#dumb dumb mushy stuff

[aadagio]

My boyfriend gave me a dozen red roses for Valentine’s Day this year, and I’ve been drying them out in a vase for the past several months. Finally cut them from their stems and entombed them in a Mason jar today so that I can keep them forever. 🖤

[jeeaark]

If Greygold was a companion, what would be the best way to initiate a romance with them? Would they go for the “L” word early or an Act or two later?

The "L" word was lube, right? Right? Else showering Durge/Tav with kisses Gomez-Addams-Style is the alternative.

Maybe the Nat 20 romance isn't the best way for Tav/Durge, but it sure is for Greygold. You just know Greygold scared that Dream Guardian away the first time and has been low-key obsessed with that armor since

[storfulsten]

´`

[buckera]

you all ain't ready for the mush-fest the mudslide fic is turning into... I know cuz I wasn't ready either lmao

[mcsh-mmv]

I hate sand because you can't hold it.

It blows away or it falls through the cracks in your fingers.

You can wet it and for the moment you can build something with it.

But eventually it will dry and crumble

I wish I could hold it forever

Admire the beauty forever

Remember it forever

[hateblackies]

late night talks

"Loves dumb. People get too caught up in it. They forget who they are chasing that feeling," a young Gojo Satoru said, twirling a pen carelessly in his hand as he sat in his study chair, looking into your eyes through the reflection of the window. When he saw you weren’t replying, he continued.

“People die. What then? Chase after the void they left? Yeah, right," he scoffed. It perturbed you despite the gravity of the words he was saying, he seemed so brash.. so eager, and so careless.

"Love is natural," you said, holding a pillow close to your chest as you sat on his bedside. Satoru turned his chair, watching you snuggle up to the pillow. He rolled his eyes, then looked back in the direction of the window, with a pout that was meant as humor.

"What..?" you said quietly, your eyebrows furrowing, clutching the pillow harder. He turned his head over the headrest and smirked at you “You’re hugging that pillow as if it were your lifeline.”

He leaned back, propping himself up with his hands behind his head. “That thing isn’t going to love you back, you know...” he snickered. “Oh, shut up!” you said in annoyance, throwing the pillow at him from across the room now.

He caught it with one hand, his eyes narrowing. “Oh wow, you’re really mad, huh?” he teased. His lips tugged into a smirk, and he raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s jealous of a pillow?” he asked dramatically, now holding the pillow close to his chest himself.

As much as she wanted to leave his room, she couldn’t bring herself to. She stayed sat on his bed, arms now crossed. She was silent for some time. “If there was no love, we’d all be empty, soulless people,” she whispered beneath her breath. Satoru hated the gushiness.

“If there was no love, there would be no pain,” he countered, still staring at you with soft eyes and an amused look. Satoru wasn’t trying to start an argument at all; he just wanted to see how she would respond.

Her eyes widened. Her breath got stuck in her throat with his sharp words. “That’s.. not true.” He furrowed his eyebrows in curiosity at her response.

“How is it not? How could someone suffer the pains of loving someone so much you can’t see them leave-” He was caught off guard by being interrupted.

“I won’t leave,” she blurted out, suddenly clasping her hands over her mouth at her words, her face reddened. He tilted his head, confused and amused at your sudden outburst.

“Eh?” he said, smirking. He kept his gaze on you expectantly, and raised a brow. He was a dumb teenager. He didn’t understand girls.

She dug her head into her hands now looking down, not saying another word. He was silent for some time. Probably thinking about Pokémon, or something.. by now.

“Why… why aren’t you saying anything?” she said softly, eyes now peeking over her arms, observing him. “Hm? What am I supposed to say?” he asked, keeping a straight face.

She huffed. Maybe an ‘I won’t leave you either’? she thought, but heck, she knew he wouldn’t commit to that. “You’re trying to be a smart ass.” She said.

He laughed, this time genuinely. “Am I?” he said with a cocky undertone.“Besides. Did you seriously expect me to say something mushy like ‘I’ll be with you forever’ type of thing?”

“Especially not to you…” he said with a cheeky grin. His statement was half-true and half-sarcastic; It’s just what he did, but he was serious in a sense; he wasn’t the type of person who would just go around saying romantic stuff. He liked to show rather than say when it came to things like love. And besides, he wasn’t the type to be able to commit to such a thing. He was Gojo Satoru.

“Maybe.. I did.” She said softly, trying to hide her evident frustration in him as she propped herself off his bed, taking steps toward the door.

He stared at her in utter amusement. He crossed his legs and watched her walking toward the door. “Aww, Going already?” he said as he heard the door shut closed, He thought they were having a good time; her leaving was a little surprising to him, despite the way he’s acting. Oh well.

“hm. girls are weird.”

[nonranghaes]

heads up! long distance relationships.

most of the time, you see sleepy minho because you called him in the middle of the night (for him). so when he calls you, you immediately think that something's wrong until you see his dimly lit face, all snuggled up in his blankets. he turns over once you pick up, eyes squinting in the low light.

"hey... everything okay?" you ask after a moment, pressing one of your earbuds further into your ear. you can't hear any of his cats, just the soft whirring of a small fan. "minho?"

"missed you." his voice is laced with sleep and soft, but you can hear it clearly. the sound of blankets shifting around him fills your ears, and he pulls the blankets back in closer. "that's all."

ah. you have sleepy, sappy minho now. sometimes you think you're usually the one who gets all mushy and emotional when you're away from one another for too long (it's always too long, to be fair)... but minho has his moments. always when he's sleepy, though: as if he thinks he needs to hold it together for the both of you. this always happens when the two of you are too busy to video call for a little bit. you smile a little, though, and watch as he runs a hand through his fluffy hair.

"cuddle with soonie."

he whines. "that's not the same." again, he curls up tighter in bed. "just... come see me."

"minho--"

"i know," he says, voice clearer. less asleep. "i just... i want you here. i'm tired of waking up with doongie's ass in my face because he's hungry instead of seeing you."

"i don't think me being there would stop doongie."

another groan. "i just--i miss you. i wanted to see your face again. send me more pictures."

"i will," you promise. "of what?"

"just... you. doing stuff. getting coffee or whatever. i just miss seeing your stupid face." he huffs.

"oh, so now my face is stupid, huh?" you're enjoying teasing him the way he teases you. you've called his handsome face dumb plenty of times, after all, and he always asks what it makes you that you love his dumb face so much.

"if i'm your dummy, you're my dummy," he says a moment later. "that's how this works."

you smile to yourself again, and see the way his eyes light up a little. he loves you. it's always clearest in moments like these: his eyes, the subtle smile he always has, the fact he's calling you in the middle of the night...

"we'll talk about this later, okay?" you say. you can't look at your bank info right now--and you'd rather not make minho look at his when he's like this. "i've gotta go back to work."

he just groans again, clearly annoyed. "just run away."

"don't tempt me." you smile, and blow a kiss at your camera. "we'll figure it out. love you. goodnight."

he mumbles the same, and the last thing you see before you send the call is his sleepy, smiling face.

soon, you promise yourself for the millionth time since you started dating minho. soon you'll figure it all out.

[dykeomania]

lovergirl!hazel headcanons

｡.｡ just some evidence of a love that transcends hunger, tbh.

a/n: i needed a break from writing a fic and wanted to write something sappy. this is the something sappy in question. wanted it to give how-you-become-hazel's-lover -> what she does when you're actually her lover vibe but it just got real mushy. i like it. i hope you like it, too. proofread, but i'm blind as fuck + i'm rusty, so.

tags: gender neutral (i think. i may have fucked up once or twice. please correct me if i did, i proofread fr fr over time. not intended for cis men), body neutral, and poc friendly. some niche reader things (tarot mention, reader wears makeup). mild nsfw -- kissing, making out, heavy petting. almost third base. starts in high school, ends in college.

practice fanfic etiquette. please don't plagiarize or repost my stuff.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who sits up straight on the edge of your bathtub and looks up at you in complete awe when you're getting ready. she's got the dumbest, most lovesick puppy look in her eyes as she watches her lover line her lips, and apply a sheer coat of gloss on top. when they turn around to ask if it's even, hazel smiles so wide that it makes the apples of her cheeks sore.

she doesn't really know if it looks okay, she just knows that she wants to kiss you.

she only manages an mhm because it's what you want from her and, well.. at this point, hazel's convinced that she'd drop just about everything to give whatever you want.

you snicker, closing the space between you in slow and steady strides. "what are you looking at, huh?" you teases, grin stretched across lips lined nude, gleaming pink.

"mmm..." hazel can't help but like, drunklenly (she's dead sober).. haphazardly loop you in by the belt loop, head tilting easily to the right. "yyyyyou."

her eyes droop as she falls victim to the familiar spell that you cast over her. one that starts with you taking her face in her hands, and bringing yourself close enough for to take in all at once. she's made dizzy by the smell of your conditioner, made defenseless by the familiar trace of your body wash radiating off of your skin.

"what're you looking at me for?" you grin, your hands hot on her cheeks as you stand between her legs.

"why wouldn't i wanna look at you?" hazel gently manages, hand finding comfortable purchase on your hips. she grips gently with admiration, fingertips pressing into sacred flesh of something, someone, who she couldn't believe is hers. "you're just so pretty."

but let's take a few steps back first,

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who meets you purely by coincidence. you don't go to fight club, and you don't do cheer. you don't have any classes together, you hardly even know of each other. you do, however, have to work concessions for football together one night.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't talk much, and honestly standing next to you feels kinda stupid with the bruise that she has on her cheek. she usually never really cares and she's usually super talkative -- she doesn't talk much because well.. she doesn't really know.. how to. how to talk to pretty people -- well, it's not like she finds you pretty, it's just.. anyways,

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who makes some dumb joke about athletes and you kind of snort.. and she's immediately charmed. hazel callahan who has a desire to keep you entertained, and continues to do so throughout the remainder of the game.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who actually is in your class, but, neither of you just really noticed. hazel callahan who sits next to you in the weeks following. who spends her free periods with you. who eats lunch with you. who eventually gets around to telling you about fight club, over turkey and rye sandwiches.

"so you just, like..." you take a break from chewing, tonguing some bread out of your back molar. "punch the shit out of each other, and it's school-sponsored?"

"...well, yeah. but in like a self-defense, queer way. bring people together, create some solidarity. a safe-space on campus for queer community, kind of thing."

"oh okay, so like, in a slay way," you revise.

hazel stares. scoffing out a gentle laugh. "uh... yeah.." hazel furrows her brows, shaking her head. "um.. what does that.. what does that, like, mean?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who becomes your best friend.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who really likes you. like, as a person.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who likes you maybe a little bit too much.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't know how to embroider, so when you embroidered her converse -- creating a wreath of vines, speckled with bright little flowers around the all star symbol -- she was so happy. but she felt so bad because she didn't know how to repay you.

"let me make it up to you?" she insists, fingers playing with your own, but not creating enough distraction to prevent you from protesting.

"what?" you scoff, subconsciously locking her hands with yours, as though you're about to declare a thumb war. "no, how?"

"i don't know! this is so nice, let me like..." hazel shrugs voice dropping timidly, "..take you out or something."

a beat passes, one that feels like forever. a large enough one to create space for all the butterflies to rumble around both of your stomachs, and for the elephant to pass through the room. hazel can't tell if it's your hand that's begun to sweat in your grasp, or if it's hers.

your eyes narrow at her, grin stretched into something cheshire as you shake your hand, and hers. "i think you just wanna take me out on a date."

hazel smiles sheepishly, cheeks flushing a bright flamingo. she shrugs, next words quiet and intentional,

"so what if i do?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan doesn't know how to embroider but she does have an eye for wildflowers. when the girl who shows up at your doorstep, it's with a dorky smile, a batch of spring, and a bandaid wrapped around her index finger and her thumb. the flowers that she biked about an hour north to pluck -- from a field she discovered after having simply gone too far -- are bunched together and wrapped in a trader joe's paper bag, the kind that her mom always leaves in the kitchen under the sink. she put the boquet together herself. spent too much time thinking about whether or not you would like the arrangement or the colors, probably went to the store to grab a few of your favorite flowers that she couldn't find.

"oh, these are for you. see, i tried to make this whole thing, like.. semi.. transactional. again, like, i don't really know how to embroider flowers, or like anything really, so... these were next best thing, i guess." she offers, as though it's nothing.

"you look.. really nice." hazel's eyes linger, stricken and dumb. she fills her lungs with air, huffing out her next sentence. "are yoooouuu.. ready to go?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who thinks that star signs mean nothing, and doesn't know jackshit about crystals or anything of the like. but hazel callahan who is all eyes and ears, criss-cross-apple-sauce with you on her floor, as she watches you knock your knuckles on a deck of tarot cards and shuffle through them for what you called a "semi unreliable, two-card reading."

hazel callahan who jumps a little when two cards fly out from the deck. who furrows her eyebrows when you turn the over. an the lovers and two of cups, both upright.

"what..." she snorts. "what does that mean?"

"um.." she watches you blush. "it means.." and she blushes when your eyes linger on hers, and then look up. feels her stomach flutter when she watches you take a deep breath in through your nose, like you're shuffling through all of the words in your head.

"...let's just saaaaayyyy... nnnew connections might be coming your way, soon."

hazel has no fucking idea what that means, looking at you, she surely could hope that that's true.

...

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is shocked that you want to like.. have a sleepover with her. this doesn't really happen to her. like at all. but it's happening with you, so she's down.. but it has to be planned. hazel callahan pulls out all the stops to try to make sure that it's.. well, perfect, she guesses? she makes sure that it's on a weekend where her mom is out of town (not even because she wants to do anything but you know how her mom is). she asks you what all of your favorite snacks are beforehand, and offers to go get more if you run out. she makes sure that you have satin pillowcases if you have textured hair, just in case you forget a bonnet, or anything. probably does that regardless of whether or not that's applicable to you, because she hears it's better for your skin and what not. she gets a weighted blanket for you and some extra pillows + takes out an extra throw if she knows that you get cold easily, or damn near strips her bed down to just one comforter and gets a desk fan to face her bed if she knows that you get too hot.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who you create a shared movie list with, and who will sit with you and watch all of your favorite movies. all of your least favorite movies. will watch movies that you insist that she must see and will do so with very little fight because it's whatever you want, really. hazel callahan who is very quickly realizing that she would do whatever you wanted, as long as it meant that it got you to smile.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ (hazel callahan who, granted, talks through a lot of those fucking movies. like. hazel callahan who has a really fucking hard time paying attention to movies.)

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who clearly has overthought everything. who laughs at and understands all of your dumb jokes and is always a little shocked when you laugh at hers. who lets you rest your head on her shoulder when you watch movies in her home-theater. who lays with you in her bed and compares your tiktok for you page with hers and finds it a little too easy to poke fun of you. finds it not as easy to remain calm when your head rests comfortably on her chest, and thus hopes to god that all of the cringy tiktok audios are masking the sound of her heart beating out of her chest.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who looks at you when you mention that it's getting late, and insists that there's a guest room if you wanna sleep in there, or an air mattress that she was supposed to blow up.

"it's too late for that, though." you frown.

"no," hazel, being hazel, is quick to reassure, shaking her head. "no, no, i could totally blow it up. we have an automated pump, it'll take like 20 minutes."

"mm, i don't know, it's still kinda late for all of that..."

hazel blinks at you. her eyebrows raise, corners of her lips gently upturning. "okay. i mean, do you wanna take the guest room?"

you look up at her, eyes big on purpose. "that guest room's kinda scary." you lift a brow. "it's dark. and cold."

hazel thinks she might.. be tripping. she has to be. her blink is slow, and her face knots together, and releases -- the way it does when she gets all timid and indecisive. "o..kay..." she grins nonetheless, furrowing her eyebrows. "so then .. where are you gonna sleep?"

"..i mean.." you burn, and so does she. "...i could just sleep here with you?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who can't help but feel girlish and vulnerable laying in her bed with you, her stomach tied in knots over how there is nothing usual about this situation. fully seeing you in your pajamas. feeling the gentle flesh of your bare calves rub against hers. being within such close proximity of you that she can still smell the lingering remnants of soap on your skin from your shower.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who dares to let her finger dance on your upper bicep, but that's just about it, really.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who only nudges closer only when you nudge closer. who only lowers her voice, when you lower your voice. who only holds eye contact when you start it, but is always the first to look away.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who falls into a trap: eye contact held after some conversation that did not, and does not matter. she follows your eyes down, chocolate eyes focusing on the arch of your cupids bow. she does tilt her head up to find her nose nudging softly against the underside of yours. she doesn't know how you two got this close. hazel callahan who feels her hands grow sweaty, feeling your breath linger over her the chap of her lips. who nearly stiffens when she feels your hand press into her back, but instead arches into the crevice your body makes and presses her palm against your hip.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who does what she thinks she's supposed to do, and kisses you -- soft and gentle, like the whispers that fluttered over both of your lips earlier. brief, and endearing.

her lips stick to yours, and then her lips press into yours. and then her lips open when yours do, and her hand tightens on you when yours does.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who has no fucking idea what she's doing. like, seriously. she kind of knows -- i mean, okay, yeah, she knows how to kiss, but this is, like.. not just a kiss. hazel's kisses are brief. gentle, maybe a little slow. never this deep. hazel callahan who forgets herself when her fingers weave through your hair. hazel callahan who doesn't recognize the way her breath shakes in your throat when your fingers ambitiously sift through her thick, black locks and pull.

hazel callahan whose lips slot over yours, and unlock. who leans forward when you lean back, and is almost nearly on top of you.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't know what to do with her hand, so she puts it everywhere. glides it over your side, presses it over the expanse of your lower back. who smooths her hand under your shirt and marvels in the way your skin burns against her palm. who itches to explore, traversing over your stomach, venturing up, up, and up--

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who stops dead in her tracks when you hum something sour in her mouth and grab her wrist. who looks at you stunned with parted lips as you softly shake your head against hers.

"not yet," you pant, opening your eyes to look at her. "not yet."

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who bats her lashes, dizzy with affection yet sobered from your action. she knows how you sound. not like you're rejecting her, but like you're admitting something, which you.. might be. something that she understands. regardless, she understands.

but she burns bright with embarrassment, stomach rattling with a guilt that crawls up her throat and wraps around it, tightening and tightening...

"yeah," she manages a whispers after a while. somehow, it's still raspy. "yeah, okay.."

"okay.."

"...m'sorry--"

"don't be," you shake your head. "keep kissing me."

you rush, and it's kind of just in time. whatever stinging was lingering in her chest subsides as you bring yourself closer, lips softly capturing her lower lip in affirmation after hazel just stares at you.

hazel callahan who blinks, oscillating between consciences, dazed and a little confused. she's cautious and readjusted, her hand only lingering over your side as she whispers a faint "are you sure..?"

the sentence dissolves when on the tip of hazel's tongue when her lips find yours again, at your action, which is her answer. hazel callahan who listens. who lets you take her hand and place it somewhere that feels more comfortable, somewhere that's right and yet still sensual.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is wiped, but intentional with every kiss that either you or her leads, every swipe of her lips over your jaw, every tender kiss that you let her place against the stretch of your neck.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who will admire within her bounds. kissing you, and drowning in you until she is simply too sleepy to continue. until she is dizzy and feels comfortable enough to nuzzle her face somewhere into the crook of you, breathing you in until you become a part of her dreams,

and she will wake -- in the morning, and in the middle of the night -- only to have a hard time believing that she isn't still dreaming.

...

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who kind of has to get used to.. all of it. who crushes, even though she's already "achieved," so to speak. who grins at her phone when she's texted, who finds any excuse to facetime you and keep you on the line -- sometimes just so that she can look at you. who finds any excuse to be around you.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who you can't get rid of once you go both go to college. who facetimes you whenever, who visits you on weekends. who comes into your space and steals all of your sweatshirts and your pajama pants and of course, all of your spare time.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel "no, i can make that for you" callahan who can't embroider, but can crochet. she will buy you that jellycat that you really want, a hundred percent. hazel callahan will also greet you with a fucked up rendition of said stuffed animal that you wanted (giving jamdog, perhaps) and furrows her eyebrows when you have to hide your laugh with your hand.

"what?" she asks, grin dulling only for a moment. "do you not like it?"

"no it's--" you cover your mouth. "it's perfect." you cackle. when you cup her cheeks, all the worry and fear of judgement fades. sort of. at least enough. "you're perfect, babe. i love it."

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who does, in fact, keep a picture in her wallet of her lover, ready at all times. hazel callahan who weaves her lover into casual conversation.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who still doesn't really understand figure of speech all that well so when you say things like "i wish you could just come over," she literally goes "..well like, i could,"

and then proceeds to make like, a three hour drive.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who keeps the picture that you hate of yourself as her lockscreen and it's not to spite you, it's because she thinks you're beautiful, and she has no idea what you're talking about.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who figures out what names you like to be called by throwing everything at a wall and seeing that sticks. pretty. handsome. lover. angel. baby. and when she does find one, one that makes you blush just about as hard as she does every time you even look in her direction, she holds it over your head to high heavens. makes it your contact name. uses it to punctuate reassuring sentences, when she greets you, when she tells you goodnight.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who gets to take you on real dates, and gets excited to. who gets giddy when you get ready. who gets to fix your hair and come up behind you when you take mirror selfies once you're finished. who now feels comfortable enough to place her hands at the mid-point of your waist and let them venture toward your frontside while she rests her chin on your shoulder, and leans in to kiss your cheek. who tells you you smell nice, and makes you smile when she buries her face into some part of you and literally just goes rahhhh!!!!

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is also stuck sometimes, in moment such as these, watching the wonder who she has had a crush on since high school -- jesus, has it really been that long? -- with gentle eyes and a completely disarmed disposition.

hazel callahan who is honestly such a fucking loser -- like, literally, loser-since-birth, no-hope-since-middle-school, gay-haircut-and-new-repotoire-can't-save-you, loser, and can't help but ponder and marvel over how someone like you is in her hands. in her face. in her life.

"m'not that pretty," you insist, fingers weaving through her hair, nails etching at hazel's scalp in a way that hazel has grown to like. love, even.

her eyes flicker over your face, smile lopsided and eyes heavy like despite everything, you don't even know the half of it. she scoffs, voice hardly above a whisper,

"yeah no, you are so much more than pretty."

[moxfirefly]

"Of course I want them. I want them so much I can barely breathe but I'm not going to force it. If they come to me, it'll be on their terms. Not mine."

For Donnie or Mikey x reader (F) please? Maybe reader is the one saying that line 👀 jealous, fluff or smut scenario, you can choose! Thank you for opening your requests, you always deliver great pieces! ♥️💫

Oh this line hits! And I think Mikey is the guy for it and I think I’ll tweak it a bit if you don’t mind. Thank you for your kind words! Means a lot 🖤

Rated Feels

Mikey wanted to believe that his eyes were deceiving him at most, maybe not working at worst.

Because he really saw some peculiar stares on your behalf.

This whole crush thing was trickier now as an adult. When he was younger, crushing after April had been easy and fleeting.

Now? Some days he couldn’t chase away your scent to safe his life, he couldn’t remember what life before your proximity to him used to be. When had a song sounded better than the ringing of your name, carefully collected consonants and vowels crafted to melt on his tongue.

What had life been before the ache of watching you leave? The insane joy of watching you come home to grace his presence with honeyed bliss?

He felt silly, somewhat dumb, over all hopeless.

This all felt like a curse some days too. Not having the luxury of being topside with you, getting to experience the city night through you.

The wind picked up, cold little pin prick reminders of what he was. Mikey was fond of this roof, maybe because your building was across it, maybe because if he squinted hard enough he could see what your little life in your little apartment was like, and how he could fit into it.

“You plan on sulking all of patrol?” Raph’s deep baritone carried the chilly air as he sat on the ledge.

“I’m not sulking, that’s your job bro.” He was hugging his knees, chasing away the chilly air or maybe because he was truly sulking.

“That broad’s got you bent outta shape, you never got like this with Ape.” Because that had been childish puppy love, and somehow Raph couldn’t see that this ached for real.

It especially ached because there were too many moments where he swore you’d say something first, that you’d cave in and say something about the elephant in the room.

“I like her, she’s—she’s different.” It doesn’t do it justice but he doesn’t want to get mushy with Raph right now, not when his head isn’t cooperating and his heart feels heavy.

“Different alright, wants to hang around with a brat like you, laughs at your shitty jokes, caught her staring at your biceps once.” Raph numbered the facts on each of his fingers, nonchalant but aware of the gas he was pouring.

“Where ya going with this dude? Aside from giving me hope.” And hope was a tragic little word for their kind, something more akin to a light sprinkle of salt on a small wound.

“What I’m saying is, just go after her, tell her the truth. Ya want her, right? She probably wants ya.” Raph popped a toothpick in his mouth, an old habit dying too slowly.

“Of course I want her. I want her so much I can hardly breathe but I’m not going to force it. If she comes to me, it’ll be on her terms. Not mine.” It hurt to say it, it hurt to admit out loud that this was a luxury he couldn’t afford due to what he was.

Raph’s gaze soften, it wasn’t fun seeing his baby brother going through something that had his head spinning this badly. He reached out and clamped a hand on his shoulder, an affectionate squeeze of sympathy.

Mikey watched the building, swore he saw the light on your apartment come alive. Flooding the modest little living room, he could picture you tossing your stuff with a huff and a sigh, before settling into the normalcy of your routine. He felt his phone vibrate, pulling it out to see your name on the screen. It was enough to lift the black cloud.

Not enough to chase the storm away in his chest.

“Hey, angel, outta work finally?” He greeted you, that perfectly timed sigh of ‘fuck yes’ not (yes) sending a jolt through him.

“Are you still out on patrol? I got those disgusting heart attack inducing burgers from the bodega you like, wanna come over when your done being a superhero?” You cooed affectionately, he could hear the rustling of the bay.

Raph watched the smile, a smile only you were capable of sculpting out of Mikey.

He hoped, he hoped for a chance.

A chance at you two enjoying this little life.

[aadagio]

Fresh flowers for my record shelf. 💐

[bratdotcom]

Best Friend

( Re2r!Leon Kennedy x gn!reader || reading together )

A word to describe your home to Leon was warm. It was always warm at your house, even on cold summer nights. It made him feel warm. Warm in his chest, in his face. Though he tried not to show it. Not in front of you.

Leon was at your house so often that he even had his own personal cushion to sit on. His own cup, his own little nook to wait in while you got ready for the day out together.

Though today was different, today you both agreed on reading those books you had laying around for once. Those books with the cloth covers with lacquered gold lettering, getting them for the “aesthetic” and not the practicality of actually reading them like you promised.

You casually lie your head on his shoulder as you read, Leon tenses up his eyes glued to the page of some book you picked out for him. The title didn't matter to him. It mattered that you picked it out for him. He wanted to make you happy, make you proud of him. Feeling Leon tense up against you made you look up at him. His face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth in his chest against your cheek. “Hm? What's wrong, Scotty?” You smile as you say the nickname. God. That nickname. He absolutely hated it, it was so cheesy, but he'd put up with it with you. You were his best friend, you had the pass to call him that. Scotty.

No words leave his lips, yet he mouthed them. The blond gave you a somewhat delayed nervous smile. A shy, reassuring grin to tell you that he was okay. “Ah it's nothing. Don't worry uh…” He tries to think of a nickname for you, something, anything to call you, but he can't. He sighs softly, breath coming from his parted lips as easily as his name slips through your own. “Do you think we'd be best friends in every universe?” He decides to say, looking to his side at you. Leon closes his book, waiting for your answer as it lays in his lap. He almost leans over, towering over you as you lay on your side.

“Course we'd be best friends in every universe.” You reply without thinking. “If you were a bug on a leaf, I'd be a bug on a leaf. If you were a cowboy, I'd be your right-hand man.” You add, chuckling. “That's a silly question, Leon. Course we'd be best friends. No matter what.”

Leon frowns out of embarrassment. The way you replied made him feel dumb. He didn't know why. Course you and him would be best friends. No matter what.

If you were the beach, he'd be a grain of sand. If you were a cat, he'd be one too. All that mattered to him was that you were there with him. You were his comfort. A comfort he was too scared to admit himself.

All this thinking makes his head feel mushy. Mushy and warm. In your room, no less.

“Ah of course we'd be friends no matter what. I'm really glad we are.” he smiles, straightening his posture and clearing his throat. “I'm just making sure, that's all.” He says, placing his book on the floor next to him.

His eyes drift, from your face to the floor. The faint fairy lights draped on the walls make this all the more soft to him, Leon thought. He was going to pour his feelings out to you. At this moment. Not all of them. He wasn't ready to admit them all. Not yet.

The soft lights above you illuminate his face, and he looks down at you, his blues soften. "You know, I'm glad I met you. I don't know if I'd be the person I am today without you.”

His words were a confession to you. A confession of love for you. Leon didn't think you'd realize that this was his way of admitting he loved you. Without even saying those three words. Without a big reveal, with flowers and all that lovey dovey stuff he saw in movies. He wasn't ready for that.

He looks back down at you, waiting for your answer. Your reaction. “Aw…Leon..” You softened up against him, Leon was a bit glad you didn't call him Scotty this time. That'd ruin the moment, he thought.

“I'm glad too.” You bring him down with you into a hug, which makes his eyes widen. He didn't expect you to react this way. Pulling him into a hug was the least of his worries.

You hug Leon close to your heart. Leon could feel your heartbeat. “I'm really, really glad we're friends.” You say softly, your arms wrap around his frame. “You're the reason I get up in the morning sometimes, you know that?” You tell him, though Leon couldn't see your face because of the way you hugged him, he could tell you were smiling as you spoke. As if he was someone you were proud of. You were. You were proud of him.

[mj-fintastic]

Dumb, dumb feelings.

|Donatello X Reader one shot | Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff |

After you’ve been gone a whole college quarter, you come back to the New York sewers to spend winter break with the Mad Dogs. Except Donatello is acting rather strange…

………………………………………………………………

“Y/N!!” Mikey screeched, throwing himself at the girl. She was able to drop her bags just before contact, grasping onto the box turtle so that he wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“Woah! Be careful, I coulda dropped ya!” She mustered, as the boy was squeezing the life out of her.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N! How’s college going?” Raph put his hand on his hip, his signature snag tooth popping out of his smile.

“Oh, we’ll it’s been-!”

“BOOORIIIIING! Have you met anyone? Found any cute guys? I’m sure college is just FULL of em!”

“Leo!”

“Yes yes, everybody is positively thrilled to see Y/N again, now can we PLEASE focus on the task at hand?” Donnie sighed, rubbing his temples.

“What, the Jupiter Jim Jupithon?” Raph raised his brow.

“yeES! We haven’t even made popcorn, and while my palette is very refined, TUMMYTELLO IS HUNGRY! Can we at LEAST order a pizza before we get all mushy?” Y/N picked her bags up, struggling to walk as Mikey had attached himself to her leg.

“Someone is hangry, I see.” She smiled, making Donatello pout. Little did she know, Donnie had been seemingly unreasonably moody, almost gloomy, for the last two or so months. It was something everyone noticed, but nobody really knew why.

“It’s nice to see you too, hun.” Her gaze softened. No one questioned it, seeing as she had a habit of calling people nicknames, such as sweetie, honey, etc.

It had been awhile since he heard her refer to him as such though. His expression softened, no one particularly seeing his cheeks change hue slightly.

“I’ll go put my stuff in the lab. Thank you so much again for letting me stay during winter break, D.”

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome. Just hurry, or else I’m starting the movie without you.”

He was unusually dismissive towards her, which didn’t escape her as her smile lessened and she turned away and headed towards the lab. The turtles all turned towards Donatello as he walked to the kitchen and reached into a lower cabinet, trailing behind.

“You know Donnie, she came all this way to see us. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know…a little nicer?” Raph prodded.

“She’s been gone for SO LONG!” Mikey dramatically whined.

“Please, Michelangelo. She’s been gone for a little over a college quarter. Besides, we have-what, three weeks with her?” He nonchalantly grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, closing the door with slightly more force than usual.

Besides, what do YOU know about her, anyways? He clenched his jaw. He knew he was being unreasonable, but something was just nagging at him. Something was bothering him, and the fact he didn’t know what it was…it was driving him insane. He wanted to watch the movie, but he wanted them to go away. He wanted to be left alone, but he didn’t want to be alone. Nothing was making sense, his contradictory wants and desires making him grasp at straws. And his brothers were simply just distracting him from figuring it out…or so is the logical conclusion, he thought. Clearly, that’s why he was upset…right?

“Seriously. Broski. You’ve been even more grouchy than ever, and being grouchy is like, your thing! So, it’s a little impressive, but also…kiiind of a mood killer.” Leo chimed in, as Mikey nodded enthusiastically.

“I mean, you’re kind of acting like you’re not happy to see Y/N. Did you not miss her?”

“What? Wh- of COURSE I missed her! Did you just happen to forget she’s my BEST FRIEND?” He strained his tympanum to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet, there’s no way she’d get over him calling her that in front of someone else. Let alone his brothers. He took a bag from the box of popcorn off the counter, before tossing it into the microwave and putting it in for 3 minutes…promptly ignoring the popcorn button that his brothers loved oh-so-much, despite the packagings instructions advising against it.

“Then what’s the DEAL, YO?!!” Mikey shouted, causing Donnie to tense. All the attention, confusion and noise was becoming too damn grating on his nerves. It was too much, all at once.

“THERE IS NO DEAL, “YO!” NOTHING IS GOING ON, I AM PERFECTLY FINE AND NORMAL AND NOT AT ALL UPSET!” He grated his teeth, body tense as he slumped and his volume increased.

There was a pause, as tension was thick.

The popcorn had started it’s signature popping process.

The other turtles stared, eyebrows raised.

“Ooookayyyy, sure Donnie. Whatever you say. Anywhizzle-“ Leo broke the silence. “-You’re gonna share that popcorn, right? Cause oh boy I am STARVING!” He turned, chuckling as he made way for the living room, shouting as he spun on his heel.

“Raph, order a pizza! We must be prePARED, to fight for INTERPLANETARY PEACE!”

The popping from the microwave slowed, the smell familiar and comforting.

“You know what I like, Raphie. THE CHEESIEST CHEESE PIZZA THEY GOT!! I can feel that warm, melty dairy bliss on my tongue as we speak!” Mikey turned to follow his blue brother, practically bouncing off the walls. Donnie grabbed the bag from the microwave, tearing it open before a large hand softly placed itself upon his shoulder. Donatello felt his muscles tense yet again.

“Donnie. I know something’s wrong. You can’t hide that from me. I may not be the brightest, but I’ll be damned if I don’t know my brothers.” Raphael said softly. Donnie inhaled deeply, relaxing slightly.

“Okay, fine. There may be a SLIGHT CHANCE…that something is wrong. BUT, HERE’S THE PROBLEM, RAPH-AI-EL.” His jaw tightened, turning to face his brother.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT THING MIGHT BE! NO CLUE! NOT ONE IDEA!” He gestured wildly upward, causing Raph to step back.

“AND IT IS SO INFURIATING. I HATE NOT KNOWING THINGS, RAPH YOU KNOW THIS ABOUT ME! HOW ON EARTH AM I SUPPOSED TO FIX WHAT IS WRONG IF I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS?”

“Oh man. This might be a better job for Doctor Feelings.” Raph looked on helplessly.

“No offense to Doctor Feelings…” Donnie paused.

“Okay, full offense- I hate Doctor Feelings.” He spat out the name like an unsavory strand of meat fat. Gross.

“What?! Why?”

“You know I don’t do well with…Emotions! They have no rhyme or reason, they’re inconsistent, they-“

“Okay, lemme stop you there, cause I know if I don’t, you’re gonna be at this all night.”

The purple clad turtle pouted and sighed, but knew he was right. He did tend to ramble, and no one was really fond of when he did…Except Y/N, but she was a rare exception. He felt the weird pang in his chest again, feeling his frustration only grow.

“Listen, I’m no Mikey. But I feel like while this has been an issue for a while, it got worse when Y/N got here. So whatever it is, maybe it’s gotta do with her. Maybe she said somethin’ that made you mad, or…I dunno, stepped on your shoes somehow. Figure that out, then go talk to her, alright?”

Donnie raised a finger.

“POLITELY.”

He lowered his hand.

“Alright, now come on, they’re gonna start without us!” He chimed, pulling out his phone as he dialed Tony Lou’s Pizza. Donatello sighed, putting another bag in the microwave. Something just wasn’t making sense.

………………………………………………………………………………

“Save me, Jupiter Jim! They’re going to make me swim in this comedically large piranha pit with also snakes and vipers and sharks if you don’t set me free!”

“Alas! Having to choose between saving planet JupiJarturNebula or save my partner…! What a heartbreaking, but extremely easy morally ethical decision!”

Everyone was on the edge of their seats, as the alien race of Angler-fish donkey people snidely chuckled with Red Fox in their clutches…Everyone but Donatello.

What could she have possibly done to make me angry? He questioned, occasionally stealing a glance at Y/n between fistfuls of popcorn.

I mean, we haven’t talked much while she’s been away, sure. How could one NOT want to talk to ME?! ORTHELLO VON RYAN?!!! However, he had to admit, college was difficult. Especially going full time AND having a job? He could see how she may not have had time. Besides, he was just as much at fault. As much as he missed her and thought about her, he never quite had the time between missions and projects to shoot her a text or call. Clearly, that couldn’t be the reason.

But nothing else came to mind. He had missed her so dearly, wanted to see her so badly…and now, here she was, hanging out with everyone. It wasn’t that he was upset she was here…what was it?

He paused as he stole another glance. The light brought attention to her nose, cheekbones…specifically her eyes. The reflection of the projection of stars, laser blasts and beautiful blues and purples made her eyes seem to shine. How he wished she would look at him, give him a better view, give him the unadulterated attention she was giving the projection on the wall.

His chest felt heavy again. Or…was heavy the right description? It felt like…a burning, but not the painful kind that a triple cheeseburger from McDonalds would give you. Once he embraced it, it felt…almost…nice.

Something happened in the movie that made her burst out laughing, and yet he couldn’t look away to save his own hide. If she looked now, she would most certainly notice his gaze. His face grew all the warmer, but he was too lost in thought to notice.

Her laugh was rather loud, he noticed. Unlike when they had first met. She was…quieter then. She had grown into herself a lot, gotten more comfortable. And it was…

Lovely.

Her voice struck a chord within him. It always had, but he never really noticed. He really had missed her. Her presence, her voice, her eyes…all he wanted was for her to notice him again.

And then it clicked.

“Alright, y’all! Two movies down, a JupiterJillion left to go!” She smiled, as the brothers roared in excitement.

“Oh! Uh, actually, Y/N…” Donnie started, before he felt a wave of nervousness splash him in the face once she turned to look at him. Her lips curved upwards towards her eyes slightly, as she made soft but direct eye contact.

Oh, God, what did Raph say? Run away and hide forever and throw away all means of communication and never ever ever - AND THAT’S TWO EVERS -under any circumstances talk to her ESPECIALLY ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL-yeah that sounded about right mhm totally!

“What’s up, D?” She gently prodded, urging him to continue.

“Can you…meet me in my lab in a moment? I want to talk to you about something.” He stood up, breaking the eye contact as he pulled out his phone, desperate to do something with his hands other than let them dangle awkwardly at his sides. The way she looked at him made him feel weak. He had gotten exactly what he wanted, for just a brief moment, before he had ruined it. Gosh, why couldn’t he just be normal around her?

“Of course! I’ll be there in just a minute.” She replied, cheery as ever, as she got to her feet as well.

“I’m just gonna start some more popcorn really quick.” She added as Donnie walked away, as he hummed a confirmation and made way to his lab.

As she walked to the kitchen, the brothers shot glances at one another as a familiar beeping sounded in the kitchen.

Another pause hung in the air, as they strained to hear her walk out of the kitchen.

“Okay, what’s going ON with those two?” Leo sputtered.

“I dunno, but I’m gonna make sure D ain’t being rude. It’s her winter break, after all! She deserves to have a good time, and I am fed up with his bad behavior.” Raphael concluded.

“Raph, are sure that’s a good idea? I mean…it seems pretty private if you ask me.” Mikey hinted with a raise of his brows. The snapping turtle, however, was dense to the implications.

“Nonsense! I’m sure nothing could go wrong by just checkin’.” He smiled, before heading off in Donnie’s footsteps.

…………………………………………………………………

Why was this so hard? He wiped his hands on his shorts a third time. His heart was racing, and he had no idea why. What was he going to say? His mouth felt dry, as he tried to think of what Mikey would say…

Just listen to your heart! You’ll feel much better if you’re honest with not only yourself, but the people around you! Communication is the key to any relationship, as is honesty.

Right, he scoffed. As if the truth does anything except hurt people. He found that no one really liked it when he told the truth, and sometimes all it did was hurt people’s feelings…or ruin a perfectly good friendship.

Yes, the truth can hurt. But sometimes, pain isn’t a bad thing. Pain is needed to learn, heal, grow as a person. And having someone lie to you can cause a lot more pain then telling the truth.

Well…that was true. What was he even going to say? He still didn’t really understand how he felt. How could he communicate it if he didn’t know what was going on?

Well, Mind Mikey wasn’t being very helpful anymore. He sighed, placing his hand on his plastron to feel his heart pulse rapidly. He hated this. He didn’t know what he wanted.

“Knock knock!”

He nearly jumped out of his own shell, as Y/N’s voice came from behind him.

She was barely peering in, hesitant to enter without permission.

“Did you seriously say that instead of, I don’t know-JUST KNOCKING?”

“You’re one to talk, hun.”

His stomach did a flip. Why now was the nickname giving him trouble? His eyes shifted, a soft hue of red accenting his cheeks. She didn’t fail to notice, brows furrowing.

“Donnie, is something…wrong? I know you don’t like talking about your emotions, but…” she spoke quietly, as she approached him. He couldn’t muster to look her in the eyes.

“I want you to know I’m always here for you. Whether you want to talk, just hang out…anything.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just…” he hesitated. What to say? Would it really be…okay? He bit his lip, feeling his face begin to burn as he only grew more nervous.

“Okay well maybe SOMETHING is wrong but I’m not really sure what but I think I maybe know what it is? But at the same time I don’t know for sure and I-I just-“ he rushed through his words, speaking with his hands before sharply inhaling and restarting.

“I…I feel as though…I may have made you feel like I wasn’t happy to see you again, which is absolutely not the case. I just…” another pause.

“It’s okay, take your time Donatello.”

He looked at her with big eyes. Her expression was soft, understanding and comforting as she smiled patiently. He felt himself melt ever so slightly. Taking a moment to compose himself, he looked away again.

“…I just…missed you so much, I…The fact that I wasn’t able to spend time with you first made me upset, when in my mind I had envisioned something different…I felt like…” this was humiliating. He could just see Dr. Feelings watching and giving him a thumbs up in his head…he hated it.

“Like…my brothers were stealing you away from me, and that…you liked them more than me.” Dr. Feelings shot him a look.

“Did I make you feel that way?” Her brows turned upwards.

“No. I realize that, while I want to spend time with you the most…my brothers want to spend time with you too. So therefore…this was the best solution. To spend time with everyone at once before spending time with people individually. But at the same time, knowing that…didn’t change how I felt.” He shrunk in on himself, feeling small. Until she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s completely normal. And, if you want, we could stay in here for awhile and spend some time one on one. I wouldn’t mind, I missed you too, you know.”

The look in her eyes were so warm, and the gentle touch made him lean in slightly. He folded, hugging her around her waist and burying his face in her stomach. The feeling of her touch after so long…he didn’t realize how much he longed for it. He felt her hand pull his goggles off, setting them to the side, before she started gently petting his head as the other laid on his battle shell. Normally, he hated being touched. But she…she was an exception. When it came to her gentle, graceful hands…he melted further and further into her.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Raph huffed as he made his way to the lair, his steps quiet.

“Man, if that Idiot is hurting her feelings I swear…Good thing Raph’s not gonna let that happen!” He chuckled to himself, before preparing to peer in.

“I’m surprised I’m not hearin’ fighting-“ looking in, he stopped in his tracks.

They were both sitting on the floor, Donnie with his arms around her and face rubbing into her lower abdomen, eyes wet as she held him and cooed softly.

“It’s alright, Donnie, I’m here now. We have so much time to spend together, and trust me…you’re going to get the brunt of the attention.” She laughed softly.

“Three weeks isn’t enough.” He murmured, making her blush slightly as Raph’s jaw dropped. Never in a million years did he think he’d see Donnie this open with someone. Honestly, he felt a little jealous that he wasn’t that open with him, but clearly something happening between them that was…much different. Suddenly, he realized exactly what Mikey has meant by private.

“I’ll only be gone for another two months or so, again.”

IT WAS TWO MONTHS?? Raph connected the dots in his brain. The whole reason Donnie had been a gigantic grump was because…he missed her? God, Donnie is a real knucklehead when it came to feelings.

“I know…I don’t want you to go.” He whispered, a single tear threatening to spill.

“I missed you so much. I don’t want to miss you again.”

The blush on her face only worsened.

“Oh, Donnie…Honey, it’ll be alright. I’ll always come back. You think I could ever go without you for more than a quarter? You’re my favorite person in this world. You’re the one I’ll always look forward to coming home to.”

Donnie pulled away, her words striking a chord within him as he looked at her. With a single sentence, she had made him melt to his core.

You’re the one I’ll always look forward to coming home to.

Suddenly, in one movement, Donatello moved up towards her face, hand cupping her jawline as he suddenly embraced her.

Her eyes were wide, taking a moment to process, before she melted into him with a small, content hum. His brows turned upward, resting his other arm over her shoulder as he slightly twisted his head to better fit her lips.

Welp. Despite his utter shock, now was absolutely the time for Raph to dip, he thought. However, he didn’t move an inch.

Hey, wait. What’s going on?!! I should probably get moving! He thought again.

HE HAD HIS FIRST KISS BEFORE ANY OF US?!! DONNIE?!!! Mind Raph roared.

Uh, Mind Raph, We should probably go. This is getting kinda creepy.

What? This is like a Soap Opera, I gotta know what happens next!!

Hey, that’s our brother, not free entertainment!

Even better, we should record them. I mean, no one’s gonna believe us otherwise.

WHAT?!! ARE YOU INSANE?!!

No, I’m Mind Raph. Thought that was pretty obvious.

That would be SUCH AN INVASION OF PRIVACY!!

Yeah, but it’d be funny.

…

Raph quickly pulled out his phone, and snapped a quick picture of the two. I mean, how much blackmail does Donnie have on him, I’m comparison? Plus…It was just too gosh darn cute to see his baby brother have his first kiss. With that, he walked away.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Her soft lips pressing against his made him shiver, wanting to feel them thoroughly as he pressed again and again. He wanted to spill everything, how inexperienced he was, how sorry he was for randomly embracing her the way he did, but also how long he had wanted to do it for. And yet, he didn’t need to. And when she had hummed the way she did, he felt weak to his core. Her lips were heavenly, sweet with a hint of popcorn, and just the fact that he got to know what her lips tasted like made him utterly breathless. He felt her arms around his waist, hand caressing the lower back of his battle shell, and suddenly he had the urge to take it off.

Am I ready for that? He pulled away, looking into her eyes as he thought.

Would she love me the same? He bit his lip nervously.

“Donnie?” She murmured, sending a chill up his shell.

Only one way to find out.

He let go of her for a moment, reaching up to the straps connected to his Plastron and pressing two small hidden panels simultaneously. The battle shell fell behind him as Y/N moved her hands out of the way slightly. Her eyes widened, a blush accenting her cheeks.

“Donnie…I…” she paused, as he listened tentatively and nervously.

“Can I…?”

He nodded.

He felt her hands gently place themselves onto his soft shell, another shiver going through his body. Her hands were warm, soft…nice. He felt his eyes flutter closed as he bit his lip. It felt amazing, her delicate touch as she caressed. He leaned into her, before fully wrapping his arms underneath hers and leaving his hands on her upper back as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“God…” she whispered beneath her breath, before chuckling softly.

“I hate how in love with you I am.” She smiled, turning her head to place a kiss on his head. He responded by nuzzling further against her.

“I love you so much.” She cooed.

Normally, he would despise being treated this way. And yet…he had never felt more loved, more safe.

It was quiet. The only sounds were those of their breathing, and her hands moving across his shell. It was cold in the lair, and yet, he felt the most warm he had ever felt. She smelled ever so slightly of perfume, and he could faintly taste her on his lips. It was fairly dark in the lair, but the purple lights comforted him in a way he couldn’t describe. And everything was just so…warm. Perfect, safe, warm…

He pulled away slightly to press another chaste kiss into her lips, feeling almost entranced by the atmosphere and by his own feelings for her. When the kiss ended, he only moved far away enough to give him room to speak. When he did, he could feel his lips brush hers ever so slightly.

“I…I’m so in love with you.” He whispered breathlessly. “I never want you to leave.”

She only smiled, gently pressing her forehead into his.

“I may leave, but I’m still yours. No matter how far away I am.”

She held his face in her hand, and all he could do was nuzzle into her touch more. No matter how close they were, it just wasn’t close enough. For once, he wasn’t thinking. All of his focus was directed towards her loving embrace.

RING RING! RING RING!

As if snapped out of a trance, Donnie jumped and reached for his phone in his pocket. His screen displayed Red Leader, as he felt himself flush.

“Hey Donnie~ How’s it going with Y/N?~” His older brother said, his tone slightly strange.

“O-OH, UH- Marvelously, fantastic, why?” He sweated, face red.

“Oh, I bet. Enjoying some…quality time?” He cooed, and Donnie could practically see his eyebrows wiggle.

“Uh- why are you talking like that?” He answered, monotone, trying to mask his nervousness.

“No reason…no reason at all.”

“Right…why did you call me?”

“Well, when are you two coming back down for the marathon? We’re already done with the next movie!”

“Oh! Erm, well…Soon?”

“Alright then, hurry it up!…Buncha smoochers.” He added teasingly at the end.

“WH-WAIT HOW-“ Click!

How the fuck did he know? DOES HE KNOW?!!

“Well, what’s up, D?” Y/N touched his shoulder, making him even more of a flustered mess.

“OH WELL UH-“ he cleared his throat. “Raph was uh-just-curious if we were coming back for the marathon soon.”

“Are we?”

“…”

“…”

“Ok maybe another few minutes wouldn’t hurt-“

“Oh yeah absolutely they probably won’t notice.”

[obsidiancreates]

The Smartest Dumb Person She's Ever Met (Shules Shawn Genius Reveal Fic)

“Shawn, this is ridiculous.” Even as she says it, Jules knows her smile completely undercuts her protests as Shawn sets out more and more and more plates of food.

“Babe, I told you, we are finding our new go-to takeout spot tonight,” Shawn insists. “We’ll just dump all the leftovers on Gus! He’ll love it, maybe even more than he loves watching debates about rash cream side-effects.”

“I don’t think he loves watching those, Shawn.”

“Then why does he spend hours on it every few months?”

“Well, maybe, because he has a day job. We’re not all so lucky to be employed by spirits and whims,” Jules teases lightheartedly as Shawn sits down and starts putting together a sampler plate. “Speaking of which, we didn’t talk about what I should expect from living with a psychic.”

“Aside from constant swooning and daily hair updates?”

“Aside from those.”

“Well, Jules, I’m afraid I can’t tell you what to expect, because I don’t know either.” Shawn hands her the plate, and sniffs. “Truth be told, this is uh… this is the first time I’ve moved in with somebody.”

Jules smiles softer. “Mine too. But I just mean… how often do you have visions outside of cases? And what about your dreams, are those affected?”

“No, not as far as I know- but I have been told I talk in my sleep.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because you know me.” He kisses her before dishing up his own plate. “But uh, yeah, no psychic vision dreams for the most part.. … Well, sometimes, but not usually. And I can control the visions at home, don’t even worry another second about it.”

“Really? Because I thought you were completely beholden to them at all times.”

“Ehhhh… more or less.”

“Shawn.”

“Alright, so maybe a minor one here and there- but I’ll save the big stuff for the cases. No dramatic psych-outs in the living room.”

“Thank you.” Jules takes a bite of one of the various dishes on her plate, and coughs. “Oh my god, they used so much black pepper!”

“Let me try- hck! Oh my- ekch! That is just stupid, how much there is-”

“Get some water-”

“On it, on it, holy-”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn doesn’t have psychic visions or dreams, just like he promised.

But he has something else going on.

Jules starts noticing it after the first few days of lovey-dovey, disgustingly happy mushiness finally starts to settle into domesticity. She sits at the table and Shawn has a big stack of toaster waffles already drenched in syrup ready for both of them, even though he’s not a natural early riser, because it’s a day they both have off and it’s more Brunch than Lunch, and Shawn… isn’t eating.

His head is tilted, his eyes narrowed, and that usually means he’s having a vision. But this morning he’s just barely reading the newspaper- Jules is sure he’s not actually reading it, his eyes aren’t moving right for that, in fact they’re barely moving at all. They’re narrows and still, taking the paper in as one whole picture, probably absorbing nothing.

And she starts to realize he gets that look a lot, with no visions following them. He gets it when the delivery guy drops off their food, he gets it when the news comes on, he gets it when Lassiter comes over to drop off something Jules left in his car during a stakeout, and again and again and again.

And then it just goes away, and he doesn’t say anything. And she assumes, well, it’s a minor vision. He has them a lot more often than she had previously thought, clearly. Small, apparently unimportant visions that he just brushes off.

And then he tells her that they should stop getting takeout from the place two blocks away because the delivery guy is about to quit from being overworked. There’s no fanfare, no hand to his head, no sharp inhale- just an offhand statement that slips out right after he closes the front door.

It’s not the first time she’s heard him make a random prediction, not even close. But something about the understated nature of it makes her pause, and after a second she asks, “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve seen the state of that car they have him driving, it's one rough road away from falling to pieces. Plus his shoes are completely tattered, and his jeans, basically everything that’s not given to him as part of the uniform, but they’re also all stiff still- he just bought them and they’re already wrecked because of how many deliveries he’s making. That’d piss anyone off enough to quit, especially at his age.”

She hadn’t noticed that- at least, not all of it. She knew the car was a piece of junk, and the clothes were tattered, but thinking back she sees what Shawn means by them still looking stiff and out-of-the-box new. And somehow, somehow, she feels like if she points out that she hadn’t caught onto all of that herself, something… big, would just… slip away.

“That’s a shame, I like him,” is all she says instead. “He has a nice smile.”

“He just got his braces off, he’d probably literally skip for joy if he heard you say that,” Shawn says, handing over her food. Again, no fanfare, no theatrics- he just says it, unthinkingly, almost distracted as he digs into his honey cashew shrimp and chicken. 

It’s different. 

It has to be a vision, but it’s different. 

And again, Jules gets a feeling that pointing that out would break… something, about this moment. So she makes a note, and tucks it away in her mind, and hopes she’s able to remember to follow up later.

“Good for him.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn talks in his sleep most nights, as it turns out. 

It’s not very comprehensible majority of the time- usually all she can make out, when she’s even awake to hear it, is Shawn mumbling something to or about Gus. At first it’s a little offensive, frankly, that her boyfriend dreams about his best friend constantly and she never hears her own name, but it quickly becomes just… normal. Like most of Shawn and Gus’s codependency. Some days she feels like she’s dating both of them, just a little bit. It bothers her less than it probably should, certainly less than she would expect if she was an outside observer. Gus was Shawn’s original rock, his strongest pillar, his tightest tether, and she knew she’d never truly be able to match that even before she and Shawn got together. 

She should probably ask Gus about some of Shawn’s more daily psychic dealings, actually- he’s known Shawn for their whole loves, so he must have lots of advice for her about how to deal with it. And how to deal with the rest of Shawn’s… quirks. Which she loves about him, she truly does, as messy and intrusive as some of those quirks are in their lives. Psychic visions, murder scene dates, fearing that Shawn’s going to get himself killed with his daily recklessness. She had kissed him on that Canadian overlook expecting all of it, thinking she had finally come to learn everything she needed to learn about him.

And then, all those months and years later, she’s laying in bed unable to sleep and reading a book to try and calm down when Shawn mumbles out something shockingly understandable about the case they’re both working.

She freezes, as though her silent eye movements while reading could somehow disturb the moment.

“Doesn’ ma’ s’nse,” Shawn mumbles in his sleep. “Th’ t’re tr’cks…”

Jules slowly lowers her book.

Shawn rolls over, facing her now, still fast asleep, lightly snoring. Jules watches him like a deer caught in headlights.

“T’res don’ ma’ch,” Shawn mumbles out. “Tr’d too w’de…” His brow pinches, his lips pursing a little. There’s a long beat of silence.

Jules holds her breath. Like with the delivery boy, something about this moment just feels… big. Important.

Shawn’s face smooths out. “M’gn’ts.”

Magnets. 

Jules thinks about the case that they’ve been working together all week, a hit-and-run. They’ve got one witness who got a whole license plate number, they’ve got the plate number matching a car of that exact description, and the only problem is they’ve also got  a suspect who vehemently denies ever driving that route in his entire life. And like always when things seem straightforward, Shawn had declared that he wasn’t convinced they had the right guy. 

But that doesn’t help her figure out what magnets have to do with anything. After a moment she doesn’t have to figure it out on her own, because Shawn makes a soft noise of sleep-laden realization.

“Th’ s’x an’ th’ n’ne.” His hand twitches, roughly tracing out the numbers on the sheets. “Fl’p ‘em…”

Magnets. 

License plate number magnets. Moveable, alterable plate numbers.

“S’me car m’ke, s’me num’er, diff’ren’ t’re.” There’s a note of satisfaction, even in the sleep-slurred mess that is Shawn’s voice. He smiles a little in his sleep, and moments later… he’s snoring.

Jules sits, book almost falling out of her nonexistent grip, stunned into silence.

Shawn just cracked the case. In his sleep. With logic and authentic detective deduction. 

… But that’s not possible.

Shawn doesn’t work like that. He doesn’t pay attention to clues, reason out possibilities, connect dots. He receives visions, he relays them, he makes connections with the help of his abilities. And maybe she’s seen some times that contradict tha belief, but- but it’s just not how he works. She would know.

… Maybe he does get psychic dreams. Maybe he just doesn’t know he gets them? But there was a thought process there, and a natural one for it to come to him so easily in sleep. She’d heard every step of the process, followed him on each conclusion.

… But the tire treads not matching? Jules relaxes, closing her book and turning off the lamp. That had to be psychic. No-one else noticed or said anything about tire treads through the investigation. How would he even pick out and remember that detail, anyway, without spiritual guidance? He’d seen only photos of the crime scene, and not great ones at that- darn trainees.

… Psychic dreams. Has to be.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jules, look at that.” Shawn smiles and points at the ducks in the pond they’re having a picnic by. “There’s a bunch of baby ducks over there.”

Jules gasps and looks over eagerly, but quickly frowns. “Where?”

“Right there, in those tall hot-dog looking things.”

“Um, the reeds?”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

Jules squints, searching for signs of ducklings. “Where are you seeing them?”

“Right there, look.” Shawn leans and points harder , like that will help somehow. “You can totally see the hotdogs moving.”

“I think that’s just the wind.”

“No, look, the moms are circling the hot dogs and luring the feeders over to them.”

“What?” Jules looks at the edges of the pond now, and realizes that, yes, the ducks are luring the people with the food towards the reeds- and finally, the ducklings swim out into view.

“Told ya.” Shawn takes a bite of an eclair. 

“How did you even see that movement from here?” Jules looks back at Shawn in awe. 

“You kidding? They were totally moving all over.”

“But it looked like the wind.”

“The wind is blowing the total opposite direction. Look, you can see it in the ripples.”

“Huh.” Jules looks back at the pond. “That’s really impressive, Shawn. I had no idea your eyesight was that good.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been asked to be studied by science for my eyesight, but they said it would drain all the color out of them, and then of course I’d have to become a supervillain.”

“Or a mysterious warning corpse in the basement of a haunted mansion.”

“Neither of which I felt up for.”

“Right.” Jules giggles, and looks back at the pond. 

She has no idea how he noticed that. Not unless it was psychic, somehow. And further, she has no idea why he’s acting like she should be able to notice it, too. And, like before with the delivery boy, it’s not the first time he’s done this. But it’s the first time it feels…

Like something she needs to pay attention to.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shawn?” Jules sets down the bowl of brownie batter when she realizes he’s stopped licking the spoon and is staring, eyes glazed, at the wall. It’s probably just a vision. She should just consider it a vision. There’s no real reason to think it’s not.

“Shawn,” she tries again, shaking his arm slightly. He startles, just a bit, and then clears his throat and puts the licked-”clean” spoon down on the counter. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” His eyes flick back to the wall. “... Jules, uh, does the wall look…” He pouts a little, shrugging. “Suspicious, to you?”

“Suspicious?” She looks at the same spot. “It’s… a wall.”

“Yeah… but there’s something a little off, isn’t there?” Shawn walks over to it, and taps his knuckles against the plaster. “... Sounds off, actually. Come here, listen.”

She obliges, leaning in close. Shawn taps one spot on the wall, and then the spot he said sounded strange.

“... What am I supposed to be hearing, Shawn?”

“It’s more hollow over here.” Shawn taps the first spot, and then taps the second. “Right here, it sounds more uh… almost like wet cardboard.”

She listens again. “Okay… I think I hear it now. But you didn’t hear the wall from over at the counter, did you? Was it a vision?”

“There’s a ring around this spot,” Shawn mumbles, like he didn’t hear her. He smacks his lips, and then jerks away from the wall as the focus suddenly drops away into his usual energy. “Man, we’ve got a leak in the walls! I knew that landlord was lying when he said it was all up to code.”

“A leak? Shawn, we tapped the wall a little bit, that doesn’t really tell us anything.”

“Yeah, maybe… but I’m calling someone, tomorrow, just- remind me in the morning.” His eyebrows twitch up, his mouth forming an ‘O’ as he realizes something. “If I play this card right I might be able to knock a bit off our rent.”

“Shawn, you are not blackmailing our landlord over a leak that might not even exist.”

“I’m not! Not yet! Just planning to, possibly. So we can have more money for date nights!”

“It’s illegal.”

“Alright, alright. …How illegal, exactly?”

“Shawn.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s trickery. It’s lying. It’s wrong.

But she had been sitting at her desk, reviewing the latest round of new Detective’s Exam scores, when she’d remembered Shawn saying years ago that he had taken the exam when he was 15, and got 100.

A perfect score.

And maybe that meant very little to her once, when Shawn was just the strange somewhat charming guy who came into her life only on occasion to make a case more interesting. But now, dating Shawn and seriously considering spending the rest of her life with him, now as soon as she had recalled that tidbit it began to haunt her. Every time she watched Shawn around the house, and even in the station. It echoed in her head while she watched him look over reports, scan crime scenes, even while he was just watching movies and predicting things about their endings. 

I got 100. … Why? What did you guys get?

He hadn’t even been bragging. 

So now she sits on the couch, a thick binder in front of her, guilt twisting in her stomach at what she’s about to do. 

She’s about to lie to her boyfriend, with the full intent of tricking him into the taking the exam again, just to see.

When he walks into the house, slightly out of breath and carrying something that looks suspiciously like the pineapple statue put into evidence during the last case, he startles upon seeing her and hides the statue behind his back. But his excuse dies in his gaping mouth when he sees how stressed she looks.

“Babe? Everything okay?” He sets the statue- it’s definitely the same one put into evidence- aside as he moves to sit next to her.

“Fine,” she sighs. “Just- Chief Vick asked me to help review the Detective’s Exam after someone complained there were errors in it.”

“Hmm. That person should either pass immediately, or be barred from detective status forever.”

She giggles softly. “That’s a little extreme. It’s just, this is going to take forever, and I was hoping to go out today and finally try that spa that opened up.”

“Well you totally should!” Shawn looks at the binder. “Just, leave it for another time, it can’t be that pressing. After all, Santa Barbara already has it’s best detective.”

She rolls her eyes fondly.

“And, she just so happens to be dating an equally awesome but more brunette psychic detective.” He kisses her on the cheek. “So she should go out and treat herself while her awesome boyfriend tries to divine if there’s actually a mistake.”

“Oh, the spirits know that kind of thing?”

“Some of them, some of them.”

“Well, let them know I’ll still have to check their work, so they better show it.” She gives him a kiss back and stands. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The guilt gnaws at her as she drives to the spa, as she picks her treatment, as she gets her facial and her massage and her body scrub. She knows she had to- she knows Shawn well enough to know he’d never retake the exam if she just asked him outright. He’d be suspicious why she was asking him to, and she’s not sure she can tell him without making him think she’s doubting him.

She’s not. He is psychic. 

But he might also be more.

And if he is, he’s hiding it- maybe not as much as he did when she would only see him at the station, or planned dates, but he’s still hiding it. She sees him seeing things, noticing details, making connections, and when he does he never seems to…

She’s not sure. She just knows that he treats these moments like they’re something a normal person can do when they can’t, or like they aren’t happening at all, or even…

Even like they’re psychic.

She takes the long way home, breathing deeply the whole time. Shawn lies to her every day- she’s not blind to that. Usually about a case, usually because he’s more than likely doing something she could get reprimanded for just knowing about. She doesn’t like it, but even though he lies he doesn’t trick her, at least as far as she knows. 

When she gets home, Shawn isn’t there. She finds a note on the coffee table, stuck to the binder. Gus called, be back soon, XOXO.

She smiles, takes a deep breath, and opens the binder.

There’s mostly Doodles. His artistic skill on display ranges from shockingly masterful to shockingly kindergarten-like, some doodles belonging in a gallery and some not even qualifying for the fridge under a free pizza place magnet. Aliens, dinosaurs, scenes from movies, random invention ideas…

No answers, at first, which disappoints her. Until she notices that one doodle seems to coordinate to one of the questions, and it’s like a Rosetta Stone.

Not all, but many of the doodles seem to relate to the answer to a question in some way, and where there’s not doodles there’s not-answers that show knowledge of the actual answer. There’s snark and quips and jokes that contain answers, and every once and a while she even finds something straightforward smushed among the almost deflective content of the pages.

Deflective.

He’s deflecting that he knows the answers. The more she flips through, the more she sees it. Shawn went out of his way to answer without answering, to show his knowledge without admitting he has it. He couldn’t just not answer, and he couldn’t just pretend not to know- but he couldn’t outright show it either.

“Oh my god.” Jules closes the binder and puts her face in her hands. “Of course. Henry.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jules finds Henry’s detective’s exam score a week later. It’s high- not perfect, but high. She finds Shawn’s score to compare. Like he’d said. It was perfect.

She goes digging through the file archives on her lunch break, and finds the actual exam itself- someone preserved it, because a fifteen year old got 100.

It’s not like the one Shawn did in their living room.

It’s still got doodles, tangents, signs of distractibility- but the answers are much more plain. Forthright. It reads like an actual potential detective, taking the exam seriously, trying his best.

And she’s pretty sure she knows who gave Shawn that exam.

Of course, of course. His dad was a cop, a revered one, of course Henry taught Shawn some skills- more than some! How did that never occur to her? It feels silly now, to think Shawn wouldn’t have at the very least picked up a few tricks of the trade, even if Henry hadn’t taught Shawn outright.

She puts the file back, smiling and satisfied with knowing she was right and Shawn does have genuine, non-psychic detective skills like she’d suspected.

… The smile fades when she starts to wonder why he pretends he doesn’t.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Carlton, can I ask you about something?”

Lassiter looks up from his paperwork and sets his pen aside. “Anything to save me from the banality of filling another report out.”

“You… met Shawn’s mom, right?”

Lassiter’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes going a little wide. “This isn’t anything about you and Spencer’s… relationship progress, is it?”

“What? … Oh, god, no! No, I’m not looking to propose or anything.”

He sags (well, relatively- Lassiter never truly sags or loosens up) with relief. “In that case, yes, she did my last psych eval.”

“Right. And you-you talked with her a lot?”

“As much as was required by the situation.”

“Was she… like Shawn, at all? It’s just that, well, even though she’s been in town three times now, I’ve never actually talked with her beyond some passing comments.” She’s barely involved with Shawn’s life- if Jules didn’t know how absent Madaline is from her son’s existence prior to dating, she’d have assumed Shawn’s mom hated her by how little they’ve actually interacted.

Lassiter thinks for a moment, looking out into the bullpen, and then looks down and picks his pen back up. “Not really, no. Closest she came was recognizing the Clint Eastwood movies I was telling her stories from. She was generally professional, somewhat soft-spoken, and somehow got me to open up without even half of the pressing nature of her son.”

Jules nods. “Did she… mention Shawn at all?”

“Only at the end, after I shared my innermost thoughts. … You know, I take it back. That was the most Spencer -like thing she did during our sessions.”

“Huh.” Jules looks down at her own paperwork. That answers nothing about why Shawn is pretending he isn’t a good detective. It can’t be his dad, Henry would be much softer and more proud if Shawn showed off that skillset, surely. Madaline seemed like a good lead…

“She was weird, though. Outside of the relation to Spencer. She didn’t even record our sessions, she claimed to have… dammit.” Lassiter frowns as he tries to remember. “Something about being able to remember everything she hears with almost perfect accuracy.”

Jules’s head snaps up. “What?”

“I thought she was bullcrapping, but I got ahold of the file and didn’t actually find any errors in the quotes she included- she must’ve tapped the room or something.”

“Carlton, go back. Perfect memory? Shawn’s mom?”

“See, I believed her about it until I learned that. With Henry’s recall, and a mom with perfect memory for sounds, there’s no way Spencer should be as airheaded as he is. Not unless his brain short-circuited from overwhelming competency it just wasn’t built for.”

“Oh my god.” Jules puts her face in her hands. “Carlton, what if that’s exactly what it is?”

“What? What are you on about?”

“Nothing, just- it’s nothing.” She fixes her ponytail and then stands up. “I’m taking my lunch break, I’ll bring you back a coffee.”

“Uh, and a danish.”

“And a danish.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry swings the door open with a readied scowl, but it drops away when he sees it’s Jules standing on his porch. “Oh, Detective O’Hara.”

“I’m here on a personal matter, actually.” Jules smiles a bit. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, sure, come on in.” Henry steps aside. “I actually just grilled up a catch from this morning, if you’re hungry.”

“Thank you, that sounds great.”

Minutes later they’re both sitting at the table, Jules sees a little carving in the top of the old piece of furniture, a shaky scratching of Shawn and Gus Club right by her elbow. It makes her smile.

“So, ah, what is this about?” Henry gestures at her with his fork. “Shawn’s treating you right, isn’t he?”

“We’re great,” she assures. “I just wanted to ask a few questions about Shawn’s gift.”

Henry leans his head to the side, frowning. “I uh, can’t really help you there, Juliet.”

“Not the psychic one.”

Henry pauses, his frown deepening. He looks up at her with something… unreadable, in his eyes. “How do you mean?”

“I’m not doubting him,” Jules rushes to reassure, and it does seem to loosen something in Henry’s twisted expression, but not by much. “I just… I’ve always known Shawn was a little smarter than he let on, you know? But I’ve had reason to believe, since we moved in together, that it’s much more extreme of a mask than I thought.”

Henry puts his fork down entirely. “What’d he do?”

“Just… little things, that I used to think were maybe minor visions or feelings, but sometimes… sometimes he just says things that blow my mind. He notices way more little details than he used to let on, for example, and then today Carlton mentioned that his mom has an um…” She take sout her phone to look it up again.

“Eidetic tonal memory,” Henry fills in before she can even begin typing. “She does. I have a visual one.”

Jules looks at him, quickly tucking her phone away. “And then Carlton said that maybe Shawn struggled with handling that- well, he didn’t say it in those exact words-”

“Shawn does not struggle with his memory, except for when he wants to.” Henry’s mouth is puckered, like he’s eating a lemon dipped in sour dust. “You’re saying you think he’s faking visions.”

“Not all of them.” That’s just not possible, with everything he figures out. “But some of them, and I just- I just can’t figure out why he would fake them for some of the things he does. I mean, the other night he talked in his sleep and basically walked me through his process step-by step by accident, and then the next day he came into the station and pretended it just came to him when he reexamined the scene photos.”

“Shawn has always had an overenthusiasm for drama,” Henry starts, speaking quickly and with heavy exasperation. “He likes things to be public and dramatic as much as possible, especially when it’s an embarrassment to himself and to me.”

“That’s a little harsh, I think.”

“Trust me, it isn’t. Shawn has never wanted to embrace his full potential, Juliet- yes, he has both a visual and tonal eidetic memory, and on top of that I trained him to be a detective for his entire life. I knew, I knew he had the ability to be the best detective this department has ever seen, if he just-!” Henry stops himself and rubs one hand over his head. “But he likes living in a fantasy more. He likes slacking off, and refusing to apply himself, and avoiding responsibility, so he… indulged his psychicness, over his actual detective skills.”

“... I’m not sure he has,” Jules says carefully, watching for Henry’s reaction with a readiness to run. 

Henry laughs a little, bitterly, and looks up. “He’s not a real detective, Juliet. No matter how much I want him to be, or how much he insists he is.”

“Just because he’s not on the force, it doesn’t mean he’s not a detective.” 

“It might as well.”

“... You should be proud of your son, Henry. He’s helped solved a lot of cases we’d have had to let go cold without him.”

“I am proud.” He says it quickly, defensively- but not inauthentically. It occurs to Jules that this is the first time she’s heard Henry declade Pride in Shawn, in all seven years she’s known them both. “I am. Just not of his methods.”

“... Well, um, thank you, for the food, and-and the information.” Jules stands up. She’s starting to form a new theory about why Shawn hides his skills. “Do me a favor and, don’t tell Shawn about this? I just don’t want him to feel weird that I’m, well… investigating him.”

Henry shrugs and pretends to zip his mouth and throw away the key.

“Thanks.” She gives him a smile that has to be forced out, and leaves.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well I bet you can’t quote every line from The Breakfast Club without looking it up.” They’re playing a game of low-stakes wagers while they make baked mac ‘n cheese for dinner, and Shawn is losing badly- mostly because he’s only making bets that have Jules showing off her best skills.

Shawn looks at her, genuinely offended, before it smooths out into acceptance. “You’re right, I can’t. Not unless I’m given a big buzzing button, to replace the slurs.”

Jules nods. “Fair. How about you just point to me and I’ll make the noise for you?”

“Now that is a plan.”

She feels bad about tricking him again. She does. But she watches him run through the whole movie script, doing the dances, dramatically flailing around the room- and she sees something she’d been completely overlooking for years. 

She laughs as he finishes it off, sweating and panting but grinning at her. “How do you remember all of that but the other day you couldn’t tell me if you’d even locked the front door?”

Well I remember important things, Jules.”

“Home security is important, Shawn.”

“When you’re not a detective dating a psychic, maybe.”

“Ha-ha. I’d still rather not come home from a date to our TV missing.”

“... True. Fair. I’ll work on it.”

“Seriously though, Shawn, sometimes your memory makes no sense to me. Do you think ADHD medication would help with some of the… little details?”

“Uh, no.” Shawn shakes his head. “No can do, tried it once and swore it off forever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it uh… stuff filtered in but didn’t filter out, you know? Like Gus at a buffet.”

“Gross.”

“It was, it was gross. Both the meds and the buffet.”

“I can’t imagine. It would be awful, just… being unable to stop things sticking around in your head.” She watches him from the corner of her eye as she pulls the dish out of the oven.

Shawn’s posture tenses a little. His mouth parts and the tip of his tongue comes to touch the middle of his top lip. He shrugs, and nods. “Yeah. What a-” he interrupts himself with a chuckle that Jules can only tell is bitter and nervous because of how long she’s known him. “What a sucky thing that’d be!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shawn, this is too much,” Jules says as he leads her, his hands covering her eyes, somewhere for a date. 

“Are you kidding? You saved my life on this case, again, and you totally prevented a huge disaster with getting the detonator away from that guy.”

“And you are the one who noticed he had a detonator in the first place.”

“The spirits noticed, Jules. But I will take credit for this.” He moves his hands away from her eyes, and she gasps.

They’re in some kind of outdoor dining area, an archway of flowering vines set up above a table covered with a floral cloth and light-blue chinaware. As Shawn comes around to her line of vision she sees he’d hidden a nice suit under his usual jacket when he first told her he had a surprise planned, and his tie…

“Shawn, are you recreating the play?” It had been a particularly great date, for a variety of reasons- but mostly, because Shawn had actually managed to sit down, watch the play, and not turn it into a criminal investigation. He’d still kept up a running commentary and restless fidgeting of course- Jules would have been worried if he hadn’t- but otherwise it had been proof to her that he could take this seriously.

“Maybe.” He offers her his hand and leads her to the table. 

“Shawn, these plates are exactly like the ones from the date scene, how did you-”

“I may or may not have, solved a little case for the owner of the theatre and taken payment in the form of old props.”

Jules laughs, picking up the menu on the table. “Is this the actual menus too, then?”

“Unfortunately, no, but I think Gus- I mean, I, recreated them pretty well.”

“Mmm. Let me guess, you ‘managed’ the recreation, and Gus did the work on it?”

“I also turned on the printer.”

“Basically did the whole thing yourself.” She looks over the menu again- it had been held up briefly during the play, a larger version of it shown on a projection screen behind the actors, and she wouldn’t have remembered it if asked before this moment but now, seeing the recreation, she’s almost certain it’s exact.

It had been on stage for maybe one minute, maybe less.

“How did you even remember this?”

“Psychic recreation, Jules. I traveled back to the past in ethereal form. Your future self was there too- clearly, my gifts rub off on you fifty years from now.”

She laughs again, softer. He’s lying of course- he likes to lie for the humor, and the fun, and because no-one can truly call him out on his powers because even he doesn’t understand them as he often admits. But it feels different now.

He’s not lying entirely for fun. Partly for fun, sure- but he remembered the play, he remembered the menu, because he has an eidetic memory and can’t forget things and in the days since she spoke with Henry to confirm it that fact has been haunting her.

She has trouble sleeping some nights- it’s gotten better since Shawn moved in, having someone curled around her making sleep feel safer- because of the things she’s seen, experienced, endured. She still has nightmares about the clocktower, about sitting in a hospital bed waiting to hear if she has Thornburg, about desperately hunting down clues to Shawn’s whereabouts with Gus and having no idea if they’d even find him alive by the end. The images, the emotions, the sounds… they all stick with her, forgotten until the moment they strike.

What is that like for someone with Shawn’s memory? If her memories push in unwanted, what about his? The looks into the distance, the glaze over his eyes right before he reveals something, the visceral reactions when he remembers something he doesn’t like- it breaks her heart now, knowing that at least some of those are because his mind shoves near-perfect flashbacks at him. 

And with observation, she’s realized that it’s usually unwanted and not sought out- just like his visions. It’s hard to tell them apart from the outside, which just makes her even more concerned- does he even know the difference most of the time? Does it affect all of his thoughts, his imagination, the way he fills in blanks? Is that why sometimes his “visions” are so wrong, because he’s so used to them working the same way as the rest of his mind that he can’t tell what’s Him and what’s The Spirits?

“Hey.” She’s jolted out of her spiraling thoughts by Shawn reaching across the table and taking her hand. “Are you okay?”

She plasters on a smile. “Fine. Just- thinking about how lucky we are. To be here, after everything we’ve gone through.”

Shawn smiles back and pats her hand once before withdrawing his. “Lucky, or just awesome and unstoppable as a team? You, me, Gus, sometimes Lassie- we’re literally a dream team.”

“We are.” She tries to push her concerns about her boyfriend out of her mind, ordering food from a waiter wearing a costume clearly not sized for him- Shawn is always making seemingly impossible things happen, and Jules has no idea how he roped a real restaurant into this, aside from it being either a favor or a blackmail- but Shawn doesn’t blackmail people as far as she’s ever known, so probably a favor.

Shawn is impossible. More and more so every day. And the most impossible is his contradictions. She watches him fumble with his napkin, and remembers him leveling a gun with a steady confident hand on more than one occasion during a case. She listens to him recount a completely wrong story that she keeps correcting the details of, and looks at the perfect recreation of a scene from a play they saw once, months and months ago. She watches him exclaim in surprise over realizing the plates have a design of playing labradoodles at the edges, and thinks about how he saw the reeds moving in a different direction than the wind was blowing from almost impossibly far away to pick up on such a detail.

“Shawn.” She sets her fork down and interrupts his gushing about how cute the design of one of the puppies on the plate is. “I need to tell you something.”

His smiles drops, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape, eyes alight with panic. 

“I’m not breaking up with you.” The quick assurance makes Shawn sigh and slump in relief. “And-and I want you to know before I say this that I’m not doubting you either, or your psychic abilities.”

The tension in Shawn returns. “What?”

Jules bites her lower lip. “I just… can’t pretend not to know anymore, Shawn. Because it’s been just… awful watching you do everything you can to pretend you’re not intelligent.”

“... Jules, I-I don’t-”

“I talked to your dad.” She immediately wishes she’d started with anything else, the way Shawn shuts down and clams up. “No, that’s not what I- Shawn, I know you have an eidetic memory, and that you’re probably hyperobservant, on top of being psychic.”

Shawn’s mouth is tightly pursed, eyes searching, body language just withdrawn. Jules plows forwards, swallowing thickly.

“I’ve been seeing it since you moved in. You’re so smart, Shawn, and-and your detective skills are amazing. One night you solved a case in your sleep, and you mumbled the whole thing, and I was just blown away by how you were able to come to those conclusions and connect those dots.”

Shawn looks down, briefly licking his lips. “Chief Vick never asked you to review the detective’s exam, did she?”

“... No. And, you just proved my point. You made that connection so fast, Shawn.”

Shawn shrugs. “What-what is this? Why right now? On our date?”

“Because I love you.” She reaches over, pries his hands away from his sides and holds them. “And I want to understand why. Why do you pretend you’re not one of the best detectives I’ve ever seen? Your psychic visions are one thing, Shawn, but your skills… they’re genuinely incredible.”

Shawn won’t look her in the eye, traveling his sharp gaze around anything else around them. “You know me. I just uh, love putting on a show.”

“That’s what your dad said.” She feels his hands tense in hers. “But I don’t believe either of you. Well, I believe that’s part of it, but not the full thing. … Your dad said you’ve never really embraced it.”

“Of course he did.”

“But you do, embrace it. You do every day. I watch you get completely antsy and out of your mind without a case, and I used to think it was because you were just… chaotic, and-and bored, and maybe some kind of psychic restlessness but it’s not, right? It’s because you need to be able to solve something. Because you like being smart and solving cases, but you don’t like people knowing. Why?”

“Jules…”

“I’m not asking you to bring me in on your process, or to admit to anyone else when you solve instead of divine. I’m just… trying to understand you, Shawn, because I want us to work. And for us, this, to last… we have to know each other, and I feel like I’m just learning about you all over again.”

Shawn is silent for a moment, and then takes a deep breath and meets her eyes, reluctantly. “Gus knows,” he admits. “You probably figured that, but, he does.”

Jules nods. 

“Did my dad… talk about uh…”

“... He mentioned he trained you since you were young.”

“... Yeah. … I don’t know how to, uh…”

She waits. He seems… lost.

“... I learned how to properly stalk a perp through a hideout before I learned how people get sick from each other,” he says. Jules blinks in confusion until he continues, “I learned most things about being a cop before I learned everything else. And it wasn’t… he’s not proud of me, you know? When I was a kid I wanted to be just like him, and I couldn’t be, and he was disappointed in me. Eight years old, I could close my eyes and tell you the clothes anyone in the room was wearing, could tell you who was married and who wasn’t, how… how many hats, were in the room, and it didn’t matter. It was…” He scoffs. “Adequate. That’s it.”

Jules rubs her thumb along the back of his hand. “You got bitter about it.”

“Bitter’s a strong word.” It’s not- it’s just right. It’s in his voice, his eyes, his posture. But he doesn’t like these words, she knows that about him. He doesn’t like these words and these feelings, and he likes to pretend they don’t exist, and he doesn’t experience them. And how hadn’t she realized that was a problem before now? How had that just settled in her perception of him without setting off alarms that maybe something wasn’t okay?

“Shawn, you’re more than adequate. Your dad said so himself, he told me he is proud of you.”

“... He-he did?” The genuine surprise, it makes Jules’s heart shatter all over again.

“And more importantly, we’re all proud of you. Me, Gus, Carlton is even if he won’t admit it either- The Chief, she’s so proud of you and the work you do! Even when you mess it up or cause major problems, she still defends you and knows you do good work.”

Shawn’s mouth finally untightens, slightly, one corner twitching up for a brief smile. But it fades all too quick. 

“What’s the rest of the reason, Shawn? It can’t just be because your dad didn’t give you the credit you deserved. You’ve been doing this for years.”

“Well, like I said Jules, it’s not as fun. You know? You-you solve something psychically and everyone is in awe! Throw in some jokes, make a scene, plus the bad guys always seem to confess way faster when they think I divined certain things, it’s just better!”

“You could do the same with your deductions! I mean it, Shawn, they’re amazing, the way you solved that case with the hit-and-run was incredible. I don’t even know how you came up with the magnets.”

He puts a finger by his temple and gives her a somewhat prodding, questioning look. She frowns at him and raises an eyebrow, and he puts his hand back down with a defeated nod.

“... I don’t want to be my dad.” Shawn shrugs. “I don’t want to be my dad, and as amazing as he is I don’t want to be Gus, and I don’t want to be Lassie, or even-even some… ideal, me. I want to be… me, Jules.”

“I’m not asking you to not be you.”

“Not on purpose, but- this is me, Jules, this is who I am. I can’t live my life with everyone expecting me to remember everything completely perfectly no matter what, or asking me about every little detail of everything all the time, or saying I should know things or be smarter than what I did or-or have to be better than that-”

It’s like when the last piece of a case finally fits into place.

“Oh.” Jules squeezes his hand, and he cuts himself off to look at her with pinched brows and still parted lips. “Shawn… that kind of pressure is insane to put on a child. I’m so sorry.”

He blinks, frozen, and Jules stands up to come to his side and kiss his forehead. She crouches down by his chair. “You, are more than a detective,” she assures. “You are funny, and fun, and sometimes you’re so stupid and reckless that it literally hurts to watch, but that doesn’t mean that what you do right doesn’t matter. You don’t have to match your stupidity to your intelligence just to balance them out.”

“That’s not what I do.”

“Isn’t it? … Oh, my god, and after-after Yin you started going more overboard-”

“Jules-”

“-because he called you out and you had to hide even more-”

“Jules.” She looks into Shawn’s eyes and they’re… glassy. Red. Watering.

“You, being good at what you do, did not put me in danger,” she says softly, reaching up to brush her thumb over his cheek. “You being intelligent will not push me away, or change what I expect of you, or make you lose anyone you care about. But it might make us lose you, if you keep trying to bury it and compensate for it.”

“... I-I…”

“You know you’ve gone too far the opposite direction a lot these last few years, don’t you?”

He’s silent.

“... I understand these feelings run very deep, and all the back to your childhood. I understand that you probably resent what made your dad tain you just as much as you resent him and his training.”

“I don’t resent-”

“Shawn.”

“... I’m… working on not resenting him. Especially after he got shot.”

“I know. But you’re not working on how you feel about yourself because of him, are you?”

“... This is… very uncomfortable.”

“I know.” She wipes away an escaped tear. “You don’t like people being able to really know you, do you?”

“I like you knowing me. And Gus.”

“Do you? Because I had to figure all of this out on my own. Shawn, are you so used to hiding what you could be to be what you want to that you don’t even know how not to hide anymore?”

He flounders, opening and moving his mouth with no words, looking at the ground to her side. “I-I don’t know,” he finally gets out.

Jules nods. “And that’s okay.” Has he ever heard that before, in response to him not knowing something? Maybe. She won’t know unless they keep talking about this. She hopes they keep talking about this.

“... But you uh…” He presses his wrist, sleeves pulled down and gripped in his palm, to his nose for just a second, and sniffs. “You’re not saying you don’t believe I’m psychic anymore?”

“No, I’m not.”

He nods. “... You know, uh… Lassie is the whole reason I even got started, on the psychic detective thing.”

“Really?”

“Really. We still have this uh, table and everything for a few more hours, if you want to hear the story.”

She recognizes it for what it is. You know now, I’m uncomfortable with it, but I’ll try to not be, for you. So she sits back in her seat and listens to Shawn describe how he figured out a case through watching the news, and when Lassie didn’t believe him about it he claimed it was a psychic vision, and then he realized that works.

It recontextualizes even more things for Jules, even more of what Shawn must feel and think, and she wonders if she’ll ever fully figure him out. 

She’ll just have to spend her entire life with him, she supposes.

[nobodylikety]

OKAY LISTEN UP—

So I've been making some moodboards for Hybrid! New Jeans, I hope you like it! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Basically each moodboard has the things that the girls like the most, or rather, makes each of the girls herself < 🐻🐰🐈‍⬛🐶🦊 3

BEAR HYBRID! MINJI 🐻

Basically bear! minji core consists of:

Love for naps

Teddy bears (because obviously, she needs a little friend to sleep and cuddle with if you or Hybrid! New Jeans isn't available)

Hot chocolate with marshmallows, because something about the warmth of hot chocolate and the mushiness of marshmallows makes her sleepy! <3

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. she's basically a big baby, so basic but yummy snacks are TOTALLY her thing.

Chocolate chip cookies. The combination of browned butter, caramelised sugar, vanilla and chocolate are "the rich flavours that mingle in a single snack", and Minji definetly LOVES IT. She finds these cookies irresistible, and she probably can't eat just one. 🍪

BUNNY HYBRID! HANNI🐰

Basically bunny! hanni core consists of:

Being wrapped in blankies for taking naps. Blankets are the best invention of mankind, according to Hanni. She loves to be wrapped up in them like a burrito and to sleep after a good scritches on her floppy ears and chin.

Cookies in the shape of a bunny. Although Haerin insists that it is somehow cannibalism, Hanni likes bunny-shaped or decorated cookies.

Strawberries. Bunnies like strawberries, and Hanni is no exception. Although she likes bread much better, strawberries are quite versatile and can be eaten in many ways, plus they are a healthy snack! So as long as it's bread or strawberries, Hanni's tummy is happy. 🐰🍓

Pink hoodies. Hanni likes oversized hoodies, the kind she's practically swimming in, but her biggest preference is pink! Pink is her favourite colour, so she's determined to make sure her wardrobe has it as much as possible.

(BLACK) CAT HYBRID! HAERIN 🐈‍⬛

Basically black cat! haerin core consists of:

A cute but bad bitch 🖤

Roll her eyes and make a grim face. If Haerin doesn't like you, every time she looks at you, it's going to feel like she's killing you with her eyes!

ps. Haerin's jealous gaze is especially deadly.

Kitten toe beans ALWAYS peeking out from under the sheets. Haerin is always hidden under the covers (always is a good time for a nap, or to isolate herself from society, or even both) and the only thing visible are her toe beans. ฅ ฅ

Sleeping in people's arms. She'll never admit it, but Haerin loves to sleep in your arms or Hybrid's! New Jeans. Then she'll wake up and start cursing, as usual, but deep down you know she enjoys those moments of napping in your arms.

PUPPY HYBRID! DANIELLE 🐶

Basically puppy! danielle core consists of:

Popcorn. not only tastes good, Dani LOVES that when it's time to eat them, her popcorn makes crunchy noises. crunchy stuff has her wagging her tail like crazy!

Stuffies with dumb designs and shapes! Dani has food-related soft and squishy plushies, such as a croissant, egg or bacon, to nibble on or throw at Hybrid! New Jeans every time she wants them to play with her <3 because puppies will chew whatever puppies want to chew 🐶

Crunchy bone-shaped treats. she doesn't even care if it tastes like vegetables or meat, or even if it tastes like a sock…because if it's bone-shaped, DANI WILL EAT IT.

Australian Shepherd Puppy. Because Dani is Australian, athletic and full of energy, just like Australian shepherds. Makes sense, doesn't it?

Puppy snout! Wherever Dani sees an open door or an opening, her adorable and curious snout will be there to take a peek. She has a habit of poking her head through your bedroom door and bark, or following you to the bathroom and poking her snout out of the half-jointed door.

FOX HYBRID! HYEIN 🦊

Basically fox! hyein core consists of:

Curling up by the fireplace.

What's better than a warm nap? The comforting crackle of the fire, the light but pleasant smell of wood burning slowly, the warmth, and being cuddled behind the ears until she falls asleep. honestly the best life <3

Apple slices with cinnamon. sometimes Hyein likes to brown them a bit in the fireplace, but most of the time she eats them only with cinnamon, because for some reason this kiddo is obsessed with cinnamon!

Rubbing her head against people's legs, asking to be pet. Hyein is rather like a clingy puppy in that respect, when she's in the mood for cuddling she just…*rubs head*.

Fruit-filled breakfasts and snacks, and preferably ones that look aesthetically pleasing! Hyein is attracted to things that have cute or funny shapes, which makes her more interested in eating them 🫐🍎🍓🍌⭐

Fox cuddly plush. She knows it's a bit of a cliché to have a fox as fave plushie, but can you blame her? it's super huggable!

Bonus!

OTTER HYBRID! HYEIN 🦦

Basically otter! hyein core consists of:

Cute and silly beanies! she has a whooole collection

Hybrid! New Jeans helps her put them on, they even try to put a different beanie on her every day <3

Cuddly toys and plushies! they are Hyein's favourite kind of thing. she has stuffed otters, for obvious reasons, but she also has a puppy, a fox, a bear and a stuffed kitten, because she loves to hold them close to her chest

FISH AS A SNACK, ALWAYS 🐟because although Hyein knows that otters feed not only on fish, but also on eels, she is a baby otter that's quite fussy and never wants to eat eel, never ever!

Pool + swimming goggles + floats = happy baby otter! 🦦🩵 Hyein loves swimming (otters are superbly adapted for swimming), but swimming in the pool is the safer option! Plus it's more fun, because unlike swimming in the river, the pool has floaties and swimming goggles, even water toys!

being carried in Hybrid! New Jeans arms. In her animal form, Hyein practically makes puppy eyes all the time to be carried! She flatly refuses to let her little paws touch the ground ♡

[hyenafu]

Have you ever thought of crossovers between Slightly Damned and Junk Hyenas Diner? Both casts meeting, even as what-ifs or jokes. Lucky and Kieri have similar struggles with their mothers and the expectations put on them by their families, so they'd likely have a lot to talk about. And then there's the two fuzzy chill guys who love food, and the short beings of nebulous origins that came back to life.

It's funny you worded your question that way! One of the reasons I stopped working on The Junk Hyenas Diner is because I felt my long-term plans for it were too similar to Slightly Damned. I made The Junk Hyenas Diner as my thesis project when I got my graduate degree from the Center for Cartoon Studies. I wanted to completely change up the way I did comics and do something new. I was afraid of having Slightly Damned being my only major project, and I didn't want to be stuck in a rut forever. And it worked out great! I loved working on JHD. With a different setting, I got to make different jokes. Working in black and white helped change the way I approach my art, as well. I think I learned a lot from the experience. I made a bunch of short stories and gained new confidence in my ability to adapt and make new things. I fully intended to continue The Junk Hyenas Diner as my second webcomic in tandem with Slightly Damned after I graduated. But... I ended up putting it off more and more. I got busy with going to conventions more way more often, and expanding the breadth of my merchandise. I also got more involved with my Patreon. I needed to do these things in order to secure my income so I could keep living off of my art. I also felt like my heart wasn't really into making a science fiction (well, more like science fantasy) story. I felt intimidated by other artists who could ground their work in a lot more concrete facts about space travel, technology, and biology. I just wanted to make dumb jokes about food. Now I know that just wanting to make dumb jokes about food is valid, but that was honestly part of why I lost my motivation. I've decided to completely drop JHD for the time being. I'll always keep the website archive up because I still think it's a fun read, and I loved the experience of making it. I also don't consider that door closed forever. If I feel compelled to return for whatever reason, I will! I have thought that JHD would be suitable project for a self-contained graphic novel. I could also just lean into telling jokes whenever they come to me. But I don't really have the time or motivation for it right now, so it's not a priority. I think artists should be allowed to drop projects if they're not really feeling them anymore. It happens. Since the last time I made any new Junk Hyenas comics, I went through some rough emotional events that led me to seeing a therapist. That helped me a lot! After that, I ended up leaning more into making mushy stuff (cutesy and romantic) and spicy stuff (kink art for adults) for Slightly Damned in my free time. That's just what's the most fun for me right now. Because it's fun and rewarding, I keep making more and more. Even if there are folks who don't get it (which is fine), being motivated to draw makes me practice drawing, and practice makes all my art better, so everyone who likes my art still wins in the end!

Motivation is a fickle beast. Life changes. I always have way more ideas than the time and energy to actually make them, and I hope that's a problem I keep for my entire life. I can't possibly do everything all at once. Having Slightly Damned be my life's work is still scary thought. Other artists are able to finish their webcomics and graphic novels and move on, so I end up thinking that the grass may be greener on the other side. I don't know when or even if I'll be able to finish Slightly Damned in order to free up more time to work on other projects. But at the same time, right now, I don't really feel like I need to. I am enjoying what I make, and I'm always pushing myself to make each weekly update better. I love my characters so much that I enjoy following my whims and making spinoff projects with them. I think as long as I continue to find this fulfilling (and there are still people willing to support me), there's no need to force myself to do projects that I'm not feeling especially motivated to do. I know this big wall of text isn't what you asked for, but I wanted to explain why I don't draw Junk Hyenas stuff anymore. Anyway, here's a Thanksgiving picture I did of the Slightly Damned and Junk Hyenas casts in 2016:

[radiant-reid]

Oh! Okay good so I was thinking about an enemies to lovers blurb where Spencer despises reader and she despises him but they have been hooking up and she’s been avoiding him because she ended up getting 🤰 pregnant

He eventually finds out and then they like talk it out and all that mushy stuff? 💘

this could be a whole series or full length fic

"What's wrong with her?" Spencer finally breaks and asks JJ, looking across the jet at you. You hadn't even glared at him for a few days and he's... well, he'd be worried if he cared about you, but that's something he doesn't feel.

Anyway, it's strange for you to just be sitting there. You're being strange and it's making him feel strange.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe someone she has to spend a lot of time with hates her for no reason," JJ replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes at him.

He scoffs. "It's not like she doesn't feel the same."

"Well, someone felt it first." She says, and Spencer can't tell if he's being scolded.

"And someone initiated the hate sex." Emily jumps into the conversation, taking the seat next to JJ.

His eyes widen at that in shock. "Who told you?"

It's a dumb question, and Emily makes that known. "The only other person in the room when it happened, or so I'm guessing."

He doesn't say anything about how you were begging for it that night, and every night after because he's not a total dick, especially if it's not directly to you.

"She's still being weird." He repeats. "Not that I care. It's offputting weird, not quirky weird." He quickly clarifies.

JJ and Emily share a look, making sure he catches it so he knows how absurd his lie sounds.

"Talk to her then," JJ suggests.

Her words replay in his head the whole way back to Quantico, as he tries to profile you while pretending to be reading.

He can't help but corner you back at the BAU floor, dragging you to the supply closet you've fucked in numerous times.

You don't want to be there, so close to him. "We're not doing this now." You tell him. "I don't want to do this ever again actually."

"That's why you're being weird?" He asks, frowning as he, again, tries to profile you. He has no luck. Damn you for hiding your emotions so well.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Yes, Spencer. Sleeping with you has been so amazing that I'm acting weird because I can't do it again." You answer sarcastically.

It presses his buttons. "Tell me." He demands.

You shake your head, tilting your chin up to try and stop the tears spilling out of your eyes. "No." With that, you push past him, walking out of the closet and leaving him to his confusion and spiraling thoughts.

What he doesn't expect is Penelope pulling him into her Batcave on his walk back to the bullpen. "What's wrong?" He asks, even more alarmed, and hoping she doesn't know as well.

"What do you mean what's wrong?" She asks. It's a tone that wouldn't sound mad to most people, but it's the most frantic Spencer has heard her voice, aside from on the phone during takedowns. "What Y/n just told you is big news. You don't leave someone alone after they tell you they're pregnant unless you're a terrible person. And I don't want to believe that about you."

"She's what?" The sentence is so lightly spoken Penelope wouldn't have caught it has she not needed to stop to take a breath during her ramble.

His whole world stops, and hers does when she realizes the look painted on Spencer's face is pure shock. He doesn't know. And she told him. And he can't keep a single thought in his head for long enough to develop it into words.

"I'll go get her." Penelope decides, feeling awkward and terrible all at once. "Sit down, you look like you're going to faint."

He does what she wants, sitting there in silence until you walk in, cheeks redder than before with clear signs you've been crying.

"Hey." You say, sitting down on the other chair in Penelope's office.

"Is it true?" He asks, needing confirmation, even though he's already convinced.

You sigh. "I mean, you said I was being weird."

He doesn't know what to say, but all he can think about is you. "I didn't-"

"It's fine." You assure him. "I don't expect you to be nice to me."

"I should be." He confesses before he can stop it. "I should have been because you're...great." Just a tiny half-compliment knocks you off guard. "And I wish you didn't look so shocked when I say something nice."

"Sorry." You apologize, biting your bottom lip.

He shakes his head. "I don't want that."

"What do you want?" You ask, seriously confused about what he's wanting. It feels like a mind game, but you're too emotional to be competing with him.

"You." He blurts out. "Not sexually. I- I think you're wonderful, and I've been the absolute worst person so I understand if you don't want anything to do with me."

Despite your state of shock, which might now be permanent, you shake your head. "I do. That wasn't who I was, you have to know that." He nods in assurance. "And this is so unconventional, but there's something between us, right?"

"Absolutely." He agrees, reaching out to touch your hand. "And I think maybe this could work."

You smile for the first time in a week. "Me too."