#I have many comic idea in my head that I just want to pop it out of my head and post it

[thebluester2020]

[TWST] "Confessions Through A Red Haze"

Summary: The perfect way to spend a four-day weekend? Go to a cabin and get into...unforeseen "troubles" with a prince of course!

Warning(s): Unknowingly taking aphrodisiacs (Both Yuu + Leona),

Side note(s): This is for @kimdourden for my follower potion event! <33. Thank you for giving me this juicy idea 👁️ ✨ (Now I have to proceed to see if I can chuck out a short comic based on this idea—)

I hope this is close to what you wanted! (Sorry to leave off on a cliff-hanger T0T. But hey, I like this idea so much that I think Ill just create a longer fic based off this tbh)

"Go on a vacation with me."

You didn't expect this would be how you spend your four-day weekend.

When Night Raven College decided to announce that the student population would be receiving a four-day weekend due to repairs and additions to the classrooms. You had made mental notes and plans as to what you wanted to do and accomplish during that timeframe! The most notable part of those plans? You wanted to spend some time alone.

It had been three months since you had arrived to this strange new world and already so many things had been happening! You could barely keep up, attempting to stay focused without subsequently losing your mind was a hard set of knives to try and juggle with. You thought that this vacation would have done you some good until...Leona Kingscholar, the Housewarden of SavannaClaw and the local arrogant prince, decided to crush all your attempts at being by your lonesome via his request.

And you had a mind to reject the offer.

It wasn't like the two of you were close in any way, shape or form! You disliked him and he disliked you, a fact that you were completely fine with. So...why were you in a cabin with him in the middle of the woods? Simple! Because his car decided to run out of gas all of a sudden and the once gentle pitter-patter of rain was becoming an all-out thunderstorm. Any attempts to look for help or some type of gas station to refuel had been crushed the second you two heard the thunder in the distance.

Although the cabin was in slight disrepair and lacked air conditioning. it was clear that it was nowhere close to a five-star motel. But it was the best and only option for you two.

Much to Leona's annoyance with each passing second, he thought he could feel something crawling on him as you two decided to hang out in the living room area of sorts. "How troublesome," He said.

"Maybe you should've listened to me when I said that I didn't want to go." The prince's eyes rolled at your words, he'd be blunt with himself when he said that there was no real reason as to why he asked for you to come with him, aside from the fact that Ruggie said he'd be busy this weekend going back to the Sunset Savannas. Although he could've asked anyone else...you, strangely enough, were the first person that popped into his mind.

Leona then turned to look at you, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as his arm was propped up on the arm of the couch he sat on. "Be more grateful, or are you always invited places with princes?"

You guffawed. "You're so full of it."

He smirked. "Am I?"

"Yes!"

"Hm, I wonder if your answer would remain firm if I suggested we do something more fun together."

His smirk grew when you turned your head away with silence, however, his senses caught onto the brief scent of...sweetness in the air.

You were fun.

Way more fun than Ruggie, perhaps that's what first made him begin liking you a little bit more than anyone else at this school. Not that he would be so quick to admit that to yourself, it had taken him a very long time for him to admit it to himself! Though he didn't know exactly when his liking towards you started, all he knew was that...he wanted to be closer to you. But until he was ready to make that first step, that or your clear lusts towards him reached their boiling point and you confessed yourself. He rather enjoyed teasing you.

A true lion knew how to wait for his prey to come to him.

Suddenly however, a scent of something sweet caught his nostrils. The prince's nose scrunched up at the smell. "What's that?" He looked around.

"What's what?" You responded, your head turning to him as he smelled the air before you copied his actions. It reminded you of a vanilla scent, mixed with a hint of chocolate that grew more potent with each breath, with each pull of the smell into your lungs as you began to feel yourself relax more and more. As well as grow...strangely hot.

You wanted to panic as you felt your vision starting to become hazy but as your eyes dragged over to Leona. You couldn't help that your thighs started to clench once more. The lion beastman was never ugly in your eyes, his strikingly handsome features, as well as the fact that he was a prince, was a juxtaposition to him being rude and lazy. Still, it seemed that the heart wants what the heart wants because despite those facts...despite you desperately trying to tell and scold yourself that you shouldn't like Leona.

Here you stood, vision hazy and silently pleading that he would just walk over to you and kiss you like you wanted to kiss him.

And as you focused on that fact, you had barely noticed he had walked up to you until he was right in front of your face, your eyes glued to his moving lips until...you leaned in to kiss him. A chaste peck, nothing more, but one that left the prince stunned as his eyes widened until they were almost comically large.

He'd been waiting for that since he had a crush on you.

But...judging from your smell, your clenching thighs, and how you looked at him as if you were in a daze.

This strange scent in the cabin was affecting you—no, the both of you. He was harder than ever in his entire twenty years of living. As he continued to look at you, all he could think about was fucking you into the nearby couch and making you his officially. But, he desperately tried to keep his mind afloat and free from letting his instincts and wants take over. No matter what this smell made him want to do, he wouldn't do it unless you were in the mindset for you to ask him to do it.

"C'mon, we need to leave—" His eyes immediately snapped shut, his teeth gritting together to the point it was almost painful as he tried to ignore your shameless moans the second he tried to help you up. And the way the sounds kept repeating over and over and over in his head, was maddening. "Quite your squeaking and get up—"

"Nooooo...." You whined. "Leona, I really like you."

He rolled his eyes. "You're not in your right head."

You pouted, the adorable sight nearly making the prince falter. Almost.

"You like me too, right?" You asked, your voice almost a plead as you grabbed onto Leona's forearm tightly, begging him to look you in the eyes.

His mouth opened and closed before he nodded his head.

And that's all the confirmation you needed before you tried to lean in for another kiss, only for Leona to put some distance between the two of you once again. "Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yes." Then you pulled him to your lips by tugging on his hair, ripping a raspy groan from the lion beastman as his arm snaked around you to pull you closer to his chest. The two press of your lips together made your nerves fire off as if they were being electrocuted every millisecond, your hands grabbing and pulling at the prince's clothing as he clumsily carried you to the couch before he placed you down and started to pull off your clothing. Whatever the scent in the air was doing, it made the both of you feel closer to wild animals in heat.

As if you couldn't get enough of each other.

And quite frankly? The both of you didn't want to.

[amerricanartwork]

Fat-Shaming

Technically, Pebbles is right here, but I think it's about time he got a taste of his own medicine!

This is technically the first true comic strip I've done... ever, it seems! I've had it in the works for at least a week, and I'm really enjoying how it turned out! It was inspired by a Reddit post I found comparing these two characters, and this silly scene just popped in my head as a result, since that part of the Gourmand campaign where Pebbles makes little side-insults about your weight will never not be amusing to me. Probably requires more context to get than the previous, but I hope you still found it funny!

Also, a headcanon of sorts below, if you want some more serious ideas:

I like the idea that Five Pebbles has a particular disdain for Gourmand, not just because he's the polar opposite in many ways, but because Gourmand represents everything Five Pebbles and the Ancients sought to overcome: indulgence, attachment to the pleasures of life, attachment to family, having low aspirations, accepting your place in life, accepting life in general the way it is.

I also like to think part of it comes from jealousy — this fat, lazy animal barely scratching the surface of civilization is both able to enjoy all the pleasures of life AND ascend whenever he wants, meanwhile the near-godlike supercomputer far more intelligent than this creature could even hope to fathom in a century is stuck just standing there, abandoned by his creators, trying to solve an unsolvable problem while he literally rots away? He'll hardly admit it, but it really does feel quite unfair, if you ask him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I'm curious to see how my ideas for Five Pebbles evolve over time. As of now, I actually have like, half the campaigns to finish still (did Survivor and Monk, and just about to complete my Gourmand run), so my ideas of his character may not be the most accurate right now. From the glimpses I've gained through fanart and such, there seems to be so much more to the story of the Ancients and their iterators, and it's tragic at that. Needless to say, though I usually don't like tragedy, I'm very curious to see the rest of that story...

[captain-hawks]

BEST FRIENDS & BAD IDEAS

♡ — jean kirstein x f!reader

Big aspirations and even bigger dildos—in which a poorly thought out plan makes it incredibly hard to act like your feelings for Jean Kirstein are platonic. Not when they’re anything but. And especially not when you’re half naked in his lap.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.7k

prompt — cockwarming, creampie

additional content — NSFW, 18+, best friends to lovers speed run, dildo use, implied masturbation, unprotected p in v, praise kink, jean kirstein’s big dick

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” Jean growls, and his low, rough tone sends you off-kilter, shoving you headfirst over the precarious edge you’ve been foolishly dangling from.

In retrospect, perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.

–

In the long list of questionable decisions you’ve made today, one of the first catalysts guaranteeing inevitable disaster was your lack of foresight to lock your bedroom door before stripping off your shorts and underwear and preparing to lower yourself down onto the ridiculously large dildo that had been delivered in an even more comically large Amazon box this morning. 

Your best friend of many years and college roommate, Jean Kirstein, came home just as your makeshift “stand”—you’d hastily attached the suction cup at the base of the dildo to the last clean plate in the cabinet for lack of a better surface—went flying across the rug, ripping the few inches you’d manage to ease down onto right out of your lube-slick channel. You’d hit the floor with a thud, growling in frustration. This, understandably, had the unfortunate effect of attracting the concern of said roommate, who swiftly burst into your room as if you were in the middle of being robbed. 

The concern quickly morphed into hysterics as he spotted the giant purple dildo wiggling uselessly a few feet away from where you were lying on your stomach, punching the carpet and yelling at him to get out with as much dignity as you could muster.

“That’s my shirt,” he commented dryly, ignoring your pleas for him to forget everything he had just seen. 

“Well it was in my drawer,” you spat back, trying to push the dildo-plate behind you, although the damage was already done.

Jean leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I have so many questions.”

“Our business hours are between 8 and 5, so you’ll have to call back tomorrow. Sorry,” you said with a dismissive wave, subtly kicking the plate and dildo beneath the bed. 

The suction cup chose that moment to pop off, and all ten inches came rolling back into view right where a bar of sunlight was stretching across the floor from the window. It would have almost looked artsy. 

If it weren’t a fucking dildo.

“I thought you ordered a lamp,” he observed mildly, motioning to the huge cardboard box you’d yet to take out to the recycling bin. 

“I’m gonna order you a fleshlight if you don’t shut up,” you grumbled, shoving on a pair of sweatpants.

Jean crinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair. “That thing’s so big, the landlord might start charging us for three tenants if he sees it. Is this a cry for help?”

“I’m trying to prepare myself for seducing Eren at the party Saturday night,” you whisper-yelled, as if anyone else was going to overhear you in your otherwise empty apartment. 

“Jaeger?!” he barked out with a disbelieving laugh. 

“Everyone says he’s huge. I don’t want it to be a disaster.”

“He’s not that fucking big!” he exclaimed incredulously. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can you like, go be somewhere tonight? Go get so high with Conny you forget you saw anything? I’m gonna go try in the bathroom instead.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own apartment so you can shove a giant, sparkly purple dildo inside of yourself imagining it’s Jaeger’s dork ass?”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Jean.”

He groaned. “The bathroom sounds like an even worse idea. You’ll slip, hit your head on something, blood will go everywhere, and we’ll lose the security deposit.”

“Or my plan will work, I’ll get laid this weekend, and you can stop complaining about how grumpy I’ve been lately,” you reasoned matter-of-factly. 

Jean’s hand came to rest on your shoulder as you attempted to push past him to leave the room, aforementioned dildo jiggling menacingly in your hand. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he said a little more softly, raising a brow as he cast another look at the offending object.

“I have lube!” you shot back defensively.

Jean glanced up at the ceiling, muttering something about regret under his breath before exhaling, “Let me help you.”

–

In all the years that you’ve known Jean, you’ve done an excellent job at keeping your little crush on him your best kept secret. A secret kept under the most formidable lock and key, buried deep in the depths of your psyche. Tucked away in the very back of a dusty, old cabinet like an expired can of corn. 

Objectively, you know Jean’s handsome. You’re well aware. 

With his intense, hazel eyes—ones that see everything. 

His tall, solid form. 

His sinfully curved, pink lips (and his habit of idly sliding his tongue along the bottom one). 

His long, dexterous fingers—a dangerous thought. 

That fucking mullet he let grow in, which shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is when he rolls right out of bed and leaves his room looking like a pillow-rumpled supermodel. 

He’s hot, okay?

And sure, you’ve drunkenly kissed at a few parties over the years. Jean’s seen your ass more times than you can count. Definitely your boobs that time he ran into the bathroom to puke while you were showering. Sometimes he has a habit of putting his head on your lap when you’re both on the couch, nudging you till you card your hands through his soft brown hair like a damn dog. 

But it’s always been platonic. 

Friendly. 

Two people who are just very, very comfortable with one another. Comfortable in knowing that neither intends to ruin their stable, solid friendship by carelessly sprinkling feelings into the mix. 

Comfortably going so far as to share the sordid details of your sex lives (or lack thereof, lately) while leaning against the kitchen counter eating take out food without batting an eye—though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to one up him sometimes when you feel that familiar, unwelcome twinge of jealousy yawning awake inside of you.

But this?

This is asking too much of your restraint to keep your heart walled off and your mouth clamped shut. In your defense, it was already left in pitiful tatters after grinning-and-bearing it throughout the seven-month-long nightmare that was Jean dating fucking Pieck. 

—

The next phase of your slew of terrible ideas today began with Jean sitting at the head of your bed, back against the wall, holding the dildo between his legs. Like your own personal fucking dildo holder. Grinning like this wasn’t the single most awkward thing the two of you have ever done (save for the time you both fell asleep with your head in his lap on the couch and woke up to his accidental boner poking you in the ear—neither of you ever mentioned that again). 

And it would have been totally fine if it worked out like you imagined in your head the moment he pitched it—you sinking down onto the silicone schlong a few times, stuffing in as much as you could while he held it still. Then letting him carry on with his day while you lay there in bed for a little while with it lodged inside of you, getting yourself used to the stretch. Totally fine. 

The reality of the situation was far different, entailing a sticky, slippery mess of lube coating of your hands and a dildo that bent and flopped in every direction as you tried to carefully impale yourself on it while maintaining some sense of dignity. 

You had given up fairly quickly, butting your head against Jean’s collarbone and sighing as you asked if he thought Eren would go slow. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“…do you trust me?” Jean had asked carefully, like his next suggestion wasn’t going to send you spiraling.

Like “Just sit on my dick, as a friend!” wasn’t the most fucking confusing statement your heart, brain, and vagina had ever heard.

–

Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament, straddling Jean Kirstein’s lap with far more inches of him than you’d realized he’d been keeping tucked away buried to the hilt in the velvety heat between your thighs. Raw, skin-to-fucking-skin, because you’re both in a miserable dry spell with not a single condom to be found between the two of you. And somehow the combination of “known you for half of my life” and “just got tested” and “IUD” sounded better than one of you being tasked with trudging to the pharmacy.

Or, god fucking forbid, going down one floor to ask Conny for one.

Nope. 

You have three days to prepare yourself for whatever may come with Eren, so sitting on your best friend’s intimidatingly large dick sans condom the least of your worries. Even if it feels so incredible you’re literally silently choking on the moan threatening to spill past your lips. 

Even if you fucking swear you heard his breath hitch when the thick head of his cock began to slip past your entrance, stretching you open wide as he breached your damp channel. 

Even if he hardly had to touch himself to get hard for this. 

Even if his gaze darkened when you choked out, “Jean, your dick is huge.”

This was a terrible idea. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

“Doing what?!” you ask, exasperated.

He rests his hands on your waist, “Doing this,” and squeezes firmly, “on my dick.”

“This isn’t even sex,” you tell him, ignoring the way the close proximity of his hazel eyes sets a flurry of emotion stuttering in your chest. “It’s like, cockwarming at best. You can’t come from cockwarming if you’re not even turned on.”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know how tight you are?”

“That’s obviously why I was worried about Ere—”

“It’s like this,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your throat. It’s a loose hold, only meant to prove a snarky point, but a spark of arousal seeps through your body anyway at the mere suggestion. His eyes widen a fraction at the traitorous way your walls clamp down on him even harder in response. “What, you into being choked?”

“I’m into a lot of things, Jeanie,” you tell him haughtily, trying to ignore the heat blistering beneath your skin.

“Like dumb idiots named Eren Jaeger?” he counters, making to grab for the tongue you’re currently sticking out at him. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think Jean sounds like he’s jealous. 

Which he definitely isn’t. 

But you poke the bear anyway. 

“What, are you jealous?”

He shifts slightly, and you bite your lip to stifle the moan as your cunt spasms around the pressure from his cock. 

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, his brow furrows as the corners of his mouth tilt downward slightly. “I just think you deserve better.”

You tug on his earlobe, letting out a weak laugh in an attempt to dispel the sticky, messy feeling of hope trying desperately to cling to the arousal stirring in your gut. “Says the guy who’s currently fucking me.”

Jean scoffs and deadpans, “I thought this wasn’t sex.”

Who are you kidding? Certainly not the tension coiling ruthlessly in your abdomen. 

You move a little, trying and failing to relieve the sensation of hot wax dripping down your spine. Instead, you let out a tiny, strangled noise when your throbbing clit presses down against his pelvis, the resulting flood of pleasure setting every nerve ending in your body on fire.

The way he growls out your name through gritted teeth is a warning, but his low tone only serves to stoke the flames licking their way up between your thighs. 

You move again, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly, head hitting the wall behind him with a resounding thud. 

You’re not sure if he does it on purpose, but his hands find their way back to your hips, calloused fingertips pressing directly against your skin as he slides them up beneath your shirt. His shirt. 

The next time you rock against him, his grip on you tightens. And then, you feel it—he tugs you forward. 

You lean further into him, without really meaning to, forehead coming to rest against his. “What are we…”

“Just keep going,” he murmurs. 

He shifts again, sinking down lower so his back is pressed against the mattress, and you realize the angle gives you more purchase to grind down against him when he pulls at your waist, thumbs lazily skimming your hip bones. 

“Jean…” you whisper, not really sure what else you intend to say. 

“I want you to feel good,” he says softly, pushing his hips against you, even though he’s snugly bottomed out. 

It feels so fucking good—

—laying atop Jean while he stares back up at you, pupils clearly dilated in arousal—

—watching his eyes fall shut as you run a hand along the stubble on his jaw—

—knowing he’s well aware the slickness between your legs is no longer from the lube, your cunt gushing with arousal at the feeling of being stuffed deep with his thick cock. 

So you tell yourself you’ll figure the rest out later when you start to shamelessly grind down against him. 

“You don’t have to be quiet for me,” Jean teases when you cough to cover up a gasp.

Your answering moan is nearly a whimper, and Jean’s muscles tense beneath you as he continues to guide your hips. He doesn’t try to pull his cock out from where it’s lodged inside of you, doesn’t start thrusting and fucking up into you. He just lets you chase the clitoral stimulation you so desperately need while you’re cockwarming him, groaning along with you at each needy drag. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

This is far more intimate than you bargained for, the gentle slide of his hands up your back scraping your heart out bit-by-bit. 

“Holy shit, you don’t know how close I am to coming right now,” he moans in a gravelly, unsteady tone. 

All you can do is whimper his name when the rubber band suddenly snaps in response, your body trembling as a wave of white-hot pleasure crashes over you. 

And then Jean’s hands are cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours. He kisses you fiercely as you whine and shudder through your orgasm, moaning into your mouth as you card your fingers through his hair. You can feel his cock throb inside of you, pulsing with need as your tight cunt spasms and contracts, relentlessly squeezing his shaft while you soak him with your release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s groaning, both of you too drunk on pleasure to move when he suddenly climaxes, cock pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep in your pussy. 

Chests heaving, Jean slowly sits up, forehead falling against your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

After a few minutes of silence, he finally murmurs, “Don’t fuck Jaeger.”

You tilt his head upward, finger resting just below his chin, skimming the stubble that’s there. Too many emotions are swimming in his hazel eyes, more than you can identify—save for one that you recognize with a jolt of clarity. It’s the way you look at him, when he’s not paying attention.

Longing. 

Desire. 

Soft, gentle, unfiltered affection. 

This time, you’re the one to close the distance between your mouths, brushing your lips against his. 

“Who?” you ask, smiling into the kiss. 

Jean chuckles, the sound like warm honey, and he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of your head. Though you remain seated on his softening length, cum begins to seep from your slick heat, pooling on his balls and abdomen. 

He goes to move, but you don’t budge. “You wanna get cleaned up?”

You shake your head, the corner of your mouth tilting upward with a smirk. “I’m comfortable.”

Jean bites his lower lip, huffing, “My cum’s dripping all over, and I’m two seconds from getting hard again if you keep squeezing down on me like that.”

Feigning a look of innocence, you flex the muscles in your tight, soaked channel one more time for good measure. He chokes, and you grin. 

“Good.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Devil in Disguise

[A/N: Let's just pretend this isn't like two weeks overdue, mmkay?]

🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤

Request: Jethro Gibbs x female reader (possession, brat/brat tamer dynamic)

“Tell me you’re not wearing that right now.”

Pressing your phone closer to one ear and your finger into the other, you say, “What? It’s so loud hear, Jay, I can’t hear you.”

“I said-”

“Hang on.” Snagging a fresh beer from the cooler, you pass your favorite colleague on your way to the balcony and mouth, It’s Jethro, by way of an explanation for your absence for the next few minutes. She nods in understanding before throwing you an exaggerated wink, and you indulge in a smile back. “Okay,” you breathe once out in the fresh air. Music is still pumping from inside the building, but it’s at a much more reasonable level with the door closed behind you. “What’s up, baby?”

“What’s up? What’s up?”

“Mhm,” you respond easily, masking your delighted giggle with a pull from your beer.

“I found your little… gift,” he grumbles. “That’s what’s up.”

“You like it?”

He peruses the Polaroids spread out across the coffee table featuring you in a “Halloween costume” -that, to him, looks better suited for roleplay in the bedroom- in various suggestive positions. You had been kind enough to sneak the stack into Jethro’s current nightly read so that the photos would fall out as he settled into the couch to pass the time before you returned home.

“What do you think, brat?” he growls lightly, pulling one photo of you kneeling before the mirror in your bedroom closer to admire the way your lacy red lingerie peeks out from beneath your white skirt.

You hum in mock contemplation on the other end of the line before settling on, “Sounds like you like ‘em a lot.”

“I want to take you over my lap for wearing it out of the house without me there to ward off any straying eyes. And then I want to rip it off with my teeth.”

You inhale a sharp breath, then produce a dumbfounded albeit excited, “Oh.” 

“Yeah. Oh. When are you coming home?”

“A few hours?” you guess. “I didn’t expect your case to wrap up tonight.”

He grunts by way of a response, ever the poet. Then, “Are you having fun at least?”

An idea pops into your head, and you grin to yourself. “Not as much fun as I could be having, but yes. I’ll see you at home, okay? Love you, handsome.”

“Call me when you’re ready for me to come get you,” he says, one of his many versions of I love you. “See you later, honey.”

After catching up with your coworkers and downing some more liquid courage, you sneak off to the nearest bathroom, securely closing and locking the door behind you. You hike your leg up on the counter to show off your lacy underwear and tug your top down enough to free your tits from the confines of your push-up bra before snapping a picture with an angelic smile to complement your all-white outfit and wings. 

You type out, If only I had a strong, sturdy gunnery sergeant to teach me a lesson about respecting my elders… and send your text off with a sly grin before righting yourself and returning to the party.

You can’t help checking your phone and watching the minutes tick by without a response, wondering if your old man is upset with your bratty teasing- or if he even managed to open the attachment on his ancient device.

When you look up from checking your phone for the twelfth time in as many minutes, you find your friend’s eyes widening comically as she quietly announces, “Boyfriend at six o’clock and he does not look happy.”

Before you can even process her words, you find yourself hoisted into the air, your angel wings flapping in protest as you settle over Jethro’s solid shoulder. “Took you long enough,” you huff with faux indignance. Even without looking, he knows your lips are turned downward in a pout and your arms are crossed.

“Yeah?” he rumbles out, waiting until you’ve exited the building and are away from prying eyes to land a firm smack to your ass. You let out a yelp and he asks, “This what you wanted?”

“Pretty much,” you admit, shooting him a cheeky grin when he lays you down across the backseat of his truck before climbing in between your spread legs.

Jethro shakes his head with a laugh, plucking a stray feather from your fake wings off his shoulder. Then he leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, and you can’t help but moan and buck up against him in response. “Need you,” you whine, using the collar of his polo shirt as leverage to pull him closer.

“I know,” he soothes quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth while his fingers hook into your panties to tug them down your legs. His eyes grow a shade darker when you squirm beneath him with a whimper, the dim overhead car light reflecting in the wetness coating your upper thighs. “But first I need to teach my little angel a lesson about respecting her elders.”

[bendycxmet]

You can run with this idea however you’d like I just needed to get this thought out there and share it… Yknow how Vash’s earring connects to his pen and he can hear through it. What if he hears more than he bargained for with the reader.

thank you so much for this omg i had so many thoughts for the rest of the day when i read this. anyway, enjoy!

tw: nsfw 18+ MDNI, masturbation, accidental voyeurism

Do You Copy?

Vash sits quietly at the inn desk, the dingy metal lamp on the corner the only thing providing him warm light as his nimble, quick fingers quickly clean his gun. He sits with his leg crossed over on his other knee, his eyes flitting between you and the silver piece in his hands. You’ve been pacing around the room, gesticulating and voicing your dismay to the plan he had just told you. About five minutes ago. 

Vash finally swipes his gun clean with a piece of cloth, popping the barrel out to load his gun with bullets he may or may not even use in the first place. You stop your verbal train of thought, tapping your foot until he looks back up at you. “May I say something?” he inquiries gently. You huff, tilting your head, waiting for whatever response that you will undoubtedly disagree with. 

“I will be in and out before you can even say my full name.” That forces a laugh out of you. Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gombigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andri Charton-Haymoss Ivanovici Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser III. Say that five times.

“Ok, I see that you have made your decision, but because that decision is incredibly dumb, I am choosing to ignore it.” you cross your arms, turning your nose up at him and hoping that will change his mind. Not a chance, of course. Vash will always place your safety above his own. 

He slowly approaches you, uncrossing your arms and holding your hands in each of his own, warm and cold to the touch. “I promise you I will be back in time to share those donuts with you in the morning. I’ll even bring the paper so we can read those silly comics you like.” Your heart warms. He really remembers all the little details about you. “I will be safe, just for you.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek to protest the oncoming smile. “Fine. You better keep this promise Vash the Stampede. Pinky promise me?” Your smile slips through at his teasing groan. 

His pinky intertwines with yours. “I promise. But you know I hate when you call me by my full name!” 

—

You sit cross-legged on the dusty bed, worrying your lip between your teeth. It’s bloody at this point. The clock in the corner of the room reads close to 1am. He’s been gone for four hours. Too long in your book. 

You begin to feel the anxiety eat away at your nerves, fraying the ends. Throwing yourself back on the bed, you growl into your hands. You need a distraction. A sudden thought strikes you. A rather…unpure one. 

It’s been a while since the last time you were able to touch yourself. Traveling with Vash, the man who has your heart constantly in his hands, although oblivious to that fact, prevents you from relieving any sexual tension you feel. Especially when everything he does gets you hot beneath the collar. His figure not quite so hidden beneath his coat, his thighs that jut out when you two are running from imminent danger, the natural smell of him when you two cozy up on cold desert nights, the quickness in how he handled his gun earlier…

With enough fantasies now running through your mind, you shuck off the clothes that are now beginning to warm you up too quickly, sneaking a hand downward. You imagine how those gloved hands would touch you, guide you, slowing you down when you would hasten your movements as you near your climax, Vash’s face near your ear whispering sweet nothings. You begin to move your hand, rubbing yourself slowly, wanting to enjoy your alone time.

That’s right angel, just like that. Always so perfect for me. You keen as your imagination takes the fantasy in full swing now. As your fingers increase the pressure right up against your most sensitive spots, you swear the warmth of your hand turns into a metallic cold, your slick making the glide much easier as your pace picks up. You remember it is late, and that the other patrons in the hotel must be fast asleep. Searching for something to bite into to muffle your noises, you spot the pen Vash lent you. You clamp your teeth around the metal shaft, your fingers picking their pace back up as you have a fleeting thought that the pen trapped between your lips is instead one of Vash’s prosthetic fingers, prodding your mouth open so he can hear you.

—

The hallways are shrouded in darkness, two guards standing off to the side of a solo door down at the hall. Vash peers from around the corner, mapping his route. He feels bad for leaving you alone for so long on such a beautiful night. The outlaw he thwarted earlier in the week had more help than he imagined. Plus a network of tunnels connected to his hideout. 

He takes a silent, deep inhale, steel-toed boot shifting slightly, ready to round the corner until a breathy sound makes its way into his ear. 

“Vash-!” he stills, not quite believing what he’s hearing. No one else is behind him. He made sure to knock them out until morning. No, this voice was familiar. One he held close to his heart, away from the world, if only slightly muffled. Panting moans filter into his ear, interrupted by whimpers. His blood roars in his ears. Are you hurt? Did someone close to the outlaw find you?

“Yes, please right there my angel~”

All his worries are extinguished once he hears the nickname you give him. His blood now rushes down south, wetness pooling in his boxers. He fidgets, peaking back around the corner to ensure the guards weren’t alerted to the predicament he was now in. He really couldn’t go on like this, not when he’s finally hearing how you sound when you’re in the throes of pleasure. 

He spots a doorway behind him with no light coming through the bottom. He steps up to the wood, ear to the door to ensure no one is truly inside, anxious to step inside to pleasure himself along with you as your moans begin to hitch. He slips in, back to the door now, lock in place as his hand twitches at his belt. He should be a gentleman, take off his earring, and respect your privacy. He feels dirty, perverted. You two are just friends. He has told this lie to himself several times a day, not believing someone as smart and loving as you to fall in love with the catastrophe that is his entire being. As if hearing his inner monologue from miles away, your praises spew into his ear.

“Oh, Vash, you’re too good for me. So handsome, so pretty, all for me-”

He teeths off his right glove, shooting his warm hand into his pants. God, he hopes you can forgive him once he has to confess this moment to you, but he cannot deny himself any longer. Not when you’re talking to him as if he’s there with you, delivering you the pleasure you deserve for being so good for him. He bites his lip to stifle his withering whimpers.

“Hah- god keep going I’m almost there please please please,” you hiccup. Have you had these fantasies running through your mind when you two cuddle in the cold nights? During your long walks under the scorching desert suns? He didn’t take you to have such a filthy mind, especially one that constantly had him as a recurring actor in your fantasies. He grips himself harder at the thought, teeth digging harshly into his bottom lip.

Your hitched whimpers turn suddenly into sharper cries, then a satisfied moan of his name. That sound is the death of him. He turns sharply to bite at his coat collar, hoping it can quiet him as his release hits him, cum shooting inside his boxers, a sticky mess he now has to deal with for the rest of his mission. His eyes open up, hazy and glossed over as he slides down the door, catching his breath.

You had calmed your breathing and thundering heart rate just a few moments prior, now frozen in your place on the bed. Did you hear…whimpering…coming from the pen in your mouth? You spit the writing tool out of your mouth, now wet with your saliva. You recall the conversation you had with Vash earlier that day.

“Have you always had one pen on you? Why does this one look so elegant too? It’s the nicest pen I’ve ever seen.” He hums, chuckling as your fingers smooth over the metal, wishing you could touch his arm like that- he’s getting sidetracked.

“Lost tech, actually. Wanna see a neat trick? Press the button on the side.” Once you press your finger against the button, he greets you from across the room, only for the pen in your hand to echo him. “My earring is connected to it. For easy communication when we aren’t near each other. Consider it a gift!”

Your hand flies to your mouth. So he definitely just heard everything. You shut your eyes in embarrassment, but the pleasure that now simmers in your veins begs for you to take action–to say to hell with it. If he seemingly rubbed one out to you pleasuring yourself, he has to like you in some way. You take a deep inhale, pressing the button again. 

“You done there? You better hurry on back. I’m sure you could tell how…desperate I am to have you back now.” A loud yelp rings back, distant shouting ensuing right after.

“Um- I. Well got to go! See you soon!” comes Vash’s rushed reply before shots ring out.

You smirk to yourself. What a conversation this will be when he’s back. 

A/N: >:) :D >:) me when i get silly in the middle of smut. spot the lil marvel reference? anyway that hoop earring is *versatile* it will now be used for several things in future missions. thanks for reading!

masterlist

divider

[gin-juice-tonic]

can i ask how youre able to make so many comics or if you have any tips for aspiring internet funny comic makers? your gag comics are always so creative and funny and well-executed, and your longer form stuff is just a delight to read, i would love to know if u have any advice/insight into yr process

I'm not good at advice so you will have to bear with me here. Also I'm putting it under a readmore cause images make it into a long post. The like first 3/4th of this I talk about specific comics I did, but if you scroll to the end I tried to give some general advice.

My stuff is unfortunately very inspiration-based as opposed to planning-based. So my process might not be helpful if you're looking for something structured... The first thing I should say is I write down basically anything that pops into my head ever. I have a bunch of nonsensical tumblr drafts,

I have stuff in my phones notes app,

I have pages and pages of papers and post-it notes littering my apartment (if you want to know the extent, my sister asked me how I could live with my apartment being so "messy". The only messy thing in it is my papers scattered about). I find the paper stuff the best, because I can draw instead of just writing down concepts.

This is the page I did for the comic about Stan "comforting" Dipper over his unrequited crush on Wendy. (The tumblr version being here)

You will notice aside from the order on the page being strange and some scratched out dialogue, there's not really evidence of a 'plan' here. That's because I was just drawing this as I was thinking it. You will also notice there are two random unrelated Ford drawings in the middle of the page. That's because I was drawing ANYTHING that I was thinking of.

And when I say write down anything, I do mean it. Write down something you did that week, something you remember from when you were 8, something you said out loud and laughed at, things you thought about in the shower, a fact you learned, what your friend had for dinner. See if you can apply it to something. I've mentioned before that this comic only exists because I ran out of toilet paper and went to buy a large bulk pack of it...

When I already have a base idea and just want to expand on it, I usually draw first ask questions later, and things seem to just snowball into being a story. As an example, for the comic I did about Dipper's swimsuit, the base idea was just "Dipper and Stan both wear fully covering swimwear - because they're trans and its what they're comfortable with." But when I went to look up what Dipper wore to the pool, i noticed mabel had a Star one piece suit

Dipper has a star hat in the first episode that he loses, right? SO why don't we give him a matching star one piece that he abandons.

Of course then that single drawing CREATES the story, because we have to explain how he eventually ends up in what he's wearing in the episode. And then I just draw and draw and draw until either the comic ends or I can't continue for whatever reason. The outline for the full thing usually forms while I'm drawing. If I'm worried about forgetting, I'll write down what comes next.

Some of this stuff I didn't stick to, or greatly expanded upon. It's good to be flexible with what you're doing. If something you originally intended only to be a throwaway bit inspires you, roll with it and keep going. (If it ends up being nothing, you can always discard it or turn it into something else later anyway)

I did the swimsuit one basically fully on my computer, but if you want to see another paper based one, a lot of the comic with the kid stans and crampelter I'm doing currently is down on paper.

If you can make out my writing, you can see it says "Crampelter has found out about Stan and Ford's boxing identities" at the top there, which was the general main idea of this part of the comic. This one was a lot more planned than the dipper swimsuit one. There's multiple pages of this sort of stuff, and I knew the idea I wanted was "If Ford and Stan are trans, why would they still be called those names as kids?" (So I guess the takeaway from this one is if you're wanting a structured comic, write down the main idea on the top of a page and brainstorm dialogue and drawings on it?)

There's a lot of sort of floating heads with dialogue, all that matters is I get the emotions or general idea drawn. They're important for me to draw out because being able to "see" the scene (even if I'm seeing it heavily unfinished) is what usually inspires the next bit of the comic.

And I know I talked like a lot already but some general other advice:

Draw, ask questions about what you've drawn, draw more to answer the questions, see if those new drawings ask any new questions, continue this process till you come to a satisfying resolution.

It's fine to not draw something immediately after you've thought of it. I have a lot of things I've just squirreled away for later. And in the same vein its okay to drag something old up that you've never used and try to work with it.

I almost always put on music while I'm trying to think of things. Something I feel fits the mood of what I'm doing tonally. And then I usually just put the same song on repeat, though some people im sure would feel like that is psychological torture. But its helpful to me.

This might sound silly if you're someone who leaves the house a societally normal amount, but I try to go out into the world and do things so I get new ideas and experiences I can build on. Sometimes those things are literally just "go to the park", but sometimes it's venturing out somewhere several hours away or doing an activity i'd never care to do normally... I try to take note of anything that stood out to me and write down thoughts or feelings I had during.

When it comes to trying to be "funny", you should try to make yourself laugh first. Not only because you want your comics to bring yourself joy, but also because its just hard to make stuff you don't care about (And harder to be consistent about it). Though if you think of something and you don't really think its funny, you don't have to throw it away! You might be surprised what other people end up liking. So don't kill yourself to write jokes you yourself don't really get, but if your brain spits out something on its own you dont care much for, it still may be gold to someone else.

It's okay to make comics about simple and relatable things. People love relating. And depending on what you're writing about, that relatability may be really needed!

Everyone has something of value to say. Even if you yourself don't feel like the things you're saying matter, or that they're too silly or un-serious to matter. They matter.

[pansy-picnics]

First off I need to just mention that your Uknighted dream art is top tier elite and i am in love. Like you have no idea.

Okay, now thats said, do you have any soft ot3 headcanons/scenes that you can imagine happening but can’t figure out how to write etc etc.? 💕

God is all of them an option bc the answer is all of them

I SWEAR I. HAVE SO MANY IDEAS AND THOUGHTS TAKING UP SPACE IN MY BRAIN (Both for ukd and for the entire family tbh) that i just CANNOT bring myself to draw or write or anything. If i had the time to be able to draw everything that popped in my head it would be OVER for yall i stg. And then theres my in progress fic i have up right now which i last updated in like (checks notes) January but i swear i’ve been THINKING about updating it again and that counts right

- Ummm. this is just something i find very funny but i absolutely love the idea that before they “Formally” announce their relationship, the public have just been spreading rumors left and right about the princess’s “affair”. cass and rapunzel somehow NEVER notice this but for a while it seems like eugene cant go ANYWHERE without someone either awkwardly being like “Soooo how are things going with the princess ^_^;;;” or just straight up asking “Hey is your wife cheating on you?” with no hesitation.

and eugene, being the attention whore he is obviously just Went with it and was like “Well yeah duh. Who do you think set them up”

EVERYONE GOES CRAZY.

before long literally EVERYONE has heard about it. rapunzel’s fucking Parents have heard about it. people in other KINGDOMS have heard about it. Meanwhile eugene’s having the time of his Life. He’s got disguises just to go in and listen in on the servants’ gossip. at this point he’s just started Making shit up and every day he’s spreading a proposition thats somehow even more absurd than the last. Most of them don’t even make sense. Like “Oh yeah no the reason rapunzel and cass are always sneaking off together isn’t because they’re having a steamy love affair it’s actually because they’ve been making blood sacrifices to the underworld to make sure zhan tiri never returns. Just girl things yk?”

“No see you’ve got it all wrong thats not cassandra at all. That’s shorty. He and rapunzel are having a book club together. It’s not going very well because shorty keeps eating all the books.” Or his personal favorite, “Wait you thought RAPUNZEL was the one having the affair?” gets them EVERY TIME.

Cass and rapunzel finally declare things officially only for everyone to become even MORE confused and they finally realize eugenes been fueling the fire for the past 3 months and he had just Assumed they were already aware of it

eugene: ….Wait you guys didnt know about that?

raps: i

raps: NO????

eugene:

eugene: um. Oops

cass: THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN “OOPS”?????

- this is kind of random but i PROMISE its going somewhere bear with me. In my head eugene is NOT the captain of the guard because a character becoming a cop is literally a fate worse than death. instead i like to imagine he does some kind of social work and is also an author…Eugene has a rlly strong connection to literature and is a great storyteller, hes got a flair for the dramatic and a strong imagination and seeing how much the flynn rider books meant to him in his childhood, i think he’d absolutely want to create something like that for other people 🥹

Anyways one of my favorite ideas w them is a modern au where rapunzel and eugene are both starving artists who are making a webcomic together…Eugene is still trying to publish his first novel and is writing for the comic in the meantime. theyre aspiring towards turning it into a graphic novel. Cass is literally just forcing everyone around her to read it. You’ve already read it? Read it again /J. She’s their number one hypeman but she’s trying to act sooo chill about it to keep up her Cool stone cold butch aesthetic. She’s like going to cons with them and hands out business cards and helps sell merch and she has a side account on twitter where she gets into heated arguments with anyone who hateposts about it.

Bonus points: it’s a fantasy comic about a lost princess, her knight girlfriend and her rogue boyfriend and is loosely a reference to the events of the canon show

- OH OH something that DEFINITELY fits this category has to be the girls taking eugene to the lagoon for the first time…….I think cass and rapunzel still spend a lot of dates there just the two of them, and no matter what it is very much Their Spot ™, but after things become official it just. Doesn’t really feel right to keep it exclusively between them anymore. i have a LOTTTT of thoughts on this…..rapunzel bouncing around and showing everything to him and cass just being dragged along for the ride…picnics together by the water while cass and raps are eagerly telling him all the stories of what he missed out on. it’s their quiet place i think they escape to whenever they don’t want to be bothered at the castle LOL. eugene officiates the cassunzel wedding there….. not to mention if/when they have kids 🥹 Augh. They make sooo many memories there i think🫶🫶🫶

- Not a specific scene so much as just a silly hc but rapunzel LOVES it when they “fight” over her. Usually it’s just a playful thing and rapunzel finds it so cute and endearing. They have the exact same banter every time and the same fake “duel” for her hand and raps will NEVER get tired of it

- oh and SPA DAYS. God cassandra’s self care routines by herself have always been SHIT. I love that girl but i think she absolutely reeks. Her hair looks like something died in it and whenever it gets too long she just grabs the nearest sharp object and cuts it off in one swoop. Eugene and rapunzel are UTTERLY horrified by this and they do not let that shit fly as soon as she’s living with them. They have little self care nights at least once a week, sometimes just with the three of them and sometimes the rest of the family gets into it too, it depends on the day. eugene helps do her hair for her and they pick out all sorts of fancy products for her skin and her curls and just absolutely SPOIL her. at first shes kinda whiny about it but once she realizes how much better she feels on a day to day basis she reluctantly apologizes for ever doubting them

[sitepathos]

Hello. I know this might sound dramatic, but I want you to know that you probably save my life tonight.

I was having a really bad day. My family doesn't understand me enough to care, and maybe my issue with my family is the reason why I found comfort in Batfam fics. Today, everything just got worse. My father yelled at me for something he didn't even know, I don't know why he even had the audacity to speak when he doesn't even know the matter, and now I can't speak and yell at his face that he's wrong because I am a child and not a parent, I would be considered "disrespectful" if I wanted to speak what is right and true.

I was really begging any Gods at that point to take me. I was thinking of ways to execute myself tonight. I was planning to starve myself tomorrow and ignore today's dinner. I was planning on searching what's "Metoprolol" is because growing up as a kid, I always think that "concern" is a form of love, and maybe if they saw my dead body tonight, maybe they'll cry because they love me. I know this is bad. I know this is inappropriate to say, but when I tried to atleast make myself feel better and decided to read Batfam fics again, I saw your new chapter of From Gold to Mold and it genuinely makes everything better. I didn't want to read Chapter 3 because I saw the comments that you left it with a cliffhanger, and I hate that, and decided to wait for the next chapter instead. Ever since I saw the new chapter, I actually ate dinner, because atleast I know there's still things in this world that makes me happy. When I saw your new chapter, I asked God, "Is this your way of comforting me?", and I want you to know that your work is a form of blessing for me. I started thanking God at that moment, and told myself that I also want to thank you.

I actually don't read Batman comics, or watch Batman. I never read or watch any DC movies before, but Batfam fics is about a family that I will always desire yet never really grasp. I wish for all Batfam authors to live the life they wanted.

I am very sorry for saying this, and straight up said that I was actually considering doing it. I am very aware that this is inappropriate but I really, really, really want to tell you that you save me. I know saying that a "fanfiction" save my life sounds ridiculous, but that's where I found my comfort in, and I would be willing to be ridicule at if it means showing what genuinely makes me happy. I will always love your works even if it means showing my lack of redamancy for my family, or even hatred if I have to admit. This doesn't mean that you are a start of my rebellion. I am only stating that you are a light in my times of darkness.

Thank you.

Wow, ok, wasn’t expecting my work to have such an impact. Good to know.

First of all, I’m glad you’re enjoying the series! When this idea popped into my head, I wasn’t sure if there would be many who’d actually enjoy it. With people like you, I’m inspired to put all that I have into From Gold to Mold! I hope my future work meets and exceeds all your expectations!

Second of all, I’m so sorry that you’re going through such a rough time in your life right now. Since you were brave to share a part of you for all to see, I’ll share something, too. About five years ago, my mother was a major junkie. With that, plus her narcissism, led her to divorcing my stepdad (who brought me out of my shell and made me a better version of myself) and moved us to my grandmother’s house after my grandfather died after battling lung cancer. Living with her was a nightmare, constantly walking around eggshells for fear of pissing her off, her stealing money from my grandmother, and yelling at everyone. She was always riding my ass to get a job just so she could take money from me. Early 2020, she was finally evicted and it’s just my grandmother and I living together.

She’s actually cleaned herself up and we enjoy a decent relationship.

So, while things look horrible and it may take a while, things do get better. I’m rooting for you.

[gabessquishytum]

This has been haunting my head forever, but as we all know Robert Smith was the leading inspiration for Dream in the comics with more than a bit of Neil sprinkled in there (and a few other goth rock bands like Bauhaus' Peter Murphy) and I just can't get over the image of a goth rockstar Dream.

It's the late 70s, and our boy Dream is riding a creative high of LSD and pedal effects to the top of the pops. They're calling the band he fronts, name and members are up to you or whoever takes this idea on, Goth bc they're too dark for New Wave but are just upbeat enough to steer clear of Televison's particular brand of Post-Punk. It's a newer label but a fitting one considering how dour and moody the genre has gotten since Ian Curtis's death. One he despises as he claims he's very happy with his current success and how his life is going.

But he's not happy. He hates playing to the newly forming stereotype of his fans, but he isn't. Celebrity Marriages hardly ever last and his relationship with his novelist wife is crumbling around him. He loves his son but the touring schedule is killing all of his free time. He's also pretty deep into substance abuse but he wouldn't admit it to his big sister let alone the random journo who has a camera in his face while he's trying to catch a 5:30 am flight to start his newest tour. He's just burnt out and creatively stuck as the label tries to pigeonhole him into this new subgenre, which he doesn't want anymore. Life, his life, can't be doom and gloom forever even though that's where it looks like it's heading. Forever being hailed as the Nightmare King.

Meanwhile, three radio stations over, Hob Gadling is desperately trying to hang onto life. He's a bit older now than when he first broke out onto the music scene as a rambunctious coat rider of the Sex Pistols, but he's still going strong. Punk has always been his outlet. Life sucks and you keep on living despite it. It tried to kill him not long after he debuted with substance use, but he powered through it and got clean. His wife died in childbirth, but he stuck around to raise his son. He even took a three-year hiatus and completely missed how much the sound had changed from his younger years. Even as post-punk has risen in popularity and the friends he knew have either died or changed their sound completely, he won't give up hope! Punk's not dead and neither is he. No matter how long his hair gets or if he grows out of his leather jacket.

The two meet rather coincidentally. Hob just happens to be opening for Dream on the Europe leg of his tour. Unsurprisingly the tension around Dream's band has become a powder keg and when he finally snaps and fires his guitarist, his bassist also leaves. With half the band gone, Dream considers calling it quits right then and there. Fuck the new album, fuck the last fifteen or so dates. He wants to go home. But Hob sees how close they are to finishing the tour and puts his foot down. They will finish the tour! So he offers up his services to Dream. He's not bad with a guitar and if Dream can cover the bass, then he'll play all night if he has to. Because out there on stage? That's life and he wants to keep making people happy and give them something that might transcend time and space. To never die bc his name is there among the annuls of rock history.

And in time, Dream will come around to his new friend. He will learn to appreciate the zest for performing and living his new friend has. He will also think he has the greatest body known to man and will forever laugh at the terribly done anarchy A Hob has tattooed on his ass, but that's neither for here or there. For now, Dream pulls himself together and gets his bass out from the dark pits of hell the roadies call gear storage. For the show must go on.

Oh god I want an entire novel length story around this. It’s fantastic! I have so many thoughts about these two!!

Hob is falling in love with all the new sounds that he’s hearing. He spent his time on his hiatus being a suburban dad, and now he’s back on the scene is just feels amazing. He can’t get enough of Roxy Music and David Bowie and Elvis Costello. And he’s determined to drag himself back up among those names! He’s got so many ideas of where punk can go! And he’s fascinated by Dream and his band. The lyrics are a little dark and wallowy, but Hob understands that actually people need to hear that. Life in the UK isn’t easy, particularly for young people. They need something loud and desperate and real. Little does he know, Dream feels like what he’s doing is so far away from being real. He feels likes such a fraud. He can’t get off the hamster wheel except by shooting up and passing out.

Hob recognises all of this in approximately 0.5 seconds after meeting Dream. It makes him pretty sad, but he’s determined that he’ll lift Dream out of his funk. If nothing else, he’ll make him love music again.

So when Hob said he was OK with a guitar, he was lying - he's actually a bit of a genius, and it's fair to say that Dream falls a little bit in love with him about half way through the sound check. Instead of hiding in the dressing room and licking his wounds over the band breaking up, he actually watches as Hob opens for him. Hob is very classic punk, it's all very "fuck the government, fuck me up the arse" kind of stuff, but Dream doesn't get bored for a single second. Hob is just that entertaining, and his riffs are insane. Dream itches to write a song for him. And when Hob ends the set with a jokey little song that his five year old son allegedy wrote the lyrics for (lil Robyn is very punk, just like his daddy) Dream’s eyes actually get a bit misty. It's probably all the smoke.

And there's really no time to get emotional! Dream’s drummer, Constantine, thankfully didn't walk out with the rest of them. So somehow, with Hob’s virtuosic guitar skills and sheer determination, plus Dream’s refusal to fail yet again, they actually make a really decent show. Dream feels a tingle of the old spark that he used to get when he first started out - it probably has something to do with the way Hob upends a bottle of water all over his head half way through the show and grins like a maniac.

After the show they crash in a local hotel. Hob calls his kid from the payphone and Dream wishes that he had the courage to do the same. Instead he takes some pills so he doesn't have to feel the high from the show gradually wearing off into nothingness. He doesn't know why Hob comes and sits next to him in the dark, pressing against him from thigh to shoulder. He stays for the whole of Dream’s trip, in fact, humming something quiet and classic. Dream feels quite ashamed of himself, and for the first time he thinks that maybe he'd feel better without the drugs. Maybe.

As the tour gets off to a slow start, Dream starts to notice that Hob is having some kind of positive effect on him. Just little thing. They get breakfast together, so Dream actually eats something, which is unusual. Their little arguments don't get out of hand, because Hob never lets them escalate. When Dream is angry and spitting at the world, Hob is sure to point of something positive. Not that Hob doesn't get sad, too - he just deals with it differently. He goes for long walks, and turns off the news when it gets bad. He gets himself a snack when he's irritable, and laughs about it afterwards.

Dream writes him a near impossible guitar solo and it feels like a "thank you".

They have a sweet, unexpected first kiss. It's 2am and they're standing at the edge of the road, waiting for a mechanic to come out to their broken down tour bus. There's no one around to see, so Dream rests his head on Hob’s shoulder. He's sore, and weary. Hob turns his head slightly and tucks an arm around him, and it just happens. They kiss. It is, of course, the first of many.

And you can bet that Dream kisses that anarchy tattoo a million time, too.

[little-miss-no-namee]

A fictional disease

part 2

There's a fictional disease that I started inventing when I was a child and it hasn't left my head since the day the idea started appearing, but I never talked about it with anyone because who would want to hear me ramble about a fictional disease that popped into my head? I hope you want :)

I called it ID (Ink Decay), but I hate that name so if anyone has a better name please let me know.

This disease develops randomly in the person's body, it causes the person's body to start producing a substance that looks like thick black ink, but chemically it is much more similar to a kind of acidic blood. Because of this acidity, your body has to expel this substance in some way so that it does not corrode your body from the inside out, and most of the time it is in the form of coughs, vomiting, "nosebleeds" and even tears depending on how bad the person's condition is. Expelling this substance is painful because your body is forcefully expelling something that has been developing inside you as if it were part of your body. The parts of the body that suffer the most are the lungs and stomach. Your body is trying to prevent you from dying, but it almost destroys you in the process.

Your body would not expel this substance all the time, only when it starts to pose a risk to your body and this happens when too much of this substance accumulates in your body, which can happen very often or little depending on the person. Stress can cause your body to decide that it has to expel this substance. After expelling this substance, the person becomes very tired and weak, mainly due to the pain it causes.

It is important to highlight that this disease is not exactly deadly, you die if your body gives up fighting against it, so the sick person must remain in good physical and mental health.

It is a chronic disease, a cure has never been found, but there are medicines to make the life of the person who has it easier and less painful, but unfortunately they are expensive. Medicines dilute the substance, making it easier and less painful to expel.

If you noticed some similarities with the ink disease from the comic BABTQFTIM it's because it really are, as this disease ended up having a lot of influence on the development of mine, since when I was a child and read BABTQFTIM for the first time I found the ink disease very interesting and I thought it would be cool to use some aspects of it in the disease I had invented. The aspect I got was the fact that the substance looked like black paint, before that the substance was blue and one of the main characteristics were blue spots on the skin, but I changed it from blue to black because I thought it looked cooler, I even have a very old drawing of a oc with the blue spots, I also had a story that I was writing with this disease, but I wrote it in a notebook that ended up disappearing.

There are many symptoms of this disease that are not fixed, like black spots on the skin similar to bruises, hallucinations can also be a symptom if you want to make the character's situation worse.

The disease could also develop due to a very strong trauma, but I find the fact that it develops randomly more distressing, like, you were just unlucky, anyone could have developed it, you were just unlucky that it was you :)

I like to think about how this illness would affect characters I like, if it would change them, if they would try to deal with everything on their own.Imagine a character who has to suffer more because he doesn't have money to pay for medicine, or a character who always seems to be in a bad mood and irritable, but that's just because he's in pain and trying to get by on his own because he doesn't want others to know.I have many other things I invented for this disease, but this post is already too long.

If you find it interesting and want to write something about this disease, please write and send it to me, I would love to see it :)

And if there is any fictional disease that already exists that looks like this, please let me know.

[msookyspooky]

OMG YOU WATCHED LISA FRANKENSTIEN AND LOVED IT?! <33

I've been waiting for that especially since you've posted Gomez and Morticia (The goal of all goals) on your blog! It's an odd request but I still read and love your Set Up series so can we get a crossover with YN as Lisa Swallow's and the boys as The Creature? ( Cole Sprouse lowkey reminds me of young Skeet Ulrich which considering Riverdale it's no wonder)

Wait cause no this is such a good idea I cannot pass it up I got so much work to do but I REALLY wanna write for this! (I got so many request I'm trying to do in my inbox but uh...This is my current hyperfixation srry)

I wish I could draw better to make zombies of them fhjaafg ♡♡♡ If anyone wants to add onto this or request other characters please do (And anyone seeing this; watch Lisa Frankenstein I loved it)

🔪 Scream / Lisa Frankenstein Crossover 🧟‍♂️

Iⁿᶜˡᵘᵈᵉᵈ﹕ ʳᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵐᵉᵉᵏˢ, ˢᵗᵘ ᵐᵃᶜʰᵉʳ, ᵇⁱˡˡʸ ˡᵒᵒᵐⁱˢ, ᵐⁱᶜᵏᵉʸ ᵃˡᵗᵉʳⁱ

(Everyone is buried in this despite canon and set in the present. Fem!Reader TW: Corpse/Dead Body, Talk of Rot and Decay, Zombie BF)

🪦 Randy Meeks: Died 1998

♡ You loved his character in Stab. After you did some deep diving studying who the actual Randy was outside of the movie; you found his tombstone. (who would do this? Me and @f1nalboys Might do what Lisa did and write your name over his etched name *Meeks* on a piece of paper. Bc of course YN Meeks just has a nice ring to it)

♡ Heard you venting about life and fell in love in his restless but lucid slumber 6ft underground. Someone actually likes his character for more than comic relief? Someone understood him? They didn't think he was just the geek?

♡ After a terrible lightning storm...Guess who fumbled and broke through your window drenched in mud and decay?

♡ Is a little hurt you aren't head over heels for him in his current state. He accidentally cried even if his pride hates that he quite literally cried his own eyes out. He's used to not getting who he wants and...Well, he may not smell himself with his nostrils rotted out but considering his eye popped out; still attached to the retina and had to be pushed back in while you're covering your nose gagging; he understands even if it hurts.

♡ Takes a shower (I'd use Dawn. Bar soap or Dove ain't gonna cut it.) and wears your clothes or robe. He still smells like a dead body and has worms but he's trying. He's got a LOT of old stab wounds from dying in that van at Windsor...Holes...Things seep out so you might wanna get tape or something idk.

♡ Do not stress this undead man out if you mischaracterize a film; he cannot talk with a missing tongue to argue; it decayed decades ago.

♡ His dead, dull eyes actually have some spark of life to them when he sees streaming for the first time. So many movies he's missed out on! Give him the remote and you never gotta worry about him leaving your room while you're gone.

♡ He accidentally kills someone you definitely did not want killed after they smelled something awful in your room, went up there, screamed, Randy went to knock them out in a panic and accidentally kills them

♡ He feels awful about it and you both decide to hide the body and use their hand to replace his missing one (Fell off lol just dead things) and shock him back to circulation somehow

♡ If you do what Lisa did and let him do...Other things with a 'back massager'. He's so madly in love and yearning for you it's insane. But if you got a crush you're yearning for; he is rolling his eyes with a grunt at this being Sid and Billy or Sid and Derek allllll over again.

♡ Less corpsey he gets with each shock session; more he can't help his feelings for you. YOU have to be the one to admit your feelings to him though because what would you want with an undead geek like him? At least in his mind.

♡ Would cry his eyes out (Not literally this time) if you were killed and 100% would resurrect your body and take care of you like you did him

♡ Is as loyal as they come. Will worship you accepting him at his geekiest, dead, grossest versions of himself and you're still here

🪦 Stu Macher: Died 1996

♡ You found his tombstone as a dare to 'bring him back' like bloody mary....No duh, it didn't work. But Stu was still aware of it in a dream like state sorta way. You didn't believe in that stuff rolling your eyes at people badgering you on where you lived.

♡ A car hits a power line and the line of electricity zaps his grave and he goes home just to see...Holy shit, you own his house!

♡ He thinks he's still the playboy man slut he was in life that can get anyone he wants so he's really offended you aren't wanting him to kiss you. Why!? Cause he has worms and his lips are a little dry from sinking into rot, he's a little bit dirty with body fluid stained clothes and he smells like a dead body? Picky!

♡ Is even more offended you're gagging and covering your nose demanding he bathe. Begrudgingly takes your dumb shower and your entire tub smells like dead bird and covered in dirt.

♡ When he comes out you see his face is very scarred under all that mud he had on him. Maybe the rumor he died via a tv crashing on his head and shocking him was true?

♡ If you piss him off...Well he can't kill you cause he needs you. But he WILL hack up a worm like a hairball just to gross you out out of pure pettiness.

♡ Just steals your clothes without asking. Lounging in your best clothes that can fit while he's leaking fluids. If not, he's stealing some guys clothes in your home. Catch him lounging in your Dad/Step Dad/Brothers/Friends best fit.

♡ Tries to steal your bed till you yell at him to get in the closet before someone sees. He guards your clothes and forces you to wear the sluttiest sexiest clothes you have...What? He's helping!

♡ He is soooooooo elated they made Stab! A whole movie with him portrayed in it by a good looking actor? He is over the moon watching it on repeat.

♡ Gets lonely easily...And bored! He's sighing to himself when you're gone and thinking how Billy is dead now and all the people he once knew, knew him as a murderer and were in their 40's. In fact, don't leave him alone long; its disastrous.

♡ Not able to yap HURTS HIM. Expect a lot of hand gestures and getting him a note pad to write on because he can't handle this

♡ Kills someone after you have an issue with them not even second guessing it. What? Problem solved! AND he gets a new body part to replace the one that rotted. Win win.

♡ He is very aware and depressed his manhood rotted off decades ago and that's probably the first body part he's going for. Especially a crush/boyfriend of yours. He can handle no ear or hand or even a tongue but his dick!? No.

♡ Sits in bed painting your nails while you rant about boys. He nods at everything when it comes to guys having their mind on one thing because well...Yeah. Especially in his case

♡ HE is the one smirking if he finds any massager and even if you want a back rub that thing is going lower. Just cause he doesn't have a peen rn doesn't mean his mind isn't in the gutter still

♡ He thinks your a girlfriend of his right away so casually without even asking you so; of course any guy coming near you is dead. Of course he's resurrecting you if you die because...Well he's starting to realize you're the only girl that doesn't scream when you see him so he's gonna hang up his player towel.

♡ Even fully restored he still has scars on his face and feels indebted to you that you don't care about his murderous ways or his face now. He takes care of you if you're dead and the roles reverse...Hell, he finds it hot you need him now.

Billy Loomis: Died 1996

♡ You were a bit odd yourself and found yourself studying the murders. Feeling conflicted about Billy because yeah he was an awful incel but researching his background you felt a bit bad he felt so alone and abandoned even with people around him. You clean off vandalism on his grave and talk to him for hours.

♡ A storm occurs after you have an awful day and cry to his grave 'I wish I was with you'...You meant dead. But well...

♡ That night lightning hits the grave and you wake up in bed to the god awful smell and his dead dirty face looking down at you. You go to scream and he covers your mouth with a cold clammy hand. Going to talk to you and a centipede falls out his mouth making you scream even louder.

♡ You almost knock his head off before he points to a picture on your desk you took of his grave surrounded by newspaper articles of his death.

♡ He thinks he finally has a person that's not a 'whore, bitch, or poser' in his eyes. A bit in love with you and is bitter you don't exactly want an ex serial killer from the 90's like that...

♡ He almost wants to kill you thinking of the betrayal till he sees his reflection and is completely defeated. Sunken dead eyes, matted dirty hair missing in places, longer haggered dirty nails, skin looking ready to fall off.

♡ He sits in your bathroom and you try to comfort him till you smell what smells like...Sewage and death and embalming fluid and your trying not to throw up.

♡ He takes a shower without being told to. Disgusted by his own rot and grime. His gun shot wound in the middle of his forehead a reminder of his failure almost 3 decades ago...Might have scrambled his brain a bit.

♡ He's a manipulator and user but he's not as...Tactless and spoiled as Stu. He feels grateful you offered him to stay despite the smell and the misunderstanding even if he's not happy sleeping on the floor or closet.

♡ He feels even more defeated when you tell him his Mom died in 1998 at Windsor College trying to avenge his death. He's beside himself over it and honestly just wants to crawl back in his icky coffin and die again.

♡ He wanders your home despite being told not to. Goes through all of your things. The lack of speaking doesn't bother him. Especially when it means he can hear you spill your guts more. He wants to observe everything.

♡ Like Randy he's pleased by the movies on streaming but not as obsessed as he was. Whether that bullet was like a lobotomy or just laying in the ground so long to 'think' in the afterlife; he's not the same guy he was in 96...Not completely. Is annoyed at his portrayal in Stab. His hair never looked like that! (Yes it did)

♡ He does kill someone when they bully or mistreat you. He feels possessive of you already and he just doesn't like assholes. He's the one that decides to steal a body part while you're staring in horror.

♡ He gets shocked and you see him a little less dead and a working body part now. So it becomes a thing for you both but you tell him 'Only those that deserve it' and he shrugs. He ain't following that but okay.

♡ Is pinning over you but hides it well. Enjoying just listening to you or watching you. HATES with a passion when you talk about guys but hides it with grunts and subtle glares.

♡ Is your ride or die when he hears police are investigating you for murder after he was the one killing them. I mean...What will they do? Re-kill him? He will do anything he can especially the more 'alive' he becomes to protect you.

♡ Once he's...Fully equipped he actually refuses to sleep with you. Still thinking 'virgins live, sluts die' like he use to. You have to tell him 'You know Sidney is still alive, right? That rule is dumb and not true.' he may get over it and sleep with you or it might still take time.

♡ He wants to go after Sid but also what's the point now? He's not exactly in tip top shape...Don't even tell him about Sam being rumored to possibly being his daughter by mega Stab fans. His undead brain will stop working.

♡ If you die he will resurrect you not out of convenience and want like Stu or devotion like Randy but more possessive ownership. You're his. Whether that's love or to control you (Both). Not even death will seperate you from him.

♡ Once he's fully recovered he has a migraine till that bullet eventually is pushed out by that one last shock and his body starts bleeding again.

♡ More than happy to be together away from everyone just you and him.

Mickey Alteri: Died 1998

♡ Everyone knows Mickey as the freak that was so obsessed with Stab and the original killers he imitated them. But what they don't realize is he killed even before Nancy found him. He was just wired different and it made him feel alive...How ironic now.

♡ You accidentally stumbled upon his grave after trying to find a different one. And...Why is it empty? Well, you had nothing to do with his resurrection just wrong place wrong time as a corpse is lumbering towards you from behind a tombstone with bullet wounds all over him.

♡ He wanted to snap your neck just to fell something again till his own leg fell off and he face planted on the ground.

♡ You of course didn't know he was trying to kill you. You still tried to get away before you saw him just sitting there and...Sighing? It wasn't a mindless zombie after you? Even worse; he grabbed your keys when you ran.

♡ Ask for them back and like a damn child he shakes his head with grunts. You swear to God you heard 'nuh uh' in his grunt. (Keep his leg away give me the keys or I'm yeeting your leg)

♡ Takes a shower at your house and like Randy all those holes are leaking...Icky stuff. He had more muscle before he died so his body mass shockingly is thinner but not as much as it should be? You're talking to a corpse it doesn't have to make sense. All you know is he just walked around naked and you saw disgusting things on the human body you never wanna know after death. You gotta make him wear clothes!

♡ You're in this awkward situation where...The dead guy has feelings and thoughts and is urging he wants to go home with you. Whether you say yes or no he knows your car and will find you.

♡ Sew his leg back on or give him a funny replacement like a peg leg and tell him deal with it. What are you? A surgeon?

♡ Little did you know the second you came for your keys and talked to him he claimed you as his just for being different than most victims. More eager than Stu, falling even faster than Randy, more obsessive than Billy and POSSIBLY crazier than the og Ghostface's...You're having a corpse that is already planning to make you his (Might even kill you so you have to be with him when he resurrects you like he was.)

♡ Other than killing and movies you're the first thing to make him feel something and he is not letting that go.

♡ Wears your clothes, watches your tv, listens to you talk, plans to kill anyone that fucks with you, watches you when you sleep, dresses you up.

♡ The first kill is a guy interested in you. You are his now! He doesn't hesitate to take a few body parts to have you sew on him. Finds the whole process endearing. He's nuts guys idk. You just gotta drill it in his head not to kill a family member, close friend or pet or you won't forgive him because he cannot have that. He wants your affection and attention so he'll be good when it comes to that.

♡ With each shock he gets more lively and bolder. Dancing with you and ignoring the worm that you don't know where it fell out of. Trying to cuddle you even if you gotta start smearing vicks under your nose. Won't hesitate to kiss all over you once he's not as rotten and tries to think of your pleasure before his.

♡ He never hides his obsession and will let you know with a hand on your throat not to talk about guys around him before lovingly caressing your cheek afterwards as an apology.

♡ If you die, not by him, he is furious and will kill anyone in his path before resurrecting you. He'll take care of you in the most yanadere way. You're his forever now.

[somerandomdudelmao]

really really random question but

how does one go about keeping a comic type thing going? ive had an idea for one for a while and its frustrating because, while i have the motivation to start it, and have ideas, im worried about it not getting any attention or interaction and that i wont have motovation past making like... 3 posts. do you have any advice? sorry about the long ask fhshfhd

I don't know about advice...but I can tell you the way I deal with comics, and you decide for yourself how useful it is, okay? Because it's pretty controversial.

So, I do what I want to do. That's it.

If I want to draw a comic, I start doing it. And if after three pages my motivation is gone, I quit without remorse.

I don't really think about how I'm going to find an audience for the story, how many likes it's going to get, or how I'm going to keep myself motivated. I just get into the process the second an idea pops into my head.

Which has led to me having quite a few comics and half of them unfinished. But I don't particularly regret that, because half a comic is better than no comic at all

It's very unprofessional, but luckily I'm not a professional, so I just amuse myself by drawing stories ',:)

[lokidokieokie]

A New Feature

"Y/n! How much longer on your piece?"

You huffed, chair tucking back into your desk. "Not too much longer, Audrey. Just doing the final edits."

"Hurry it up, please! Got something excited to share."

Many people would say that working as a journalist would mean researching and writing about boring events that happen on a day-to-day basis.

Yours definitely wasn't.

You were fortunate enough to work for TuneIn Magazine, the biggest pop culture news outlet in England. You got to study and write about your favourite characters, movies, comics, and whatever else you desired. It truly was your dream job.

Giving your article a final glance, you save it and send it off to editorial.

Pushing your chair back, you start heading over to Audrey's office, making sure to stop off at the staff kitchen to grab a biscuit.

With a quick knock on the door, you head in, "You wanted to see me?"

A girlish squeal was all you heard before Audrey made her way over to you.

"I'm going to be the bestest friend ever!"

You roll your eyes, "You're also my boss, Auddie."

She grinned, "It doesn't matter, I'm going to be the best of both!"

"Alright, hit me. What crappy article am I doing this time? The Bacon-Flavour Era? Who never did their ice-bucket challenge after being nominated?"

She gave you a quizzical look, "What? No?!"

"Then what am I here for? We've still got three hours left, and I've got that article on Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock series to finish writing."

"He's just so dreamy! Have you seen those baby-blues?" She wiggles her eyebrows a few times.

Chuckling softly, "You've always been obsessed with that man."

"I know, but who doesn't?" You raise your hand.

She scoffs, "Well, you're just weird."

"What did you actually call me in here for?"

Audrey's eyes seemed to gleam with excitement, "Remember how we've been brainstorming about changing things up here? Not just focusing on the characters or fandoms?" You nod. "Well, I've got something that will knock your socks off."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued, "Do tell, Auddie."

She leaned across her desk, trying to act conspiratorially, "You, my dearest friend, are about to embark on an exposé of a lifetime. We're talking about a piece that will send shockwaves through the fandom community."

You leaned forward, "Keep going..."

"It's time to pull back the curtain on none other than Thomas William Hiddleston himself!" She exclaimed, a wide grin prominent on her face.

You blinked, slightly taken aback, "Tom Hiddleston."

Auddie nodded, "That's right! The enigmatic heartthrob, the charismatic actor -- we're delving deep into the man behind the roles."

A multitude of emotions flickered across your face, though you managed to remain neutral. "I see..."

If she noticed you weren't as ecstatic as she was, she didn't mention it; too swept up in her enthusiasm. "I can't wait to see what you manage to get out of this? This is going to be huge!"

"And get this," Audrey continued, barely containing her excitement, "Mr. Hiddleston himself has agreed to cooperate with this exposé. You'll have exclusive access to him for all of your interviews...multiple times!"

Your heart sank at the thought of seeing Tom again, but you plastered a smile for Audrey's sake. "Sounds like quite a good opportunity."

As Audrey launched into a flurry of ideas for the article, you couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension gnawing at you. Interviewing Tom Hiddleston multiple times was definitely not part of your plan, but it seemed fate had other ideas.

~~~

A/N AHHH! I've finally done it. This idea has been in my drafts for 2 years!

no tags yet..lemme know if you want to join it :)

[inkbeanjo]

Sorry for being annoying but i have more questions about your OCs. So i am still kinda rotating my overly cybered up shadowrun oc idea in my head and i am wondering, How would Moni, Retro and the others react to someone who is seemingly an outsider but has abilities similar to a technomancer? My diea for my oc was that due to all her cybernetics it has kinda fused her soul with tech and gives her the ability to do stuff like remotely control technology, access the net without a deck, that kind of s tuff, but its also in a very uncontrolled way so she has to deal with like the equvlent of being bombarded with info and ads 24/7 which does not do her mental health any favors and has to rely on software to try and filter all of that out. So how would they react if say during one of their private chat room sessions, my oc unconciously just popped in unannounced, and there is a outsider who by appearance shouldnt be able to do what she is doing, doing what appears to be technomancy, to talk to them?

This splits two ways tbh- like between what shadowrun's setting sets up, and between how neo-a's setting divorces from that if that tracks In shadowrun, while the resonance is something more or less exclusive to technomancers to wield, it's not a space void of non-technomancer influence; the big ten more or less built the matrix on the backs of technos, to the point that host foundations are believed to dip into the resonance's upper layers- moreover a lot of normal people get swept up in resonance/techno bullshit pretty frequently, whether through errant sprites or clinging dissonance/having a slight spark of resonance by being tangled in it so much, or the weirder circumstances of being in the wrong place at the wrong time for a resonance well to form in digital space, sucking you off to god knows where. For the normal person separate from all this, with a wireless-enabled datajack/smartlink/synthetic eyes/really any number of augmentations, one can experience the wonders and hells of controlling the matrix and always-online connections whether they want to or not- so in your character's case and in the shadowrun setting by raw, any of these might be the case. A normal person seeing/interacting with resonance shit is usually the sign of a burgeoning technomancer to-be, but that's just my two cents it's less straightforward in the comic setting Neo-a's based on the games I got to play and co-write with a handful of close friends, but I've put a lot of work into beginning to divorce it from shadowrun- mostly in settling on to-be revealed isms and logical consistencies for how, thematically, a dystopia and universe operate when there's reality-altering magic and weirdass computer-magic that extends beyond the screen (also to be revealed, this's directly after chapter 4 in some ways) The center pillar of neo-a as a setting is that it's Weird- that the universe does not operate in logical or sensical ways, and is quite frankly glaringly flawed to the point that it stutters, breaks, or bleeds out in dysfunctional overlap. It's a reality of unreality layered in intersectional/existential bullshit (we'll get there), and where one or several (or many) people might be convinced that things operate with rhyme and reason in predictable fashion the truth is that those are snippets of understanding at best. There are exceptions across the board and oddities all around that don't fit into the norm of how things should be; "why can this person see/interact with the reverb without being a techno" is a question born out of surprise as likely to get answered as "why does this number keep showing up everywhere in my life"- or on the same train of thought, "why doesn't this person notice that number constantly showing up?" I can't really play my hand too much because I do very much want to show rather than tell in the comic's case (and I will), but the gist is "they're surprised and very cagey" in response to both xwxb

[collectiveclams]

Trying my best to figure out what these guys look like in my head before I go look at the fandom’s generalized designs for the characters.

A friend of my twin got us into the show and a week later we’re at season 8!

I definitely need to tweak Cole’s design a lot- I want him to have a more strongman build & revamp his entire face design. But at the very least I’m happy with getting his hair the way I want!

Kinda hard to see, but Zane’s got little screws for earrings! I honestly didn’t account for how much older the faceplate would make him look, I intended him to look way more boyish.

Rambling about my current HCs of the Ninja’s appearances below:

I’ve been having a bit of an trouble deciding what various flavor of Chinese & Japanese these dudes should be based on. Considering the show is based on a 2010s vague idea of “Asia” and carries traits of both Japanese & Chinese influence, I’m just going to use both. I don’t know what sorta general consensus the fandom has of their appearances bc I have barely interacted with the fandom, so if this violently contrasts with that then yippee I have original thoughts, I guess.

-Kai is Japanese. Kai, being vain and caring more about training than Jay for example, has a more aesthetic build that’s definitely form more than function. Like a natty powerlifter who’s not competing. I’m not sure what height he should be, but if he’s taller his muscle definition would appear smaller so I’ll have to keep that in mind.

- Nya has initially a more functional build- far less muscle definition than her brother. Not outwardly buff and doesn’t have pronounced muscles, but can fairly easily haul a 100lb hunk of metal from a scrap pile to her workbench. But after becoming the water ninja, her new training gives her more pronounced muscle definition. Initially shorter than Kai but grows taller as the show goes on.

- Cole is southern Chinese. He’s got a strongman heavy set build. I envision him as fairly short so his muscles can be a little more pronounced. If you stripped his muscle definition from his ninja training away, I still want him to look like one of assholes who haven’t worked out a day in their lives but still somehow looks jacked.

- Zane is what pops up when you look up “Chinese teen male stock photo” because he needs to look like The Most Generic person ever. No muscle definition at all on this dude. He’s a nindroid & so there’s no need to include muscle decision to show that he’s strong. He’s either average height or slightly on the shorter side bc gravity is a bitch and the taller make a humanoid robot, the more balance becomes a bitch to deal with. So average height or short Zane it is.

- Jay is Uyghur so I can get this dude his reddish-brown hair. Minor muscle definition. His isn’t for aesthetics like Kai, he’d rather do ninja training than do the types of sets & pushing to failure needed to achieve more pronounced muscle definition for aesthetic lifting. Jay needs to be shorter than Nya. He’s definitely taller than Cole but I need him to be just an inch shorter than Nya because that’s funny to me personally.

- Lloyd is Japanese. Solely because Oni come from Japan & I got spoilered that Gargamon is an Oni later. Lloyd is a stringy ass kid at first & has no muscle definition at all. During his Green Ninja training before the Travelers Tea, he’d be trained for efficiency & not for aesthetics with the deadline of him fighting his father possibly being around any corner. After Travelers Tea he likely kept his training to function over aesthetics and would share similar muscular definition to Jay & Nya. And he’s tall. His dad is tall as shit with 4 arms. I want this kid to go through the Worst gangly teen era anyones ever seen and only barely fit his form once he finishes growing.

Additional thoughts:

And as a big comic nerd who owns around 800+ comics (might be more around 1000 now?), hoo boy I have so many thoughts on Lloyd and Jay liking Starfarer. I cannot wait to make a fic that’s just Lloyd and Jay ganging up against Kai over some incredibly wrong take of the comic he absentmindedly said and trapping him in a 3 hour long conversation about frequent mischaracterization and mishandling of the characters in Starfarer & how what Kai said was wrong. I just need a fic of Jay and Lloyd talking to each other about their favorite runs of Starfarer and complaining about a tie-in/crossover comic that’s written particularly bad, or complaining how an author completely misunderstood Fitz Donnegan or complaining over an author change & etc. I just need to make a fic of these boys talking about average comic book fan things.

[demon64]

So... with Marvel, particularly X-23, on the mind a bit lately and wanting to get back into my SMT V: Vengeance playthrough, I kinda got to thinking of what would her role be in an SMT/Marvel Crossover AU. Taking some inspiration from the time she was Captain Universe, maybe she could be a Nahobino? Or maybe she could be someone like Tao or Yoko? Or maybe the Tao-like or Yoko-like role could go to a different character?

I do know if I write something for an SMT/Marvel Crossover AU, I would like to do something with Thor, both versions, where it's something like Eric Masterson is SMT Thor's Knowledge. Or maybe have it be Kevin Masterson, Eric Masterson's son? I also just had the idea while typing this of maybe writing something with Andi Benton, maybe making the Mania Symbiote like Aogami while Andi is the human who bonded. Maybe I will go with that instead, maybe so that I can try writing something with Andi meeting Nico Minoru and Laura and them going on a journey similar to what the Nahobino and company do in SMTV. Or maybe I could go with a combination of these ideas? Have Andi and Laura in roles similar to Tao and Yoko while whoever I make Thor's Knowledge is the protagonist?

Another idea is having Franklin Richards as the protagonist, with Rachel Summers as the one with a kinda similar role to Tao or Yoko. This idea popped in my head when mulling over the many possibilities for an SMT/Marvel Crossover. Franklin has cosmic power in the comics, the ability to create a miniature universe, while Rachel is one of the hosts of the Phoenix Force. Obviously, for this crossover idea, I will depower Franklin a bit, and I will probably try thinking of a mythological being for him to be the Knowledge of.