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landwriter · 7 days

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Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

#asks #the sandman #dead boy detectives #fic #crossover? fusion? i guess? who is to say! not me!#dreamling #perhaps some notes of chedwin #(a fabulous ship name btw. i may not get cob but i WILL get chedwin)#author wrote this while sick as dog so please excuse errors :')#might put on ao3 later if i have a chance to clean it up and expand on it a little!#my writing #me yesterday: 'i really don't see the appeal of blending both stories beyond doing it for the sake of it'#me today: 'no you don't understand they NEED each other here is my chart of the interpersonal dynamics and a list of all the ways hob can h #accidentally writing the new inn reunion scene i'd always dreamed of oops

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 7 months

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Steddie Upside-down AU Part 5

Part 1 Part 4

Eddie’s filled a shitty back-to-school backpack with anything useful he can find. There’s more wet wipes, and gauze, antiseptic, and a hammer. He’s got a lighter, a few newspapers, and a few shitty plastic cups. In a fit of whimsy, he stuffs a pack of playing cards in there as well.

They go.

Hawkins is bigger than he remembers. Eddie’s not sure if it’s just the fatigue, the general atmosphere of this place, or it’s just another fucked-up thing that’s just a little off about this place. Hawkins, but not.

And god, he didn’t ever think he’d be homesick for Hawkins. His trailer, sure. Wayne, of course. But Hawkins? No way.

But he’s pretty sure he’d give his left kidney to be walking down 2nd street with all its residences clutching their pearls and crossing the street to avoid him.

The street stretches out before him unnaturally. It’s quiet. There’s ash in Harrington’s hair where he walks by his side. Eddie’s never felt more out of place in his life.

“Do you think we’ll make it back?” he whispers. It’s so quiet, it feels like his words bounce across the town, anyway.

Harrington’s gait stutters. It could be from his fucked up feet. Eddie doesn’t think so. His brows pinched, lips pursed, skin golden under its ashen sheen.

“Someone will have noticed us missing by now, right?” He doesn’t sound sure. Eddie can’t fathom why.

“It’s…Sunday, Right?” Eddie asks, not waiting for an answer before continuing, “I’m supposed to be at band practice. The guys will notice.”

Harrington nods, starts walking again.

“What about you?” Eddie asks.

Harrington’s eyes are shifting back and forth like he’s watching the ghosts of the real world in this fucked up mirror dimension. Hell, maybe he can.

“Nancy noticed,” he says, quiet enough that Eddie barely picks up on it. He’s looking down at his feet and he looks small. Unsure. Before he looks up at Eddie from the corner of his eye. “Right?”

Eddie looks at this guy he’s hated for years, this guys who Eddie’s sure didn’t even notice him enough to hate him back, and says the only thing he can, “Right.”

“She’s smart.”

“Wheeler seems like a baddess,” Eddie says, even though she doesn’t. It makes Harrington smile down at his borrowed shoes.

Eddie reaches out, squeezing lightly at Harrington’s elbow in comfort before skipping a few steps ahead, feeling his ears burn red. Harrington jogs to catch back up. They walk in silence after that.

The walk down the winding path surrounding the quarry is harrowing. It’s long, sure, but the way the red sky is reflecting back off the water’s surface has his gut sinking into his boots and weighing his feet down. It doesn’t look promising.

It looks even less promising up close. But beggars can’t be choosers, and Eddie feels one second away from falling to his knees and begging to a deity he doesn’t believe in.

He pulls out one of the stupid plastic cups, toes of his boots dipping into the red water as he bends over the reservoir and fills the cup, handing it to Harrington. Might as well take advantage of his tagalong jock test dummy,, and all that.

Harrington grabs it from him, staring down at it dubiously. He tips it sideways, eyeing the liquid speculatively as it pours out of the cup and onto the concrete at his feet.

It’s hard to tell if it’s actually red, even watching it drip onto the ground. The light’s too fucked, but it’s at least transulscent. It’s not blood, or at least not only blood. Eddie’s more concerned about the ash mixed in, to be honest.

Harrington’s still staring down at the remains of his cup like he’s not sure what to do with it.

“Don’t drink that,” Eddie says.

Harrington doesn’t reply, but he can feel him watching as Eddie digs through his bag, pulling out a drugstore T-shirt and the second cup. He snatches Harringtons cup from his fingers, puts the T-shirt overtop, and then puts the other cup on top of that, before flipping the cups quickly.

Some of the liquid splashes out as it pours into the second cup, but most of it makes it to its rightful destination. Eddie pulls the T-shirt away and eyes the cup. He pours it out again, humming in pleasure and there’s no ash floating in the puddle at his feet.

A glance in the original cup makes him gag. Harrington siddles up to peer over his shoulder at the congealed black sludge left at the bottom, smeared with ash and dirt.

“I’m glad I didn’t drink that,” Harrington says.

Eddie laughs, handing the remnants of the second cup back over to Harrington. The look in the other boy’s eyes tells Eddie he knows he’s the guinea pig in this arrangement, but he gamely takes a sip. Eddie holds his breath when Harrington makes a disgusted face, but when he doesn’t keel over and die, he takes another sip.

“Tastes like shit,” Harrington says, downing the rest.

When Eddie filters the next cup, he can’t help but agree. It tastes like too-strong coffee mixed with blood, and Eddie’s never liked coffee.

“How’d you learn to do this?” Harrington asks as the squat next to each other, Eddie filtering water, and Harrington filling the water bottles they’d collected from Melvald’s.

“I didn’t,” Eddie says, wringing the T-shirt out. When Harrington scoffs, he continues. “I just read about it in a book one time, and thought maybe it’d work.”

Harrington snorts. It sounds like a pig. Eddie hates himself for finding it endearing.

“You’re such a nerd,” he says, nudging his shoulder into Eddie’s. From his crouched position, Eddie almost goes tumbling into the water, but Harrington snags his shoulder and yanks him abc, laughing all the while.

“Fuck off, man,” he says, but it lacks its usual heat.

It’s hard to completely hate a guy who dragged you bodily out of a window and away from your untimely demise. It’s hard, but damn if Eddie’s not going to try.

They fill the water bottles. It takes longer than it should, as Eddie tries to find clean enough spot on the T-shirt to make filtering the water any more even possible, but they manage.

Eddie doesn’t put the soiled garment in his backpack before slinging it onto his shoulders. It’s heavier now, but something in him eases with the time they’ve gained with the water. Days of survival has now stretched out to weeks.

He thinks of that Thing again and wonders if that’s a good thing at all. With the way Harrington is grimacing as he slings his own pack onto his shoulders, he’s having similarly grim thoughts.

They both stare up at the steep path they’d come down, hours before.

“What now?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs, and starts trekking back up the hill. Without any better ideas, Eddie follows.

Part 6

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my fic #ive started posting the new portion of this when i have completed a new portion with one part locked and loaded #it's going pretty well!!!#also i am Not Editing it so feel free to send any errors my way #i plan to just write and release and then clean it up for ao3 posting

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heyphifi · 8 months

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61話

#bsd #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #i'll clean up this account i swear #but what other way to celebrate other than our baby boy in his new fit?

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rottengurlz · 4 months

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I don’t know why I bite

#I’ve thought about making this everyday since I saw that one isle of dogs clip #in the bottom scene is when amari realizes everything he did #a scream ripping from his throat while hes trying to rip off his skin and scrub off any blood coating his skin #its the only way he could ever feel clean again #god please forgive me please forgive me please forgive me not again not again not again #nene i said id make a new amari post but i ended up ruining his life again sorry #i wish the sizing was a bit better between both pictures but if i stare at this any longer im gonna rip my eyes out #mysims #sims 4 edit #ts4 edit #the sims community #oc: amari

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bad-wolf-circe · 5 months

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actually i'm anti aesthetic. actually i don't believe in living my life according to the mandate of the same 500 pinterest images. actually i think my life has some meaning, some shades of color to it, outside of a set of rules and stereotypes that are presented to me in a tidy little package. actually, maybe i'm the ugly color gradient and that means there is nuance to the way i live. actually, i don't want to JUST be a witch, or a clean girl, or a mythic bitch, or the feminine mystique, or a coastal grandmother, or a cottagecore lover of women, or punk, or rock, or death metal, or goth. actually being a girl hasn't been anything like what's been shown to me -- and so i will be a girl on my own terms. actually i think being a girl has been nothing like the movies or the moodboards. actually FUCK your moodboards and your makeup too. actually i'm nothingandeverythingcore. actually im alive im alive im alive and that requires no aestheticization. it requires no sanitization of existence. actually life is most beautiful when it is diverse. actually i will try everything and know everything and nothing will stop me; my life will be varied and beautiful and messy and chaotic and occasionally organized and exactly the way it ought to be, you FUCKERS.

#personally? i think living life strictly and entirely according to an aesthetic is STUPID and DUMB #why would you limit your life like that?? why would you only dress and eat and wear makeup and read a certain way?? why?#why would you deprive yourself of the beauty of LIVING??#i will take the meaningful parts of everything #and live my life by the values that resonate with me!#life is nothing if you can't try something new!#anti aesthetic #cottagecore #punk #goth #rock #clean girl #witchcore #coastal grandmother #messy girl #aesthetic #girlhood

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snail-scholar · 3 months

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yeah yeah we all love the "you fuck her" scene because the mom is right on the money sorta, but is it just me or is it also kinda fucked up?

isn't it fucked up that she thinks the only way andrew, ashley's whole ass brother who essentially had to raise her himself, would stay by her side, would be if he got to bang her?

isn't it fucked up that she thinks the only way ashley could possibly have value to someone would be tied to her body?

doesn't it a hit a bit close home to anybody who had one of those moms who kept policing your appearance and general behavior because "men won't want you if you do this and that"?

ashley deserved to eat her parents. as a treat.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #i saw a few people here and there diminishing coffincest because it's straight #and like. fair. preferences #but i think the gender roles in their relationship are actually very interesting to analyze #even if they're not in the spotlight you can see it #on how ashley is the one who cooks and cleans while we often see andrew sitting down checking the news #and how that routine affects their dynamic #even to the way ashley was treated as a kid #suspiciously similar to how neurodivergent girls are treated #and considering most of the trauma comes from the mother it adds a spice to their mother-daughter dynamic #because like. i think so many people fail to acknowledge a lot of the misogyny faced by little girls comes from women and other girls #i just. think about ashley and her experiences a lot.#i should stop rambling before i write the first draft of an essay or smth

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tricos-here · 1 year

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i'll clean this up one day but until then. she 💜

#the plan was to clean up a bunch of drawings of the characters i talked about the other day w the asks #since I haven't posted a lot of them before #but peace and love i ain't got the time nor energy for all that #anyways. bnuy lady from all the way back in lunar new year #raphaela parsa #my art #i'm microdosing making art by looking at my wips

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kyouka-supremacy · 1 year

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Cleaned the sskks from the last official illustration because I have no self control

#I'm so sorry I know somebody already cleaned this but I had already started when I realized #and besides... Sskks........ There's no way I couldn't clean them I'm so sorry #atsushi nakajima #ryūnosuke akutagawa #sskk #shin soukoku #bsd #bungou stray dogs #sango harukawa art #bsd edit #my edit #my cleaning #mine #Btw Akutagawa did not serve THIS look for the New York Times to call **Dazai** androgynous four days later

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natelia-aldelliz · 1 year

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Ghost gifts a single tiny ear loop to Soap one day. Says he noticed Soap had pierced ears. That rings keep from handling a gun or a knife properly. He doesn't make eye contact, tries to hide his face, even as he's already wearing his balaclava.

Soap blinks. Ghost has already given him gifts and only behaved that way for the very first one. He doesn't understand. The earring is very simple, but seems to be made of expensive material and not only covered with a thin leaf of gold.

"Didnae it come with another one?" he says, jokingly.

But Ghost flushes, turns his head, and lifts his mask, only enough for Soap to see the glinting of the other earring on his ear. Suddenly he understands that it's not simply a gift. Ghost favoured practicality, but he wanted to give him a ring.

He grabs his hand as it falls back down.

"Simon, what is this?" he asks softly, not daring to be hopeful just yet.

With his other hand, he reaches out to gently turn Simon's head back towards him. His cheeks and his nose are flushed, it makes the warmth of his dark eyes, generally hidden behind a sneer or a bored expression, undeniable.

He looks nervous. Johnny's heart is beating faster. Could it really be...?

"I know", Simon starts then pauses, uncertain. "I know I'm probably not what you thought you'd have, when you were younger" Soap wants to interrupt, to scoff, to protest that Simon is way better than anyone he could have hoped for, but doesn't. He never wants to cut off his love when he's barely starting to open up.

"I know that I'm not easy to be with some days, that I'm not friendly and easy going like you, like someone you'd deserved to be with." he continues, unconsciously pushing his face more into Soap's hand. "But... I love you, more than I thought I could, and I'd like... I'd like to be with you, for as long as you'd have me..."

Johnny's heart is soaring. He has no idea how to react. He'd have to get all the giddiness out first, and the moment doesn't seem appropriate for jumping around and squealing.

"Officially," Simon continues, voice quieter, out of breath. "If you want to."

A gigantic grin splits Johnny's face. All of his limbs are buzzing, he needs to stand up, to run, to explode something. But he's terrified to spook Simon so instead he just squeezes the hand he's holding rhythmically and moves his feet back and forth.

"Baby, are ye asking me tae marry ye?" Johnny says. He's pretty sure his voice is wobbly, but can't really hear it himself as the blood in his ears is louder than the rest.

Simon's eyes do something, what is visible of his face looks like he has an expression on but Johnny can't analyze it now, doesn't dare to see the hope in his eyes, the pleading in his brows.

"I... Yes, I guess I am," the love of his life says finally. "If you want to. You don't have to."

Soap can't keep himself in check any longer. He's making a high pitched noise, jumping up and down where he's seating on the bed, and throws himself at Simon.

"Of course ah fooking want tae!!!"

Simon lets out an excited giggle, swept in Johnny's mood, and tightens his arms around his lover. No, his fiancé.

This is the best day of his life. He just has to deal with this mission tomorrow, and then they can start to plan everything.

#cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #and now a bit of angst as a treat :#soap goes on his mission and doesn't return - ghost immediately goes to look for him and only finds traces of a struggle #then price receives a bloody earring and instructions to give out state secrets in exchange for soap #ghost goes ballistic - price doesn't deal with terrorists but has to make them believe he does to gain some time #they need to find where they keep soap - when they eventually manage to rescue him he's in a pretty bad shape and cries when he sees ghost #he looks like he hasn't slept since he was taken and his lobe is covered in dried blood where his captors ripped the earring from it #he sobs in ghost's arms that he lost it #that ghost had given him something so precious and he wasn't able to keep it and ghost knows that it's only because he's been tortured and #sleep deprived but it still breaks his heart & he doesn't know what to do and how to make soap understand that he loves him no matter what #johnny needs a medic and fluids and sleep and stitches and a cast but he can't bring himself to let him go so he just carries him #and doesn't let him go until he absolutely has to even as soap falls asleep on the way back and even as the others look at him with a look #on their face - it doesn't matter anyway soon he'll be simon mactavish and everyone will know #as he's waiting at soap's bedside watching him sleep price comes in and gives him the earring - it's been cleaned and looks good as new #then price asks him if he's invited and after a minute of ghost looking at him with wide eyes he eventually nods #'of course' he says 'we wouldn't be anywhere without you old man'#and price gently punches him in the shoulder #'you have to stop calling me old the recruits are convinced I'm like 50'#and ghost smiles for the first time in a week - he won't stop though - not until he convinces the recruits that price is at least 60

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iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight · 4 months

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for drawing suggestions, can you draw L with a pigeon or near doing a peace sign w/ Matt playing video games beside him?

i have no idea what a pigeon looks like

#death note #l lawliet #trad art #i have created a System to getting better lines bc i have to use a stupid pencil atm til i get my groove back w trad art #so what i do is draw w pencil and erase n shit til i get a nice picture then i go ham w a dark sharpie then i cut it out glue it to a nice #clean new piece of paper then i open ms word get rid of the ribbon so i have a nice white page then i use it as a lightbox since my darling #beautiful tablet is down for the count i must resort to new ways to make a light box but i am being extra extra careful i prommy i love #my laptop too much to let any markers get on her screen that's why i glued the papers to each other so there would be no unfortunate #sliding so my system is safe for my lovely darling beautiful wonderful light of my life vendetta (<-laptop's name)#that explanation of my system means nothing to any of u but i'm proud of myself for using my brain for once so i'm putting it out there tha #i am not completely useless in situations where no reasonable device could be used as a lightbox

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stonecoldaries · 4 months

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wanted to touch up some old lena drawings from a few years back, this is the first one so far

#the original is way more dramatic but the new one is more legible #theres three more im gonna do. i like how they look but my irl coloring is so bad i just want to clean them up since i like them so much #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales 17 #lena sabrewing #lena de spell #magica de spell #art

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beef-unknwn · 5 months

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dilf x milf couple. entering my homewrecker era. I did not stutter.

#monster high #apollo wolf #selena wolf #theyre both so attractive to me #also i tried a new way of rendering with these pieces does it look okay be honest?#all in one layer including the sketch that i drew over slash hid #it's so weird doing the colours first then lineart but im doing it to push myself out of my comfort zone #and to make my art less clean. in a good way

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sysig · 5 months

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Betty’s Wish (1/?) (Patreon)

It’s definitely weird that Betty, with all her Magical abilities, never met a Wishmaster, right? I think so

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#My art #Comic #Adventure Time #Prismo #Betty Grof #Oh this is much bigger than I'm used to lol - feel free to open in a new tab #My big project! Here it is! :D Or at least the first piece of it lol #I worked on quite a lot of it through Requestober - or at least the digital cleans lol #If you'll recall my ''This has gotten way out of hand'' posts about Winter and the like - yeah it was actually this lol #And that was just the roughs! This became my warmup project for the remainder of RQTR 2023 lol #It definitely worked! All the way around! I got lots of panels done in short order and got my warmups in for the day #These are mostly drawn right on top of my original sketches - other than adding Betty's kerchief #I would've gone over her hair to make her more on-model but hrnnghhh hair fun to drawww #This is my happy medium compromise lol #Prismo was also a treat to work on ♪ He's vectors as you can probably tell :)#And I still looooove working with vectors ahhhhhh <3 <3 They're so fun to manipulate and move around #I can change his expressions so quickly! Very enjoyable to work with :D #Hehe ♪ He's also not confined to the panels the same way Betty is :)#Anyhow! I have Several more of these planned but for now I'm just happy I finally have this one :D #For reference this is set before the end of Adventure Time - obvs since Betty looks like this - but also kinda not lol #Y'know how it is with time and paradoxes and stuff :)#Even Prismo knows ♪ He probably knows best of all actually hehehe

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hallwyeoo · 1 year

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Ellie’s memory of the golfing scene and what it tells us about her.

🚨spoilers for tlou2🚨

I think Ellie’s flashback to Joel’s death is very telling of how she internalized the event and the meaning she applied to his death. It’s also a good demonstration of her relationship to autonomy. Let’s break down the elements that were inconsistent with the actual event:

The stairs/hallway are much longer than they were. This suggests a sense of helplessness, an inability to get there fast enough. Joel is constantly out of reach.

There is blood on the floor outside of the door. Not entirely certain on this one but my hunch is that she blames herself for not seeing more obvious signs of violence/not knowing something was wrong sooner.

The door is locked, another roadblock in her path to Joel. She can’t access him, she can’t help, he needs her and she isn’t there.

Most importantly. Joel yells “Ellie, help me” (which he didn’t in the actual scene, he just screams. He doesn’t say a word in the actual scene)

Ellie hearing Joel scream for her help, calling for her while being horribly beaten, and her being repeatedly impeded on her way to him suggests that what she took away from his death is that she wasn’t enough. They always helped each other, always had each others backs, always got up. Ellie views his death as a failure. She was too slow, too weak, not smart enough to save him. She failed him when he needed her most. She is absolutely helpless to save him, just like she was helpless to save Riley, Tess, Sam, and Jessie (and Marlene, and humanity, and and and-).

Once again, Ellie makes a decision (staying with Riley, going to the fireflies, staying with Joel, being the cure, trying to forgive Joel) and once again her autonomy and ability to find closure is ripped from her.

This is the inciting incident of tlou pt2, this is the moment where Ellie’s whole world shatters the same way Joel’s did at the start of pt1. Ellie enters into the same cycle (which I like to call the “Joel cycle” because… yeah.) that he did, and throughout pt2 she stays in the “20 years later” phase of the cycle. She is changed, she has lost her light, lost what she fought for. She lost her chance to genuinely forgive Joel and rebuild their relationship. She is stuck in a gruelling and violent world that she has no anchor in, at least not anymore. His death is so sudden and so incredibly violent that it practically gave her (and me as well, tbh) whiplash. She’s in a state of total shock.

On another devastating note, this is one of the three times in tlou that we see Ellie beg (that I remember). The first is begging Joel to get up at the university of Eastern Colorado, the second is begging him to get up and for Abby to stop, and the third is begging Abby to not kill Dina because she’s pregnant. (Two times she begs Joel to get up, one time he doesn’t. Two times she begs Abby to spare her family and one time she does. What a beautifully haunting contrast)

To wrap up, every person creates an internal narrative, a story of their life that is crafted from their context and lived experiences. The meaning we derive from those experiences doesn’t always reflect the truth, and that can sometimes bite us in the ass majorly when we experience a traumatic event. We tend to want to find someone or something to assign blame to, some reason or rationale to why it happened. We tell stories. We write them in our minds about ourselves and what happens to us and what that says about us.

But Ellie is wrong. Joel’s death happened in response to a conscious and willing choice he made. It is in no way her fault, and there was absolutely no way for her to know or to stop what was happening. I think Ellie knows that much on an intellectual level, It just doesn’t change how devastated she is over the whole event. It can’t change the fact that she FEELS as though this was all her fault, that Joel did what he did to save her, that she could have saved him. That she should have.

#this isn’t a new thought #like I’m p much just stating what happened in the game #this is not some super deep meta analysis of tlou #it’s just.#Ellie’s relationship to autonomy is so so so good #ellie the last of us #joel the last of us #ellie williams #joel miller #tlou series #tlou show #tlou1 #tlou spoilers #tlou analysis #I have SO MANY drafts that are like. walls of text #we’re talking Great Wall of China long #tlou2 #marlene the last of us #marlene tlou #basically what I said in previous posts about how ellie picked up Joel’s stoic attitude and emotional constipation.#ellie’s screams lolol. my heart breaking in real time.#joel goes golfing HD!!!#the way her voice breaks as she begs… OWIE #Neil druckmann needs to pay for my therapy fr!!#I edited this because it had some… really bad grammatical errors #syntax??? what’s that????#anyway normally I don’t put much thought or effort into my actual wording of Tumblr posts #because like maybe 10 people will see it. who cares.#but this one is one I actually care a bit about and this whole thing could be written about in so much more depth.#so I went in and tried to clean it up a bit and added some thoughts.

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