#artists with crappy nails
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😝
#artists on tumblr#stupid little doodles#stupid little sculpture#frog#sculpture#smol#artists with crappy nails#wip
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Cara Mia - E.N
(This is about Paul Dano's Riddler, welcome Dano stans, welcome to my sinful blog and prepare for filthy and in-depth writing <3 if you're new here, all you need to know is that we LOVE including music in our fanfics and we LOVE realistic/detailed writing <3 you'll see what I mean and you'll love it sweetie)
Summary: Y/n and Edward were old friends who grew up in the same orphanage together. Not liking the person he is becoming, she tries to get him to find other ways to defend Gotham's civilians. Strangely, she succeeds in this. But, Edward still wants to show them how confident he has gotten since they last saw each other. (crappy summary, just read this post lol.)
Word count (everything below cut): 14,462 (GUYS WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED I THINK I WENT INTO A TRANCE WRITING THIS THING?! WHY IS IT 5 YEARS LONG!? PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP I'LL MOVE TO ANTARTICA IF IT DOES I WORKED SO HARD ON THIS!!!)
Content Warning: AFAB!Reader, she/they pronouns (using mostly she for easier narrative purposes but Edward refers to y/n as they), non-binary reader, queer reader, mentions of homophobia, body dysmorphia, gender dysmorphia, transphobia, explicit language, panic attack, mentions of cigarettes, slowburn smut, penetration, mocking during sex, degrading/humiliation, praising, power play, ROUGH sex, slapping, dom!Edward, obsessed!Edward, sub!Reader, threats of violence directed towards y/n, angst, mentions of gore and murder, y/n is an artist in this <3, breaking in (ed breaks in to y/n's apartment), ed gets angry a lot, aftercare.
Songs for Inspo: (highly recommend you listen while reading (not in any particular order tbh)) bro i spent like 30 minutes finding the PERFECT songs that gave off the vibes I wanted Edward to have in this fic...pls appreciate D:
Aleph - Gesaffelstein
Anarchy - KMFDM
Something In The Way - Nirvana (not bc it was in the movie, it's just so aesthetically pleasing for this type of fic)
THIRST FOR ME! - Lumi Athena
YOU'RE TOO SLOW (Bonus) - Odetari
all I want is you - Rebzyyx, hoshie star
NALGOTICA! - Lumi Athena
Daydream In Blue - I Monster
MONTAGEM - PR FUNK - S3BZS
Lacrimosa - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Y/n's songs:
mos thoser - food house
Ride - Sir-Mix-A-Lot
ecstasy (slowed) - SUICIDAL-IDOL
~*Read Below Cut*~
"Uh, yeah may I have an iced coffee please? With almond milk please."
The customer handed over a 10 dollar bill. Y/n smiled from behind the counter, nodding her head. She entered the purchase and gave the customer their change. Y/n's hair was put back in a ponytail that stuck out of her work visor. Going to grab a cup, she stopped, laughing softly. Turning to the customer, she tilted her head.
"Sorry, Ms. Andrews, what size did you want? I know you usually get a grande, but I just want to make sure." She asked politely.
The older woman, near her mid 40's chuckled. She swatted her slender hand at y/n playfully. Her nails were painted a bright pink with white polka dots, a suggestion from y/n herself. Earlier last week Ms. Andrews had asked for an idea of what to paint her nails. Y/n told her to go big and bold, have some fun! And, that's exactly what she did.
"Oh, y/n you are so kind. A grande is fine as always." She smiled.
Y/n nodded, grabbing the clear cup and scooping some ice into it. The woman placed a 5 dollar bill in the tip jar, which caused y/n to grin dorkily. It was only her working tonight, so she really appreciated the gratuity. Especially coming from one of her favorite customers.
"So, almond milk? What happened to oat? Are you trying something different?" She asked, making light conversation as she made the drink.
"Oh, nothing like that. I really love oatmilk in my coffee, but I find that it upsets my stomach. It's a shame really."
"Aw, well almond milk is a good choice!" Y/n replied cheerfully.
Placing the drink down, the woman smiled at her. Yawning, she covered her mouth with her hand. Y/n chuckled at the sight, wiping down the counter once Ms. Andrews took her drink. The smell of the cleaner filled the air, mixing with strong coffee beans and fruity mixtures. It was pungent, but the ceiling fan helped distribute it and filter it out.
"Get home safe, y/n. Gotham isn't safe for anyone, let alone a sweet person like you." The woman warned.
Y/n nodded at Ms. Andrews. Focusing back down to the counter, she waved good bye to the woman, watching out of the corner of her eye as she left the shop. Sighing, y/n rubbed a bead of sweat off of her forehead. She groaned, looking up at the clock. It was 11:55 p.m. Her shift ended in 5 minutes, and everything was all clean except for the utensils she just used. Getting right to work, she began to clean the dishes, zoning out as she did so. Thoughts of her childhood raced through her head, causing her to feel somber. It wasn't much of a childhood, growing up in an orphanage. But, she did have one friend.
~
"Eddie, I don't know the answer! Give me Sir Clawdius back!" Y/n groaned.
Edward, being taller than her by a few inches already, stood on top of a bucket. In his hands was y/n's teddy bear, well, the orphanage's teddy bear. Y/n decorated it however, giving it a makeshift crown made out of pipe cleaners, glue, and those colorful puffy cotton balls. Sticking his tongue out, he blew a raspberry at y/n.
"Nah uh! You gotta answer the riddle!" He explained.
"Ugh, fine! What was it again?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest in a pout.
The two of them, being 11 years old at the time, looked like bickering 5 year olds. Edward had met y/n in the orphanage when they were 7, and they quickly became close friends. Y/n was always the hyper one who got into trouble easily, and Edward was the one who tried to help her wiggle her way out of it. He was definitely the smarter one out of the duo.
"What do you call a bear with no teeth?" He asked, waving the bear in the air.
"Be careful with him, he's a delicate soul!" She whined.
He chuckled awkwardly, holding it still above his head. Y/n looked at the ground, thinking hard about the riddle. She knew that it wasn't that hard, but she always had a difficult time with riddles. Perhaps, it was just because she was under pressure. Her eyes widened, snapping her fingers and bouncing up and down lightly.
"A gummy bear!" She giggled.
Jumping down, Edward handed her Sir Clawdius. Smiling, she grabbed the bear and held it close to her chest. Edward gave her a thumbs up, a big grin on his face.
"Hey, you're getting better, sketcher!" He cheered.
Y/n giggled when he called her that. The nickname was stupid, not making any sense to anyone else but them. The shoes that she wore all the time were sketchers, and she loved to draw. So, Edward, being a genius, came up with that intelligent nickname. The two of them both agreed it wasn't the most clever, but they both liked it either way. So, it stuck.
"Well, you give me lots of opportunities to improve, Riddles." She chuckled.
~
The dishes were all dry and put away as she finished thinking about her old friend. She still had a hard time believing that the little boy he once was was now planning the demise of Gotham. It was definitely jarring, and it was obvious that it was him. She knew Edward well, no one ever loved riddles as much as he did. If someone did, then that would be the day that pigs flew.
"Time to lock up..." She sighed.
Grabbing her tote bag, she hung it on her shoulder. She turned all of the lights off and made sure everything was put away and turned off. Once she was done, she grabbed the lanyard attached to her pants and locked the backdoor. She set the alarm for the building and quickly made her way out, locking the front door behind her. Shivering, she started to walk down the street, lucky that she only lived a block away. Snow fell down from the sky, landing on her eyelashes, disappearing once she blinked them away.
"Fucking shit it's cold out here." She mumbled to herself, rubbing her hands together.
She sped up her walking pace, ignoring how much her feet hurt from standing behind the counter all night. Not only did she want to get out of the bone-chilling cold, but she also wanted to get out of the streets of Gotham at night. Especially so close to the Narrows. No part of Gotham was safe, but the closer to the Narrows you got, the more dangerous it became. Y/n's mouth stretched out, forming an 'O' as she yawned harshly. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes, blinking them away rapidly.
"God, I'm fucking tired. Thankfully, it's Friday! This bitch doesn't work weekends for a reason." She quietly cheered.
Turning the corner, she sighed in relief when her apartment building came into view. Speeding up even more, she went inside of it, feeling like someone was watching her as she did so. Shrugging it off, she made her way up the stairs until she reached the floor she resided on. Reaching her door, she unlocked it and stepped inside, closing and locking it behind her. Standing still for a few moments, she dropped her tote bag on the table next to the door. She was too lazy to put it anywhere else. Groaning, she walked into her bedroom, stripping herself of her work clothes immediately. She made quick work of getting a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie on, humming to herself when the warmth of the fabric embraced her body. Not feeling fully 'swaddled', y/n slid on a pair of fluffy socks as well. She felt like a sheep who desperately needed it's wool to be shaved off. And, after walking in that cold, she was totally ok with that feeling.
'bing!'
Y/n grabbed her phone off of her bed, tossing it there when she was changing. Turning it on, the light illuminated her face as she read the notification. She pinched the bridge of her nose, groaning as she did so. Pushing the notification, she entered her pin number and grumbled to herself as a livestream opened.
"Hello, my loyal followers! Apologies, for such a late livestream..." Edward announced.
Y/n rolled her eyes, immediately typing in chat. She did not watch his livestreams because she believed in what he was doing. Well, she agreed with his thoughts, that corruption was taking over Gotham and that a change needed to be made. But, it was how exactly he was doing it that she didn't agree with. Plotting murders, wanting to blow up the sea walls, seeking attention from The Batman. He had not done any of these things yet, thankfully. But, just the fact that he had been planning and discussing it was disturbing to her. It was insane. Her fingers typed away, almost as if they knew what they needed to do without her brain telling them. However, she knew what would happen if she sent the message. But, she needed to. She wanted to get through to him.
'Riddles, you've got to stop this. You're taking this too far. There are better ways in which you can advocate for Gotham. And you know it. Seeing you like this breaks my heart. It's getting hard to watch these livestreams. - Sketcher.'
Edward, who was in the middle of talking, fell silent almost immediately. Y/n saw his eyes dart around behind his glasses, reading the message. He panted slightly, shaking his head vigorously. Scoffing, y/n shook her head as well, knowing what was about to happen.
"You don't understand! This is the ONLY way! We experienced this cities torment first hand! THIS IS THE ONLY WAY! Why don't you trust me, Sketch? Hm? All of my noble followers trust me. They KNOWWWW I can bring JUSTICE for them!" He shouted, his voice frantic and borderline desperate.
'God, someone find that buzzkill and kill them already...'
Edward's eyes widened as he read that chat. Y/n chuckled lightly, placing her phone on her bed, preparing for the tantrum that was about to ensue. Grabbing a hairbrush off her nightstand, she started to brush her hair, listening to her old friend scream.
"If you do that, I WILL know. And I WILL FIND YOU AND GUT YOU LIKE A FISH! I WILL FLAAAAY YOUR BODY AND SHOVE YOUR PEELED SKIN DOWN YOUR THROAT!" He shouted, his voice peaking in the livestream.
For the past few weeks, y/n had been watching his live streams. Every time he had one, she would leave a message, and he became obsessed with proving himself to her. In his mind, y/n was the one person who didn't believe in him. She was the one person he really needed validation from. Y/n sighed, placing the brush down. Quickly, she typed a response and hit send. Edward's eyes immediately scanned it, ignoring everyone else in the chat. His priority was y/n. He read the message out loud quietly.
"I'm going to bed now, it's been a long day. I'm starting to give up on you. You're not the same person you we- WHAT?!?! IS ANOTHER DAY IN YOUR BORING BLAND LIFE TOO DIFFICULT FOR YOU? I AM THE SAME PERSON I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN! THE ONLY DIFFERENCE IS I HAVE FOUND MY PURPOSE!!!!!" He screamed once again, causing y/n to laugh.
Even though this was sad for her to witness, it was amusing to see him throw his tantrums. Steam was practically blowing out of his ears. If y/n was anyone else, she would be scared to death right now. But, she was y/n. She was Sketcher. And, even though Edward had changed a lot over the years, one thing would always remain the same. He would never hurt her. Y/n knew that Edward knew where she lived, and he has never once tried to go to her house. Though, y/n did worry about that every now and then. Not because she was worried he would hurt her, but because she didn't know if she could handle seeing her old friend so different.
"DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE! YOU are my INSPIRATION! My MUSE!" He exclaimed, laughing at the end of his sentence.
She scoffed, exiting the livestream. Once she did this, and Edward noticed, his face fell flat. The chat kept filling up with messages, but he just ignored them. When the chat got too overwhelming, he just ended the livestream without saying anything. He paced his room, back and forth, muttering to himself. Y/n still didn't understand him, even after preaching his cause every time she joined a livestream. He ripped his mask off, tossing it on his bed. His breathing got heavy as he started to hyperventilate. His chest heaved, causing him to stop pacing and sit down. Edward gripped at his hair, tugging lightly. When his breathing slowed down, he put his glasses back on, grabbing them from off of the floor. Sighing deeply, he cleared his throat and stood up.
"I need to see her in person. If I explain it in person, she'll understand. She has to. She has to understand!"
Frustrated, Edward got ready for bed. He was tired, and glad that he didn't have to work tomorrow. His eyes grew heavy as his head hit the pillow, drifting off into sleep as he thought of ways to show y/n that what he was trying to do was a good thing. That it was for her.
Y/n sat up in her bed, arms stretching out slowly as she yawned. A long and exaggerated groan left her throat as she rubbed her eyes, sleep in the corners of them. Looking outside of the window next to her bed, she watched as snow fell down, covering the railing of the fire escape. Y/n held her hand up to her face, breathing into it. She grimaced, displeased with her morning breath. Getting out of her bed, she slid on her slippers which were one of those animal kinds. She found unicorn ones at a store and just had to buy it. However, they seemed bland to her. So, she decided to make two fake cigarettes using some felt and cotton, sewing them to the unicorns mouth on each slipper. Y/n didn't even smoke cigarettes, she just thought it would be funny. And it was. So, mission accomplished.
"Shit, it's getting so cold out lately. It's Spring for fuck sake." She grumbled, going to the kitchen.
Opening her fridge, she scanned over her options. She didn't have much food, as she needed to do some grocery shopping. But, she did have enough to last her a couple more days. Sighing, she grabbed some leftover pizza from the other day and decided that it was the best thing she had for breakfast options. Well, she had other options, she just didn't want to cook anything. She planned on being a lazy shit today, and she was going to do exactly that. Placing the slice of pizza on a plate, she put it in the microwave for 30 seconds. While she waited, she took her daily medication, drinking the pills down with juice because if she used water she could taste the gross medicine. A beeping signaled that the pizza was warmed up.
"I'm so hungry..." She said, stomach growling.
She grabbed the pizza from the microwave, recoiling slightly because it was hotter than she expected. Apparently, 30 seconds was too much time. She would take note of that for future use. As if she had been starved for two weeks straight, y/n ate the pizza hungrily. Sighing, she washed the plate and dried it before putting it away again. Rubbing her eyes once again, she got rid of any remaining sleep that crusted in her eyes.
"Ok, time to relax."
'bing!'
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me..." She mumbled.
Picking up her phone, she walked to the bathroom in her bedroom. She pushed the notification and propped it against her mirror as she grabbed her toothbrush. Edward, well, his persona at least, appeared on screen. His trademark green mask underneath a pair of clear glasses. Y/n shook her head softly, applying toothpaste to her brush before wetting it under the faucet. As Edward said hello to the people joining, y/n started to brush her teeth. Honestly, she had no idea why she joined the livestream. Perhaps it was her naivety that made her think he could change, but she still wanted to believe. Even if it wasn't looking so positive for her.
"Greeting, my loyalists. Your savior is here." He said flamboyantly.
Y/n rolled her eyes, spitting the mixture of water, spit, and toothpaste out of her mouth into the sink. She turned the water on, washing it down the drain. She rinsed her toothbrush off, putting it back where she got it from. Moving her head under the water, she took a small sip, swirling it in her mouth before spitting it out.
"He thinks he's royalty or some shit. It's so fucking annoying." She grumbled, grabbing her mouthwash.
Y/n decided not to text anything in the stream today, not wanting to deal with a tantrum again. She took a swig of the mouthwash, swishing it in her mouth. The strong mint smell and taste filled her senses, causing her eyes to water and mouth to burn slightly. Not able to handle it much longer, she spat it out. She rinsed out the sink once again, drying her hands afterwards. Y/n brought the hand towel up to her face, wiping off excess toothpaste.
"Sketcher. I know you're in here. Why aren't you saying anything?" He asked in a low tone, eyes narrowing behind his glasses.
Y/n brought the towel away from her face, hanging it back up on the hook next to the mirror. She picked up her phone, walking out of the bathroom and turning the light off behind her.
"Are you ignoring me?" His voice was hoarse, a hint of confusion lacing his question.
Y/n groaned, plopping herself down on the couch. She didn't want to listen to him anymore. He was becoming obsessed with her. Though, he had been acting like that since she watched his very first livestream. Part of y/n knew that it was because he wanted to prove himself to her, although she had no idea why. And another part of y/n knew, or at least believed, that Ed missed their friendship. To be fair, she missed their friendship too. It didn't necessarily end, more so evolved into something more. The two of them got an apartment together when they were forced to leave the orphanage after turning 18. It was difficult, but they managed. Living together caused them to share many life-changing moments of each other's lives together. Y/n remembered them so fondly, and she was sure Edward did too. However, one key moment stood out to y/n a lot more than all the other memories.
~ TW: gender dysmorphia, body dysmorphia.~
~
"Y/n, I'm back from work. They kept me late and wouldn't even explain to me why. Just wanted me to work longer, I suppose. But, at least I still got paid!" Edward said, walking in the front door of the apartment and locking it behind him.
He turned around, looking at the living room in the center of their apartment. His eyebrows furrowed as he didn't see y/n. Placing his keys in the bowl on the table next to the door, he hummed to himself. Removing his coat, he hung it up on the rack and removed his shoes.
"Are you in here?" He called out, slightly louder than before.
"Y-Yeah." Y/n responded, faintly.
Edward, who was looking at the door to her room, moved his sight to his door. Y/n's voice came from behind it, which confused him. Walking towards his door, he knocked on it lightly.
"Uh, why are you in my room?" He asked.
"Oh, I thought I lost my ph-phone charger in here. But, it's not in here." She answered.
Edward turned the doorknob, sighing in frustration as it didn't budge. He leaned up against his doorframe, shoulder resting on the surface. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked down and saw her shadow move in the light that emitted from the gap of the door.
"Why is the door locked?" He asked bluntly.
Y/n didn't answer. Instead they stepped away from the door. Not sure what to do or say, she tried to pick up the mess she had made. Edward knew how to pick locks, thanks to growing up in an orphanage and trying to sneak dessert constantly. He would get inside eventually, and she didn't want him to see anything. Edward grimaced from behind the door, grabbing a bobby pin from his pocket. He tended to fidget a lot at work and he liked to play with a bobby pin. It was strange, but he found it soothing. He made swift work of picking the lock, which wasn't hard since it was not a complex lock at all. Opening the door, he pushed it open all the way, standing in the middle of it. Y/n froze, arms full of Edward's clothing, wearing one of his tank tops and a pair of his jeans. A bright red hue covered her cheeks as she made eye contact with her friend. At first, Edward just thought y/n was playing a light prank on him, just like they did in the orphanage. But, her eyes were watery and puffy. Her bottom lip was pulled down in a soft frown.
"Y/n? What are you doing?" He asked softly.
Y/n grabbed a blanket off of Edward's bed and pulled it over herself. Her figure under the blanket shook softly as she tried to contain soft sobs. Edward was perplexed by the scene before him, unsure of what to make of it.
"Don't look at me! Please, just get out!" She cried softly.
Edward, who was still standing in the doorway, walked over to her. He knelt down, reaching out to grab the blanket. Y/n scooted away, feeling his hand brush against the fabric. Edward slowly pulled his hand away. He sighed, looking around his room, hoping to get an understanding of what was happening. Y/n was known to have a few episodes regarding her childhood trauma, but they were nothing like this. They were never like this. This was very different. And Edward hated the feeling of not knowing what was wrong with his friend. His eyes landed on a few pieces of y/n's clothing, which he assumed is what she wore before. The rest of the clothes on the floor were his own.
"Why are you wearing my clothes?" He asked.
Y/n sniffled, poking her head out from under the blanket. Edward looked into her eyes, feeling his heart throb at her sad appearance. She sighed softly, removing the blanket from her entire body. Edward looked over her, other than the fact that she was wearing his clothes, nothing was out of the ordinary. Except...
Y/n covered her chest with her arms, trying to make it look like she was casually crossing her arms. Edward's eyes narrowed. The two of them were extremely close, and none of them were worried about the other looking at them in a creepy way. So, the fact that y/n was purposefully covering her chest set off some alarms in Edward's head. He paused for a moment, and then it clicked. Softly, he grabbed y/n's arms, pulling them away from her chest. He looked at it, noticing an extremely big difference. Y/n started to cry, hiding her face from him. Edward didn't look at his best friend's chest a lot. Not ever. He wasn't a creep. But, he knew that y/n was fairly heavy in the chest. And right now, she wasn't. He grabbed the bottom of his tank top that she was wearing, looking to her for permission. She didn't make eye contact with him, but Edward took her silence as confirmation. Lifting it up, he immediately winced. Y/n was not wearing a bra. Instead, her breasts were crudely duct-taped to her chest. The tape went around her entire chest, around her back, and connected in one loop, overlapping multiple times. The duct-tape dug into her skin harshly.
"Y/n..." He trailed.
"It hurts, Eddie..." She sobbed.
"I need to get this off of you." He stated, standing up.
Y/n reached out, grabbing his arm.
"No. I d-don't want to see th-em..." She choked.
He looked down at her, feeling his heart shatter. Edward already had a pretty good understanding of what happened while he was gone. But, that comment was what really set it in stone for him. He sighed, squatting back down and looking her in the eyes.
"You don't have to. But, I need to get this off of you." He said.
Y/n sniffled, wiping tears away from under her eyes. She nodded, pulling her knees to her chest as Edward grabbed some scissors from the kitchen. He felt stupid in this moment, not knowing exactly what to do. And, he always knew what to do. Panicking, he grabbed a bottle of aloe vera from the medicine cabinet and anti-bacterial ointment, just in case the duct tape broke her skin. Hurriedly, he went back in his room and placed the items on his bed. He bent over and picked y/n up, placing her on the bed as well. Edward got on his knees in front of her, noticing that she was avoiding eye contact with him. He grabbed the pair of scissors, placing a comforting hand on her knee.
"I will not look, y/n. I promise." He reassured.
Y/n nodded softly, a tear rolling down her cheek. Edward frowned, looking at the duct tape and trying to figure out where to start. Sighing, he looked at the part of y/n's cleavage that provided a gap to cut at. Using the scissors, he snipped a line down the middle before placing the scissors back on the bed. Just like he promised, he looked away as he lightly began to pull at the tape, wincing every time y/n flinched.
"Are you going to tell me why exactly you did this to yourself?" He asked, his voice undeniably stern.
Y/n looked out the window, Edward following her gaze as he continued to pull gently at the tape. She shrugging slightly, not sure of what to say. There was no way to say it other than to be blunt. But, she couldn't bring herself to be blunt.
"I don't like how I...I don't like my...I just wish..." She fumbled.
Edward listened, allowing her to take as much time as she needed. He ripped off a piece of duct tape slowly, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it on the floor. Y/n watched him throw it, lip trembling as she did so.
"I don't hate how I look. I like how I look. I just, there are some parts..." She sighed.
Edward nodded, removing another piece of duct tape. He kept his eyes way from her now revealed chest, moving on to her side. Y/n groaned, holding her head in her hands. This position made it harder for Ed to remove the tape, but he didn't say anything.
"I was born a girl, I know that. And, I like being feminine. I love it, actually. But, I don't feel like I'm just a girl...I don't want to be." Her voice was weak and shaky.
"Do you feel like one certain gender?" He asked, trying to help her navigate her feelings.
"No. I just feel like...me." She answered.
"Alright. Well, what are you?"
Y/n paused, looking down at the ground. She hadn't really thought about it before. It never really crossed her mind. But, now she was really thinking about it.
"I don't really want to be labeled as anything. I want to look feminine. But, I don't want people to think I'm just a girl. I don't feel like I'm just a girl. I don't know how to explain..." She sighed.
Edward removed the last bit of the duct tape off of her skin. Y/n shivered, her bare chest exposed. But, she was too numb to even care. Edward made sure he averted his eyes the entire time. He used some of the aloe vera and rubbed it into her red and irritated skin. Y/n hissed at the cold touch.
"I think, you explained it perfectly. As long as that is exactly what you feel. You're feelings in this situation are the only ones that matter. I just want you to know that I support you through whatever decision you make. Full heartedly."
Once Edward finished applying the aloe vera, he got up from off the ground. He walked over to his closet, grabbing something out of it. He looked at it for a little while, thinking to himself. Humming, he walked back over to y/n and handed the object to her, looking into her eyes the entire time.
"We can get a binder for you, if you'd like. I know it doesn't really work too well, but you can use this in the meantime." He said.
Y/n took the object and smiled when she realized what it was. It was a back brace. It was small enough to cover her chest. It wasn't the perfect size, but she appreciated whatever she could get. She put it on immediately, struggling only a little bit.
"Thank you..."
Edward tossed one of his shirts to her and watched as y/n caught it. She slid it on, smiling at how baggy it was. Ed smiled as well, giving her a pair of sweatpants too. Y/n looked at him curiously, her head tilting to the side.
"If you ever want to wear my clothes because it makes you feel more comfortable, you don't have to ask or be sneaky about it. You're welcome to wear whatever you need."
~
The meaningful memory made y/n tear up. He was so understanding about what she was going through. And, when she figured out who she really was, he was extremely supportive. Edward had immediately ask y/n what their pronouns were, to which she said she/they. Y/n said she didn't mind if people referred to her as she, but they was what they truly preferred. And ever since that day, he referred to y/n as they. Coming out as non-binary to their friend was easy because of how supportive he was. And then, the two of them started to date. Y/n remembered their first time with Edward. The two of them wanted it to be special. Their first time was vanilla, not wanting to take it too far. But, every time after that got hotter and hotter and kinkier and kinkier. Eventually, the two of them knew about all of their partner's kinks and turn ons. And, y/n was surprised to learn about how kinky Edward was.
~
"Oh fuck, Edward!" Y/n moaned, their fingers gripping at his hair tightly.
Their naked bodies were entwined with each other on his bed. Edward was normally a shy and reserved guy, but in the bedroom he was an entirely different person. He pulled away from biting on y/n's neck, licking a stripe from her neck to her chin. Y/n whined, bucking her hips upwards. Chuckling, Edward gripped their hips and slammed them against the bed. His dick was inside them, staying perfectly still.
"I know how desperately you want me to fuck you, but I expect you to have some control over your desires. If you can't be patient for it, then do you truly deserve it, chéri?" He teased.
Y/n moaned, they loved it when Edward would speak French. It was a language he taught himself in the orphanage, along with Italian and Latin. He sounded so suave when he talked in those languages.
"I'm so-orry..." Y/n pouted, trying their best to keep still.
Edward leaned his head back, letting out a sigh as he felt her tighten around him. His eyes squinted as he made a 'tsk' sound. Looking back down on her, Edward held onto their waist gently.
"Trop peu, trop tard..." He said softly.
Y/n tilted her head to the side, unsure of what he said. Edward smirked, a playful and mischievous glint in his eyes. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against their ear. His grip on her hips tightened, nails digging into their flesh.
"Too little, too late..."
~
Y/n shivered, feeling her stomach turn into a knot as she recalled the interaction. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she pushed the feeling away. It all ended when Edward started to talk about how he wanted to fix Gotham. His desire for a renewal eventually turned into an obsession, and y/n saw how dangerous it was getting. Even though it hurt her, she didn't want to be with him while he went down that path. It had been a year since they split up.
"I suppose, it is time I end this livestream my loyal followers." Edward said.
Y/n shook herself out of her thoughts, remembering that she was watching Ed's livestream. Looking at the time, she was shocked to see that she had spaced out for about 30 minutes, recalling her fond memories with Edward. She sighed, going to exit the stream when she realized she was the only one left in it. However, Edward's voice made her stop.
"Do you still live there, Sketcher?" He asked, voice monotone, almost a hint of sadness in it.
Y/n felt her breath hitch in her throat. Shakily, her hands typed an answer. For some reason, she felt scared of Edward in this moment. She never felt scared of him. His voice was ominous.
"I am not answering that, you should already know the answer."
Edward remained silent for a little while, staring at the camera. Y/n grew unsettled, unsure of what to do. He leaned towards the camera, cupping his hands over his mouth. Y/n prepared for him to whisper, holding the phone closer to their ear.
"FINALLY THEY SPEAK!" He yelled.
Y/n dropped their phone, wincing at their ear ringing. Edward chuckled from behind the camera, finding his yelling to be funny. Y/n grimaced, scoffing as she rolled her eyes.
"I miss you. Do you miss me? If you want me to come over, say nothing. If you don't, then say anything!" He giggled.
Y/n began to type, not understanding what he was trying to do. It was like he was purposefully trying to scare them. Like it was a game to him. And y/n didn't feel like playing it. But, before she could text anything, he ended the live.
"Dick." Y/n scoffed.
She glanced at the time on her phone, wanting to see how much time had passed by.
'2:50'
Y/n groaned, getting up from the couch, taking their phone with her. The whole conversation with Edward threw her off. Unsure of what she should do, y/n decided to draw. It helped calm their nerves when they got stressed out. They walked over to their desk that was in the corner of the room, right next to the T.V. Sighing, she pulled out her iPad, which they kept on the desk, and got their drawing software set up. They pulled up Spotify on their T.V and clicked the playlist they listened to when they drew. A song she didn't really care for played, so she used this time to go change into some better clothes to draw in. They discarded their current sweatshirt and sweatpants, left in their soft purple binder and matching underwear. They thought for a moment, not really sure of what to wear. As they thought about what to wear, they pulled their hair up into a ponytail, stretching out their back afterwards.
"Fuck it." She said.
Y/n pulled their sweatpants back on, not bothering to put a shirt on since the binder was fit like a tank top of some sorts. They slid their slippers back on, laughing at the fake cigarettes they added. Y/n walked back into the living room, going back to their drawing desk. They sat down and got right to work with their drawing.
Time had gone by fast as y/n was drawing, her entire mind being focused on her work. Y/n groaned, standing up from her chair to stretch out. Glancing at her phone, her eyes widened when she saw it was 9:52 at night. But, she hadn't finished her drawing yet, and she really wanted to. Sighing, they decided another hour or so couldn't hurt. She looked at Spotify, grinning from ear to ear as one of her favorite songs played. Walking to the kitchen, she grabbed a glass of water as she swayed her hips to the beat. Taking a sip, she brought it over to her desk, placing it far away from her iPad. What y/n didn't know though, is that someone was watching her from within the shadows of her apartment. Edward Nashton had slipped into her apartment when she went to the bathroom around 10 minutes ago, and was hiding and observing her. He watched as y/n danced to the music, mouthing the lyrics as well. Y/n's music taste, at least when they drew, was mainly hyperpop music with a few other genres thrown in. Edward had never heard of the genre until y/n introduced it to him. He liked some of the songs, but he preferred to watch y/n dance to them.
"God, my neighbors probably hate me..." They chuckled to themselves.
Edward remained silent, watching as y/n danced and made commentary. That was one of Edward's favorite things about them. He loved that when they thought they were alone, or even if things were quiet, they would start talking to themselves. It could be normal things or stupid things. In this case, y/n was quoting lyrics, adding commentary on them, and complaining about their drawing. It was very evident that they were partially sleep deprived.
"Fucking, ugh! Why is it so hard to draw dilfs?" They groaned.
Edward, staying quiet, found their comments to be hilarious. However, he didn't want to reveal his position just yet. So, he watched quietly.
"Grab your man he's trying to roleplay on me all snuggly..." They mumbled in a high-pitched voice, laughing like a dork at the end.
"This songs fucking weird, it's so me core. Me core. Fuck! Me! GOD!" They face planted on the desk, groaning afterwards.
"I'm not looking up crotch references...not again...I can't subject myself to that." They whined, muffled by the desk.
Y/n lifted their head up when their phone rang, causing Edward to fall back in the shadows further. Pausing the music as the next song played, they looked at the contact on their phone. Smiling, they answered it.
"Bitch, it's 10 at night and you interrupted one of my favorite songs. You better have a good reason." They laughed.
Y/n put the phone on speaker, placing it on the kitchen counter as she poured a bowl of cereal.
"You got something better to do than talk to me, huh?" Her friend asked.
"Girl, I was drawing dilfs..."
"Oh shit, that's awesome. Can I see?"
"I haven't finished...I'm stuck."
"On what?"
"Drawing the...crotch. I don't exactly have a dick to use as reference. Not that I'm drawing a dick, he's wearing pants, but like...bulge reference. Fuck, you know what I mean."
Edward smirked to himself, a thought crossing his mind. He dismissed it as soon as it appeared. He found their conversation to be entertaining.
"I've got a big dick right here for you to use as a reference." Their friend said in a deep voice.
Y/n nearly choked on their cereal.
"Shut up! What did you call me for you cretin?"
"Oh, well I just wanted to let you know that uh...that guy at my work gave me his number..."
Y/n swallowed the cereal in her mouth, squealing afterwards. Edward covered his ears quietly, not hearing them make that noise in a long time. He had forgotten how high-pitched they could get.
"No fucking way!!! Did he say anything?" Y/n asked, looking at their hair in the reflection of the fridge.
"Yes! Ok, let me know what you think of this...he texted me earlier. This is what he said...'Hey, can't wait to talk to you more. I'd love to meet you for lunch sometime this weekend. I hope I'm not being too forward. Hope you're having a great night, Caleb.'"
Y/n gasped.
"Oh my God, he's polite too!? You hit the jackpot! You two should fall in love, have really rough kinky sex, get married, have babies, all that jazz!" Y/n spat out.
"I was thinking the same thing!!! Well, maybe not the kinky part. I'm not a freak like you." Their friend giggled.
"I'm unique like that." Y/n chuckled.
"More like you're slutty like that..."
"Hell, I'll take that as a compliment. I consider myself a collector of kinks. Like pokemon, except sinful. And you know...no animals...what were we talking about?" They asked.
"Are you high or something?" Their friend laughed.
"No, just very, very, very sleep deprived and hyped up on a large bag of sourpatch kids I got from the store. So, kind of?" They laughed.
Edward rolled his eyes, trying his best not to laugh. He missed y/n. He missed them a lot. But now, he was seeing them again. Right in front of him.
"Oh my god, go to bed! You need the sleep." Their friend suggested.
"Who are you? My mom? My dad? My overlord?" They asked.
"No, I-I'm, heh, I'm your dad-daddy..." Their friend tried to say, laughing in between her words.
"Oh fuck off, now I'm definitely getting ready for bed. Every time we call you call yourself daddy and I am 100% certain that it's giving me brain damage."
"That's the goal. To get you brain dead so I can put you in a hospital for the rest of your life!"
"Aw, how sweet! I'll haunt you when I die and possess your vibrator so it never turns on."
"Ew! Grosssss!"
"Alright, I have some cereal I have to finish absolutely devouring. So, I'll call you tomorrow. Let me know how the lunch goes!"
"Ok, love you!"
"Love you too!"
Y/n hung up the phone, as if that was the most normal conversation they had ever had. Edward found the entire thing extremely amusing. Their friend was right though, y/n was extremely kinky. Edward would know. When the two of them were in bed together, things got hot and heavy quickly. He broke out of those thoughts, watching as y/n put away their iPad and pressed play on Spotify. Yawning, they went back to the kitchen, grabbing their cereal bowl. As the song played, they finished eating their cereal quickly. Once they finished eating, they started dancing and mouthing the lyrics of the song. Edward knew this song, from when y/n would practically force him to watch tiktok edits of various people from various shows, movies, and games. He knew y/n loved this song.
"Ride!" Y/n mouthed softly, spinning around in a circle.
Y/n swayed to the song, dancing like no one was watching. Even though, someone most definitely was watching. Edward kept a keen eye on y/n, watching every movement they made.
"Can I ride!?" Y/n giggled, pointing to a drawing of a blonde man they made.
Edward recognized the person, from the Resident Evil games. Y/n was obsessed with Leon S. Kennedy for a long time, so that's probably who it was. This caused him to smile to himself.
The song was coming to an end, although still playing. Edward took this as an opportunity to step out of the shadows slowly. Every footstep he made was quiet as he made sure not to step on any creaky floorboards. As the song died down, y/n turned around after hearing a quiet noise. They turned the volume down until the music was at the same volume as a person talking normally, placing the remote back down.
"Who's there?" They asked, grabbing a pocket knife they kept on the desk.
Edward stepped completely out of the darkness, the soft light from the T.V illuminating his body in a bright white outline. Y/n scoffed, tossing their knife back on the desk. Edward found it intriguing that y/n was not scared, not even in the slightest.
"Edward Nashton, what the fuck is your problem?! I have a fucking door for you to knock on you asshole! You scared the shit out of me! I thought you were someone breaking in!" They groaned.
"I am someone breaking in." He stated simply.
"No, Edward. You're Edward. Not a scary criminal. Well, not yet at least, who knows at the rate you're going..." They mumbled.
Edward stood there, watching them walk into the kitchen. Y/n rolled their eyes, getting a glass of water. They were slightly annoyed with Edward.
"How long have you been here? Actually, no, let me guess. When I went to the bathroom. Is that when you got in?" They asked.
Edward nodded slowly.
"You're so predictable, Edward. Are you trying to scare me or something? Why are you here standing in the shadows like a creep?" They spat.
Edward walked towards them slowly, planting his gloved hands firmly on the counter. Y/n raised an eyebrow.
"I'm here to show you what I'm trying to do for Gotham! You don't understand my cause!" He exclaimed behind his mask.
"Uh huh...yeah. Why are you wearing your mask? I know who you are." They said blandly.
He didn't answer.
"Look, Ed, I know you want to help Gotham. I admire that. You've always been a kind soul. But, this is not the way to go about it. Planning murders? Bombings? How will that help?" They asked.
Edward looked down, his confidence disappearing as the person he loved told him these things. Y/n noticed, sighing before taking a sip of water. They offered Ed some, to which he denied because of the mask that was on his head. Y/n groaned.
"Take that thing off. You're Edward. Not the Riddler."
Edward's eyes narrowed, knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the counter. He marched into the kitchen, standing in front of y/n, pinning them against the cupboards. Y/n felt their heart race.
"I AM the Riddler! Edward, Riddler, I am two in one!" He declared, voice muffled by the mask but still projecting well.
Y/n sighed, looking over Edward. He could sense the sadness in their eyes. They reached a hand up, grabbing his glasses before removing his mask. Once the mask was off, they put the glasses back on him. Edward felt sheepish all of a sudden, almost as if removing the mask removed his entire persona.
"You look different since I last saw you, Ed. You look good." They smiled, hand cupping his face.
"Don't." He said.
"You still love me, don't you?" They asked, thumb rubbing his cheek.
Edward looked down slightly, lifting his eyes back up to theirs quickly. He took a deep breath, chest puffing out. Y/n watched as his eye twitched, a telltale sign that he was anxious.
"Yes..."
"Did you think that this whole Riddler persona would make me fall in love with you?"
Edward didn't answer.
"Ed, I still love you. I always will. But, I don't love who you're becoming. It worries me."
"I just want to do good for the people of Gotham who suffered, just like we did..." He said shakily.
"Killing people is not the way to do it. That is not going to win me over, Edward. If you want to keep this Riddler persona, then that's fine. But, use it for good. Help law enforcement with finding criminals, the ones who make Gotham a terrible place. Don't add to it..."
Edward nodded, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. Y/n wiped it away, smiling up at him. He looked down at them, straightening his posture. He cleared his throat.
"Y-You're right. It's just, this whole persona gave me a newfound confidence. I wanted to do something memorable and meaningful with it."
"Edward, I love that you've found your confidence. But, you need to use it for good."
He nodded once again, the two of them falling silent. Edward looked into y/n's eyes, feeling his cheeks grow hot. Y/n felt a knot form in their stomach.
"Can you promise me that you'll stop this madness? Please? For me, Riddles..." Y/n frowned, tears forming in their eyes.
Edward's eyes widened, hugging y/n to his chest without thinking about it. He rubbed their back, heart racing fast against theirs.
"No, no no no, no please don't cry. I promise, Sketcher. I'm sorry that all of this happened. I caused us to drift apart, I don't know what I was thinking. I promise you, I'll stop." He cooed, nearly crying against their head.
"I believe you, Edward."
The two of them grew silent as they held each other. Despite the emotional moment they just had, they weren't sure what to do. It was hard to move on from such an important conversation, especially the one they just had. Y/n sighed, pulling away from him, back against the counter. Edward looked down at them, taking in their appearance.
"Y-You got your binder. It looks good." He commented.
"Thank you, it took so long to arrive. But, it was worth the wait. I have more in other colors."
Edward nodded.
"Ed, can I tell you something?" They asked.
"Y-Yeah, of course."
"Your Riddler persona scared me a bit, what with everything that you were planning. But, besides those things, I found that whole persona to be quite..." Y/n trailed.
Edward waited, anxious for what they were going to say.
"...hot?"
His eyes widened, watching as y/n blushed lightly. He reached down, lifting their chin up with two of his fingers. Y/n looked up at him, bottom lip out in a natural pout.
"You did?" He asked.
Y/n nodded.
"It seemed like you were really protective over me when you were doing those livestreams."
Edward's jaw clenched when he thought about that one chat someone sent. He could easily find their address, and he definitely thought about paying a visit. But, after the conversation he just had with y/n, he knew that was off the table. Even though the person definitely deserved whatever he wanted to do to him.
"That swine threatened you. No one threatens you and gets away with it."
"Mmm, that's the part of the Riddler that I like..." Y/n hummed.
"God, I've missed you so much, y/n."
"I missed you too, Ed."
He looked down at them, feeling the confidence he had when he broke in flood back into his body. Y/n saw this from how his posture changed. His stature was looming and a glint of mischief twinkled in his eyes. Y/n felt themself shrink beneath him, feeling cornered in the kitchen by him. But, it wasn't like they were scared he would hurt or kill them, no. It was anticipation of what he was going to do next. Edward always was unpredictable. Y/n's breath hitched as Edward brushed a strand of hair out of their face.
"You've always had a knack for intimidating, even dangerous, men. Haven't you?" He teased softly, looking down at them with dull eyes.
Those eyes, they drove y/n insane. His gaze had the ability to make their knees wobble, faltering their stability. He knew of this affect, and he basked in the feeling of power this gave him. Neither of them liked to consider themselves 'in charge' of the other. But, when things got intimate, y/n absolutely loved it when Edward would run the show. He did too.
"You shiver under my touch, cara mia. Why is this? Do you fear me?" He asked gently.
Y/n nibbled on the bottom of their lip, chest heaving from the tension. Edward grinned, leaning down to plant a soft kiss below their ear. His breath fanned on their neck, causing goosebumps to prickle over y/n's skin.
"Or does my presence simply make you tremble with desire?" He whispered.
Y/n let a quiet moan slip out of their throat, causing them to blush deeply. They were embarrassed to admit how easily Edward drove them crazy. The two of them would be lying if they said they didn't miss each other, both emotionally, physically, and sexually. They nodded, wrapping their arms around his neck.
"Of course it does. I know you promised you'd stop the things you were going to do. But, you're still The Riddler. And, having you in my apartment, standing over me...my heart's racing. Earlier today your persona was ready to kill someone for me and, as weird as it is, I found it hot..." Y/n gasped, breathing heavily.
Edward smirked, grabbing the mask from off of the counter. He glanced down at it, then back up at y/n. A sickeningly lewd idea popped into his head. Y/n looked up at him, adrenaline and wonder filling their vision.
"You know what else he would do for you? To you?"
Y/n's legs instinctively closed, causing Edward to stifle a chuckle. He gave y/n a quick glance, as if to ask if it was ok to continue. They nodded frantically. He took a deep breath, eyes closed as he calmed himself. Without saying anything, Edward put his mask on, placing his glasses on top of the now covered bridge of his nose. He let out the breath he took, coming out in a raspy exhale. Y/n felt a shiver go down their spine as the T.V light illuminated Edward in an almost ethereal green. His hands fell to his sides, clenching and unclenching in a fist. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed the back of y/n's neck, yanking them towards him.
"He would fuck you until you scream his name." He said simply.
The bluntness of his statement made y/n throb. They let out a shaky breath, gripping onto his shoulders for stability as their knees buckled. A dark chuckle emitted from his throat, letting go of y/n and stepping away from them. Y/n almost fell to the floor, catching onto the counter at the last second. Standing up straight, they watched as Edward walked over to the couch, standing in front of the T.V. He stared at y/n, nodding towards the couch subtly. Y/n didn't budge, breathing heavily in shock of the situation. Edward let out a frustrated sigh, stomping his foot on the ground.
"GET OVER HERE!" He shouted.
Y/n was quick to get to the couch, trembling as they stood in front of him. Edward removed the piece of the mask over his mouth, only attached with a few of those small click-on buttons. Placing it in his pocket, he grabbed y/n's face, slamming his lips onto theirs. Y/n moaned into the kiss, being caught off guard by the suddenness of it. Edward groaned, pulling away from the kiss.
"Edward..." Y/n sighed.
Grimacing, he pushed y/n down on the couch. Y/n looked up at him, eyes dark as he looked down on their body. He let out a frustrated sigh that slowly grew into a groan. He pointed at his chest repeatedly.
"I am The RIDDLER in this moment. You WILL address me as such." He declared.
Y/n squeezed their thighs together, gasping at his harsh attitude. The Riddler smirked, his mouth on display to y/n. A song started to play in the background, causing y/n to blush when they realized what it was. He walked towards them, grabbing their hips and moving them onto his lap as he sat down.
"Do you understand?" He asked.
"Y-Yes, Riddler."
He listened to the song as it played, smirking at the lyrics. Y/n avoided eye contact. Roughly, he grabbed their chin and yanked it towards him. He pulled them down to his face, kissing them on the lips briefly.
"If memory serves me right, the last time you and Edward fucked, it was to this song wasn't it? That's quite fitting, seeing as how it'll be the first song the Riddler fucks you to." He said, laughing at the end.
Y/n moaned, mouth agape slightly. He gripped it, keeping their mouth open. Looking at their mouth, he remained silent. His analytical eyes observed the inside of y/n's mouth. They were slightly confused, but afraid to move.
"You'd take me well with that mouth of yours..." He stated.
Y/n moaned softly, whining at the end. He chuckled, releasing his grip on their jaw. He looked at y/n, pushing them off of his lap. Y/n stood up in front of him, panting and wide eyed.
"Strip." He ordered.
Y/n didn't hesitate, removing their pants. He watched as they slid their underwear off, causing him to let out a low grunt at the sight of their bare lower body. Reaching up, y/n hesitantly started to remove their binder. The Riddler held up a hand, signaling for them to stop.
"No. If you feel that that part of your body does not belong on you, then I do not find it desirable. I will not allow you to face dysmorphia once again." He said.
Y/n smiled, feeling their heart swell. It pleased y/n to know that Edward's Riddler persona was just as caring and supportive as he was. Giggling, they left their binder on. He stood up, unbuttoning his pants slightly, letting his bulge under his underwear poke out. Grabbing y/n's neck, he kissed them harshly and bit their bottom lip. They groaned as he pulled away. Edward hushed them, placing a finger against their lips as he listened to the song.
'Kiss me on the lips, choke me on the floor.'
'Drag me around, push me right against your door.'
'I'm your little doll, come and play with me.'
'Fucking chase me, fucking break me.'
Y/n hummed to the song very quietly and he grinned. Adjusting his grip on y/n's neck, he smirked down at them. The glasses he wore were reflecting the light of the T.V. He looked mysterious and dangerous. It made y/n's cheeks heat up.
"You like that song, huh?" He asked, rubbing his thumb against their skin.
They nodded.
"Of course you do. You like that shit, don't you?" He mocked.
They nodded again, frantically. He mimicked the way they nodded, even going so far as to imitate the soft moans they made. Y/n held the hand he had gripped around his throat, pouting up at him. He rolled his eyes. He knelt down on the floor, bringing them down with him. Y/n's eyes grew big as he pinned them against the floor, straddling their lap as he did so. The grip on their throat tightened, y/n gasping for air. The Riddler hummed to himself, swaying his head to the song. Pretending he spaced out, he looked back down to y/n. He faked a gasp, covering his mouth with his free hand. Y/n let out a choked moan, causing The Riddler's bulge to grow.
"You said you liked to be choked on the floor, isn't that true? I'm just giving you what you want." He cooed, reaching down to caress their face.
He watched y/n as they grabbed at his hand. The Riddler let out a yawn, releasing his grip on their throat. Y/n moaned, gasping for breath. He mocked their panicked breathing, holding his own throat with his hands. He faked chokes before breaking out into a soft and eerie laughter. Y/n felt filthy for finding his actions extremely hot.
"I thought you liked that? Hm?" He teased.
"I do..." They sighed, a moan slipping out at the end.
He reached down, grabbing the ponytail their hair was in. As he stood up, he pulled at their hair, causing y/n to stand up with him. He dragged them across the room by their hair, making sure not to go too fast. He wanted to be rough, not abusive. Walking inside y/n's room, he closed the door behind them before slamming y/n against it. They grunted, wrapping their arms around his neck.
"You wanted this. Your eyes were practically begging me to fuck you. Please tell me you didn't expect the Riddler to go easy on you, mon cœur?" He chuckled, a sick smirk tugging at his lips.
"No, I want it rough. I love it rough..." They panted.
He threw them on the bed, watching as they propped themselves on their elbows. Their legs were crossed over each other, hiding themself from him. He rolled his head to the side, letting his neck crack as he walked to the bed. He stood in front of y/n, menacing and ominous.
"Yes, I know. I know how filthy you are. I know how...experimental...you were when you were mine. I imagine you're still the same filthy slut."
Y/n nodded repeatedly, slowly opening their legs. His head was held high, exuding power with his stance. He let his eyes trail down, face emotionless as he gazed between y/n's legs. He breathed in deep, letting out a shaky sigh that made y/n moan. The Riddler found himself mesmerized by the sight before him, his muse, his love, all spread out and on display for him. It was a beautiful sight that made the blood pump in his veins. He felt his dick twitch and inhaled deeply before exhaling.
"Offering yourself to me, so...willingly...it brings a smile to my face. I assume you realize how whorish you look right now. Spreading your legs for a dangerous person such as me..." He trailed, leaning down and planting his fists on either side of the bed.
His body was hovering over the lower half of y/n. Underneath his chest was y/n's legs, spread open, exposing their body to him. Y/n moaned, nodding their head.
"I know how slutty I'm acting. But, I can't help it. You make my heart race and I just want to feel you inside me so bad..." They whined, squirming underneath him.
"Yeah, you want that?" He hummed.
"Fuck, yes!"
He made a 'tsk' noise as he stood up straight. Y/n watched as he removed the gloves he wore. He placed the pair in his left hand, glancing down at them. He looked back down at y/n, humming again. Throwing one of the gloves to the side, he reached down and dragged the one he kept over y/n's stomach. Slowly, he trailed back down, kneeling on the floor in front of the bed. He grabbed the underside of y/n's calves, yanking them towards him. Their legs dangled off the bed, lifting up as he hung them over his shoulders.
"As you'll recall, I have a strong fascination with games, puzzles, riddles, etc. How about we play a game right now? Will you amuse me and take part, cara mia?" He asked, letting his breath fan against y/n's slick core.
"Mmm, yes. I-I'll play a game with you, Riddler." They moaned.
"Oh how fun, I have high hopes for you."
He blew against their pussy once again, smirking cockily to himself as y/n squirmed. His hands gripped their thighs that hung over his shoulders.
"I'll ask you riddles and you answer them. If you get it right, you get a reward. If not, well...you'll find out, how about that?" He chuckled, waving his glove for them to see before sliding it on his left hand.
"What? I've never been good at your Riddles! That's not fa-"
"Those are Edward's riddles. You have not heard mine, have you? Besides, I just made them up a few moments ago, specifically for you. It would make me so upset if you chose not to play."
"Ok, fine. Just, ask me your riddles."
He chuckled.
"I can make you shiver and I can make you hot. I may take a while to arrive, but I can be fast in the right hands. What am I?"
Y/n groaned, holding their hands over their face. The Riddler giggled, finding their struggle amusing. While he waited, he looked between their legs. He licked his lips as he saw how swollen their clit was.
"What am I, y/n?" He asked.
"Damn it, I don't know! Mail?" They whined.
"Mail? Hm, not even close. Do you want a hint, cara mia? I'll let you have another try." He smirked.
"Yes, please..." Y/n groaned.
"If you're good I'll give it to you tonight..." He hinted suggestively.
Y/n furrowed their eyebrows, thinking for a moment. The hint was so obscure. It could be anything based on how he said it. After a bit, their eyes widened in realization.
"An orgasm!"
Chuckling darkly, he shoved a finger deep inside of y/n. Y/n threw their head back into the bed, a lewd moan leaving their mouth. The Riddler let out a sigh, enjoying the feeling of his finger inside of them.
"Oh, good job darling. I'm so proud of you. Are you ready for another riddle? You only get one try this time..."
"F-Fuck, u-um, yeah I'm ready..."
"A queen, a movie, I can chill you to the bone. If it comes from pleasure, some would call it a moan. What am I?"
"What the fuck...? Um, fuck, I don't know...I don't know!" They whined.
Sighing, he kept stood up, not all the way though. He wanted his finger to remain inside y/n. Caressing y/n's face with his gloved hand, he watched as they pressed into his touch. The smile on his face faded, turning into a frown. Swiftly, he brought the back of his hand across their face. Y/n gasped, mouth agape and looking up at him.
"SCREAM! I'M A SCREAM!"
Y/n whined, bucking their hips up into Edward's finger. He furrowed his eyebrows underneath his mask. He went back down between their legs and smacked their thigh lightly, signaling for them to stop. He sighed.
"You should have known that answer, it's one of your favorite horror movies. I'm disappointed. You only get one more riddle. If you get it right, I'll finally give you what you so desperately want. If you get it wrong, I leave you on your bed a wet, slutty, pathetic mess."
"Oh God..." Y/n mumbled.
"I am done when desperate. A dog for a treat, a criminal for their life, a traitor for forgiveness. What am I?"
Y/n thought, not wanting to get it wrong. They groaned, eyes shut closed tightly. A frustrated sigh left their lips, turning into a whine like a child pouting. The Riddler smirked.
"Riddler, I beg you please...just fuck me!" They pleaded.
"Oh, you're so close to earning that..." He chuckled.
Y/n went silent, eyes widening.
"Beg! It's beg!" They cried out.
He pulled his finger out, causing y/n to whine. Leaning down, he planted a kiss on their lips. A proud smile was on his face, a laugh coming from his throat.
"Very good, ange précieux. I'm so proud of you." He praised, standing up straight.
Y/n watched as he looked down on them, eyes crazed and bright behind his glasses. He stepped forward, the bulge hidden by his underwear directly in front of y/n's face as they sat up. Y/n waited for him to say something, but he never did. Instead, he slowly pushed his underwear down, letting his dick fall out. He groaned as it slapped their face. Y/n kissed it gently, letting their tongue lap around the tip. He hissed, not giving any warning as he grabbed their hair and shoved his dick down their throat. Y/n gagged on the length, tears forming in their eyes. The Riddler moaned, leaning his head back in pleasure as he held their head there. After a moment, he pulled them off, pushing them down to the bed.
"I was correct, my dick fits perfectly in your pretty little mouth. But that is not what I want right now, nor is it what you want. Admittedly, it would be nice to throat fuck you till you're gasping for air...but I digress. Now, spread your legs."
Y/n moaned, their back flat against the bed as they listened to his instructions. The Riddler removed his glove, swaying his hand in the air as classical music played on the T.V. He hummed to himself, knowing the lyrics by heart, going through a huge classical music phase a few years back. Y/n watched, finding it hypnotic and twisted how carefree he was about the situation. Meanwhile, y/n was desperate and horny, spread out on the bed.
"A beautiful piece..." He mumbled.
He stepped forward a little, grabbing the underside of y/n's thighs as he pulled them close. Abruptly, he spit in between their legs, the substance landing on their throbbing pussy. He quietly sang the lyrics, y/n not knowing what he was saying. It always baffled y/n how well he spoke Latin, French, who the hell knew what other languages he spoke. All y/n knew was that it turned them on. Tightening his grip on their thighs, he pulled them closer to him as he thrusted forwards. Y/n cried out, voice cracking as they moaned. The Riddler grunted, but continued to sing along with the song. Y/n whined as he stilled inside of them, causing him to groan.
"It's rude to interrupt someone. I like this song, now be quiet!" He spat, bringing a hand down to pinch their clit.
Y/n bit back a moan, biting down on their fist. He was torturing them, y/n was sure of it. And, they were correct. The Riddler knew how desperately they wanted to be fucked by him, but he was having too much fun to give it to them. Not without a few more teases. He moved very slightly, causing y/n to think he was about to thrust into them. When they realized he was playing with them, they let out a pitiful whine. Their back arched, covering their face with their hands as the pathetic noise left their lips. He watched this, the sight making him twitch inside of them.
"Oh, cara mia..." He cooed.
"Riddler, please..." They cried.
"Mmm, my name sounds so good coming out of your mouth. My dear pitoyable chérie. Do you want me to fuck you?"
"Yes! Please!"
"Tell me how filthy you are for wanting this. Tell me that you're mine. You know it's true." He groaned, pinching the inside of their thigh.
"Fuck, you're right! I'm yours, Riddler. I always have been! I'm your filthy sl-slut. Please! I jus-"
He reached down, grabbing their hair. Leaning down, he met them halfway as he kissed them roughly. With a harsh thrust he began to fuck into them at a brutal pace. Moaning into the kiss, y/n bit down on his lip. He groaned and pushed them back down, standing up straight again. Bending over, he crawled on top of them as he continued to plow into their sopping pussy. Y/n reached up and gripped his hair, incoherent mumbling sliding past their lips.
"Oh, you filthy thing...you want more? Tell me."
"Yes! Please!"
A guttural growl left his throat, cursing underneath his breath. He grabbed y/n, looking around the room. Spotting a mirror, he dragged y/n in front of it. Sitting on the bed behind them, he shoved y/n down on his dick, sitting on his lap. The Riddler fucked up inside of them, facing the mirror all the while.
"My, my, would you look at that?" He teased grabbing y/n's jaw and forcing them to look at the mirror.
Y/n whimpered, watching them bouncing on his dick as he thrust upwards. The pace was sickeningly animalistic, a speed that y/n didn't think was humanly possible. A dark chuckle resonated in his chest, y/n feeling it vibrate against their back.
"Look how good you're taking me. You were made for me, cara mia. My missing puzzle piece. You fit me so perfectly. So tightly." He moaned in their ear, voice raspy and low.
"Oh fuck, Riddler..."
"That's right, cara mia. Moan my name. I won't let you cum until I've heard you scream it."
His nails dug sharply into the excess flesh of their hips, leaving indents in the skin. The classical music playing in the back made the erotic scene even more vulgar. Ecstasy was thick in the air like pungent poison. It filled their sense and drove them crazy, searching for the antidote in each other's bodies and pleasure. The Riddler ripped the hair tie out of y/n's hair, letting it fall down. He buried his face in it, inhaling their sweet scent that he missed so much. Though he was the Riddler, his feelings for y/n were the exact same as Edward's. After all, they were the same person. Just a persona, a facade he put on. Like roleplay.
"Ri-Riddler...please." They begged.
Grunting, he stood up, holding y/n by their thighs. His dick stayed inside them the whole time as he flipped them over onto their back on the bed. Not giving them any time to adjust, he picked their legs up and held them high. With the better angle, he drilled into them, face contorting into pleasure underneath the mask. Y/n covered their eyes with one of their hands, arching their back. With the other hand, they gripped the sheets desperately searching for some stability. With every thrust he made, the Riddler pummeled directly into y/n's g-spot, making them moan each time. With every moan that left their lips, the next one became more pornographic.
"Oh, I can tell you are so close. You've reached the precipice of your desire, teetering on the edge, aren't you?" He moaned, gasping at the end.
"Y-Yes, please! I wanna cum!"
"You want me to push you over that edge, cara mia?" He taunted, slowing his pace.
"Fuck! Don't stop! Please! I n-need it so bad!" Y/n was crying, their sobs pitiful and sad to listen to.
"Then scream my name!" He growled.
He slapped them across the face, slamming into them roughly. Y/n let out a noise that was indescribable. However, the sound made him whimper. His thrusts quickened, no longer rough but rather sadistic. Y/n tried to get words out, but couldn't. He pinched their clit harshly, twisting it between his pointer finger and thumb.
"RIDDLER! FUCK!" They screamed, the multiple sensations overwhelming them.
"That's it. That's what I wanted to hear..." He sighed.
All it took was a few more thrusts, that's all. With those final powerful, sadistic thrusts, y/n came undone. He pulled out quickly, cupping his mouth over their sopping hole. The suction of his lips against their pussy guided them through their orgasm. The Riddler groaned against their sensitive skin, lapping up all their arousal and climax. With a satisfied moan, he unlatched his lips and swiped his tongue around them. Some of their orgasm dripped onto the mask, but he cared very little about that. Standing over them, he stroked his length, head tilted back as he did so. Eyes were closed shut as he felt himself nearing his climax. His breathing quickened in pace, chest heaving up and down as he let out soft groans. Y/n could tell he was about to cum. Immediately, y/n crawled towards him, albeit shakily, and lowered their mouth on his cock. A loud moan slipped out of the Riddler, looking down to see y/n sucking harshly on his dick. The sight pushed him over and he felt his dick pulse inside their mouth as he released inside of it. He gripped onto their hair harshly, tugging on it as he hunched over. Y/n popped off of his dick after swallowing the thick liquid. They hated the taste of it, but they so desperately wanted to please him. A string of cum and saliva connected their lips to the tip of his dick. Using his thumb, he wiped it off their bottom lip. Y/n fell back onto the bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tight to their chest. The both of them were panting, catching their breath that was lost in the sinful exchange they committed.
Edward stood still, tucking himself back into his underwear. He groaned, rolling his head around to work out a kink in his neck. Removing his mask, he placed it on dresser near the bed. Y/n watched him as he did this, giving him time to calm down. He removed his jacket, revealing a dark green tank top underneath. His pants were next to go, tossing it somewhere in the room. Mumbling to himself, he got in bed next to y/n, pulling them close to his chest.
"God, I missed that..." He sighed.
"Me too...does this mean we're back together?" They asked.
"I'd like to think so. What about you?"
"Yeah, I'd like that."
Edward rolled over on his back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Y/n turned on their side, facing him. As he breathed y/n watched his chest rise up and down. The rhythm soothed them, almost like counting sheep. Sitting up with a grunt, Edward sat on the side of the bed. It was from this angle that y/n realized how toned Edward was. He had gained a bit of weight since they last saw him. But, that was honestly a good thing. He was very skinny before, almost unhealthy. Y/n was glad to see a little more meat on his bones.
"Whatcha doin'?" They asked.
"Honestly, trying not to pass out. But, I was going to get a washcloth to clean you up." He yawned, rubbing his eyes.
"Oooh, Edward Nashton's world famous aftercare. Can I have a glass of wine and a cheese platter as well?" They asked.
"Mmm, I forgot how funny you are after you get your guts rearranged..." He said sarcastically.
He stood up from the bed, tripping over his feet slightly as he made his way to the bathroom. Y/n giggled, missing their boyfriend dearly. The both of them were undoubtedly glad to be back together, even if it was a result of Edward breaking into y/n's apartment. After a few moments, he came out of the bathroom, glasses slightly crooked and eyes barely open. Y/n was rarely tired after sex, but Edward usually did get tired. It honestly just depended on how rough he was. And, he was extremely rough tonight. Y/n gave him a kiss, holding his face in the palm of their hand. Pulling away, y/n looked to see if it woke him up at all. And, surprisingly, it did. He had a dorky smile on his face as he held the damp washcloth in his hand.
"I can make you some coffee afterwards if you'd like?" Y/n suggested.
Edward nodded as he gently placed the cloth on their thigh. Rubbing softly, he wiped away their arousal. His eyes were so bright and caring, just like the subtle smile that was on his face. With one final wipe, he placed the cloth in the hamper. Y/n started to sit up, but Edward stopped them. Carefully, he dragged them to the edge of the bed, legs dangling off the edge. Y/n sat up very slowly, stomach sore from the sex. Edward walked to the dresser, thinking for a moment before he opened one of the drawers. He pulled out a pair of underwear. Holding that in his hand, he opened another drawer and grabbed a pair of sweats. He closed all of the drawers he opened and went back to y/n.
"I'm surprised I remembered which ones to open." He chuckled.
Y/n smiled as he slide the pair of underwear up their legs. He was cautious around the inside of their upper thighs. Edward knew they would be extra sensitive, so he did his best to be as gentle as possible. Once the underwear was on, he helped them put on sweatpants as well.
"Ok, uh, where do you keep your coffee? Same place?" He asked, standing up.
Y/n nodded, resting their head against his stomach. Edward smiled widely, patting their head softly. He leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on the top of their head. Pulling away, he started to leave the room.
"Go piss." He stated simply.
(a/n: everyone should pee after they have sex, it helps flush out any bacteria and prevents UTI's :) make sure you all stay healthy!)
"Oh God, Edward. Really? You couldn't have found a more blunt way to say that?" They laughed, slowly standing up on shaky legs.
"I could if I tried. Do you need help?" He asked, hand on the door frame.
"No, I'm ok. Thanks though." They said.
Edward nodded, leaving the room to let y/n take care of themselves. Yawning, he walked past the couch, stretching out his arms. He glanced at the T.V and chuckled. Earlier, classical music was playing. And now? Well, obviously, the Pokemon: Indigo League theme song was playing. Seeing and hearing the song gave Edward the sudden urge to watch the show. He got a pot of coffee brewing, the smell raising goosebumps on his skin. Edward knew that y/n worked at a coffee shop, they have been for the past couple years. He knew that y/n could make a really good cup of coffee. A few minutes later, y/n came walking out of the bedroom, legs shaking slightly as they walked. Edward had a cocky grin on his face.
"I think I did a pretty good job tonight..." He said softly, voice slightly hoarse.
"No shit, I don't think I'll walk straight for a whole week. Work is going to suck on Monday." They groaned.
Edward looked in the cabinet where the coffee mugs were, smirking when he found his old mug. He poured some coffee in the green mug, taking a sip immediately afterwards. He sighed, feeling better even after the first sip.
"You kept my mug." He said.
"Well, it was really all I had as a reminder of you." They smiled.
"Oh, that reminds me..."
Edward placed the mug down, walking over to corner of the living room. Looking around, he scratched the back of his head. Y/n grabbed a juice box from the fridge, suddenly craving something fruity. They watched as Edward bent over and grabbed something from off the ground. He made his way back over to y/n, holding whatever he picked up behind his back. Y/n raised an eyebrow, glancing to the T.V and seeing that Heavy Metal Lover by Lady Gaga was playing. Edward snapped his fingers in front of their face.
"Hey, no Gaga! Not yet. I've got something to show you." He chuckled.
Y/n brought their attention, biting on the straw of the juice box as they took a sip. Edward brought one of his hands out from behind his back and held it in front of y/n. Removing the juice box from their lips, the set it on the counter. They gasped, holding their hands over their mouth.
"Oh my God, Edward! It's Sir Clawdius!" They squealed.
Edward smiled as they snatched the bear out of his hand. When y/n and Edward split up, y/n couldn't find the bear anywhere. They had assumed that they lost it. But, Edward had it the whole time.
"I will admit that I snuck it away when I left, I just wanted a piece of you with me. I meant to return it, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I brought it with me because I was finally going to give it back to you. So, yeah...sorry." He looked down sheepishly.
"Oh Edward, I'm not mad. I'm relieved that he was safe with you!" They giggled.
"Oh, well that's a relief. I thought you might try to maul me or something..."
"Maybe..."
"What? Please don't..."
"I'm kidding. Go drink your coffee! I'm going to put this li' guy up on my shelf!" They said.
Edward grabbed his coffee, leaning against the counter as y/n walked to the desk they drew at. He smiled as the warm drink went down his throat. Standing on their tippy-toes, they reached up and slid Sir Clawdius up on the top shelf, right next to the Leon Kennedy drawing.
"Oh yeah, I meant to ask. Is that a recent drawing? Did you play RE4 recently?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.
"Uh, maybe...don't look at the game in my console..."
"Ok, well that answers that question. But, I have another question. Have you done a speed run of it yet?" He asked.
"No, I take my time playing that game. I like the graphics..."
Edward shook his head slowly as he finished the last of his coffee. Y/n looked away, fighting back a goofy smile.
"Oh yeah, the graphics...totally. By graphics do you mean you like getting Leon hurt on purpose because he moans every single time?" He asked.
"This is becoming an interrogation and I am exercising my 4th amendment. So, I don't have to answer anything."
"Ok. Well, you basically confirmed my theory. Plus, I've seen you play the game in the middle of the night when I lived with you."
"You did!?"
"A lot. Every single time you were either angling the camera to get a better look at him or running into fights on purpose. So..."
"Ooh! I'm going to ignore the fact that you said that and pretend like we never had this conversation! That sounds like a really good idea!" They said cheerily, sitting down on the couch.
Edward rolled his eyes, sitting down next to them. He exhaled softly and watched as y/n turned off Spotify and turned it onto the console. Lo and behold, the most recent game played was RE4. Y/n handed the controlled to Edward, gesturing for him to take it.
"I wanna watch you play. Every time you get hurt is another picture of Leon Kennedy I will draw."
"Oh wow, you are very sleep deprived aren't you?" He laughed.
Edward took the controller and started to play the game. While he played, y/n slid under his arm, resting their head against his chest. They watched him play until they eventually drifted off into sleep. Edward smiled and turned the game off, holding y/n close to him as he picked them up. Going in their bedroom, he placed them under the covers and crawled in next to them. He let them fall asleep snuggled up into his side as he rubbed their back. He had been through a lot of problems while they were separated. And it was true that he went down a very dark path. But, he was so thankful for y/n, glad that they snapped him out of it. For now, he was happy, holding the love of his life in his arms once again. That was truly all he needed in his life. The warm and comforting embrace of his best friend was the one thing that could cure him of any ailment, any troubling thoughts, and could bring him out of the darkness that clouded his mind like a thick fog. He was as happy as he could ever be in this one moment.
He would never leave them again.
~
#writers#fanfic writer#writers of tumblr#fanfic#gotham#the riddler#dc universe#edward nashton#paul dano riddler#the batman 2022#the batman riddler#paul dano#danonation#batman 2022#dano riddler
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What's up Mos, its me, creature, back with another interview, this time its lemon related
What music (genres and/or specific artists) do the characters like?
Does anyone in funkytown have unique clothing/jewelry?
Who is Garrett talking to in hip hop cherry pop?
What song have you had the most fun coming up with a story for?
What was the first song you came up with a story for?
What song has been the hardest to fit into the storyline?
What arc has been the most enjoyable to write so far?
What are some LD songs you want more people to listen to?
What items are baby lem not trusted with?
What are some items unique to funkytown?
If you could physically eat lemon demon songs what ones would you eat and why?
ironically a large amount of the cast don't really listen to music/have strong opinions on it, LD himself is one of the few denizens to have specific tastes (TMBG, Oingo Boingo, Talking Heads, Faith No More, DEVO, etc etc you know the pipeline). another character with defined music taste is indie cindy who likes lo-fi (obviously), hyper pop, and other scenecore genes.
funkytown is in a constant state of returning to a lack of identity, so as of right now most culture is just taken from human culture, but it definitely gets more abstract the longer something doesn't get interfered with.
zordechai the magnificent (wizard from the view-monster promo) has a side gig on running an ice cream shop, which is loosely based on the film. garrett is aware of zordechai's true identity during the song, hence why he's there to begin with.
lifetime achievement award and completely because the animation in my head is killer.
mold en mono is the reason the ncu exists beyond a simple concept. it was the first time I stylized Neil as he is now, drew the office fruits, "baby" lemon, and lucifer (who fun fact did not used to be a fruit object head, he was a demon in similar appearance as diablo).
I definitely end up having the most issues with bonus tracks (I don't think I used hardly any from damn skippy besides the instrumentals), but those are kinda an outlier since they aren't my focus to begin with. ones I particularly struggle(d) with are: chu chu rocket (got removed entirely since it's a cover), movie night, fire motif, hazel's modus operandi, bill watterson, consumer whore, between you and me, flamingo legs, everybody loves raymond, goosebumps (entirely because I don't read goosebumps), and ancient aliens (it's on its 3rd or 4th rewrite). this does NOT mean I don't like the songs it's just hard to write for them.
dinosaurchestra was complete smooth sailing and honestly my favorite arc, it's a nice change of pace from how serious things become and have been.
oh boy oh boy, listen to these: toy food, bottom line, funkytown (obviously), mold en mono (obviously), matches and nails, pineapple, behold the future, the machine with live backing, creepy, I know your name (crappy 4 track version), and happiest shit ever (some of the links might be broken/link to the wrong somgs my apollo cheese
lemon demon is actually a horrible influence and does not care if he carries any sharp objects, in fact he encourages it. baby lemon is smart enough to not do something stupid but that doesn't make him immune to getting grounded. I think the car keys and anyone else's phone is what he's banned from having access to, but this will not stop him
like I mentioned before, funkytown has an inherent lack of it's own culture, so any unique items would probably be the god relics like the magic 8 ball and spirit phone.
the machine because mmmm sheet metal
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Art supplies battle
blood of my enemies VS synthetic voice bank
Glitter gel pen VS mayonnaise
Glass dip pen VS shitty cheap half empty pen
Graphite pencil VS Ribbon tool
Highlighters VS acrylic paints
Camera VS tones
Ballpoint pen VS vocoloid
Kneadable graphite VS watercolor pencil
Charcoal VS paper
Silver wire VS the shitty dried out markers from the artist briefcase
Digital pen VS the kickers brush they made
Nail art brushes VS hair
Glue dibber VS bleach
Blend tool VS found objects
Kneadble eraser VS harmonica
Yarn VS the sharpener on the back of a Crayola crayons 64 box
Water colors VS mouse (computer)
A cats little foot VS knife
Dirt VS Bobby pin
Rocks VS bow rosin
Photoshop VS Bic Atlantis ball point pen
Sketchbook VS knitting needles
Crochet hooks VS cintiq
Oil pastels VS washi tape
Bic mechanical pencil VS uv resin
Crayons VS disk (like a CD)
Sumi brush VS scanner
Ukulele VS rubber (condom)
Bass guitar VS roofei art kit
Waterproof pens VS Wacom drawing tablet
Fluffy watercolor VS gumi
Charcoal VS gold leaf
The notes app VS pencil (not specific)
Fingers VS toothpick
Tipex VS big tubs of paint
That dry pen you have VS processing
Saliva VS melted chocolate ice cream
Sugar VS prismacolor alcohol based markers
Money VS electric guitar
Rubber (eraser) VS kum pencil sharpener
Hatsune miku VS epoxy resin
India ink VS Copic markers
Tattoo machine+ tattoo ink VS MS paint
Lead pencil VS printmaking ink
Needle threader VS flip a clip
Curved needle VS vantablack
Sewing machine VS artists loft dual tip
Blue print VS my tears
Glitter glue VS beads
Ruler VS origami paper/ patterned paper
Prismacolor pencils VS sculpey
Macaroni noodles VS Mr. Super clear matte
Brain VS blood
Sharpie VS bark (wood kind)
Utau/ open utau VS the good pen ™️
Fake blood VS clay
Wooden human model VS fire
Icing bag VS clip studio paint
Posca pens VS cable needle
Fishing line VS ctrl +z
Rattlesnake VS human
ASCII VS 5$ crappy sketchbook
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hi ira, you're a big inspo for me! especially as a fellow adhd artist.. i often struggle with "letting go" sketches / leaving them be, i always end up focusing on each as if it has to become a full piece. i personally feel this is bc of my adhd and was wondering if you struggled with something similar, or had any advice on sketching?
thank you so much! and yeah, okay, let's chew on this one and see what we can come up with.
so i actually usually have the opposite problem: I can generate a bunch of loose sketches really quickly, but i have a really hard time buckling down and putting the focus in to take any of them all the way to being full pieces. i think sketching and leaving those sketches as-is comes easily to me because i enjoy it (as in i physically enjoy the feeling of drawing in a loose, gestural style, AND i aesthetically enjoy how unfinished sketches look), and i'm extremely accustomed to it (most workdays i start up by doing ~45-90 mins of sketches, usually a few digital pages worth). these things combine so that the habit of churning out a bunch of little images and then immediately moving on is something that's really natural to me.
HOWEVER i am def not just advising "sit yourself down and sketch for an hour and a half every day" with no other context; i think "draw every day" as ironclad advice is usually pretty clumsy and isn't always applicable to how people work best, or always effective against what actually trips people up with art stuff. i think a lot of this is abt getting mindset right!!! drilling and repetition is good later for building speed and confidence but it's not as useful until u've figured out the underlying struggle imo.
so, some thoughts:
do u keep going on the sketch bc u get distracted by the idea of the final piece, and u just get sucked in to progressing toward that? for me, sometimes i do nail a sketch and im like "ooh, i want to do something more with that!" — but because these sketches happen during my warmup time and i need to keep moving, i don't do it right away. i usually just make a note right on the canvas, or i copy/paste the sketch into a separate file to come back to later. if u get the urge to keep going on a piece bc u want it to have more, but what u Actually want is to do a few more sketches, consider scooting the sketch over into a wip file/folder/etc for later (if ur working digitally; set it aside in a physical wip folder if you're working traditionally).
do u keep going on the sketch bc ur insecure about the fact that it isn't polished, or bc u feel like it "needs" more to look good? u may be affected by The Spectre of Posting. something i have wrestled with constantly and that i think many artists wrestle with is that, even if we aren't having these thoughts consciously, whenever ur drawing there is kind of this little voice in the back of ur head that's like. "is this gonna be good enough to post. if it turns out crappy i won't want to post it and then i will have wasted all this time. will this flop? if i post this will it make me look like i'm bad at drawing? what if this isn't as good as the last thing i posted and then it looks like im getting worse" and on and on and fucking on. this is all fucking nonsense, but also it's really hard to break out of. try, as hard as you possibly can, to start becoming okay w the idea that not everything is for posting, and that if something doesn't turn out great or u don't necessarily want it to like Artistically Represent You then nobody ever has to see it, and i think u might find that a lot of the tense little subconscious urges and hangups and anxieties you have about your work will start to unravel. any statement abt your art that starts with "i feel like i need to...." or "i feel like i should...." is probably somehow tangled up with the idea of other peoples' eyes on your work, and as long as you're letting a vibe like that breathe down your neck, you really can't draw freely.
do you keep going on the sketch bc you just don't like the sketch and you think if you keep picking at it it will eventually get better? well — okay, sometimes you're right! sometimes picking at something endlessly is how u eventually get something really nice and fleshed out and cool looking. but also we are mortal creatures with a limited amount of time on this earth and i am assuming from the fact that u asked for advice that u want to create More drawings. so the only real advice for this category of sketch hangup is: dude, fuck it. make a bunch of bad sketches. do it on purpose, if that helps loosen you up! designate "fucked up stupid sketch day" and make a bunch of the most dogshit drawings you can muster. remember when earlier i said part of why this is easy for me is bc i do so MUCH of it? sometimes it's about volume. if every time u start on a sketch, it ends up being the only thing u pick at for the next few days, of COURSE it's going to start feeling super precious and high stakes to you. you're not being irrational for getting attached to stuff u spend time fussing over. but if u want to be LESS fussy and LESS attached, probably the fastest way is to just start making yourself churn a bunch of shit out, because if you've made TWELVE little sketches today who actually cares if four of them are dogshit. make MORE of them, and it becomes way less serious. u can use time limits to push yourself along, if that helps — an exercise i really like is putting my music on shuffle and then doing a bunch of little drawings where i work on each one for ONLY the duration of one song each. when the song ends, i stop working on the sketch i'm on and move on to a new one. and sometimes they're totally dogshit, because the best songs in the world are all sub 2mins! or draw yourself a bunch of very small rectangles on a sheet of paper and fit a bunch of little drawings into those. anything to help Shove u past the idea that a drawing has to, like, LOOK LIKE anything or be cute or appealing or look good in any capacity will help break up the apprehension u get about wanting sketches to come out a certain way.
i have talked ur ear off as always but i hope that some of this is helpful!! or if i totally missed the mark and none of this connects w u re: why u find this stuff challenging, pls feel free to send me another ask clarifying what u get stuck on and i'll see if i can think of any potential fixes :)
#resources#tutorials#nnmmot really but. yknow. just chucking all my advice in the same tags for browsing purposes
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The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas
Part Two: See What the Time's Done
Square: Heartbreak ~ @spnchristmasbingo
Song: Where Are You Christmas? ~ Faith Hill
Pairing: Dean x Nicole {Nico/Nic} OFC
Summary: Nicole formulates a plan to help Dean find joy in Christmas again.
Warnings: More angst than fluff, canon divergence
Word Count: 1,134
Beta: @princessmisery666
Credit: @talesmaniac89 made the gorgeous title card and divider
Series Master Post
Nic reaches the old storage room she had commandeered to turn into a studio and darkroom. Slamming the door, she locks it behind her. The brothers know she prefers to have some time to herself after they argue, but she’s not taking any chances on either of them walking in to try to appease her.
Pacing around the room, she rearranges supplies, shuffles through papers, and picks up small knick-knacks, only to immediately put them back in place. Grabbing a pillow from the overstuffed chair opposite her desk, she screams into it, trying to expel the frustration and sadness swirling inside her. It doesn’t help.
She plops into her desk chair, jabs the power button on her laptop, then scrolls through her playlists. Music has always helped to calm her, one of the things that she and Dean have in common. Hitting shuffle on her Christmas playlist, she leans back in the chair, clicking her tongue and irritatedly tapping her nails on the desk’s surface, waiting for the cheerful melodies to ease the tension as her thoughts settle back on Dean.
This is the first year they won’t spend the holiday hunting monsters or holed up in some crappy motel. The boys have never had what others considered a traditional Christmas. Still, she knows that beneath his battle-hardened shell, Dean sometimes dreams of having something more conventional and ordinary. A holiday spent listening to cheesy Christmas music, over-the-top decorations, exchanging gifts, more food than they can eat at one meal, and his family and friends nearby, sharing the warmth and love of the season—the ‘apple pie life’ as he likes to call it.
For Dean and her, the bunker is a home, a place that is safe and familiar. The closest they will probably ever get to that apple pie existence. So the prospect of decorating, baking, and enjoying what others considered normal Christmas activities for the first time with him had filled her with giddy excitement.
She thought Sam would be the tough nut to crack and to get on board, but aside from the tree debate, he seemed to support her plans. Dean’s response to her initial foray is bewildering. He’d acted enthusiastic when she regaled the group that night with her vision, even offered suggestions. It breaks her heart to see his apparent disdain for it all now, and she regrets responding to his anger in kind. There’s something driving it; she just needs to figure out what it is.
Nic closes her eyes, replaying their conversation in her head, focusing on his body language and facial expressions. Sorrow …his eyes had been mournful and dark before he blinked it away while she spoke about the beauty and spirit of the season.
The upbeat anthem shifts into a slow emotional ballad, and between breathy vibrato and belted lines, the artist sings about searching for a lost Christmas. The song is from one of her favorite movies. The one she’d been watching earlier and why it was in the forefront of her mind, prompting her to call Dean a bad banana. The image of his adorably confused face sparks a small giggle.
Restarting the song, she pushes away from the desk, slowly swiveling in the seat, mulling over the possibilities of what triggered Dean’s sudden opposition and hidden grief.
My world is changing; I'm rearranging
Those two simple lines punch through her musings and tears well in her eyes. Dean’s life has changed drastically over the past months, and he’s probably feeling lost. Unsure of where he fits into the world now. Yes, there are still monsters and evil to fight in the world, but those cases have been few and far between and are cakewalks compared to fighting cosmic beings hellbent on the destruction of the world.
Obtaining something that he had only ever dreamed of, talked about as if it were a fairytale because he never believed that he would ever have it, is, in truth, probably terrifying. After spending the majority of his life in fight or flight mode, Dean now finds himself in transition. He’s probably wondering how long it will take before he screws it up, waiting for it to become tainted because he didn’t truly earn it, a constant fear running through his mind that he will wake up and it will all have vanished. She berates herself for not seeing his struggle sooner, especially since she’s been having similar feelings, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She’s been busy with her growing business, tucked away in her workroom for hours on end, completing orders so they can be shipped in time for the holiday—neglecting Dean. Thinking back over the past few weeks, she can envision the shift in his demeanor. Usually, Dean has a hard time hiding his feelings from her, but the change had been subtle, and her distracted mind had missed it while it was happening.
Swiping away the tears on her cheeks, she plants her feet, chair jerking to a stop mid-rotation as her eyes land on her old Polaroid camera. Photography is a secondary hobby, and the wooden shelving unit Dean built for her is home to several vintage cameras still in working order. To her, photography is a form of art that creatively captures the world around you, preserving those moments in time from a viewpoint others might not see.
With a gasp, she jumps from the seat. “That’s it!” Rummaging through the closet, she pulls out a box of old maps and travel journals, remnants from a life long ago. The items in the box document her grandfather’s travels around the world. She had barely managed to save them from being thrown out by one of her foster parents. They are the only items she has of her former life.
She had spent hours of her childhood reading about his epic adventures and studying the maps, learning how to read them and navigate the world at large. That skill had served her well over the years. While quite familiar with the highways and byways of the country, having traversed them way more than most, the Winchesters had still come to rely heavily on her knowledge. Nicole’s unique skillset of rapidly calculating distances and recalling little-known routes had shaved off many miles and given them back precious time when it was needed most.
Laying out the maps on her large workspace, she grabs her tablet, phone, and a fresh notebook. Dean needs to see the world through a different lens, a view not mired in blood and heartache. She will plan an adventure for the two of them, a road trip that will remind him of the beauty and the good he sacrificed the last 40+ years of his life for—remake the holiday into a Winchester-style Christmas.
Next
Love Me Some Pie tag list:
@akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deanwanddamons // @flamencodiva // @idreamofplaid // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @michellethetvaddict // @mvdeanw // @shawnie74 // @siospins2 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix
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dream girl evil
look is it my fault that florence delivered an album that is entirely about TAU? no. no it is not. anyway more fee fees expressed through songfic.
-----
Sometimes, it felt like she hadn’t existed until that summer, was not alive until she burst out of someone’s forehead and onto a bus that was pulling into Gravity Falls.
Logically, Mabel knew that was silly, that it felt like that because the world literally ended that summer and was reborn again, that she saw her brother die in front of her and then become born anew, to say nothing of the resulting familial estrangement.
And she was twelve. Then thirteen. And most people never really remembered their childhoods anyway.
But she was never “most people.” If only because most people hadn’t been extensively scrapbooking from the age they could use safety scissors.
(make me perfect, make me your fantasy)
At first being Mizar was cool.
And when Twin Souls came out? Ick factor of the premise aside, it was AMAZING to see people doing fan art of her! Of her! Mabel Anna Pines, getting drawn by the best, second best, and artists who just needed a few years of practice, all the time!
(of course she skipped anything with Mizar AND Alcor in it because ew, but Mabel had not spent three years reading Sev’Ral Timez RPF on wattpad to be freaked out by the Twin Souls phenomenon)
But then people began getting like, really invested in Mizar. Like, really really.
Like, really really really.
Like not just the nascent folklore and getting referenced in tandem with Alcor by demonologists and politicians and policy makers or seeing her name spray-
(no that is not her name)
-seeing spray painted on walls things like “Only Mizar can save us now” or “Mizar help us”
No what finally made Mizar taste like spoiled milk in her mouth was when she was pregnant and Dipper taking her aside one day and gently breaking to her that uh, there may be a slight religion forming around you Mabel-
(i am nobody’s moral center)
and she didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear Dipper explain that the prayers and summons that were aimed her way ended up just bouncing off of him in his email box, didn’t want to hear the undercurrent of fear that she would become like him, mixed up even more horribly with the undercurrent of hope that she would become like him actually-
She nodded along until she couldn’t take any more and then excused herself to have a pregnancy puke which was really an existential panic puke.
She didn’t want this, not at all.
(the center, it cannot hold)
----
They didn’t talk a lot about After-
-which honestly suited both of them fine. Dipper because of the reminder of how he would have to live without her, and Mabel because she didn’t like to think about Dipper being sad, or at the very least how insufferable he would be after she left-
-but they thought about it all the time. Maybe Dipper more than her but
he was going to live so long. And memories were a funny thing.
What would he remember about her, as he went into the long dark future ahead of him?
(you like me better in your head)
Would he forget the arguments, the time they tried to share a room BEFORE Gravity Falls and it ended with a moldy mini fridge and a broken lego set? Would he forget that he couldn’t stand it when she made beep borp noises at him to wake him up for class for all of fourth grade, or the insistence that he come to dinner totally clean of blood no matter how much it ‘added to the food’?
Mabel now had leaky hard boobs because she was trying to wean the kids, Henry’s sweatpants that were both too tight around her midriff but too long in her leg, greasy hair done in a crappy braid since she was tired and Hank interrupted her shower, and constant farts from the gas station burrito Stan had brought home for her.
Would he remember this Mabel? Or would he remember the shiny Mabel, the one who always had on the perfect sweater with matching nails, who was clean and shiny and fearless and free?
(At least you'll sanctify me when I'm dead)
----
Sometimes, it felt like the whole world was going to collapse on her, the weight of everything that she was experiencing.
Like nothing was real.
But of course the problem was, that it all was real. That there were consequences, deserved and more so undeserved, and that they would be dealing with them for the rest of their lives....wait, no.
(take it out on me)
The problem was that everyone expected everything of her, and the Mabel from before would have been thrilled at that but the Mabel of now?
(did I disappoint you?)
It was crushing.
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The success in the band was not because he was there. The success one direction had isn’t something he should take credit for. //////
NAILED IT!! I think when he says he has the most writing credits in 1D, *LIES* he definitely means the band's success came due to his exceptional writing skills. That is why he says it like such a proud thing he achieved when no one on the band could. I would give anything to hear the 3 Js and Savan's side of the story to see how much of a writing genius Louis Tomlinson really was. Savan hinted how crappy Louis is on that podcast, but I want a one-on-one with all the songwriters to know how the demon of 1d demonized them to give him vanity credits.
And ofcourse louies and larries are failing to see why their songwriter of the generation has ZERO songwriter awards or nominations as a solo artist. 🤡
Louis was most likely an absolute nightmare in the sessions, barking orders whilst knowing nothing about the craft of lyric writing or about musical composition. Savan hinted at this by saying Louis tried to take 'an executive role.' His contribution would have been limited to comments like 'this one needs to be more rocky' or 'this one should be about morning sex.'
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Canvas | Original Fiction; T
Fictober prompt #1: “I choose you”
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Trish and Seth were the coolest kids in middle school; so punk rock and not giving a damn. They chose to take Jane under their wing, the new kid, and she memorized the lyrics to all their favorite songs—some of them were like poetry, Jane liked those.
Trish helped her thrift the t-shirts with old British bands so that she could give all her goodie-two-shoes clothes to Goodwill. Seth taught her how to climb out of her window before they all snuck out to her first concert. The venue was stuffy and loud. Jane dripped in sweat and someone else’s beer, but she banged her head just like everyone else. Next time, she brought earplugs, but she never put them in.
The day Jane came back home with a mohawk on her head, mom looked like she was about to get a heart attack. Both about the hair and the stench of smoke. Jane and her best friends had shared a cigarette, while Seth was buzzing the long, mousy strands off the sides of her head. Trish used half a jar of hair gel to turn the chopped up top into thick spikes. Jane shivered when the wind grazed her bare skin.
She got grounded for the rest of the school year and half the summer. By the time August rolled in, Seth and Trish had a bunch of new friends they would be going to high school with.
Michelle was the type of girl who gets crowned the prom queen, not the type of girl who chooses to hang out with someone like Jane. But she needed help with literature classes, and Jane’s essay was loudly praised by the teacher that day. Jane didn’t mind writing two essays instead of one from then on, although making them sound like two different people was kind of tough. Still, she managed to squeeze the task in between shopping with Michelle, getting her hair bleached and nails done with Michelle, and sharing earphones with Michelle when they watched their favorite movies.
They grew inseparable and seen. When they walked down the corridor, the other students parted. Michelle taught Jane how to get perfect pics for Insta and how to flirt with the boys—but never keep them. Even when Jane got grounded for maxing out mom’s credit card, Michelle would sneak into her room through the window and tell her all the gossip from the parties she missed out on.
Until the day the only gossip everyone at school was talking about were all of Jane’s secrets she only revealed to one person, her best friend—her ex-friend—Michelle. At least, there wasn’t much school to suffer through after that, and Michelle moved to LA to become a movie star.
Gregory was like a dream. Law major, handsome, well-spoken, smart as hell. The rich family was a nice bonus, but Jane didn’t care about that. She cared that—somehow—he chose her. On their first date, he took Jane out to a fancy restaurant, the kind with big lobster tanks in the middle. She helped him throw his first charity banquet and the hundredth party on his father’s yacht. For the spring break, he took her to Hawaii, where he surfed and she sunbathed all day, and partied all night. All the girls from her classes were so jealous.
Jane’s mom was, at last, happy with Jane’s choices, because she finally found the right company, a good guy.
And she looked great too, didn’t she? With all the designer clothes and the beauty treatments Greg paid for, with those whitened teeth behind her plump lips. She had to look great; look the part. Not just some eye-candy: she had to act properly and think like a high-class woman would, too. And that’s who she was. In the end, his family grew to love her, too.
By then, Greg loved the free-spirited artist, more, the one he’d been cheating on Jane with for months. She was exciting and spontaneous, she loved poetry, too. She wasn’t proper or high-class. And, most of all, she wasn’t boring—that’s what Greg called Jane when she caught him in flagrante delicto.
Greg made Jane move out of their apartment, into some crappy place she rented with her savings.
It was hard to get used to being all alone, with nothing but Jane as company.
Because Jane is… Who is she, exactly? The heir’s bride (not) to be? The prom queen’s best friend? The punk rocker who doesn’t give a damn? Her mom’s polite, well-mannered daughter?
Looking back, it’s easy to see the string of people coming into her life and overtaking it—all of it—just as she let them. She flocked to others like a bird with no sense of direction; her own North Poles. Once her empty canvas got painted over into exactly what they wanted her to be, they got bored of her and moved on.
Only good for anything when a work in progress—and never hers.
She looks into the mirror. Who is Jane? The mousy roots peeking out from under the golden caramel dye? The puffy eyes from crying, the paling skin, and the lips slowly regaining their old shape and size? She’s shedding the latest layer of herself. Her borrowed self.
Maybe living alone for a while is not such a bad idea? Just with herself, with Jane, whoever she is. Maybe she can discover who she is when she’s not someone else’s chosen girl. She can find out what she likes.
That she likes her hair with no product in it, but a banging winged eyeliner on her face. That she prefers silence to music, and hash browns to caviar. That clothes fit her best when they suit her mood, not her singular identity.
“I choose you,” she says to her reflection in the mirror, feeling only a little awkward. A small smile blooms on her face. “I choose myself.”
#fictober22#original fiction#creative writing#flash fiction#writblr#my writing#canvas#i hope I'll write more stuff this month than the next but we'll see#I hope this even ends up in the fictober tag since tumblr hates me
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okay, ex roommate post tiem to get it out of my system
(feel free to be nosey that's why I'm posting about it on tumblr)
first of all, why not just TALK to someone about this? bc I don't like social interaction and I'm too busy to see anyone, but also bc my ex roommate is a self-employed traditional artist, so if social opinion about them tanks, that could genuinely jeopardize their income, and they didn't actually do anything worse than be a kinda crappy friend on the whole and a shitty roommate in their last few months of living with me
me obsessing over them and using them as my secret competition is bc I'm mentally ill, not bc they 'deserve it' or 'need to be taken down a notch' or should be 'cancelled' or anything
so, my ex roommate had a shit life growing up, right up there with being any given social worker's average case of a low income child who's dealt with physical abuse, neglect, and bouts of homelessness; then, they graduated high school and used student loans to go to university to get a degree in fine art, and finally experiencing reliable housing while they had that student loan money; they pick up food service jobs while in college, start building their social media presence, and take home every classroom art supply that isn't nailed down, just like any professional artist does at the start of their career
fast forward approximately five years after graduation
they're still only just building up their online presence and they've never held down a job for more than about 10 months at a time; all of their previous living situations have imploded and they're living with a family member who doesn't help them do anything and expects them to magically get a good job and move out any day now, even though they don't have a car and they live in the suburbs
enter me, the person who owns a crappy little house that (eventually) has a bedroom open up so they can move in and a job to recommend them to
(I'm cutting out a bit here to maintain plausible anonymity)
they start out strong, decorating the room, cooking and sharing meals (not a routine in our house, just something nice they do), and building up their art income while they make money from the job I helped them get; they even manage to get a car!
but then, as a year at the job approaches, they have a harder and harder time getting along with their boss, and it's unclear if the job really sucks that bad or if my roommate isn't communicating well; they also seem to be failing to balance art, their other job, and general life, doing things like going on art binges only to crash and get an hour of sleep and be late to work the next day; eventually, they experience a significant health event, and they get fired for being absent from their job for a month
they focus on their art business, talking about how they're gonna explore more types of social media promotion and showing off how much their income has grown since they were at their relative's house; I've started my masters degree at this point, and then the pandemy hits, so we spend more time hanging out, especially since my other roommate had moved out by this point so it was just the two of us in the house
over time, the cracks start to show; they're so positive and cute and bubbly when they have the energy, and they talk a bunch about effective communication and boundaries and all that, but when they talk about their other friends, it's like a constant stream of criticism about their life choices
oh, one friend has openly wept about being fat and not fitting into the cute clothes they both want to wear? well, sure, body positivity and all that, but then my roommate gets annoyed that their friend is annoyed by the regular attempts to invite them out for hikes or to a gym my roommate goes to, and is further annoyed when this friend won't 'just' tell them they don't want to go and that the friend simultaneously still talks about her dissatisfaction with her body; my roommate is flat out making 'pick a struggle!'-type comments about this 'friend'
another friend struggles with money; they were low-income, and now they make relatively decent money, and my roommate is FULL of judgement about how they spend their money and how they socialize at work and try to turn all their coworkers into their friends even tho that just isn't appropriate
any time they go to someone's house that is messy, there are several comments made about why they don't 'just' clean up as they cook or do stuff around the house, and if they see a roach that person is absolutely getting judged hard core bc my roommate 'has ptsd (jokingly)' about all the trashy places they've lived (we live in the southern US, btw, we have lots of thriving insects and small mammals all over the place)
they complain about how someone keeps talking about wanting a better, higher-paying job, but won't put in the time to get required certifications to get that better job
they constantly talk about the importance of 'open' conversation, harping on how they're happy to have a frank conversation about anything without blowing up over it
and yet
they do
ALL OF THESE SAME THINGS
they talk about wanting to lose w while binging on snacks with friends and eventually a new partner, complaining about wanting to go to the gym but also how sad they are no one will go with them and that's why they go less; their savings starts running out at the pandemy impacts their art sales so they go get a job after talking about it endlessly (another complaint about a different 'friend') and tries to make friends with all their coworkers and starts a room overhaul even though they admit they have no budget for it; they don't wash up after using a TON of bowls and pans to cook a single meal and even leave out tidbits 'for the cats' on the FLOOR that they never go back and pick up; they don't actually do any training on their own time to get promoted or improve their art business; and trying to give them advice and feedback or talk about something that makes you uncomfortable with them results in a near-immediate grumpy cold shoulder, let alone that they dominate nearly every conversation with their own personal interests and check their phone when you talk about yours
(I have to go to work rippp I don't want tumblr to delete this in drafts so I'm posting it now and will continue later)
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11:04 PM EDT June 1, 2023:
John Cougar Mellencamp - "Rain On The Scarecrow"
From the album Scarecrow
(September 5, 1985)
Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm
It’s fascinating to me, how artists that I pretty much write off as untalented still sometimes manage to hit the nail on the head. Fuck, John Cougar, how much crap did he write?
But \“Scarecrow\” is fucking great. Ominous and vengeful, dark and brooding, a sense of doom over the whole thing, mankind is totally fucked for how it treats its less powerful members. No salvation, none, for the evildoers, and the good people are damned, too, just so we don’t get the wrong idea.
How the fuck did a hack like John Cougar come up with this?
People might say, \“oh yeah, guilty pleasure.\” But no, it’s not that. It’s not me, liking crap. It’s a crappy artist somehow, in some way, coming up with something great.
Our departed accounting guy Jesus and I were going back and forth a little bit a while back, trying to come up with examples. I said \“Timeclock of the Heart\” by Culture Club (poignant and very deeply melancholy), and \“Heaven’s Trail\” by Tesla (like glam metal channeled the fake badass attitude into the music and made it genuine for a change).
And then what did I hear on the way home that day, but \“Scarecrow,\” one I forgot to mention.
I think that that \“Hypnotized\” thing by Fleetwood Mac I went on about a few months back also qualifies.
People who don’t play themselves often place this mysterious golden aura around the great music they listen to, Eno and Neil Young and the Velvets and fill in the blank with your guy being somehow apart from the rest of us in their ability to elevate their game if I might use a sports cliche.
And maybe in their consistency, they are a cut above the rest of us mere mortals. But maybe greatness is available at least once to anyone who just makes the effort long enough.
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Can You Use AI to Improve Your Traditional Art?
Once, an art teacher looked at my submission and asked me, “Where is the light coming from?”
And I literally had no idea what she was talking about.
Video available April 19th at 4pm PST: https://youtu.be/-HWRW_MLoQc
Months of researching and crappy paintings later, I had finally trained my eyes to see “value” but I still couldn’t reproduce it. Conveying light and shadow is one of my biggest challenges as a story-driven artist. BUT - I think I may have found a solution that works for me and possibly YOU too. I’ve (1) created my own collection of AI generated images with everything I want to improve upon, (2) in a style that feels very personal to me, (3) and I’m copying them!
This is my new work 2 days into this new outlook on studying art. Perfect? No! But far better than I anticipated.
Y’all, I’ve been painting soo much that now I do it in my sleep. I can see value now! I can SEE edges. I automatically break down the view from my apartment into a landscape composition. These exercises have been helping me out so much in such a short period of time. I don’t think my paintings have nailed the look I’m after yet but I literally see things differently because I invest so much time into studying shapes and colors. After several weeks or months of continued practice, I can see my work improving dramatically.
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III. Spring
There wasn’t any particular reason Kim decided to leave his home in the snow. Finding the rest of his family would be the easy excuse to say, but the actual reason was more likely than not simply just pure spite.
It wasn’t like Kim wanted to be where he was–working at a café of all things living paycheque to paycheque to make ends meet. He was of the whimsical type, hoping that by some chance he could make it with simply his canvas and painting skills alone. Wishful thinking that was.
To some extent, he was sure his parents had told him to plan for the future better or maybe extend himself somewhere else where he could at least make a place for himself before running into his hobbies.
Well, jokes on his parents, it appeared as though his painting was the reason he did end up keeping himself running.
With its stone pillars and high glass windows that were too tall to climb, one would think a museum would be a much more occupied space at the end of the world. It was defendable, had a garden in the back, and well decorated.
It was cold, obviously, being made of concrete and marble walls, but to someone like Kim it looked like paradise.
No one for as far the eye could see.
Just his echo and paintings to keep him company.
He recreated the Mona Lisa, Picasso, a Starry Night. Hell, he painted what he remembered of his nephew’s cat in the few hours of the morning.
“There are better ways for the world to end,” he said as he clambered into his makeshift bed of old canvas sheets and things from the museum’s gift shop.
A picture of Dorothy stared back at him, unblinking.
Will you stay here? He imagines the cat asks.
“I guess so, I have no reason to go elsewhere. In this way, I know now I’m probably the best artists in the world.”
The cat’s silence spoke volumes.
“Granted, there’s no one else here but… I at least have made the most recent of things to contribute in the grand world of art.”
It was almost as if he heard of some feline approval.
Or, disproval, he wasn’t so sure.
That was when Kim made the mistake.
Spring reared its head along with the rotten concern that perhaps Kim had been inside for a bit too long. Once again, he was getting restless. Feeling the exact same as he was in his crappy studio home with its thin walls and chipping blue paint.
He awoken, made another painting of what he could remember his mother looked like, when he heard a snap.
Kim’s heart dropped into his stomach, feeling as though acid was breaking at its walls and trickling into his bones.
“What was that?” He asked the painting of Dorothy the cat.
No response, obviously.
Standing up and with shaking limbs, he grabbed the weapon of choice–a sturdy and old palette knife–as he crept out of the dusty exhibit he claimed as his new studio into the halls of the museum.
Heavy breathing, not his.
Tap, tap, tap of nails on the concrete.
And then:
Kim fell to the ground.
A mass of fur tackling Kim with the tenacity of a small child.
“Why, hello there,” Kim said, staring at the dog yipping and yapping at his ankles.
It barked and barked without shutting up as Kim’s eyes drifted to a part of the door of the museum that had rotted away enough to let the small thing in.
“You sound like a Professor Oak,” Kim mumbled, looking back at the dog.
It stopped it’s erratic yelling and tilted his head at him.
The next day, just before he changes out of his old clothes and into something that he could consider new, he presses play on the cheap stereo next to the radio of his and paints the world’s greatest masterpiece.
Professor Oak took well to becoming a backup singer.
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Athol blushes, happy to be so loved by Edythe. “Well, I’m trying. I didn’t think I could be any good with a kid, to be honest.” She says and turns the tv out. ”Your bedroom?” The Scottish girl asks before she realises what this sounds like. “No! I mean, do YOU want to go to YOUR bedroom? I can take care of her.” || It takes a while for Melia to get her mom to rest in the living room. She plans on getting her a better place in the apartment for her privacy when she stumbles into her worried husband. “Her glorious bastard husband left her for another, younger woman.” The words are quite literally spit out. || A woman with messy, brown curls walks down the halls of the museum, skipping along her soft indie music as she looks around the paintings. She brings quite some life into the dull area with her baggy jeans and their colourful splotches. Everything about her screams artist: from head to toe, everything’s coloured. The blue under her nails, the bit of yellow in her hair and the green splotch on her comfy shoes.
Alicia hesitates but nods in agreement. “You can sleep in my room tonight, if you want.” She whispers, playing with her fingers. “I don’t want you to stay on this crappy couch.”
||
In the same museum, Tabella wanders excitedly, walking maybe a bit too fast while not truly paying attention to where’s she’s going, in awe of all the beautiful statues and paintings. And as she turns the corner, she squeaks as she runs into the woman, knocking them both down to the ground, Tabella landing on top of her.
“I AM SO SORRY!” She squeaks, her heart racing and panic on her eyes. “Are you okay?!” She asks, not even thinking to get off of her.
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When I learn how to draw hands y’all are done for—
(These pens are actually really nice tbh, slap hard)
#my crappy art#deku#bnha#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#leo valdez#heroes of olympus#steven universe future#steven quartz cutiepie demayo diamond universe#peter parker#trans peter parker#he just is#I don’t make the rules#percy getting his nails painted and then constantly showing that his nails are painted to everyone he interacts with lives rent free#don’t make fun of my handwriting#danny fenton#danny phantom#danny my beloved#there’s a very specific artist that draws danny’s suit like this#@the-stove-is-on-fire#I love you (:
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Jaws: The Musical (Concept)
So, out of curiosity, I looked online to see if anyone had ever adapted a musical from Jaws. There is a musical called Bruce that’s scheduled to debut in Seattle next year about the production of Jaws (and I would be interested in seeing that), but as for a musical of the Jaws story itself, I found one that’s for kids and about 48 minutes long.
Now, I’ve never seen this musical, so I cannot attest as to its quality, but, in my opinion, both of those choices are wrong. This musical should be the full two acts, and it should be aimed at adults.
I’ve been brainstorming, and I think I’ve got a hypothetical musical all mapped out. You might think a musical based on Jaws is silly, but a lot of successful musicals have been adapted from really strange things (such as a comic book artist’s coming-out memoir, a crappy Roger Corman movie, and a collection of goofy cat poems), and I feel like a Jaws musical could be really epic. The story easily lends itself into a two-act structure. The first act is the shark attacks on Amity Island, and the second act is the hunt for the shark in the Orca.
However, the musical wouldn’t make the mistake of putting lyrics to John Williams’s iconic Jaws theme. The theme would obviously be used as a leitmotif throughout the show, but it’s not the type of song that lends itself to lyrics, and I think that would be corny,
So, the musical would play out like this:
ACT ONE:
The movie opened with Chrissie’s death, so the stage show will do the same. The scene will be short and all dialogue, no singing. The shark will also not be seen, but its presence will be implied by the music, lighting, and Chrissy’s acting.
First song: “Welcome to Amity Island.” Functions as an intro to the setting of Act One. The tone is joyous and celebratory as the islanders welcome the flood of tourists that always come in the summer. A big portion of the song is sung by Mayor Vaughn as he sings about what a wonderful vacation spot Amity Island is. We also meet Brody, and a dark undercurrent is introduced to the song as he finds Chrissy’s mangled body.
Brody, of course, takes steps to close the beach right away, but he’s stopped by the Mayor, who sings the second song, “Summer Dollars,” where the Mayor insists that closing the beaches is bad for the town and that Brody shouldn’t be causing an unnecessary panic and causing hysteria that could drive tourists away. Brody tries to argue back but in the end, Vaughn has his way.
Brody returns to the station, apprehensive about keeping the beaches open. Here, we’re introduced to Brody’s wife, Ellen, who saw no problem with visiting him at work since nothing ever happens on Amity Island. Brody expresses his uneasiness, but Ellen assures him that his fear of the water is making him overestimate the danger. This gets Brody’s coworkers curious, so, with a little prompting from Ellen, Brody sings his first solo, “Drowning,” about his fear of the water. In the song, Brody sings about a childhood incident where a bully held him underwater at a public swimming pool. Not only did this give him a fear of water, but the bullying he received as a child is what set him on the path to become a cop, since he wanted to be able to protect people from suffering the same mistreatment he did. However, he moved from New York City because the working environment there was unfriendly to cops who wish to protect and serve instead of, well, being typical American cops.
Next song: “Blue Sky” Just as the Mayor wished, the beaches are open, and summer is in full swing. Brody is there with his family, anxiously keeping an eye on the water. The rest of the ensemble doesn’t share his anxiety, however, as they frolic and play in the sun. Brody is jolted to his feet several times by the sound of screaming, but it’s always a false alarm. However, the mood turns scary as we segue into the next song:
“Shark!” - While out swimming on his raft, young Alex Kintner is attacked and eaten. Brody sees it and screams the title of the song. It’s pandemonium as people rush out of the water, and the song is fast-paced and chaotic. However, it ends on a mournfully quiet note as Mrs. Kintner calls for her son. (”Alex? Alex!?”)
Quick scene transition, and we move immediately into he next song, called “Something Must Be Done.” Here, at a town council meeting, the townspeople argue back and forth about what to do about their shark problem. I imagine the music here sounding like the “Mayor’s Meeting” theme from The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask. Brody argues strongly in favor of closing the beaches (in song, of course), but he is shut down not only by the Mayor but by the rest of the townspeople, who still rely on the income brought in by the tourists. People throw around various suggestions, with one woman finally declaring that she’ll reward whoever catches the shark with three thousand dollars. The song descends into a cacophony as people argue over each other.
The noise is interrupted by the screech of nails on a chalkboard. It’s Quint who sings the titular song, “Jaws,” as he sings about his job as a shark hunter and how dangerous sharks can be. (”Those jaws will swallow you whole. / A little shakin’, tenderizing’, down you go.”) He offers to kill the shark for ten grand, not three. The woman who made the offer balks at the high price, and the Mayor explains that kind of money isn’t in the budget “right now.” Quint takes it in stride and tells everyone they’ll know where to find him if they change their minds. He’s supposedly addressing the room, but he looks right at Brody as he says it. He can tell Brody is the only one who will actually listen.
Many sailors of various aptitudes come to Amity Island, hoping to catch the shark and cash in on that three thousand dollars. Among the new arrivals is Hooper, who introduces himself to Brody as a marine biologist from the Oceanographic Institute. Hooper sings his intro song, “Beautiful,” referring to his views on sharks. Hooper recounts how he was bitten by a shark as a child, but instead of coming to fear them, Hooper walked away fascinated by them and now views sharks to be beautiful creatures. However, the song takes a somber note as Hooper is brought in to examine Chrissie’s remains, and the word “Beautiful” is shifted from referring to sharks to referring to Chrissie when she was alive. (“She was just a kid. / So much of life to live. / Now, bits and scraps are all that’s left. / Of a girl who was once so beautiful.”)
“Hell of a Fish” - The fishermen succeed in catching a large tiger shark, presumed to be the shark that killed Alex and Chrissie. Brody joins in the celebratory atmosphere, but Hooper examines the dead shark’s teeth and is convinced they’ve got the wrong fish. The Mayor and the fisherman who caught the tiger shark argue that this is the shark that’s been causing the trouble, while Hooper argues back that it’s definitely not. Hooper angrily demands that he be allowed to dissect the shark to confirm whether there are human remains inside, but Mayor Vaughn rejects his request. He doesn't care if they’ve got the right shark. He doesn’t believe a third attack will happen either way. (”We’ve got a hell of a fish to show. / And shark attacks are pretty rare, you know?”)
This song is interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Kintner, in funeral attire, who goes up to Brody and slaps him. She then sings “My Boy Is Dead,” a slow, tragic lament about her son, Alex. (“He was just a boy. His whole life still ahead. / Now, I’ll never know what he would’ve been. / Because my boy is dead.”) Mrs. Kintner blames Brody for not warning the town after Chrissie’s death, and Brody takes the blame to heart. The song ends with a callback to “Hell of a Fish,” as Hooper bitterly remarks that he hopes Mayor Vaughn is right about the tiger shark being the culprit, otherwise there’s a “hell of a fish” still out there somewhere.
“Cloud on the Horizon” - Song is kicked off by a TV reporter, who delivers a brief story to the audience about the recent shark attacks on Amity Island. The holiday-making resumes on Amity’s beaches, but people are more nervous than before, The ensemble sings amongst themselves about whether they should go in the water. They finally do so with a little encouragement from the Mayor. Meanwhile, Brody encourages his son Michael to stay in the shallow pond.
“Shark! (Reprise)” - A shark fin is spotted in the water, and the ensemble takes up the alarm, scrambling while frantically singing a reprise of “Shark!” However, the alarm dies down when the fin is revealed to be a fake worn by a swimmer. However, a lone woman takes up the cry again as the shark is spotted swimming toward the pond where Michael is. The music ramps up as the shark takes down a boater mere feet away from Michael, and the audience gets their first clear view of the shark.
“Red Sea” - The song functions as a reprise of “Blue Sky,” but also contains musical elements from “My Boy is Dead.” Brody pulls his son Michael out of the water, unsure of whether he’s still alive. Luckily, Michael is only in shock. Ellen runs to call for an ambulance. As he waits by Michael’s body, Brody sings his second solo, loudly berating everyone in town, including himself, for allowing this to happen three times. All of the beachgoers, including the Mayor, are cowed by his song.
“(Can’t Find) a Good Man” - This is the first song between all three crew members of the Orca. Brody goes to hire Quint to kill the shark, agreeing to pay whatever he wants. Quint knows he has Brody by the balls and keeps upping the price, demanding additional payments like various kinds of booze and a color TV in addition to the ten thousand dollars. Brody agrees to all of it, but Quint’s one crew member refuses to go out after the shark, so Quint fires him. Hooper and Brody volunteer to go along, but Quint is reluctant to bring them aboard. He contemplates whether he should go alone, since Hooper and Brody will be useless on deck. Hooper loudly argues that he's qualified and “doesn’t need this working class hero crap,” but Brody is more gentle and persuasive. He reminds Quint that his own son was nearly killed by this shark and feels he owes it to both his family and the town to help in whatever way he can. Quint is won over by Brody’s humility and agrees to take them both on.
“Farewell, Amity Island” - Reprise of “Welcome to Amity Island” and the Act One Finale. Like “Welcome to Amity Island,” this is a huge ensemble number, this time centering around the Orca’s upcoming departure. Several characters come to see the ship off as Quint yells at Hooper and Brody, including the Mayor and Ellen. The Mayor apologizes to Brody (“I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. / My own children were there in that same red sea.”), where Ellen bids a tearful farewell, knowing she might never see Brody again. Brody’s sung farewells are intercut with a spoken back and forth between Quint and Hooper, as Quint snarks at everything Hooper does. The song also contains instrumental traces of “Spanish Ladies.” Brody and Ellen’s embrace is broken up by Quint as the Orca shoves off.
ACT TWO:
After the act two opener (which is an instrumental of “Jaws,” the song Quint sang earlier), we return to the Orca where Quint fishes off the stern, loudly singing “Spanish Ladies” a cappella. It sounds pretty good, but he’s interrupted by Hooper, who yells that he’s been listening to Quint sing for three hours and can’t take it any more. Brody has no choice but to listen to the ensuing back and forth as he chums the water.
The childish behavior is interrupted when Quint gets a bite. He's convinced it’s the shark, but Hooper, still annoyed with Quint, believes it’s some kind of sport fish. Hooper begrudgingly goes to help Quint pull in the line, but a moment of inattention causes the line to snap.
“City Hands” - Quint berates Hooper for losing the shark and trying to tell a professional shark hunter how to hunt sharks. Their animosity finally erupts into an angry duet as they hurl very personal insults at each other, with Hooper calling Quint a drunken, senile sea dog, while Quint berates Hooper for being a coddled, privileged city boy. Their musical fight looks like it’ll get physical when Hooper snatches the beer Quint was drinking out of his hand and chucks it into the ocean. Luckily, Brody breaks it up, pointedly reminding them why they’re here and that they don’t need to be at each other’s throats when the shark will gladly do that for them. Quint sheepishly apologizes to Brody and only Brody. Hooper likewise backs down.
Brody returns to chumming the water only to toss a shovelful of chum directly into the shark’s face. The shark is right beside the Orca, and it’s huge. There is an instrumental score but no singing as all three men work together to try and bring in the shark. The shark seems unfazed by all the bullets and harpoons they shoot into it, but they manage to attach one barrel to the shark. Quint is satisfied that the shark will tire itself out with the barrel attached and that all they have to do is wait it out. Brody is all for returning to shore and calling the Coast Guard, but Quint ignores him.
Scene transition, and we’re in the ship’s cabin that night. All three men are staying up to wait for the shark, and they’ve had a bit to drink. Quint catches Brody examining the rope burn he got on his hand earlier in the day and reassures him that it won't leave a permanent scar. This segues into the duet “Something Permanent,” as Hooper and Quint compare scars. The tone isn’t angry and harsh as before but jovial and upbeat. Clearly, the earlier animosity is forgiven.
“Those Eyes” - This is Quint’s solo about the sinking of the Indianapolis. Brody asks Quint about a scar on his arm that he hasn’t mentioned. Quint offhandedly mentions it’s a tattoo he had removed. When Hooper makes a joke about it being a “Mother” tattoo, Quint informs him it’s actually for the U.S.S. Indianapolis. Hooper clearly knows the story, but Brody doesn't, so Quint tells it. The song is slow and eerie. The words “those eyes” are used to refer to both the sharks’ eyes and the eyes of his crew mates as they were devoured or lay dead in the water. Quint sings that he still sees those eyes looming up at him in the dark of the night. He then catches the looks on Brody and Hooper’s faces and chuckles darkly, telling them not to look at him with “those eyes.” After all, they delivered the bomb. No one comments on this, but all three men have now sung their backstories at some point in the show.
Hooper quietly starts to sing “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” The other two join in. Their singing is interrupted by the shark ramming into the ship.
The crew scramble back on deck. Quint, his mind still swimming in the memory of the Indianapolis, wildly fires a rifle at the shark, but he only succeeds in driving it away, Hooper goes belowdeck to assess the damage. The ship can still run, but it’s struggling. Brody loudly advocates returning to shore, but Quint refuses.
The shark returns, leading to the next song, “Barrels.” The song has a lot of dialogue and instrumental but also functions as a reprise of “Something Permanent,” as Quint gleefully proclaims his intent to leave “something permanent” on the shark. The crew manages to attach three barrels to the shark, but they lose track of it again.
Quint decides that since barrels and weapons don’t seem to be working, and the ship is only becoming more damaged, that the thing to do is lure the shark back to shore and drown it in the shallow water. Hooper warns Quint that he’s overtaxing the engine, but Quint only leans harder on the throttle. The engine gives out.
Brody goes to the radio to call the Coast Guard for help but is shocked when Quint smashes the radio with a baseball bat before the message can get out. This leads to an even angrier reprise of “City Hands,” now with Brody insulting Quint instead of Hooper, calling him “certifiable.” Quint shouts more than sings that he can handle it and he doesn’t need rescuing “this time.” The song shifts to the slower, gentler melody that was used when Brody calmed Hooper and Quint before as Quint tells Brody he vowed that would never be helpless in the water again. Both Brody and Hooper, who was heard the entire outburst, are struck silent.
“Beautiful (Reprise)” - Hooper somberly volunteers to be lowered into the anti-shark cage. Brody argues against it, but, for once, Quint is willing to hear Hooper out. Hooper sings about how putting himself in harm’s way is his only chance to the tune of his intro song, “Beautiful.” Hooper then admits that Quint is right, he hasn’t been through what Quint has, but he’s willing to try and prove his worth. Quint and Brody realize they don't have much choice and agree.
Hooper goes into the cage. Brody takes Hooper’s glasses, and Hooper gives them both one last look before he puts on his mask and goes under.
“In the Cage” - Instrumental. While below the water (which is just another part of the stage covered in blue spotlights), Hooper tries to attack the shark with the syringe on the end of a spear, but he drops it. The shark begins to break its way into the cage, but Hooper manages to escape and hides behind some rocks, apologizing to the men above for failing.
Quint and Brody, of course, can’t hear him, nor can they see what’s happening below. Quint and Brody pull up the cage to find it mangled and empty. Brody is devastated, thinking that Hooper is dead, but Quint seems to be truly unraveling. He sings a shaky reprise of “Those Eyes,” this time obsessing over the look Hooper gave them before he went under. He frantically recalls that he saw the same look on the faces of his crew mates after the sinking of the Indianapolis. Tragically, the song also functions as a callback to “My Boy Is Dead.” (”It’s far too late for me now to take back the things I’ve said. / They’ll haunt me ‘til my dying day. / Because that boy is dead.”)
“Quint’s End” - Instrumental, spoken dialogue. Quint can’t get the last image of Hooper out of his mind and begs him to stop looking at him like that. Brody is alarmed as Quint’s pleas to Hooper change to pleas to his dead crew mate, Herbie Robinson. Quint has slid into a full-blown PTSD flashback. In his mind, he’s back in the waters of the Pacific thirty years ago, surrounded by sharks and dead crew mates. Brody tries to calm Quint down by reminding him where he is, but at that moment, the shark leaps onto the stern, and the Orca lists backwards. (In my head, the Orca set is on some kind of platform that can be raised at an incline.) Both men begin to slide toward the waiting jaws of the shark. Brody manages to grab onto the door frame leading into the cabin. He tries to hold onto Quint, but Quint slips out of his hand. Quint tries to fight back against the shark, but with a sickening crunch, Quint falls silent. The shark retreats with Quint’s lifeless body.
“Smile!” - Payback time. The Orca is sinking fast, and Brody knows that if he ends up in the water, it’s game over. Brody manages to ward the shark off with one of Hooper’s scuba tanks. The shark takes the scuba tank into its mouth, giving Brody the chance to climb onto the mast with Quint’s rifle. The music ramps up in speed and intensity as the shark closes in. Brody’s singing ramps up to match as he fires at the shark again and again, reminding himself of his promise to protect others and vowing that this shark will never kill anyone again. Then, with a final, bombastic, “So, smile you son of a bitch!” he gets a hit on the tank, and the shark explodes. He whoops and hollers as the music swells.
The finale instrumental is both sad and sweet. The sinking mast deposits Brody in the water. Hooper surfaces besides him. They laugh together, relieved that it’s over. Hooper asks about Quint, but Brody only responds with the single word, “No.” Hooper and Brody are close enough to paddle back to shore, so they do just that. As they set off, Brody begins to sing, “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” Hooper joins in. The curtain falls.
#jaws#the musical#i spent way too much time on this#steven spielberg#martin brody#matt hooper#quint#ellen brody#mayor larry vaughn#fan fic#what if#long post
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