#have to finish this commission for my mom first

[ubemango]

commission 6: friends-to-lovers!Hoseok

note 1: for Miss Sam!!!!!!!! Thank you for your help back in November!!!!!!!!!! I hope sexy sexy brother’s best friend/f2l!Hoseok is Good To you!!!!!!!!!!! Mwah!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰💕💕💕💕💕😁😁😁😁😁

note 2: a little background--the premise for this story did not come easy to me. Like At All!!!! I was struggling--AGAIN--with Exposition and you know what I learned? in medias res never fails me. Truly she is God. I love her. Anywho, Keyword(s): Talking to your dog for emotional support! Tension! Mutual pining!!!!!!!!! Being so close you don’t know what to do with yourself anymore!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Word count: 4.5k. Class is in session!

note 3: a big big biiiiiiiiig Thank You to @b1usides and @angelguk for helping me out with this ;_; Truly would not have come out with this without you I love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for ur input and insight and interest and MWAH !!!

(note 4: I wrote all those previous notes back in 2020. GOOD LORD IT IS 2025. This is not a come back I just wanted to post this because I wrote so much of it and I’m tired of thinking my writing is too ugly to post. It can be ugly but also exist on this blog. Yay!!!!!!! Mindset mindset! I wuuuvvvv youuuu my friends I hope you’re doing well!!!!)

“Now?”

“Now,” Yoongi says, “and don’t come up with excuses about being busy because I know you’re doing your dalgona shit right now.”

You slide the bottle of instant coffee a little closer to your chest for protection. He probably overheard you talking to your mom about your plans in the kitchen last night. “You’re evil.”

“Whatever. Just–come, please? Everyone’s busy and Hoseok won’t finish unpacking today if we don’t get the help.”

Hearing that name sends electricity down to your toes. “What’s in it for me?”

“Being a nice sister–“ Yoongi’s breath is stifled with effort, probably from lifting a box– “and helping my best friend move into his new apartment?”

“I just got home–“

“I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. The air conditioning here hasn’t been turned on yet,” he baits, and you hiss at that. “You know what that’s like.”

You do. The sun is unforgiving in the throes of late spring, and even you’d been contemplating holding out on your move back to avoid the heat. You’d made sure to finish unpacking last night, the loom of today’s plus-twenty weather with humidity heavy on your shoulders. Yoongi’s strangled tone tells you Hoseok’s got a billion and one things to unpack.

“Fine,” you concede. “Just text me the address.”

“Don’t take too long.”

The line cuts. You get the text in three seconds.

You stare forlornly at the whisk and bowl you’d gotten out, watching your phone screen light up with Yoongi’s text. To think you’d be hauling ass with cardboard boxes instead of making frothy coffee. What you thought would be a little welcome-back activity now that you’ve moved back home with your family instead lies toppled since you’ve been voluntold for other plans.

Plans to see Hoseok for the first time in years.

Immediately, you hold your breath. Maybe if you restrict your airflow then things won’t be so real and sudden, and why couldn’t Yoongi have called Namjoon, or something? He’s ten times as strong as you are. He lives in the city, too. You feel cheated. Older brothers don’t like taking things into consideration.

Your lungs burst into a yelp when something furry brushes against your leg, which, thankfully, stops you from contemplating all of Yoongi’s wrongdoings with revenge. You realize you’ve got your fist tight around the whisk.

“Girl, you scared me!”

Boppa stares at you with her long eyelashes and sits down at your feet. She’s the picturesque prettiness of a ten-year-old cockapoo. It’s kind of insulting looking at her sometimes.

“Boppa, I think my life’s about to fall apart and it’s all Yoongi’s fault,” you tell her.

She offers no response. You drop the whisk, reach over for her treat jar, and pop the dried meat into her mouth. Just a reward for the anxious rambling you’re about to dump on her pretty little head.

“Remember senior year, Boppa, and I couldn’t do my calculus homework because I missed too many classes? So Hoseok helped me out with all the problems I didn’t get?” You don’t think she does. She just pants, watching you put your mise-en-place away. “Or when he helped me make soup for Yoongi when he had the flu that one time?”

In your head, a dam breaks, and it all comes roiling back.

The way you remember Hoseok is different every time. Little disjointed moments throughout high school, college, and it starts with junior year, when he’d come over after a music council meeting with Yoongi. He’d walked past the living room, caught sight of your puffed face from crying over Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds; so startled by your hiccuping that he’d offered you a coupon to the pizza place near school and told you to get lunch with it the next day. Because pretty girls don’t deserve to cry, and Yoongi slapped his neck for being too nice to his little sister and dragged him upstairs to practice for their sectional.

It’s who he is, has always been. The kindness that never wavers, always there when you need help–carrying groceries into the kitchen when your mom complained about bad knees, patiently waiting for you to work through a difficult log function, walking Boppa when Yoongi was too lazy to do it. College Hoseok disappeared for a bit, busy with obligations and social circles. But like all strong currents, he came back with a force, seeking refuge on your couch after an overnight stay at school. 

(You’d made him a snack, that time. He gave you the prettiest smile ever. When you’d settled into bed, you could hear his snoring from your bedroom.

You slept so well that night.)

“Boppa, why,” you wail. “Why is this all coming back. I just got home.”

She blinks. You toss her another treat. She eats it well.

“I’m not in love with him.” Affirmations, affirmations. It’s good to air out your grievances, especially since no one is home to hear them. “I’m not!”

Boppa looks at you as if to say, I haven’t accused you of anything, so why are you so strung up?

“I don’t know what’s going on!” You shriek, slamming your palms on the counter.

Logically, you’re correct: you aren’t in love with Hoseok. He was just so overwhelmingly good. Attachments formed. Hoseok came to your home all the time. And home is a permanent fixture you could never get rid of, and you’d been away for two years, living in the western side of the city, forgetting you had a life back here, learning new intersections, knowing where to touch fruits to see if they were ripe, seducing the hot pharmacy man into a spicy romance (and subsequently dealing with the heartbreak), living, accomplishing, and these things end. Some parts of life end so you come back home, and Hoseok is home, you’re home, and the one thing about all of this is that it’s all Yoongi’s fault!

You close your eyes, feel the rush of your entire life come to a halt right at this very moment. You wanted coffee, not an attack on all your senses.

“Boppa,” you say, realizing something else. “I need a housewarming gift.”

You hear her get up, and you watch her stop where you’d left your extra bag of rice from unpacking. She lies down in front of it.

“Do you think that’s a good gift?”

She yawns. You google the meaning of offering jasmine rice as a gift for new homes.

“Abundance of love and food,” you say from your findings. It’s good. “Smart girl.”

She makes a grunting noise when you carry the bag away from her, and accepts the kiss you leave behind her ear as your goodbye for now.

She’s due for her mid-afternoon nap. You’re due for a reality check.

The drive over to the apartment is short, and you’re thankful because your seat belt scorches you when you shift the wrong way,  and suddenly your mood is sour all over again. But your parallel parking, though–it’s so immaculate you almost start crying. The balance of good and evil in your life makes you tired. The giant bag of rice almost makes you tip into the asphalt of the sidewalk.

Security buzzes you in with the code Yoongi sent you, and no later than 20 seconds pass when you find yourself in front of unit two-eighteen. You knock, and steel yourself.

The door opens.

“The fuck is that?” Yoongi snorts.

You heat high in your cheeks at the interrogation. “Boppa told me to do it.”

“Our dog told you to bring rice?”

“It’s a gift,” you seethe, “and our dog is a magical dog.” (It’s the truth. Somehow when Boppa howls, your mom will suddenly come up with cryptic news. The last time, an old auntie died.)

“I like it,” a voice says, and suddenly Hoseok is nudging Yoongi out the way. His entrance freezes you in your spot. His fingers brush against yours when he takes the bag from your hands. “Really. My mom brought rice for when my sister moved out–means abundance, or something.”

“Exactly,” is all you can breathe out, and he smiles–just as you remember–and then he disappears into another room. Never one for grand gestures; he comes and goes. Maybe it was just a ghost who happened to look like Hoseok and really liked lifting rice into the netherworld.

The slam of the grain against what’s probably the kitchen counter interrupts the thought. Yoongi makes a disgruntled noise, which more or less means come in before I start insulting you.

“We’re fixing the bed frame right now,” he explains, the door squeaking shut under his hand. “It’s already super hot in there so just–don’t come in.”

“Man sweats?”

“You know how meat smells when you’ve left it out on the counter all day?”

You recoil automatically. “I–? Ew.”

He’s joking. Probably. But it’s enough to make you stay away from that part of the apartment. The living room space is comfortably small; enough square feet to classify as cozy, not cramped. The linger of heat is a silent threat–you can already feel yourself starting to get sticky under your collar. They’ve got a mini-fan propped on one of the many boxes littered on the carpeted floor, though, whirring through little bursts of air.

There are so many boxes. The thought alone is making you sweat more.

“Thank you for the help.” Hoseok pops in again. Brushing his hair away from his sticky forehead, and you’re almost offended at how suave that move was. The audacity of good-looking people to do good-looking things unprovoked. “I really appreciate it.”

You could never refuse him. This is the truth you’ve always known. “It’s no problem. I didn’t think you’d have this much stuff.”

He flounders with a sheepish smile. “Yeah. I didn’t think I did either, but I had a whole nest of shit that I had back home in my closet and I didn’t want to throw anything out.”

“So for nostalgic purposes you’re risking heat exhaustion, is what you’re saying,” you joke.

“So mean.” Hoseok puts his hand over his heart. “You really wound me, you know?”

Yoongi interrupts with a cough. “You guys are boring, I’m going back to the bed frame.”

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Hoseok calls after him. He stands rigid for a second, gathering his thoughts. Probably just avoiding responsibility for a few precious seconds because going back to the proclaimed Meat Room sounds like a painful thought. “Um–I would catch up more but I just–I really need this done before we actually pass out.”

“It’s okay. Really.” He nods his gratitude. “Where should I start?”

“We’ve already done the bathroom, so… you think you can start with the kitchen?”

You nod. Hoseok sighs another “thank you, again,” and takes two steps backwards, as if to keep that soft gaze on you for as long as possible. He spins away before you can think too hard about it.

The kitchen is separated from the living room by the sink, and this is where all the goodies sit. One box is labeled with nothing on the side. Another has nothing but a picture of a smiling plate, a tiny fork and spoon holding hands. But the most enticing one is the box that says MUGS, SO MANY MUGS! MOM CAN’T FIT THEM ALL!

His mom’s loopy handwriting is so cute. You start with this one. In the bedroom, Yoongi screams.

“Are you okay?” You yell out, ripping at the tape with your nail, sorting the bubble-wrapped mugs by… colour? Shape? Who even owns a mug made out to be a literal octopus? The suction cups are so weirdly detailed. You put that furthest in the cupboard above your head, and pop a couple bubbles of bubble wrap to feel better.

“‘M fine,” he calls back. “Hoseok almost hacked off my thumb.”

“I did not!” Hoseok responds passionately.

They stay silent, save for more banging on wood. You organize to the clipped rhythm of the fan swaying back and forth.

It barely dawns on you that you’re in Hoseok’s new kitchen, voluntarily fixing his stuff. And if you thought about it, he would absolutely do the same for you. The symbiotic relationship of being nice just because. It’s the only way you know how to interact with each other. Someone gives, someone receives.

(You missed home. You missed Hoseok.)

It takes half an hour to sort through all the kitchen essentials. The plates and the bowls are stowed away neatly, cutlery in the first drawer below the counter. All the cleaning supplies are safe under the sink. The bag of rice sits heavy in its spot where Hoseok had left it. You’re sweating.

Not as badly as Yoongi and Hoseok are, though. They trudge in the kitchen, breathing hard, eyebrows wet with their effort.

“We’re done with the room,” Hoseok greets. Yoongi ignores you and goes straight for the handle of the fridge. He reaches for two water bottles, and hands the second one to Hoseok. “Wow, you cleared this fast.”

The compliment should not be as hard-hitting as it should be. Your giddiness is silent. “It was easy. Also your octopus mug really freaked me out so I put it, like, as far away from reach as possible.”

“I got him that mug,” Yoongi complains.

“You couldn’t have gotten him a nicer mug?”

“No?”

“You’re ugly,” you retaliate. Yoongi scrunches his face, and drinks his water angrily.

“I like the mug,” Hoseok inserts, brushing past you to open the drawers, eyeing your work, “but yeah, it is kind of. Uh. Out there.”

“Am I being insulted right now?” Yoongi asks.

“It’s an ugly mug,” you say.

“And you got him an ugly bag of rice.”

“I told you Boppa told me to do it!”

“How’s Boppa?” Hoseok interrupts, checking where you’d put the medicine, the first-aid.

“She’s–“

“–good,” you and Yoongi say at the same time. The look he sends you is venomous.

“Stop copying me.”

“You’re ugly,” you say again.

“You guys need to stop giving me whiplash every five seconds,” Hoseok complains. You know he’s used to it, though. Banter that toes the line of actual hurtful words. It’s a common conversation. He inspects the cupboard above the sink next, making little approving noises. “Ooh, bowls on top of the plates. Very nice.”

“I taught her that,” Yoongi says. Which–yes, he technically did, but now you’re just annoyed because he ripped the compliment right from your nose, and now he’s smiling because he knows you’re pissed.

The fan sings its mechanical song. Fighting Yoongi burns up so much energy you fear you’ll collapse once it comes down to fixing up the living room.

Except.

Your brother opens his stupid mouth again, and announces, “I need to leave.”

Hoseok whips around from where he was inspecting the cleaning supplies. “What?”

“Shit. I had to pick up mom from the station.”

The green-lit time on the stove says it’s five till seven. You picture your sweet little mother waiting behind the doors to the passenger pick-up parking lot, and confide in the thought that she’ll probably smack Yoongi once he pulls up. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Oh really,” he mocks. “If I get pulled over for speeding you’ll bail me out, right? Yeah? Cool. I’m sorry. Good luck. Don’t die. Hoseok, take care of her. Or–whatever. It was fun.”

Before either of you can respond, he bolts out, and slams the door behind him in a spectacularly hard fashion.

“Well,” Hoseok says.

“Huh,” you comment.

You make a mental note to kill your brother. Preferably by means of limited gore, maximum pain. Because now you’re alone with the bane (boon?) of your existence in the kitchen with too many thoughts in your head again and again it’s Yoongi’s fault and you wonder why your breakdowns always have to happen in the kitchen.

Calmly, you drink your water.

“So, uh…”

Hoseok fidgets with the empty mug box on the counter. His ears are bright red.

“You wanna–get started with the living room?” You attempt to save the conversation before it gets too awkward.

“Yes,” he agrees quickly, and scurries out with the same swiftness as Yoongi’s departure.

Did he not want to be close to you? Did you smell like meat, too? You put your deodorant on this morning. You sniff at your armpit secretly while Hoseok chooses a stack of boxes to open, and conclude that it is not your good-smelling sweat that’s driving him away, but something else you’re not aware of.

“Honestly, there’s not much here to unpack, a lot of these are just like–winter jackets, the electric cords for the TV…”

“Why don’t we start with the bookcase?”

It looms with emptiness, tucked away into the corner. The dark oakwood that housed all the precious things he said he couldn’t throw away. It feels a little personal, knowing it contains his accomplishments. His secrets? His school yearbooks? A family picture, maybe, stuffed toys he might’ve won from a carnival. For a second you imagine how it would feel, unpacking your things and his things in your own shared space.

“Sure,” Hoseok decides.

You pick the biggest box to open first. The tape has ripped at the corners, sides bulging slightly from the things crammed inside. Some dust flings off when you whip the top open, and inside is way too many books. Elementary school yearbooks, a massive cookbook, the entirety of A Series of Unfortunate Events.

“I didn’t know you read,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

Hoseok startles into laughter. “Uh..?”

“I meant–oh god you know what I mean.” You blush at the slip-up. But Hoseok pays no heed, just laughs even harder.

“It’s fine. It’s–yeah. Back in high school. Found the first book in some second-hand store and ended up buying the rest.”

That explains why the first one is so much more worn down than the others. Loved, flipped through. You heave the box onto the floor, sit down next to it. Criss-cross applesauce. You begin sorting through it one by one.

“So how are you? Now that you’re back home, and all.” Hoseok handles something that clinks slightly–pots of succulents. He staggers on his tip-toes to fit them pretty on the top shelf. You think back to your brief crisis of identity in the kitchen at home.

“I wanted to make the dalgona coffee today but I had a change of plans.”

Hoseok sighs. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“All good. But to answer your question…” There was no exciting answer to impress him with. You’re back for convenience, lack of work. Ordinary reasons. You don’t want to entertain lengthy stories in the fog of this heat, anyway. “It’s… I’m just back. That internship was all I had going for me, so I’m still on a job hunt.”

“That’s really cool, though. I remember your sketchbooks. And when you built that seat to look like a huge-ass Converse shoe.”

It was one of your projects for junior year. “Yeah, it… I don’t know where that is now, probably stuck in the basement somewhere.”

“Sell it on eBay.”

“Like anyone would pay for that shit.” It literally was a giant wooden slab made to look like a shoe, soft enough for reclining. “It’s ugly.”

Hoseok shrugs. “It wasn’t. But keep thinking that, silly, go ahead.”

“It’s just–I can’t believe you know I built that. Like you remember that? I don’t even remember building it.”

He contemplates. “I’ll always remember you,” he answers, very simply, and for a while he lets it linger, like it hadn’t just gotten your heart racing so fast.

The silence is scary. Maybe he’s trying to read your mind. Maybe if you made a loud noise in your head, he’d be startled. You start thinking about the most obscene moaning noises, straight out of soft, amateur pornography that you see floating on your timeline sometimes. But Hoseok doesn’t budge. 

Damn. He just continues on.

“Do you still cry when The Proposal comes on?”

“Oh spare me,” you beg, itching to slap his leg. He shudders with his laughing. “How about you? You still cry when someone talks about the White Lady?”

You think back to a 16-year-old Hoseok sleeping over at your house once, so vexed by Yoongi’s searches on horror forums that night he’d made sure Boppa slept in the room with them. “You’ll curse my apartment!”

“I’d have to say the name three times, you know.”

He watches you from above with frightened eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

Hoseok should know better than to trust his best friend’s sister. Right as you taunt him with the first syllable–(“Whi…“)–he tucks the last succulent away on the shelf, drops down on his knees, and shoves a hot hand over your lips.

“I will actually, genuinely, really, reallyreallyreally hate you forever,” he threatens.

Well.

You wouldn’t want that.

He is devastatingly close, his gaze so frenzied you’re starting to feel bad. The heat comes in waves: the stifling living room, the pathetic blows of wind from the fan. Hoseok’s body. Proximity you haven’t known in forever. He just stares.

You garble from behind his mouth. “Sto’ wooing ame.”

“What?”

You slide his palm off your wet lip. “Stop looking at me,” you repeat.

“I can’t just look at you?”

Oh. He –?

“You – !” You swat at him like he’s a pesky mosquito, warding off the thirst for your embarrassment. He sits next to you, laughing. “I’m sweaty and my concealer is creasing.”

“You look fine.”

“To you.” You pat under your eyes. “I’m ugly to me.”

“Me is stupid,” he counters.

“Me will kick you if you don’t finish clearing this shit out!”

Hoseok relents, careful to test your aggression. He’s sweating, too. He wipes at his neck, sighing into straight posture from creaky knees. “We can just finish this then call it a night,” he offers. “Are you almost done with that box?”

You lug the cookbook into the remaining space of the shelf. “It’s done.”

“Cool. Then could you just–” he gestures to the cardboard near his feet with one hand, arranging more succulents with the other– “grab that for me?”

You reach over with a grunt, gentle in your hold of the pot. It’s a money plant. “From your mom?”

“I don’t even like plants,” Hoseok complains. He looks to the side of the bookshelf, realizing there’s no space to accommodate the larger pot. Dejected, he just leaves it where he stands. “I’m fixing this tomorrow, I don’t care. Let’s go outside.”

Outside is the balcony, which isn’t as oppressively hot as it is inside but still has you disappointed that it’s, well, hot. There’s no escaping it. Hoseok has to use his entire body weight to slide open the glass doors. “Shit fucking doors. Do you think Yoongi carries WD-40?”

“Probably. Tell him it’s his welcoming gift for you.”

He snorts. “I’d feel guilty. He already did a lot, building the bed with me.”

You follow him to where he leans on the railing. His unit faces west. Perfect for this time of year, when the sunsets are longer. It bleeds low behind the fading bricks of the faraway houses, the inner city high-rises, and if you angled yourself correctly it’s almost as if they lean on the sun itself. 

“This is the real reason why I chose this place,” Hoseok says. “Saw this sunset and knew.”

“I didn’t know you were so sappy.” You scrunch your face like you’ve been fed something sour. He laughs. 

“How else do you think I get all the hot ladies?” He teases. You stop at that. It suddenly occurs to you that Hoseok is a man who’s lived a million lives just as you have, and just as nothing stopped you from trying to date around (re: hot pharmacy man), the same laws should apply to him, too. 

You aren’t hurt, but it does cut a little. And before you can stop yourself, you ask: “Are any hot ladies coming over anytime soon?”

He sounds like he chokes. “God no.”

“Oh.”

“I – it’s boring stuff. Just. No. Maybe there could have been, but no.”

In your heart of hearts, you believe he’s stuttering because he’s embarrassed. But a part of you wishes he’s trying to appease the part of you that’s bristling, like he knows it’s not information you want to hear. It’s almost like a puppy nipping at their owner for forgiveness, though why would he want to be apologizing?

(Unless.)

“Okay,” you say. You try not to think too hard. “Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Your top lip is sweaty. Every crease in your body is sweaty. You’re also very much aware that Hoseok is looking at you like he wants to say more, but he just hangs his head low. “Thanks. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You know.” He wipes his brow. “Anything, really. Plans for the summer. Hot men to woo. Or hot ladies, I don’t know.”

You watch the sun set lower. It’s cooler now, and the cicadas are humming loudly. “I… no. I’m not really… I don’t know.”

Good lord. You have the strangest feeling to cut open all your guts and let Hoseok see you for everything you are. He does it so easily, to you. This is the universal truth that’s defined your existence since he entered your life.

“Ugh. I’d offer you beer to cheers for being lonely but you’re driving.” He pouts. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t want to keep you any longer than you want to stay.”

“I don’t mind.” And because you like to torture yourself, you add: “Not if it’s you.”

(You can almost hear your brother’s voice. You’re so easy. The you in your head gives him a sucker punch and says: Well maybe I like to be easy! The Boppa in your head also kicks him in the shin. You think she’d be cheering you on.)

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “Really.” It’s not a question but a reaction, and Mind-Boppa gives you a fist bump.

“Yeah. Or you can tell me if that was weird. Like. Really. You can.” You’re about to ramble more but Hoseok interrupts you.

“No!” He says this a little too loudly. You flinch. “Sorry. No. No. That wasn’t weird.”

For the umpteenth time today you almost burst into tears. It’s everything sweet and bad and hot pressing in on you, and is Hoseok smiling? He’s laughing. You’re about to spontaneously combust and he’s cackling like he’s cracked the code of something. You must look horrified, because he starts to flounder.

“I’m–sorry. I’m sorry. Please. I’m not laughing at you. I’m just gonna ask you something, and I want you to walk out on me and forget everything I’m about to say if you choose to. Does that sound good?”

You think: it’s hot when he takes initiative.

You say: nothing.

You: nod for him to continue.

“Can I please treat you to dinner for fixing my kitchen for me?”

Catholics say the universe was created in seven days. Hoseok bursts and collides five hundred of them with one question.

“Will you pay for me?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Do I have to look pretty?”

“You’re always pretty to me,” he says.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll pretend I never asked you and you can go woo another hot person. But I prefer you don’t.”

The sun has set. There’s pink in the sky, and there’s pink in your eyes. You wonder if your pupils have turned heart-shaped. 

“Then my answer is yes,” you decide.

.

.

.

When you sit in the driver’s seat, you think about Hoseok’s smile and what you’d do to keep it there. Then, you declare to your driving wheel, “I’m going to kill Yoongi,” then pull off into traffic.

.

.

.

Hoseok closes the door behind him, and slides down with his back against the wood. “Yoongi’s going to kill me,” he says to himself.

[fablestar]

Lunch break in the closet at Precinct 41 🤡

[kathaynesart]

It is done! *falls down*

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT (SOON) MASTER POST

I have... so much to say on so many different things but it is 2:30 in the morning so I will keep this as brief as possible. First off, thank you to all my mom friends and mutuals who helped me with accurately portraying and normalizing the experience of giving birth. It is wonderful, and painful, and gross, and beautiful. I apologize if it made any readers squeamish (and I know there were a few gross jokes in there) but considering how gross the tv show got, I think it remained true to the overall vibe!

Second, I wanted to talk about the concept of "hope" in this story. When I first watched the movie, I felt like the idea of hope being their greatest weapon seemed sort of heavy handed and cheesy. However, after watching the ending of the show again I realized that hope is actually a huge reoccurring element in the story and a big part of what it means to be of the Hamato clan. Doubly so, I wanted Casey Junior in a way to symbolize that hope for Leo specifically, so when Leo talks about hope in the beginning of the movie, he's not just talking about some vague concept, but Casey Junior himself. He is their greatest weapon and he doesn't even realize it.

Thirdly, so uh... Casey Junior. I apologize if it had seemed out of left field, but do know that the decision of his origins was not made lightly. The shear similarity in his facial structure to Lou Jitsu as well as several other factors that I will refrain from stating due to future spoilers was too numerous to ignore! It is an integral part of his story for reasons that will go unsaid for now, and no, he does not know he's distantly related to them. Also, Big Mama! Been holding onto her concept for some time now! I loved the idea of her mystic broach becoming damaged so she can only be cloaked to a certain degree, making for an interesting blend of both her forms. She was really fun to figure out!

Finally thank you everyone for your patience. This special turned into quite the endeavor with most of the updates exceeding 20 pages each, but I'm so happy I was able to finish it... even if it did take so much longer than my projected hope. I can't wait to get back to the main storyline, though I shall miss these silly, overpowered boys. We got a lot of ground to cover and I'll likely be posting a summarized reminder before continuing. ...and after I finish work on some Zines and the holiday special winning commission!

[kiki-kit]

hello all! sorry for the silence, i realize that with everything happening on my end i forgot to kinda get you guys up to speed with whats been happening on my side of the screen. as some of you may remember, back in february ash and i had to move out of our shared apartment. well, since then i've gone back to living with my parents, at first i had moved in with them into my grandmothers house as they had gone there to take care of her. with my mom taking care of my grandma and my dad being too disabled to work, i was left as the only able-bodied person in the house and the only one with an income, meaning i was very busy. im grateful i had been able to spend that time with my grandmother, but unfortunately the stress of cancer took her from us in may. since then we've been dealing with family drama after drama as we were rushed out of her house.

and finally, after what's felt like the longest week in existence and 3 hellish days on the road, we're finally back in our dust filled texan home.

none of this was the plan, and i never expected my grandmother to pass so soon, but here we are.

i miss having my own place and i miss being with ashley. so my plan rn is to simply save up enough money to get back out. after im finished with the commissions i have, expect continuous batches. i also plan on continuing my commission streams and maybe ill do some other streams??? maybe ill try out opening a patreon??? im not sure yet, but ill try to keep everyone posted! in the meantime, as stated, my kofi is still open and can be found here

its been a hell of a year and im very tired, but heres hoping the rest is better.

[choccy-milky]

I was out with my mom at the store and saw this beautiful picture! I instantly thought of Clora and imagined her walking through a flower field with Seb trailing behind! Ahhh! So pretty!! ❤❤

(I can imagine this piece being from Seb's perspective, or he commissioned someone to paint it for him. We love a simping man 🥰)

thats bc it IS clora 🌼🌿

but that painting is beautiful AND IM SO HONOURED U THOUGHT OF CLORA WHEN U SAW IT??😭💖 and i love the idea of it being from sebs POV too...him taking her to a field of flowers and just watching and smiling as she twirls and frolics around and brings a truckload of flowers back with them....GRAHHH MY HEART🥹💖💖

@fulica-atra AW😭😭 i rly do have SO much fun drawing clora and seb all the time BAHHA so im happy if that can come across in my art as well🥹and im glad i could help inspire you too!! omg i was working on a webtoon before HL consumed me, and creating your own universe/characters/original world is definitely a challenge (but a fun one) and im with you there on daydreaming as you fall asleep...its the best part, tbh😤 GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR STORY!! and THANK YOUUU💖💖

hi and thank you!! so the first 2 times that smut happens in my fic i DO put a warning in the beginning notes, but overall, FROM WHAT I REMEMBER, smut happens in chaps 16 (not a sex scene tho...just some solo seb BAHHA), 23, 26, 27, and 32. there could be more im missing tho/smaller scenes i dont remember, so if you wanna be absolutely certain, you could also read it on ffnet! that site doesnt allow explicit content, so i cut the scenes out before uploading it there. (but i honestly would recommend just skimming past the smut on either ao3 or wattpad, since the ver of my fic that's on ffnet is a lot less polished/not edited💀 and sometimes dialogue happens before/after the smut, but i think i just cut it out entirely in the ffnet ver, i cant remember...) BUT ANYWAY, if you do get around to reading it, i hope you like it!!🙏

LMFAOOOO speaking of smut...truly the duality of man....i guess this is a sign i should finish the nsfw wips i have rn👀

BAHAHA THE WAY I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA BE SCATHING WHEN I FIRST GOT THIS ASK and saw the preview of 'im trying so hard to get through it..." LMAOO im sorry for making you put up with bitch ass lawley😔🙏 BUT THANK YOUUU AND IM GLAD YOU LIKE IT/ARE SO INVESTED💖💖💖

and your anon immediately afterwards made me laugh LMAOO. all better now!!! 🥰lawley who???

@vaiotai bc thats how men SHOULD be when theyre in love🥰i dont make the rules🥰🥰(except for when i do😇)

[naffeclipse]

Argentate Bullet

Cryptid Hunter!Reader x Cryptid!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm so excited to share this wonderful fic commissioned by @rosescarletful involving the cryptid hunter, cryptid Eclipse, and a night under the full moon. A monster lurks somewhere close! This is teeming with angst but such things make the hurt/comfort all the sweeter, I promise <3

Content Warning for angst, blood, body horror, and death.

———

In the dense woods outside of a small, rural town, you and your dear friend begin a hunt. A howl echoes and twigs crack. The silver light of the full moon mottles the forest floor as you follow Moon. His pale eyes flash red—he senses another human. The moment you step foot into a sparse clearing of half-dead meadow grass, your heart sinks.

A young man lies groaning in the darkness, curled up and cradling his chewed arm. Blood drips freely from mangled flesh and bitten sinew.

You should have been here sooner. The cryptid sighting suggested the violent nature of the monster as insatiable, senseless. A ceaseless need for bloodshed only spells ruin and grief for anyone caught in its path. You’ve handled werewolves before. They are perfect killers under the lustrous light of night. But they fall to silver.

Together, you and Moon help the young man to his feet. He babbles about a beast with fangs and yellow eyes. A horrible hunger growled within it. The monster snatched him from the road while he was peddling his bike at the late hour, and dragged him into the woods. Before it could finish him with a snap of its maw, it fled. He doesn’t know why. A sob escapes the young man.

You have no doubt the werewolf sensed the demonic cryptid using the animatronic as a vessel. Your dear friend has scared worse monsters.

You’re lucky you two arrived when you did, but you reassure him that he’s safe now. You set your gun loaded with an argentate bullet into the map pocket of your truck door. Leaning him against the driver’s seat, you quickly rummage for a basic first-aid kit—you curse yourself for not bringing more, but rarely do you find victims of cryptids alive after an encounter and you always endure long enough to reach your airstream.

“It’s going to be okay,” you promise. You hold yourself steady, hiding your fear at the blood seeping from the young man’s arm. He cradles it close to himself. “Can you tell me your name?”

Moon looms beside you, his eyes pale and flashing. He twitches. The end of his nightcap jerks slightly with the spasm of his faceplate.

“W-warren.” The young man swallows. His eyes shine wetly. The blood coating his ravaged arm gleams dark under the moonlight. “My wallet. I lost it by my bike. Please, I have pictures of my mom and dad in it. I need it.”

“Okay,” you soothe as you finally rip open a plastic red container. Bandages immediately roll to one side in your anxious search. “I’ll get it for you after we take you to the hospital. You’re bleeding badly.”

“Please, I need it now,” he gives a ragged gasp. He looks at you, desperation filling his shining gaze as his hands tremble, slick with blood.

Your heart squeezes within you at the familiarity of needing comfort in the height of terror. 

“Moon,” you say.

“It’s still out there,” Moon warns, his hand falling to your shoulder. His long silver and blue digits press into your collarbone. “It’s not safe.”

“I know, sweetie,” you face him. Though he stands much taller, you hold his wide, glowing gaze. “His bike can’t be far. Please, will you get it?”

He stares at you. A cool breeze blows before he releases your shoulder. 

“Be careful,” he warns, then slips around the truck and back onto the faded blacktop, disappearing around a bend following the forest’s edge.

You’ll thank him when he returns. Breathing a stabilizing sigh, you face Warren and ask for his arm. His eyes don’t meet yours for a moment. His attention follows the animatronic slipping into the darkness.

“It’s alright,” you say in a low, gentle voice. “Let me get you bandaged, and as soon as Moon returns, we’ll take you to get help.”

“W-who is that,” Warren asks shakily. His fingers writhe as you support his arm. 

“My friend,” you answer softly. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of the scary thing. It won’t hurt you again.”

“Something isn’t right,” he whispers, terrified.

You lift your head. You fear he might pass out from the blood loss but you find his face turned towards the night sky. The moon hangs clearly in the black cosmos, big and looming like an omen.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” You hurry to tie up the bandage already soaking in crimson.

“No. It hurts.” Warren pushes you away and doubles over, clutching his face and shouting, “It hurts! Stop!”

You step back, hands up, stunned. What did you do? Why is he—

A sickening crack of bone echoes within Warren. You start, horrified, then your mind races.

No, it’s pop culture to believe a werewolf bite transforms another. There has been nothing legitimate within your research to conclude that a bite would be infectious, nor that it would trigger a transformation on the very same night. A human can’t become a cryptid.

He can’t.

Warren groans until his agonized sound slips into a high keen. A vicious growl overtakes him and rattles through your chest despite the distance. Your eyes dart to the Winchester gun stowed away in the map pocket of your truck door.

“Warren,” you say, holding out a hand and stepping closer, “It’s going to be okay—”

“Get away!” he snarls inhumanly. He swipes at you with his hand, now elongated. It bursts with a coat of fur and bears long, wicked claws. You leap out of his reach but stand weaponless.

No. It can’t be.

Warren crumples to the dirt ground. On his hands and knees, his cries of agony lift into a feral howl while the rest of his body bends and breaks. You watch, rooted in horror, as his clothes rip under the bulking strain of his new form while black fur overruns his flesh. Thick, rugged sinew cords his body. His face snaps as his jaw elongates into a muzzle. A flash of yellow eyes pierces you through the darkness. 

“Warren,” you utter. You start slowly stepping towards the bed of your truck, seeking cover—anything to put between you and the newborn werewolf. Your hands are held out. You glance again at your gun but the young man stops howling. 

He slowly lifts his head, sharp ears pinned back against his skull. Lips pull over fangs. A horrid growl stops your heart.

The werewolf hunches low and slowly pads forward. A glinting maw spills saliva. You stare at the poor young man, your pulse racing in your ears. He straightens, towering upon you with hunger glowing within inhuman eyes upon hound-like legs. The moonlight covers him in pale gray.

He lunges. You dive, throwing yourself behind your truck only to catch a wicked snap of teeth inches from your feet. A sharp inhale. Your veins burn with adrenaline. You twist back to find the werewolf rounding back, widening his jaw. He reaches a long limb forward and hooks his claws on the bummer of your truck. Vicious talons rip down the edge of it. You scramble, kicking your legs and crawling backward in your shock.

Swift footsteps cut through the darkness. The werewolf’s ears swivel before he turns a second too late. A flash of limbs, metallic and dripping black and red, knocks into the creature, sending it careening back towards the road until he rolls to a stop in a heap of furry limbs. 

You gasp in a flood of relief. Moon straightens. A wallet drops into the dirt. From out of his slim animatronic chassis, two arms, inky and clawed, spread out defensively over you.

“Moon,” you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, “It’s Warren.”

“Get your gun.” Moon spares you a glance of bright red optics. “We shouldn’t have left you.”

There’s nothing you can say now. You breathlessly slip back behind your friend, rushing down the length of your truck. Moon’s many limbs writhe as he stares down the monster rising back to his paws with vicious growls.

Passing the claw marks carved into your bumper, you dart for your weapon. Behind you, a snarl rips across the road’s edge. Your heart leaps into your throat. You crash against the door and frantically pry out the Winchester from the map pocket.

The barrel gleams darkly in the moonlight. The smooth, carved handle holds intricate designs in the wood. You check with hands threatening to tremble that it’s still loaded. Hidden within is a shiny silver bullet.

You turn back to face the cryptid. In a powerful leap off his hind legs, the werewolf attacks. Moon lifts his four arms to catch the monster and hold it off, staggering back under the force. The snap of teeth nearly snags Moon’s nightcap and vicious claws swipe nearly slice through his chassis. You straighten, standing solid on your feet, and aim your gun. Your dear friend and the young man now cursed thrash together in a blend of demonic and lycanthropy. 

The werewolf towers over Moon who remains in his vessel, unable to spare a moment to escape the confines of it while fending off the vicious cryptid. You cry out a warning. 

In a heartbeat, the cryptid unbalances Moon, dropping him to the ground with a powerful blow of his large paw. The sharp clank of metal on the dirt freezes your blood. Red-dipped cryptid arms rake over the werewolf. Tufts of fur and flesh tear away but the monster gives no thought to the slashes as Moon unleashes an unearthly growl.

Your hands clench around the gun, pulse racing. The werewolf rears back under the moonlight, teeth exposed, jaws wide, and strikes for Moon’s spindly neck.

You squeeze the trigger. The echoing blast cuts through the night air, and a small hole within the werewolf bubbles blood, spilling down his chest. The werewolf slumps with a gurgle, then silence.

Moon grunts once before four limbs push the carcass off of him. With a meaty thump, the cryptid lies on the dirt, dead. 

You stare. Slowly lowering the gun, you stare unblinkingly. Tears brim your eyes. A haze of silver light and blood pooling underneath the furred cryptid overtakes you.

“Moon,” you say, your voice sounds strange, strained. “He wasn’t a cryptid. He was just bitten. He didn’t—He’s not—”

How can you shoot this monster when he’s just a person caught in very awful circumstances? All your other hunts were simple. They were only cryptids, not victims. 

You didn’t protect him.

You lower your hands. A hollowed coldness seeps into your chest cavity. The animatronic lies still as black ooze slips from crevices and cracks, accumulating into a lithe, towering figure with four limbs. Eclipse straightens slowly, watching you closely with red eyes glowing in the dark.

“Heart,” a deep rumble touches you, familiar and safe, but you shake. “You protected us.”

The demonic cryptid slips closer. His many hands reach for you, one trailing down your wrist before slipping the gun from your quaking grasp.

“He didn’t ask to become this,” your voice cracks.

“You didn’t know.” Two large, cool hands cup your face. Tilting your head up to meet their wide eyes, Eclipse softly growls, “It’s not your fault. If you didn’t stop him, he would have caused more harm. He would have joined the other monster in hurting people.”

Tears spill down your cheeks. You grasp his wrists, fingernails sinking into their dark red and deep blue being.

“I needed to—I should’ve—” you gasp a ragged sound, fighting a sob. “He didn’t deserve to die.”

“You did what was right, heart,” Eclipse’s wide jaw with razor-thin fangs lower to you. A crown of frills and horns tilt softly as they lightly flick a long, oily tongue to your cheek in comfort. “Please, don’t blame yourself. We shouldn’t have left your side. If we had stayed, we could have subdued him before he attacked.”

You cling tighter to their anchoring hold. A soft sound echoes as they set the gun on the truck seat before returning their lower arms to rest on your waist, gathering you close to cradle you against them. 

They bow over you. Four limbs, clawed and full of strength, keep you from falling. You press your cheek against their cool, slick chest. Weeping, you cave into their comfort while a young man lies dead in a form he never could have wanted for himself.

[bookie-bookdust]

Helpful (but Aggressive) Guide to the new Hogwarts Legacy PC Mod Update✨

I have been seeing NOTHING BUT COMPLAINING about this damn update and no one actually trying to help each other. So I'm going to do my damn best here to give you a little intro into this new update. Because instead of leaning into the standard toxic consumerism bullshit of fandom, why don't we actually try to be nice to each other?? And the fucking modders who put all this time and effort into making this for us?!?!!?!?!? Special thanks to @anomalyaly because we were up last night trying to figure this out LOL. These screenshots are hers and mine!

PART ONE: Why is my game crashing?

You need to delete your old Nexus ~mod folder from the game files. Throw it in the trash, cut and past it somewhere in your documents, idc. Just get it out of there. The pathway to find it is:

2. Steam senses your bad attitude and don't like it idk. I'm not IT. Turn it off and back on again.

NOTE: Once you start up the game and get it working, you can bring back compatible mods from Nexus. You just need to create a new folder to put them in. It can't be the original one. If your game crashes after that, then you have an incompatible mod in there. You'll have to go down the list until you narrow down which one it is - typically will be a face mod, hair mod, jewelry, or a mod that already exists in the new mod store thing. Yeet it.

PART TWO: I'm not going to teach you how to add the new in-game mods and start the game. I'm not your mom. It's pretty intuitive honestly.

PART THREE: Where the fuck are the clothing mods I just added????

An excellent question, my new charge. You need to go to GladRags to get them. You're going to have to long rest at least three days for them to show up in his store. For me, it took five times lol. This is kind of annoying, but it needs to be immersive to the game I guess so oh well. I don't think we'll die from it.

See all those red exclamation points? That was my fault. I loaded a wizard clothing mod into a witch save. So if you see that, you loaded something you shouldn't have.

PART FOUR: HOW DO I CHANGE MY UGLY ASS HAIR?

Easy peasy lemon squeezy. You're going to go to that hairstyle lady in Hogsmeade I'm too lazy to look up the name of. That bitch charges you for the new hairstyles but you can download unlimited money cheats so whatever.

Don't mind my face lol. I was having a BP makeup glitch LOL

PART THIRTY-SEVEN: How do I change my makeup?

This part sucks. RIGHT NOW as of 1/31/2025, you have to be in the main character design screen at the beginning of the damn game. BUT BUT BUT - if you mod back in the BP character editor, you can do it anywhere. My hope is a new mod will replace this so the game works more smoothly.

Those white spaces? They're the new in-game mods for hair and makeup. Well, most of them. I think some are just random blank spaces lol.

Part Six: Where are my unlocked spells and unlimited plants and shit?

Two reasons they're not showing up:

If you just added this mod and you load your game in the middle of the mission, you need to finish the mission first.

You probably have something incompatible (a nexus mod) that isn't playing nice. Yeet it.

After getting everything squared away, I look fucking great. You are not doomed to a potato face🥔. I FUCKING PROMISE YOU ON SOLOMON'S LIFE.

Truly guys, once you work out the kinks in this update, it's really. fucking. nice.

Before I reinstalled the nexus mods, the game was running so smoothly and the graphics were beautiful. I loaded in 20 mods all at once, and the game handled them just fine. After reloading the nexus mods it was a bit clunky, but of course it would be.

I know change is scary. Also for those who spent time creating/commissioning mods that are no longer compatible, they have the biggest right to be freaking out. BUT BUT BUT we all fucking know the old mods AND SO MANY MORE will be back soon. People are working their asses off in the background converting things right now.

I want to put some things into perspective for you:

We have not had a real update in two years (no, photo mode doesn't count). This is literally the best kind of update we could ever ask for. We are not dependent on the devs for updates with this. In the launch event they were speaking as if you can create your own quests; there are audio mods....think about it guys. Endless protentional. (The only things that aren't going to make it are if you have weird ass like engorgio penis mods because there's no way they're approving those for public use hahahaha)

The devs reached out to people in the community to ask for feedback and to collaborate. THEY CARE ABOUT THE FANDOM. Consider what that may mean for the sequel??? We might not be forced to stomach Hogwarts Legacy 2: Dumbledore's Jorts. They're listening (but they're not going to listen if you're fucking rude and stupid).

You guys shitting on this update very vocally here, on twitter, and on tiktok are forgetting that people in your community helped create it and can SEE YOU. STOP IT. Whine in private!!!!!! Also because I knowww I have to specify because someone is going to take everything personally, I don't mean posts making funny jokes about the updates and just being like ahhhh wtf is going on I'm so lost and whatnot. Like please guys, read the room. I'm referring to nasty comments.

So yes, I'm here with a positive review of the update, and an insanely aggressive reminder to calm the fuck down and go touch some grass. The old mods will be back soon. This update makes using them so much easier. Also, THE POOR CONSOLE PLAYERS DON'T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING YET SOOOOOOOO

I WILL NOT BE TAKING ANY QUESTIONS OR CRITICISM SO STFU. THANKS FOR READING THIS LONG ASS POST IF YOU'RE STILL HERE. OKAAAY BYEEeeEE.

[electricpurrs]

okay im gonna try to be direct. i need around $55 USD right now. i need to pay for my credit card debt and recent expenses, and i'm going to have to refund someone for a commission i failed to finish. my mom wont get her paycheck until next week and shit is rough so idk how much more i'll even need. i want to go back to taking commissions soon but first i need to be sure i can do it because i don't want to fail even more. i really just need help. im sorry

https://ko-fi.com/spaceprobe

[greenlikethesea]

@sparklyslug and I commissioned the incredible @mardyart to draw a pivotal scene from our fic, Three Weddings and a Funeral, a part in our currently sprawling universe Let us Dwell in Fair Ithilien and There Make a Garden. For those who have read, you might recognize this as a scene from the third chapter, post [redacted] funeral, where Steve and Eddie have a conversation in the Byers-Hopper kitchen about what is deserved.

Thank you so much for this beautiful art, Mardy. We’re so unbelievably thrilled with the finished product, and we couldn’t be happier. You’re the best!

Referenced fic excerpt under the cut, for context!

 “Oh Joyce, love of my life,” Eddie says to himself, removing several pints of Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and lining them up on the kitchen counter. Without even asking Steve for his preference, he wordlessly hands Steve the almost full pint of Cherry Garcia. He just knows which one is his favorite, apparently, which shouldn’t surprise Steve as much as it does. “Do you think it’s too soon to propose to her?”

 “I see your stance on asking people out at funerals has changed,” Steve remarks, ignoring the swoop in his stomach at Eddie’s (playful, completely not serious, Joyce is their mom) suggestion.

 “First of all, post-funeral is fair game,” Eddie says as he gets out two bowls and two spoons; he, like Steve, knows this kitchen like the back of his hand. Even knows where to find a jar of apparently unopened maraschino cherries, theatrically blowing the dust off the lid into Steve’s face, who in return theatrically coughs and gags. After a slight pause, he takes the pint of Cherry Garcia out of Steve’s hand and sets to making a little sundae for him. Steve can only dumbly watch as Eddie gives him two scoops and presses down on them so they’re a little softer, just how Steve likes it, adding a brusquely effective swirl of whipped cream, cherries on top, before handing it back to him. In Steve’s professional opinion, it’s a Scoops Ahoy-worthy performance. Makes him kind of wish the outfit was involved, mmm.

 “Secondly,” Eddie says, Steve doing a quick mental scramble away from the vision of Eddie in blue striped shorts and back towards whatever the hell they had been talking about, “I’m pretty sure a sexless marriage is out of the question for her, so it would be a swift no.” He’s less formal with his own ice cream prep, simply jamming a spoon into his own tub (Phish Food, which is just so typically him), whipped cream and cherries apparently forgotten.

 “She deserves better than that,” Steve says now, years later, chasing a stray cherry around the side of his bowl with his spoon. “And so do you.”

 Eddie gives Steve a look, a little bit of humor and a little bit of apprehension and a bit of evaluation. And something so unsurprised, too, a kind of fond      Jesus H Christ, of course smile manifesting just through the shadow of a dimple, not quite making itself entirely seen.

 “I know,” Eddie says simply. The quiet confidence of a man who does know what he deserves, does know that he can and should be desired. Treasured. And get what he wants. And who is, maybe, a little surprised that Steve knows that too.

 Steve pops the maraschino cherry between his teeth, flavor exploding at the back of his tongue, just this shy of too syrupy-sweet, as he looks at Eddie’s face. He can feel it coming in, then. The way he’s heard that the water pulls all the way back far as the eye can see, before a tsunami comes rushing back in. Has a sense of what’s heading his way, in the time that it takes for Eddie to shake his head ruefully and continue, taking his eyes off Steve’s face in an uncharacteristically indirect move. One of only a handful of times Steve can think of, when Eddie hasn’t looked frank and fearless into Steve’s eyes.

 “You do too,” Eddie says to his bowl with quiet ferocity, and follows it with a spoonful of ice cream so quickly that it’s like he’s trying to stuff the words back in. Cover up the evidence with Ben&Jerry’s finest.

I love him, Steve thinks, the hundred-foot high wave coming in. Less devastating of a natural disaster, but sure as shit knocking him off his feet and sending him spinning. Hey, Eddie. I love you.  

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Joel needs help with his yard, you need help with figuring your feelings out

A/N: Im so excited you guys have been liking this!! last chapter was a good one, but this is my favorite so far. I also started a tag list so if y’all want to be part of that comment down here <3 Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel if you squint, some accidental physical contact lol, sexual tension but no smut

Series masterlist

“You can’t spend your whole summer doing nothing. You should really find something productive to do while you’re back home.”

Four years of college, every summer break, and most holidays spent working to cover tuition and other expenses—a lifetime of never catching a break until now—and that’s what your mother tells you after just two weeks of "doing nothing"?

You knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before she decided to insert herself into your life and dictate your every move. It’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. “I’ve been helping out around the house,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “that’s not what I meant. You can’t be locked up in here all day. People will think you’re wasting your life away. I’ve been asking around at the town’s pageant commission, and they would be absolutely delighted to have you around to help us organize this year’s Teen Country Queen Pageant.”

There it was. Nothing your mother did was ever for anyone’s interests other than herself. If she had no interest in parading you around her pageant organizer friends, you were absolutely sure she couldn’t care less what you did with your days.

Right on cue, just before you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, your dad walks in. “What’s the long face for?”

“Oh, Hank, great! You can back me up here. I was telling her she needs to find something to do with her days. All this lazing around can’t be good for her. My friends at the—”

“Actually, I was thinking the exact same thing,” your dad says, surprising both of you.

“Really?” you ask incredulously. For all his flaws, your dad has never been one to meddle in your affairs.

“Yeah, Joel has been complaining about his front and back yard looking like shit since Cindy left.”

“Hank! Language!” your mom’s voice rises to that ear-shattering pitch she uses when she’s trying to be stern.

“Sorry, looking terrible since Cindy left,” your dad corrects himself, laughing it off. Sometimes he forgets he can only be that relaxed when he’s alone with you; your mom is a whole different ballgame.

“Um… Cindy?” you ask, drawing a blank on the name.

“The ex-wife. That’s not the point, kiddo. The point is he’s been whining about it for the longest time but is always too lazy to figure out gardening by himself. Then I remembered you were in the gardening club back in high school. It’d be nice of you to offer him some help. Poor man doesn't know how to keep a cactus alive.”

“Dad, that was ages ago. I don’t know if I remember much of it anyway. I only joined for my college applications,” you retort.

“It’s just a few plants and flowers here and there. How hard can it be? He even said he bought everything he should need for it but never got ‘round to actually doing it, so it’s all laid out for ya.”

Your choices were clear: spend however long it took to finish Joel’s yard while pretending you don’t have a massive crush on your dad’s best friend, or run around town with your mom organizing a beauty pageant. The decision wasn’t hard at all.

“I’ll go over and check it out.”

The walk to Joel’s house should’ve been short—barely a five-minute stroll up the road—but a nasty crack in the pavement had other plans. You were so lost in your thoughts today that you missed it entirely, stepping right into the trap.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just today. You’ve been in your head ever since you first saw Joel standing at the bottom of your stairs. The way his hands had gripped your arms, steadying you, had left an imprint that you couldn’t seem to shake. And now, here you were, back in that same position, your mind consumed by this man who seemed to be as bad for your sanity as he was for your attention span.

So what should’ve been a walk up the road turned into a drawn-out pause as you sat on the sidewalk, waiting for the sharp pain in your twisted ankle to dull.

About ten minutes later, you finally make it to Joel’s lawn. You brace yourself to climb his porch stairs, pretending your ankle wasn’t bothering you, when you notice his garage door open. You hadn’t seen him from your previous angle, but as you got closer, the view of Joel's back muscles came into frame. And what a view that was. He was leaning over his truck, completely absorbed on whatever needed fixing under that hood.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the way his shirt clings to the sweat glistening on his skin. It takes a few seconds to remember that it isn’t socially acceptable to ogle someone from their front lawn, so you clear your throat and take a few more steps toward him.

“Hey” he greeted you, looking up from his work.

“Hey, yourself” you say back, playing it as cool as you could. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but Joel's face glisten with sweat, as do his arms and you don’t not even want to think about what’s going on under that t-shirt.

“Come to pay me a visit?” he asked with a smirk

“My dad didn’t tell you? I’m your gardener for the day… or however long it takes to make your front lawn and back yard all pretty.”

Joel’s response is a breathy laugh, followed by him dropping his head between his forearms resting on the truck.“My gardener, huh?” he finally brings his eyes back up to meet yours. “Your daddy don’t know how to mind his own business, do he, sweetheart?”

Let’s unpack that. This man didn’t just throw in a new pet name you’d be replaying in your mind at any random moment of the day, but he also said it in that tone he seems to reserve only for you—or so you hoped, at least.

And that other word coming from his lips… you were aware people in the south used it more casually, without the connotation it had in your mind, but the way it sounded coming from him…

Oh, it made you think of a million ways Joel Miller could say the word Daddy in plenty of different contexts.

You quickly drop your gaze, hoping to hide the intense blush creeping up your cheeks. “I uh… I’m afraid not.”

The sound of his boots on the garage floor pulls you back to reality as he steps closer. “You don’t gotta do this, y’know?” His tone shifts, becoming more serious. “It’s no big deal, I’ll get to this mess eventually.”

You look up at him once again, more desperate than you’d like to admit. “Joel, I’ve been cooped up in my house with my mother and her pageant friends for weeks now. Please, give me an excuse to be anywhere else.”

A chuckle. You could live for those, make it your entire profession to earn them. You really need to calm the fuck down and get a grip if you are to spend the entire day around this man.

“Alright, then. If it’ll make you happy, I’m not gonna say no” says before turning back into the garage. He returns with a small crate filled with gardening tools and a few potted plants, setting them down on the grass. “Got most of what you’ll need here. Not much, but it’s a start.” His gaze drops to your ankle. “You doin’ alright? You’re limping.”

You wave off his concern, not wanting to admit just how much your ankle is actually bothering you. “It’s nothing, just a little misstep on my way here . I’m fine, really.” You flash him a smile you hope is convincing enough.

Joel studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Alright, but if it gets to be too much, you let me know, okay? Last thing I need is you hurtin’ yourself on my account.”

“Deal,” you lie. There’s no way in hell you’re backing out of this now.

He gestures toward the mess of overgrown grass, weeds, and flower beds that haven’t seen attention in who knows how long. “I guess that’s the worst of it. Clearing out the weeds should leave enough space for these plants. Don’t overthink it, I trust your instincts.”

You take your first good look at the pots he brought from the back of the garage. “Oh, daisies! They’re my favorite.” You glance up at him, sweetness lacing your tone.

He pauses, something unreadable passing over his face. “ ‘Course they are.” He says, the corners of his mouth tugging up a bit. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. I'll be working over there.”

With Joel back under the hood, you set to work on the lawn. Despite the dull throb in your ankle, you find a steady rhythm in the repetitive motions—pulling out stubborn roots, digging small holes for the flowers, and patting down the soil around them. It’s oddly satisfying, watching the neglected garden start to come to life under your hands. You’ve always had a knack for taking rugged things and making them pretty.

Every so often, you glance over at Joel, who’s completely engrossed in whatever he’s tinkering with under the hood. The way his muscles flex as he works, the concentration etched on his face and how it makes him look a lot more serious than he ever is when talking to you—it’s hard to not get distracted.

There’s something about him, something that pulls you in despite your better judgment, despite every self-preservation instinct in you. Maybe it’s the way he makes you feel grounded, even when your mind is spinning out of control. It’s such a foreign concept for you, you’ve always been the one who has to defuse tensions, be the bigger person, manage the chaos. It’s never like that with Joel.

You’re careful to keep your ankle steady, not wanting to give Joel any more reason to worry. But as the hours pass and the sun climbs higher, you can feel the strain starting to build. Ever the overachiever, you push through it, there isn’t much left to get done in the front lawn anyway.

By the time you’ve planted the last of the daisies, you’re more than a little proud of yourself. There are still a few bare spots here and there and a handful of marigold pots waiting to be planted, but the lawn is starting to look less like a jungle and more like somewhere you’d actually want to spend time in. You wipe your brow, satisfied.

Joel must’ve noticed you slowing down because he calls out from where he’s working, “How’re you holding up? You thirsty?”

You hadn’t realized how parched you were until he mentioned it. “Yeah, a drink sounds good.”

Joel gives you a quick once-over, his eyes lingering on your ankle for a moment longer than you’d like. But he doesn’t say anything as he leads the way into the house, holding the door open for you.

The cool air inside is a welcome relief from the midday sun, and you sigh as you step into the kitchen. Joel pulls a couple of glasses from the cupboard and fills them with ice water, handing one to you. You take a sip, feeling the cold liquid soothe your dry throat.

You lean against the counter, trying to take some weight off your bad ankle. But as soon as you shift your weight, a sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you can’t hold back the small whine that escapes your lips.

Joel’s eyes snap to yours, his brow furrowing with concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m fine,” you insist, even though you know you’re not fooling him. “It’s just—”

“ ‘S that why you’re whining every time you put weight on it?”

“It’s just a bit sore. Don’t—”

Before you can finish, Joel’s on you in a flash, closing the distance between you. He’s careful but firm as he lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “Let me see.”

“Joel, really, it’s not a big deal,” you start to protest, but the look he gives you silences any argument you might have had.

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low and steady. There’s a note of authority there that makes your heart race. There’s no disobeying him when he uses that tone.

You sigh dramatically, letting him gently take your injured ankle in his hands. His touch is warm, and the way his fingers graze your skin sends shivers down your spine. He inspects your ankle with a seriousness that makes your heart flutter, his brows knitted in concentration.

“This is more than a ‘little misstep,’” he looks back up, his eyes stern and serious. He slowly drops your leg, turning back to reach into the freezer and pull out a pack of frozen peas. He presses it against your ankle, holding it there with one hand while his other hand lingers on your calf.

It doesn’t take long for his thumb to start brushing up and down in a way that feels more comforting than it should. He starts adding a little pressure to his touch, the lingering touch from before turning into a massage up and down your calf.

Your breath catches as you look down at him, the way he’s so focused on taking care of you. The tenderness in his touch is at odds with the roughness of his hands, and the combination is making it hard to think straight. It’s even harder to keep the little sounds his touch arises in you contained, some of them escaping out of your parted lips despite your best efforts.

“Joel,” you start, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. His hand is still on your leg, his face overtaken by a dark expression you hadn’t seen on him until now.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels charged, like something unspoken is hovering just out of reach. You can feel it in the way his grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly, in the way his breathing seems to sync with yours.

And then, as if realizing where his hand is, Joel slowly pulls back. “I should get you back home, let you rest that ankle.”

You frown slightly, the way he spoke such a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch still lingering on your leg. “I’m alright. I’m gonna have to be kneeling down for most of what’s left anyways, so I won’t be putting any weight on it.”

“No, it’s best if you just go. I’ll sort the lawn out later.”

The words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You’re left staring at him, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Normally, your pride would keep you from asking, but something about Joel makes it impossible to let this go. “Did I… do something wrong?”

Joel pauses, his eyes softening for a split second before his expression hardens again. “No, you're fine. Thank you for your help, but I’m taking you home.”

He doesn’t leave room for discussion as he brushes past you, heading into the living room to grab his truck keys. Your chest tightens, the shame of the moment crashing down on you all at once.

Except… you didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t the one who was running her hands up and down his body, or pulling him close and throwing him on the counter like it was nothing. He did all that. He made you feel like something more was happening, and now he’s treating you like some desperate girl who threw herself at him, needing to be ushered out of his house as quickly as possible.

The ache in your heart is quickly overshadowed by a fiery rage, building more and more with each passing second. You turn sharply in the kitchen, your mind made up as you march toward the open door leading to the garage.

“Don’t bother,” you snap, your voice cutting through the silence as you head for the exit.

“What?” Joel turns around just in time to see you storming out.

You don’t even answer him, your steps quickening even as pain shoots up your leg with every movement.

“The hell are you doin’? You can’t walk home with that busted ankle,” he calls after you, his tone much harsher than it was just moments ago.

You laugh bitterly, not bothering to look back. This man clearly doesn’t know you and your stubborn ass well enough yet. “Oh, I’ll fucking live.”

Without another word, you push through the pain, taking it one torturous step at a time. Each step feels like defiance, a middle finger to your own pride and to Joel’s sudden coldness. But it’s better this way—better to feel the sharp sting in your ankle than the dull ache in your heart. The whole way home, you curse yourself for being so goddamn stubborn, even as the fiery rage keeps you moving forward.

Tag list:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

Ok so I wonder how the TMNT boys (any version you want) would react if they had an S/O who they loved a lot, and they get sent to the future and in the future they get to meet their grandkid, and sadly their now old S/O who waited for them the whole time and never moved on. it turns out the S/O had been pregnant before they went on the mission and technically lived out their life raising the kid on their own.(due to the turtles being in the future) Also said kid is now an adult and is very unhappy with said turtle but the grandkid is over the moon to meet his cool ninja granddad of course its resolved they eventually go back to their past S/O who didn't know any of this but of course is happy to see them again.(and said timeline is avoided) I wonder how the boys would react to that scenario Also sorry if this was super long winded or a not very well written request, its my first time asking one, Thanks for your writings!

Okay first of all anon, this is probably one of the coolest asks I’ve ever seen, I love your imagination dude!

Second, I AM HERE FOR THIS ANGST AND FLUFF DUDE CRYING. Also thank you so much! I’m glad you like my writing!! 🫶🫶🫶

Sent to the future!

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word count: 2374

CW: This one is a long one, AFAB reader due to pregnancy, being mom/grandma, still tried to keep it gender-neutral. I haven’t gotten far enough into the 2003 series where they actually go to the future, so keep in mind this is my imagination going into overdrive, angsty, lots of crying, minor cussing, it gets fluffy in some moments though!

🐢 T/N stands for turtle name.

Tags: @sharkie-inthesea, for looking over this before I posted! <3

Sorry for the longer wait, I spent a lot of time the first day writing, then yesterday I was out of commission unfortunately 💔 But I finished today, I really hope you guys enjoy, because man, I enjoyed writing this!

Due to some circumstances, unfortunately the turtles had to travel to the future for a very important mission, I mean it’s not everyday you receive a hologram from a random stranger urging you to come save the future. And the idea of their future being in danger, meaning you, everyone they knew and New York would be in danger, so they had to take this mission.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip anxiously as you watched as they geared up, you wanted to hold them back, tell them to stay, tell them New York needed them here. The growing pit in your stomach telling you that you’d never see them growing much larger and even agitated, you absolutely hated the thought.

You looked at your lover, the feeling growing even worse, “T/N I—” you started, but was interrupted, “Hey, we have to go.” One of his brothers said, and your heart dropped as he turned to you and smiled. “Hey, I’ll be back, Y/N.” He pulled you close and pressed one last kiss to your lips, “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone, okay? I love you.” And that’s when you knew, you couldn’t talk him out of it, and with a defeated sigh you said with a forced smile, “I love you too.”

He squeezed you closer before finally pulling back, nodding at his sensei, before walking into the TV that took them to the future with his brothers, and just like that… They were gone.

“No…” you start, tearing up, before Splinter placed a hand on your shoulder. “It will be alright, my child.” He tried to soothe you, “It is okay to cry.” He said, and right then and there, you cried into the older rat’s shoulder as he comforted you. He stared at the TV and hoped for his sons safe return home…

Once the turtles arrived in the future, they were all honestly quite surprised how the world turned out to be. For Donnie, this was ABSOLUTE heaven! Everything is made from the ground up with technology! How amazing! The turtles couldn’t stare in awe for long, they had a mission to take care of.

They split off to cover some ground, and as T/N searched, something peculiar caught his eye. In a nearby alleyway, some cyberpunks came flying out, and they looked awfully familiar. He jumped down and took a closer look and saw an all too familiar tattoo. “The Purple Dragons…” he muttered bitterly. A sinking feeling grew in his gut, so it seems that Shredder’s influence didn’t die in the future and even to this day, they were still here to give New York trouble.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar voice called out to him, and a teenager came out, holding his weapon(s)?! The teen looked awfully similar to him too… Turtle features but had human features too, such as hair that looked a lot like yours, tied back, he had your eyes too, he wore a torn cloak around his shoulders and he eyed the turtle suspiciously. The teenager pointed his weapon at him, “What’re you doing here?! Helping those Purple Punks?!” T/N’s eyes widened. “No! Never! I never liked them much in the past, why would I ever like them in the future?!”

The teenager paused and eyed him suspiciously again, “Past?” He did a quick once-over before the kid looked shocked, “Wait… GRANDPA?!?!”

And that’s what led T/N to sit in a house, sitting on his knees in front of the low-dining table, walls covered in family photos. Some he could make out as, it was the teenager, which he came to learn his name was Lucas, with his father. Another turtle who Lucas obviously took after in looks.

Lucas came back into the dining room, basically dragging his father as he was babbling non-stop about who he just met. His father’s ridges were furrowed in confusion, “I thought I told you to stop fighting those stupid—” before he looked up and everything seemed to stop, his eyes widening at the sight of his own father who sat in front of him. “Lucas, who is this?” He grit his teeth as he held back his rage. Lucas would go on to cheerfully say, “It’s grandpa T/N! He said he came here in the future to help save it!” The young lad beamed excitedly.

“Get out.” He said in a voice full of anger, directed all at T/N, catching him by surprise, “What—” he started before being yelled at, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU SON OF A BITCH!” He raised his fists, about to fight his own father when he was stopped. “Giovanni, what’s going on?!?” A familiar voice spoke out as an older version of you rushed out and stopped, eyes widening at the scene in front of you. “T-T/N…?!” You stared in shock.

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 Leo’s whole world stopped once he saw you, and he was quick to stand, “Y/N…” his heart ached when he saw the tears form in your eyes, “Leo… You finally came back to me?” You would rush to him, hugging onto him tightly, “It really is you…!” You sobbed out. Leo was quick to hug you back, holding you close as he comforted you. “Y/N, what happened?” He asked as you pulled away, cupping his face, “So much…” You whispered.

💙 Once everyone settled down, you sat across from Leo with Giovanni and Lucas beside you. Giovanni was giving Leo the harshest glare he ever gave someone, meanwhile Lucas was practically bouncing in his seat. You take a deep breath before looking at Leo, who waited patiently. “When you went to the future, I found out I was pregnant… I didn’t think it was possible, but… I had Giovanni.” You start, “Master Splinter helped me name him because I wanted to keep the line going with naming my kids after Italian artists, like he named you all…” you would lower your head, Giovanni placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “Master Splinter passed away a few years later after you all went into the future and never came back…” you tear up again, “I don’t even know if in that future you’re still alive or not.” You began to weep softly, making Leo’s heart ache at even the idea of him ever abandoning you. He would never, and he knew that.

💙 He placed a hand on yours, “Y/N, I loved you more than life itself, I would’ve come back to you if I was still alive.” You look up, tears still falling, “I know.” Leo squeezed your hand gently, “Good…” he then finally stood, “I’m going to fix this, I can’t stand to see you suffer because of me.” He smiles at you and gently kisses your hand, “I’ll come back home to you.” You smiled as more tears fell, “Good.”

💙 Leo would leave after giving you a tight hug and wishing his future family well, despite the fact Giovanni barely wanted him there in the first place. Once meeting up with his brothers, they’d work hard to save the future so he could get back home to you, and to start that family together.

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ Once Raph’s eyes laid on you, he felt a sudden rise of emotions that made him want to tear up, but for your sake he held back. “Dollface…” he stood up quickly and hurried over to you, Giovanni wanted to protest, but stopped himself when his mother hugged onto Raph tightly, crying into his chest. “Dollface, what happened?” He asks softly, stroking your cheek as he stares at what seemed like a hollow version of yourself. What had happened to you while he was gone, and why on earth was he not with you?! He was supposed to be here protecting you…

❤️ “Oh Raph… After you left, I found out I was pregnant and ended up living with Master Splinter.” You sigh, “He ended up passing away a couple years ago, after Mutants became more accepted here.” Raph’s brows furrowed at the thought, his father was dead, of course that would happen, he was an old rat after all, but it still hurt to think about. He shook his head, “And where was I?” He asked the burning question, watching as your face fell more, “You never came back. None of you guys did, and I fear you might’ve died in the future.” You whisper shakily as more tears escape you, and Raph could only hug you tighter to himself.

❤️ “Oh Dollface…” he would pull away, gently grasping your shoulders with a determined look, “I’m gonna make it better.” He says firmly, “I’m gonna finish this mission, and I’m gonna get back home to you.” He teared up, “I’m gonna help you raise Giovanni, and I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna grow old with you, and you can count on it.” He promised as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a soft sob escaping you as you hugged onto him tightly once more.

❤️ Soon it was time for Raph to go, and as he walked off to meet up with his brothers, he looked back and gazed at his family one last time, he vowed to you, Giovanni and Lucas that he would make it home, and he would make sure of that. When his brothers saw him, they saw a certain fire in his eyes, and the boys knew it was game time, and he sure as hell was gonna keep his promise.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 When Donnie saw you, he was still processing everything, how did you two have a baby? How is that even genetically possible? But his mind finally stopped and his heart sank when you came rushing towards him, making him quickly stand up and holding you close to his person. “Y/N…” He whispered breathily, pressing soft kisses to your temple, making you cry harder.

💜 “I’ve missed you so much.” You say, and Donnie knew, he put two-and-two together. “I never came back, did I?” He asks, pulling away as he gazes into your dull eyes, “No.” You shake your head with a whisper, staring back into his eyes. “And you never moved on?” He asks again, his heart breaking at the thought. “No.” You whisper again. Donnie would rest his head on yours as he would rub his hands over your arms, before gently taking your hands, seeing the ring he had crafted for you many years ago, still resting on your finger. He bit back his emotions and inhaled sharply, “Why? Why didn’t you move on?” He asked.

💜 “I don't think I could ever have found anyone who could fit the role that only you could fill.” You would cry again, making him finally break down and cry with you. He hugged you tightly, whispering how much he loved you, promising you that he’d go back to you, that he’ll come home to you. Promising you that you wouldn’t have to raise Giovanni alone. You would have him by your side…

💜 Finally off, he waved goodbye to you, his son and his grandson, and he held his head high, ready to take on this mission, to go home, and to kiss you. To spend every night with you like he always did, to hold you, to create with you, to enjoy peace and life’s gifts. Once he found his brothers, he got straight to work with Leo to make a plan to ensure they all made it home safe and sound.

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 Mikey would immediately begin to cry when you cried, the way you looked so sadly at him, the years of pain without him was more than apparent. “Babe…” he stands up quickly, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, I’m here.” He smiles, holding you to himself, but he couldn’t stop those cries, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying either. He held you tightly, letting your emotions run free. He glanced up and saw Giovanni glaring at him but keeping his distance, he knew his mother needed this…

🧡 Mikey pulled back and would place kisses along your face, trying to cheer you up, “I’m here… You don’t have to cry anymore.” He tried to assure you about everything that happened between sobs. He would rub your back soothingly as he hummed a soft tune to try and see your mind. You felt complete once again when he hugged you, and soon, you calmed down. You guys spent a lot of time in each other's arms, mostly Mikey trying to cheer you up and make you smile, making you relive the old days of when it was just you two being dumb and in love, and the thought made you smile.

🧡 Forgetting about the mission for a while, Mikey instead spent time with his soon-to-be family. Playing board games, getting to know Lucas, and trying to get Giovanni to open up, which he refused, as he very much disliked his own father for reasons such as he left his mother and never came back, not something Mikey could control, but Giovanni still held a grudge. Lucas on the other hand was thrilled to get to know his grandpa, and overall, thought his grandpa was amazing.

🧡 Soon it was time to leave, but Mikey wouldn’t leave until he gave you a sweet departing kiss and, against Giovanni’s protests, gave his son and grandson a big hug, promising to fix everything, to make sure that they don’t live a future without him! And off he went, being sure to fight his hardest on this mission to get back home to you.

……

Once T/N made it home, he didn’t hesitate to hug right onto you, leaving you surprised by this sudden burst of emotions, “T/N…? Is everything okay?” You ask, noticing his injuries, you pull away. “T/N, we have to take care of those—”

“No.” He says, “Just let me hold you.” He says as he hugged you tightly, resting a hand on your stomach as he did so, feeling his own chest swell with gratitude to be here again. This was the beginning of something new, and he was happy to be here with you, and to start this family with you.

[yyokkki]

Asking to Sketch Them

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts

Honestly a bit shocked you’d ask him

But he’s had practice from posing for family portraits, so he isn’t too nervous

Until you say you want the backdrop to be Heartslabyul’s garden

It doesn’t break any rules… but that doesn’t mean someone else won’t break any rules

He doesn’t collar people as often as he used to, but he still makes it a point to lecture rulebreakers on the importance of said rule

So imagine the strain on his face when Ace walks by with a vase full of roses and it’s Wednesday.

In the end Ace sits beside you while Riddle gives a long lecture, keeping the rest of his body perfectly still so it doesn’t interfere with your work

You are sweating in fear. 6/10 a good model but it’s hard to draw when your model is half yelling at the dude sitting right next to you

Trey Clover

Might hesitate to say yes because he’s a busy guy,,

I mean they have tea parties like everyday and he’s always in charge of sweets-

You say he can go about his business and that you’re going to capture him in his natural habitat then he agrees

Raises an eyebrow cuz you make it sound like you’re on national geographic but ok

Anyways you’re drawing him while he’s baking and damnnn those biceps pop when he’s whisking

Secretly, however, he’s been holding back for a while now/

When you’re least expecting it he comes closer to you… and bam whipped cream on the side of your face

Devolves into flour tossing and chaos

6/10 you got whipped cream on your sketchbook and it was half finished but it was a fun memory

Cater Diamond

“OMS YAY of course ;DD”

Internally screaming because his makeup isn’t that good today and why him I mean there are better looking people in nrc and maybe he can get his clone to do it instead-

Overthinker fr

He’s a bit stiff at first, trying to only show his good side and checking his camera constantly to see if his smile looks good

If you’re close and you start talking to him about something he’s passionate about while you’re sketching he’ll loosen up a bit and his pose becomes a lot more natural

Eventually forgets you’re even drawing him and now it’s just him showing his true colours

Takes a pic of your finished sketch along with the both of you and posts it on magicam #muse #artistbestie

8/10 the sketch turned out well and you had a nice chat 

Deuce Spade

Has never been asked this question in his life

Boy is so stiff and awkward pls baby

He smiles like Oga from Beelzebub at first

Pls pls pls get this boy to do something else while you’re drawing him to get him to relax

Might be studying across the table from you while having a nice chat

Forgets you’re drawing him eventually pt.2

Tbh moves around a lot especially if a senior enters the room cuz he makes it a point to turn around and greet them while standing up

Is a bit surprised when you say you’re done because shit I forgot and I moved so much im sorry-

Also takes a picture of the sketch

Texts his mom the pic “I made a really good friend who’s great at drawing :D”

Will ask if you can draw a portrait of him and his mom together when you get the chance (will pay for it he just doesn’t know about the concept of commissions TT)

4/10 he’s so precious but not the best model tbh id still ask him again idc

Ace Trappola

Little shit (affectionate)

Not hard to make him agree but boy will he give you shit for it “my face is just that handsome ig” “you want me to get nude?” someone kiss him and make him shut up

At first he’s making a bunch of dumb faces and exaggerated poses and once he determines that you’re sufficiently annoyed he starts actually posing normally

Might get up halfway through and start stretching or laying down cuz he got tired though

Depending on how late he slept the night before and if you’re keeping quiet so he doesn’t get the chance to tease you, he might fall asleep

His sleeping face is cute so it works out for you ehe

When you’re done he acts all non chalant and smug about it but inside he’s sooo happy damn tsundere

Asks if he can draw you next and draws a potato with three dots on it <3

2/10 its only easy when he falls asleep but he’s cute so ill give him 1 extra point

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Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Graphic design is not my passion dear lord i really need to read a guide on how to format tumblr posts TT

Also first time writing omg depending on my mood next part will either be out tomorrow or next month see yall

[bunnis-monsters]

Another struggle post haha. Tw for period talk and just overall negativity

Currently having to send back the laptop I just got. It was used, which was fine with me, but I noticed something on the screen and we all figured that’s why it had been returned in the first place.

I didn’t want the problem to get worse before we could possibly return it, so it’s going back tomorrow 😅

So uh… that sucks. I had started to really make a lot of progress on commissions and my speed doing so… at least I finished updating my masterlist. Now I’ll have to wait for another laptop for who knows how long.

And an update on my pain. I’m doing my best to manage it, and my mom is going to make an appointment soon. Maybe I’ll get an ultrasound or finally let someone take a look at my coochie… the pain has been so bad I don’t care anymore 😭

It’s been very hard to write since I’ve been mostly either sleeping or trying to relax. I’m taking this time to try and read and improve my writing prowess so I can make better stuff in the future… idk. It’s infuriating not being able to write as much as I want.

I just want this to stop. I have a heating pad on me all through the night to try and help. I’ve had my period since mid December and it’s not showing any signs of going away any time soon…

Things have been very frustrating lately, leaving me on a short fuse. I struggle to deal with the slightest inconveniences… maybe it’s the period hormones or something. Either way it’s… a lot lol

A little bit of positivity… I guess?

I really want to write a series. It’s a little scary… but perhaps there’s an oc I’m a bit attached to. He’s been introduced once but… idk hehe I wanna write about him.

Anyways. Thanks for reading this, and I hope things get better soon. I don’t want my life to be ruled by pain. I want to have fun and be happy but it’s kinda hard when your pussy is killing you

🥰

[cybrthrillz]

HOW YOU CAN HELP PROVIDE AID FOR PALESTINE

VETTED FUNDRAISER MASTERPOSTS (1) (2) (3)

COMMISSIONS CLOSED

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EXPLAINING THE CYBRTHRILLZ CONTROVERSY

cred: @regretevatorstamps, @catcrumb, unknown, lesbian herstory archives, unknown, unknown

MY EPIC STRAWPAGE

hello! i'm cybrthrillz! i have too many names so please call me whatever you'd like! she/they/he pronouns please.

i'm a muslim transfem lesbian, based in indonesia. i am number one wallter fan and retrowall ceo. i also am the muslim hijabi wallter headcanon haver. local lover of literally every wallter ship ever. (none of these titles are actually serious nor am i claiming that i created/started any of these lol)

right now, i love drawing regretevator, but other interests i have are the royale high guards, roblox doors, doodle world, jason voorhees, minecraft (mcyt, parkour civilization, minecraft mobs, mc jams), spongebob squarepants, saw, starkid (nerdy prudes must die, the guy who didn't like musicals, black friday, nightmare time), sneegsnag, the human centipede, tusk (2014), happy tree friends, cult of the lamb, team fortress 2, mob psycho 100, spooky month, subway midnight and dexter's laboratory.

⬆️ my oc, R4V3, who i use as my persona!

while this account is viewable by everyone, PLEASE keep in mind that this account contains suggestive art and content (i will never post explicit sexual art here, however, as i am not an adult). be responsible. i'm not your parental guidance nor am i at fault for what you may see.

i am currently running two ask blogs: @wallterwall (wallter) and @meowdoctor! (drretro) i also have a 17+ side blog @walltersbignaturals!

tumblr, refsheet, twitter, instagram and tiktok are the ONLY platforms i post on. my username is ALWAYS cybrthrillz. if you see someone impersonating me please inform me.

you can repost, edit, trace, use my art as long as its not for financial gain and you dont remove my watermark. idc if you credit me so long as my watermark is visible in the drawing but it would be nice!

tags i use:

💾 #not sfw - my catchall tag for anything you wouldnt want your boss or your mom to see. nsfw ≠ pornography

💾 #notsafeforyeucc - my nsfw regretevator stuff

💾 #cybrartz - my art

💾 #cybrcommz - finished commissions i've done

💾 #cybrtalkz - my ramblings/text posts/memes

💾 #cybrreblogz - my reblogs

💾 #cybraskz - my answers to any asks i receive

💾 #cybrjoyz - things that make me happy

💾 #cybrdubz - comic dubs talented people make of my art

💾 #cybrdescz - my image descriptions

[junktastic]

Hi everynyan,

Some of you will remember that I was taking names/addresses to send out free stickers in September. I am almost done sending them out now, so here's a quick update on that.

The Good!

I like this a lot! It's fun to do. For reference, I'm printing, laminating, and cutting these myself at home, so I'm learning a lot about my machine. I like being in charge of the quality control, I like doing the logistic work. Idk. It's fulfilling to me.

It's also really delightful to see names on the list who I've known of for a long time. Old and new faces, people all over the world, I love seeing people adopt a catgirl. :3 And for free! I'm by no means making a lot, but being able to provide something fun and physical to the people who enjoy my art for free is just! Wow!

The Bad!

Everything that could have gone wrong during this process did, which is why they're going out so late. The at-home manufacturing process was relatively simple but the materials kept being funky, or I'd do something wrong, so I'd have to toss something that I'd completely fucked up, OR I'd just miscount how much stuff material I had left. It's been a pain in the butt, so I'm glad it's done and that I've learned so much from it. I ALMOST FORGOT, I DESTROYED ONE CUTTING MAT MAKING THAT ROGER STANDEE FOR MY WEDDING LOL SO I HAD TO SPEND TIME CONDITIONING THE NEW CUTTING MAT! UGH!

There's also: the money. I know it's gauche to talk about it, but doing this was pretty expensive. I live in Canada now, and most of the letters were going out of Canada, so that postage added up. Materials cost, time, it's a pretty good chunk of change, but I didn't go broke so I want to do it again.

The Other?

I definitely want (and plan) to do this again very soon. I'm talking within this month. I'm making Christmas cards! I've already set money aside for this so it's all good, and it involves less at-home manufacturing since I can just reach out to a local print shop.

I know some people were wary of the google form, but I can't really find a better alternative at this time. MailChimp has had at least one major information leak in 2024 alone, so I am not sure where else to turn for collecting addresses at this time. I had a few people who did not give me towns/zip codes, and the street address would have three or four towns in that state alone with that address. Since I didn't collect e-mail addresses, I didn't have any way to reach out to entrants about this. If you don't see your sticker in the next few weeks, this might be why! I also plan on adding a checkbox just to confirm that the person requesting the sticker is over 18, NOT because I plan on sending anything saucy, but I know what it's like to be a teen with parents who open you mail, an I don't want to cause problems for anyone because Mom and Dad think fairies are satanic or something.

Most people I've talked to about all of this have really emphasized that I need to reopen my Patreon. I'm not saying anybody is wrong on this, but it just makes me feel so uncomfortable. I think anyone who's followed me for a while has seen me try and fail to do art full time or, hell, even have a schedule for something, and I've failed every time. I'm so scared of failing people again. How can I ensure that I'm producing things on time, to a standard I am happy with, that anyone willing to support me (in this economy?) would also be happy with? It will probably happen, but I'm just so... Plus, with all honesty, I have a commission backlog that I need to finish first! I'm bad at the business part of this whole thing, I think. I'm a blue-collar labourer in my heart.

That's my update! I wish you all well, please stay safe and take care of yourself and those around you. I'll post again when I'm collecting addresses for the Christmas cards.

[buthowboutno]

HELLO I'm new to asking things here but I've a small,,, tiiny question that idk if anyone's asked before or not but

What happened at metro tower between sweets and Leo? And, I suppose, with everyone else there, if anyone (like April) recognized Sweets

Because Donnie didn't, Raph and Mikey didn't say anything,,,

Leo and April are the only two that basically said "oh! You're the kid that almost died while we saved the world" so Idk I kind of was curious on, I guess

Like other than, obviously, Leo saving sweets but I guess how he found them? Because I know it's stated somewhere Sweets locked themselves in their moms office but idk

You don't gotta answer this at all (especially if it's a stupid question 💀💀) I just I got myself curious ig

this ask prompted me to write a whole ass snippet about what happened. i blame you. /aff

(snippet under the cut)

If it had been up to Splinter, Leo wouldn’t even be five feet away from his cot in the med bay, much less searching through the remains of Metro Tower. Mikey was still out of commission and Drax was doing some weird mystic ritual on Donnie to help with his head.

If it had been up to Leo, Raph would be in the med bay instead of digging through rubble by his side. April tagged along as well, but she was a floor below looking for… something.  

Leo might have been too ticked off about April and Raph bulldozing his plan to listen beyond every fifth word of their justification.

(Didn’t they know that this was Leo’s—?)

(After all that, they still trust—?)

They hadn’t found any survivors since the first day of searching, when Donnie passed out after manifesting a mystic slide for a group of harried interns that were stuck on the third floor. Mikey’s hands had cramped up so bad after guiding the lone barista out from their cupboard on the second floor that he was still having trouble holding a fork.

Leo wasn’t even sure why he insisted on coming back, to be honest. After four days trapped in this building, there was a good chance that any stragglers would have died of dehydration by now. Donnie’s scans, at least, didn’t show anyone in the building that they didn’t get out already.

Leo just… had this feeling. He couldn’t explain it.

Raph jumped up and tapped the big red ‘5’ hanging from the ceiling before the stairwell, startling Leo out of his thoughts. Under his massive hands, the sign crumbled off of the wall.

“Uh, whoops?” Raph said, looking sheepish as he turned towards Leo.

Leo snorted, “Property destruction. Nice.”

“That was… not my fault,” Raph said, his face screwed up as he stepped towards the stairs, “This whole buildin’ is— "

The floor creaked dangerously beneath Raph’s feet, prompting him to stumble backwards out of the stairwell. Leo took a few tentative steps forward, noting the slight shift in the floor but otherwise no other changes beneath his feet.

“Falling apart,” Leo finished, jumping up and down for good measure. No change, but Leo didn’t like the cracks slowly making their way up the walls.

“Maybe it's time to head back?” Raph suggested gently, taking another scared step backwards when the floor started creaking again, “Raph is getting a little geeked out.”

Leo nodded, taking a step towards Raph before he was struck with this urgent feeling in his chest. Like he had left something behind.

“I’m gonna take a quick look around,” Leo said, stepping back into the stairwell, “You’d better go back down and grab April.”

“Leo–”

“I’ll portal out if the building starts falling down, scouts honor,” Leo said before ducking up the stairs. Raph’s responding groan told Leo that Raph wasn’t going to march up there and grab him. Probably more due to the fact that the stairs would give out underneath him, but Leo would take what he could get.

(Leo was going to be majorly cussed out about this stunt when he got back.)

(Worth it.)

(At least, he hoped it was.)

The sixth floor of Metro Tower, surprise surprise, was functionally identical to floors two through five. The building was mostly leased out to a bunch of different companies doing Spirits knows what in their copy and paste cubicles. 

(They didn’t find any survivors above floor twelve. Leo tried not to think about it.)

Leo raided a few of the fancier looking offices, sending various pieces of tech back to Donnie’s lab through mini-portals. Bribery, maybe, but mostly practice. Leo’s portals had felt off since the–

…Yeah. He needed the practice.

Leo heard a muffled shout from down the hallway, immediately pulling out his second katana and running quietly towards the noise.

Leo noticed the kid first. They had dustpans duct taped to their chest and back like some budget LARPer. They held a yardstick out with a broken pair of scissors haphazardly attached to the end, trembling like Mikey after a fourth cup of coffee. A Kraang zombie shuffled towards them, its face half-melted at this point. 

Why was it still–?

Leo needed to tell the others about this. Donnie was positive that everyone who got infected would’ve been released after they closed the portal to Kraang Prime. This was– this wasn’t a good sign.

The kid shouted at the zombie like they were trying to scare off a bear and tossed a stapler at its head. Decent shot, but ultimately useless. The stapler landed on the zombie’s head and was slowly absorbed into the Kraang viscera protruding from its skull. 

The kid yelped, moment of bravery apparently lost, and ran in Leo’s direction.

Leo recognised that face. It was just a passing photo, something Casey swiped past while stammering about nerd shit like the ‘space-time continuum.’

(Donnie’s influence, no doubt. Leo may have been Casey’s sensei, but Donnie tended to infect people with his intelligence.)

This kid was younger than the photos, though. Their hair was cut short just above their ears, and the dark circles under their eyes told Leo that they hadn’t been getting much in the way of water or sleep since the invasion started.

That half second of thought cost Leo his chance to take down the zombie before it lunged at them.

The kid, thankfully, heard the zombie before it had the chance to grab them and whirled around with their makeshift spear. Their jab landed solidly in the zombie’s chest, but that still didn’t stop it. The zombie's neck craned out in a truly unnatural manner and bit the kid’s hand while it was still holding their spear. The kid let out a painful shriek that rattled inside of Leo’s skull.

That finally spurred Leo into action, sprinting on the front pads of his feet and slashing the zombie clean into three pieces. The body hit the ground without so much as a tentacle reaching out in protest.

The kid fell to the floor, eyes open with fear as they held out their left hand. The mutagen had already started spreading, past their second knuckle already, but it was moving slower than when–

Leo should’ve thought a little harder before he let his reflexes take over. In a second, he sliced off the kid’s pinky and ring finger before the mutagen had a chance to reach their palm. 

They screamed out in pain, immediately clutching their left hand to their chest and staring up at Leo with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leo tried, “I’m here to help.”

Their face was quickly turning white from the blood loss, but the look on their face made Leo think that they’d still try to stab him if he came any closer.

He’d probably deserve it, to be honest, but the kid needed a hospital above anything else. Leo reached down and grabbed the kid before they could fight back. He quickly sliced a portal through the wall and walked out onto the sidewalk in front of Metro Tower. With two more twirls of his katana, April and Raph were standing right next to him.

Leo tried not to think about the ache in his chest after opening up those portals. He pushed the pain out of the back of his mind as he focused on putting pressure on the kid's hand.

“What the–?”

“Med kit, now,” Leo demanded, not even looking at Raph. The kid was trying to wriggle out of Leo’s grasp, but the blood loss was obviously starting to get to them.

Raph wordlessly took the kit from his belt and handed it over. April was standing behind him in shock, hands twitching as if she was trying to figure out what to do.

“Fucking… wizard,” the kid stammered, now clutching onto Leo instead of fighting him, “My g-goddamn hand.”

“You’re welcome, pal,” Leo said flatly. He dumped the travel bottle of rubbing alcohol on their hand haphazardly before wrapping it up as tightly as he could.

“Eat my ass, Dr. Strange,” the kid muttered before looking up at Leo with a sudden and unusual clarity, “I think I’m going to pass out now.”

“Wh– no, wait!” Leo protested before the kid slumped fully into his arms.

That must’ve rattled April out of whatever funk she was in. She reached into the med kit and grabbed one of the instant cold packs, harshly squeezing and then shaking it to activate it.

“They’re going into shock,” she said, leaning down to apply the pack to the back of the kid’s neck, “Leo, can you portal–?”

The moment April touched the kid, Leo was sent into the mindscape. It wasn’t the same as a normal ninja mindmeld; typically, Leo was still able to see through the eyes of his physical body while it happened. This was like his entire consciousness was captured and taken somewhere else.

Leo turned his head to the left and saw April standing next to him, her eyes trained on something else. 

Donnie? No, not Donnie.

Not his Donnie.

This Donnie was… older. Scarred. Taller than Leo thought his twin could ever grow to be. He didn’t speak a single word, just held Leo’s gaze with an intense expression and nodded.

Leo understood, in a split-second, that the kid in his arms was precious. They were family. The pull, the call that compelled Leo back to Metro Tower was more than an antsy feeling driving him out of his cot. 

This… this was one last wish of a doomed timeline.

Leo also understood that if he let this kid bleed out on the streets of New York, the ghost of Donnie future wouldn’t let him sleep peacefully for the rest of his life.

“April? Leo?” Raph asked, his tone incredibly concerned as Leo snapped back to reality.

“Donnie called them ‘Sweets’,” Leo murmured under his breath.

“...What?”

Leo shook his head, clearing the images from his mind, “Right. Let’s go.”