe it was her lack of Muslim related content, but the inclusion of that possibility made Wren even more interested in hearing about the story. She would take what she could get and was truthfully feeling a little smug about his willingness and desire to share these with her. Should she feel this way when her opposition was a literal toddler? Probably not, but Wren couldn't help getting at least a little possessive when it came to Emre.

His response to her analysis of things made her dramatically roll her eyes. "No that's not what I'm saying, actually. But I'm guessing you don't want me to get into what I was actually trying to say so, we can leave this on that weird note instead." She teased affectionately as she smacked his forearm for trying to claim she would be making that implication. He didn't need to sit there and be psychoanalyzed by someone who didn't even know the word psychoanalyze after all.

Wren didn't want to push him if it was too much for him. He was already sleeping out on her porch with no problem and if that was as close as he wanted to get, why would she force him any further? But even though she agreed, it wasn't hard to tell it was a bit reluctant. So Emre tried to turn it around offering that they can tell people they were going to live together while he tried to get help. "Are you sure? I get if you don't feel ready. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. I mean, I'm not gonna stop you from getting help for the waswasah if anyone can help but, I don't want to put more pressure on you with telling people we're going to live together. That's not fair to you."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Emre chortled, as Wren chided him for skewing her point in such a sick and twisted way, but. Maybe it was because what she said hit so close to the truth; a truth that Emre himself couldn't really parse. Not so soon after Iyaz's departure and especially not in his exhausted frame of mind, where the waswasah slunk around the corners of his brain, waiting. Waiting to strike. He rubbed his arm, making a show of being 'hurt' by Wren's attack (he was not hurt).

"Don't start backing out now. No second-guessing byt his point, darling. Is too late for that innit. You're stuck with me. How that turns out, we'll figure that out as we go. For now, you get used to your little home - it's not that more spacious, by the way. You just think it looks that way. And I'll fix my head. Technically we are living at the same home innit. I'm just on the outside." Emre kissed his teeth. "Man, just do it. Don't be cute about it. You're cute enough."

↤ ☾🔥☽ ↦

You're stuck with me. As if that was at all a bad thing to her. Wren would happily be stuck with Emre, otherwise she wouldn't be hoping to get him back the way they were before the doppelganger got in the way. But she cracked a smile as he pushed back on her attempts to back out for his sake. She probably could have kept arguing about it but, it wasn't like she wanted to. Wren wanted Emre here for as long as he wanted to stay. She was sure he had more than enough people who would be happy to let him stay with them, surely Tomas or Madi or Kaz would look after him but Wren wanted to be the one to do it.

"Hey, I'll be as cute about it as I want to be! But fine. If you want to stay out on my porch like some wild animal while I get to stay all nice and cozy in here, go right ahead." She looked around the place one more time, honestly still amazed that he did all of this for her so that she could be comfortable and properly set up here. It was something she would appreciate every time she stepped into her hut and she hoped they'd both be able to enjoy sometime soon. "Thank you again. For all of this. If I end up throwing a party to show this place off, just know you are totally invited."

END.

#[ interactions ! ]#[ emre akbar ! ]#[ emre08 ]#thank you so much gigi for writing this with me while i was away #and thank you for making the LOVELY header with their lovely faces its WONDERFUL

3 notes · View notes

crescentcityhellmouth-rpg · 1 year

Text

Out Of Character

Name/Alias: Koya Age: 29 NSFW Personal Preference: I’m comfortable with smut, but I prefer to keep it short and sweet under most circumstances or we can fade to black. Series/Season: S6. Canon Changes: Never turns into a heretic. Activity Level: Mostly on afternoons. Time Zone: EST. RP Experience: 17yrs on various sites. Best Mode of Contact: Discord.

In-Character

Desired Character: Malachai Parker Age: 22 OTP / NOTP: Malachai x Bonnie Housing: Hyperion Hotel. Room 222.

Interview questions.

01. Give us your thoughts on New Orleans?

☆°•》 "Overrated... Too many tourists and prop magic shops. The parties do get pretty wild though, I'll give it that." 《•°☆

02. Tell us how you feel about your species, and if you could change it what would you choose to be and why?

☆°•》 "I'm a witch with no magic. Do you really have to ask?" 《•°☆ ?

03. Please describe the most important person to you and why?

☆°•》 "Me, of course... I know, shocker." 《•°☆

04. Detail a specific point in time that has detrimentally changed you?

☆°•》 "I think it was more a series of events really. The day I found out I was a siphon, the day my parents and the rest of my coven found out, the day I learned I would never be allowed to merge with Jo, the day I killed my family... y'know.. The usual." 《•°☆

05. Explain (a few) bad habit(s) in detail that you’ve picked up over the years, if you remember when you started it describe that pivotal moment as well as what you’ve tried to do to cope with it?

☆°•》 "Compartmentalization. Which innately my therapist said wasn't such a bad thing. Until around eight years old when I started repressing all of my emotions. Then when mom and dad found out what I was counseling was no longer an option to try and fix me. So, y'know, I didn't really care to cope anymore." 《•°☆

Playlist.

• Blood // Water — grandson • parents — YUNGBLUD • I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE — Måneskin

Paragraph sample.

Malachai was intrigued by the big easy. As far as he could tell it was nothing like Portland or Mystic Falls. Magic seeped from the earth and there was a shop on nearly every corner. He wandered into quite a few, but none held quite the legitimate stockpile of goodies like the Magic Box. & the owner, a petite little blonde thing, radiated something of a magical energy herself. One in which he never quite encountered before, what struck him as odd though is that she hardly seemed bothered by his mannerisms and as she hurriedly made her way into the back room to grab a restock of low inventory items, he briefly thought on how these damned emotions caused him to lose his touch. Minutes after that someone else made their way into the neat little shop, but he was almost too distracted to turnaround. That is, of course, until he heard her voice. & for a moment he stood there almost too stunned to speak. As if struck by some kind of a feeling he couldn't even quite accurately describe to turn around and face her, his heart racing as small beads of sweat pooled at his temples. ☆°•》"Bonnie," he breathed out her name, an inaudible whisper before he managed to muster up the courage to face her now. "Wolfsbane, huh," He mused weakly at first. "Regular fencing not doing its job? You decide to take matters into your own hands and put down that aggressive dog? I could help, y'know.. If you want me to." 《•°☆ 《☆°• 'If you want me to?' He thought. 'Dammit.' The swell of unidentifiable emotions now whirling inside him as he looked down at her, his cobalt blue eyes now bore into her emerald, green ones. Hoping she could see what he was struggling to feel. •°☆》

#admin koya application

0 notes

richardsphere · 1 year

Text

RWBY Catchup Slogblog V8E10: The one in which Ironwood, actually has a point for once

“I dont give a DAMN about Jaques Schnee” Cool, this is the first sensible thing i can remember this guy saying. ---- Bad news the cane is apparently the equivalent of a nuke. (this is bad news because nukes are one-time use items and now “on the table” as far as the narrative is concerned. This means the enemy can have the Scepter make a Cane and nuke things if they get the cane while bypassing the “one item at a time” restriction because, i dont need the old nuke after it went off). Also the existence of nuke-type weaponry in this story is just generally an uncomfortable level of powercreep. Even if it turns out to be a one-time use item that still means there is no way for the story to de-escalate back to a sensible scale. So Grimm in the inner city were vaperised, but the people who were carrying the bomb into the whales mouth are fine. (maybe the cane is like Ruby’s Eyes and only affects grimm?) Marrow asks a good question: which characters were still inside the whale? Quick headcount: Salem (immortal) Oscar (presumably alive, i dont think ozpin would make a nuke that destroys its wielder, if only because it would mean more fetchquests to return the nuke-cane) and Hazel certainly. Mercury and Tyrian are off to Vacuo so they’re safe. Watts and Cinder are prisonbreak-buddies Neo seems to have made it out just in time but was definitly in the blast radius. It feels like im missing someone? Wasnt there one more seat at Salems table at the castle? It just feels like im forgetting someone? so in summary: Nuked the enemy base, but it does nothing to affect the overall scores. ----- Team Badguy sucks at communication apparently. “she’s on a set path now”, thats weird, do the baddies know the location of the vault? as in have coordinates for its exact location within Atlas? It feels like the virus should only work if they had like verry specific instructions and im fairly certain that the exact location is like, super-duper-top-secret so its weird that they’d know it to the level needed to code a virus to go exactly there. (just think of the PeanutbutterSandwich test for ref.) Arthur sure likes dangling over ledges. Maybe this time they’ll actually get dropped. Arthur manages to rage her into sparing him somehow? I dont really buy her pulling him closer as a response in this scene, it feels weird for her to acknowledge he’s somewhat right about her. on a related note, wasnt she initially protrayed as this master manipulator playing Beacon for Fools and now she’s portrayed as a fire-themed brainless brute. -------- Ah so we do only get the explanation about how the cane works after the cane gets used. I’ll be honest i thought it’d just been something i forgot about. (it stores kinetic energy.) Most of the power has been used but at least some remains. Gut feeling tells me the fact its charged by kinetic energy will be significant somehow (maybe ties in with Harriet Speedsemblance for a rapid mini-charge if she’s still on the road to defection) ------- Oh happy suprise, the subwaytunnel refugees arent dead yet. (reminder, this entire ordeal started with burrowing grimm so this is a legitimate suprise with how long the battle feels to have been going) also just now noticed the atlas flag-thing has a spear on it. ----- And James finally stops pretending he didnt snap years ago. Winter is clearly realising that oops turns out my surrogate Dad is about as trustworthy as OG dad. Neo is still Neo. Just noticed, Blake is still wearing the eyeshadow/eyeliner/mascara/some other form of eye-based makeup that I dont understand from the party she attended the day before the election. Have events really happened that much more quickly then i thought that she’d still be wearing that? And of course the show doesnt even have time to give the characters a reunion before it drops another gutpunch that i can barely feel with how numb and bruised i am from the plot. But at least Em’s on the good side now, that should technically count for some form of "win” on the heroes side.

#rwby

0 notes

pugszler · 2 years

Note

1, 10, 19, 21, 26, 31, 48 💖💖💖 (from the “weirder asks” ask game you just reblogged! 😍🥰)

1. who is/are your comfort character(s)?

hm since i’ve been having a particularly rough time lately, i’m gonna take this question a bit more seriously than most ppl would and try to recall characters that i literally seek comfort in by thinking about them when i feel like i’m about to hit a breaking point. and well. obvsly the default is kohei. i still constantly think about him and whenever i feel like i need to go to “a happy place,” i just... imagine any one of my many dumb scenarios where i get to be w kohei and be happy w him and live happily ever after w him. 😢 other than that hmm.. i don’t rlly think there’s any one specific that i seek comfort from? i could mention some fave characters of mine that i think about often but i don’t think i rlly consider any of them “comfort characters?” haha sometimes u love a character sm but GOD does thinking about that character stress you out or make you sad or just feel like death lmao

10. would you slaughter the rich?

oh absolutely

19. imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

yes! altho i’m not very good at painting nails tbh... i’m Very messy and i kinda just. leave it that way lol. i also dont know how to do all the fancy styles or the things w the stickers or whatever and i DEFINITELY don’t know a single thing about acrylics what even are those???

21. something you’ve kept since childhood?

uh i don’t think i have any cute answers to this lmao. but i do have a bunch of old ass plushies that i’ve prob had since i was a kid just sitting up top of some shelves in my room but i never rlly think about them or touch them. tbh i kinda want to get rid of most if not all of them bc they’re so dusty and crusty and i’m terrified of the idea that maybe they’re just filled w bugs or something??? also another item i’ve had a while and okay i actually like this answer bc it Does mean a lot to me but it’s still kinda gross to everyone who isn’t me, but my favorite blanket is this one comforter/duvet that used to be on my parent’s bed when i was a toddler, then it became my dad’s blanket when he stopped sharing the same bed w my mom, and then i eventually stole the blanket from him lol bc i always fucking Loved how that blanket felt bc it’s like... smooth and cool to the touch? like it’s. it’s the Only kind of texture i wanna sleep with now like i Need it. unfortunately i have No idea what type of fabric the blanket is made out of so i can’t easily buy a brand new one w the same texture i like.... so i’ve kinda just been sleeping w this same. exact. old ass stinky fucking blanket that’s been in constant use for almost my entire 28 years of life, if not longer.... it’s uhh... kinda in rough shape tbh lmao but i can’t part from it yet. not until i find out how to find a similarly textured blanket somewhere in the world.

26. a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

i........ well i mostly just replay scenarios i’ve thought of involving kohei.... which. yknow... could be fluffy or silly or maybe even a little angsty w some plot and yeah sometimes def naughty stuff too lol. other than that i’ll usually just think about fanfics i really like and replay scenes of those in my head. or i think about my own fic ideas!

31. what type of music keeps you grounded?

loud and angry music. hard rock w/ lots of screaming and just. angry sad emo shit. this is the kinda music that soothes my soul idk how to explain why. also my go-to “grounding” song is scapegoat (and it’s basically one of my all-time favorite songs) like i specifically will play it on loop whenever i am in a Very Bad mental place. like it makes me not wanna die as much and it’s just. it never gets old for me. every single time i play that song it’s like it’s the first time i’m hearing it and it FUCKS HARD every time

48. when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

ehh i guess it was in my early 20s that i got curious enough to want to try it so every now and then whenever my mom would have a beer or champagne i’d ask if i could have a sip.

an alternative answer to this question, when i was a little kid i’d go visit my grandma all the time and she had these cute little tumbler glasses w/ pretty pics of fish and other ocean-y shit on em so i’d always use them to drink water or sprite out of (idk those were just my favorite drinks at the time. i can’t stand sprite current day) so like one day i go in the kitchen for a drink and i see one of those glasses w ice water in it and i’m like hey that’s mine time for a drink and i took a big swig and it was suuuper weird and gross and i was like ???? wth grandma the water at your house sucks. later i find out that my grandma just really loves vodka and she was basically just always drinking it out of those cute little glasses that made it look like she was just drinking water all the time....

(ask game)

#THANKS SO MUCH RAYE UR THE BESTTT <333 thanks for always indulging me these kinds of ask games #replies #ask game #alcohol

1 note · View note

theveryworstthing · 3 years

Photo

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

15K notes · View notes