#having to post a draft because the really funny idea i had in my head is gone

[neptunezo]

Tim: Jason, do you think you should date someone just like you, or someone who’s like your opposite?

Jason: I dunno. I’m the first come first serve kinda guy! Get in line people, this Roy thing can’t last forever!!

Tim:

Jason:

Tim:

Jason: I didn’t mean that, don’t spread that around

[chr0llossexygf]

IN RUINS 2

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem reader

SUMMARY: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn’t have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn’t explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time?

IMPORTANT COMMENT!!!!: hi my pumpkin cupcake stinky wonky pookie bears. IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN A FRAUD! 💔💔 jokes but I’m rlly sorry I haven’t been writing for the past months ive been to the hospital multiple times and also had someone close to me pull a ‘I’m dead’ card on me and then I was oh! BUT I think I’m okay I think I’m better and I’ll start posting more I have a lot of ideas but tbh this one was a draft before allat happened so it’s shit but and I wanted to get rid of it cus it js reminded me of everything that happened before 😭 BUT I’m rlly rlly sorry ITS SO LATE

" why is your mom calling you she hasn't called you in 7 months " scott anderson says rubbing his face repeatedly his fingers shaking, his other hand is in a fist digging his nails in the palm of his hand. he walks away from jj who's tied up on the floor with her feet and hands wrapped in rope. the grip on your phone tightens.

" she's calling me because it was my aunts birthday scott." you say looking at scott in the eyes. he stands up biting his nails. " your lying to me." he says walking to you, his eyes dark. you wish his eyes at-least looked like they had nothing behind them, but his eyes definitely have something behind them.

his eyes look determined. they looked commited. and he’s looking at you. your eyes widen. your hands become sweaty. you take a step back. “ i’m not lying to you scott.” you respond back gently shaking your head. you raise your eyebrows softly smiling at him. “ i wouldn’t lie to you scott.” you say the grip on your hand tightening to the point where your hand is shaking.

his gaze softens for a second, his eyes aren't so dark now. his eyebrows soften. " you wouldn't lie to me y/ n?" he whispers gently walking up to you. you nod gulping, " ¡ wouldn't lie to you scotty" you whisper smiling. he smiles. taking another step towards you. you take a deep breath in.

"y-your doing a great job y/n" spencer's shaky voice speaks into the phone. it's the only thing keeping you sane right now. he sounds nervous. you can hear him gulp repeatedly. he's stuttering a lot right now. he's probably blinking a lot. a habit he has when he's nervous. a habit you've absorbed from afar. " your doing a really really great job y/n. i'm so proud of you." no he shouldn't have said that. he should not have said that. he shouldn't have said that. you tear up. why are you tearing up? you can't tear up right now. not right now. please not right now.

your throat feels heavy. your heart feels heavy. a part of you feels funny. your ears feel funny, never having heard those words before. your brain is trying to process the words. it can't process them. it's funny though. no matter how much insane messed up stuff you've heard on the job none of it really ever seemed to take a toll on you. but hearing those 5 words. it's taking a toll on you. and it's not the right time. why are they so triggering. what are they triggering? the inner child inside of you who never got to hear those words? the teen inside of you who never got to hear those words? or is it adult you who still hadn't heard those words up until now? it's too much. why are you tearing up?

“ why are you crying.” scott says. something in his eyes has changed. oh god. his eyes darken. his eyebrows tighten. he’s shaking his head smiling. “ what is your mom saying? why is she making you cry? do you want me to kill her?” he says with pleading eyes smiling. he’s taking a step towards you. “ or are you not talking to your mom right now…” he mumbles. your eyes widen. you shake your head. “ or…your not calling your mom you bitch!” he shouts taking another step towards you. you don’t have time to react. he grabs you by the neck slamming you against the wall. his hand tightens around your neck.

you choke on your words. the tears that gathered up finally start to fall. your free hand wraps around scott's arm thats choking you. you repeatedly hit his arm. " please stop." you plead shaking your head. his grip tightens on your neck. " your a liar. your just like him." he spits his gaze darkening. he grabs your phone throwing it across the room. it knocks over a glass vase.

"¡'m not like him." you choke out shaking your head. " shut up! yes you are!" he shouts in your voice, spit getting on your face.

" let her go!" ji shouts from the floor. her voice cracks mid sentence. probably due to fear. watching you struggle is affecting her. just watching you struggle makes her feel as though she is the one struggling.

scott turns his head around. " what did you just say?" he says slowly releasing you. you take a deep breath in. you look at scott. another wave of fear hits you. what's he gonna say to jj? what's he gonna do to jj? she shouldn't have said anything. she should've kept quiet. he can't hurt her. you have to do something.

" i said let her go. you can't hurt her. she's what you want right? you can't hurt her. why would you hurt someone you love?" jj says her eyes darting between you and scott. to scott she looks desperate, to you. you know what jj's trying to say with her eyes.' we will be fine. seeing ji look at you like that. a rush of adrenaline hit you. you have got to do something. why are your hands so weak. why do you feel as though you don't have control of your body. why do you feel as though you can't control anything. damn it.

" you show love by hurting the ones you love." he whispers. you slowly reach for the gun in your pocket, trying not to alert him. and god is it hard " y/ n would know." he says chuckling. your so close to the gun. " isn't that right y/n?" he turns around to look at you. he sees your hand. he sees the hand thats reaching for the gun. he grabs your gun. your hand immediately forms into a fist, you punch him in the jaw. he falls back. holding his jaw. " you bitch!" he shouts.

you run to jj. you drop down to your knees. your shaky hands immediately start to undo the knots of the rope. "jj you need to get out." you say out of breathe. your trembling hands making it harder to undo the rope quickly. " no- what. y/n dont. i'm not leaving without you. the team is coming t-they're on their way y/n. ji says shaking her head in denial. her hands are untied. " god jj! i always follow your orders! just follow mine! just this once." you snap back moving onto her legs. you untie her. " get out of here now jj! he wont hurt me jj. hes obsessed with me he wont. trust me." you say nodding.

jj hasn't been a profiler for a long time. anyone else on the team would've called you out for your bullshit right now. if he wanted to hurt you. he definitely would. he would do anything to get you to be obedient. he could probably kill you if he wanted to. but jj doesn't know that. she thinks he's just a stalker who's obsessed with you and probably wouldn't seriously harm you. but you know unsubs like him all too well.

ji stands up running to the door. she opens the door. she turns to look at you again. you look at her and smile. " just go." you mouth. she quickly nods running out and closing the door. a wave of relief washes over you. jj is fine. jj is okay. jj is safe. he can't hurt jj anymore.

your not fine. your not okay. your not safe. he can keep hurting you. you turn around. he's standing right behind you. he's looking down at you. he's standing tall. his eyes are on you. his expression is dark. his eyes are empty. not a single thought behind his eyes. you were wrong. his eyes without a single thought behind them is scarier. because now you know, there's nothing really stopping him. there's no determination. there's no commitment. there's absolutely nothing behind those eyes. those eyes that are just about to do you harm.

“ me looking down on you…does this remind you of anything?” he says tilting his head to the side smiling. you shake your head. but oh boy do you know exactly what he’s talking about. your dad. “ oh right sorry. let me do something that will surely make you remember.” he says chuckling. he crouches down. he punches you right in the eye, your left eye. the one with the healed over stitches. you stiffen at his touch. not just because your scared of him. yeah of course your scared of him. but also because you’ve never had someone touch you in such an intimate place. you’ve never had someone grab your cheek and gently caress your scars.

he starts laughing. " oh my god let me see that" he gently grabs your cheek. tilting your head up towards him. he runs his finger on the scar. " he did that didnt he?" he whispers gently rubbing the scar. " he gave you this scar didnt he? i read it.. in one of your hospital records. he gave you this 2 weeks before he left right?" he whispers gently caressing the scar. your shaky hands reaches for his cheek.

he stiffens at your touch. he's just like you. " he gave this to you..right?" you whisper, gently caressing the cut on his lips. scott nods. " you and me.we are the same y/n. we both grew up in the same households. we both put up the same abuse. we..we are meant for each other y/n. your meant for me. and i'm meant for you." he whispers caressing your cheek gently. you nod.

" yeah.yeah we belong together." you mumble nodding gently.

i thought so too..until i saw a picture of you and your co worker spencer reid together." he whispers softly still smiling. your eyes widen. " w-what." you mumble. he chuckles, " yeah.i saw a picture of you two together. it was when you and your team were working that case in chicago." he whispers tightening his grip on your cheek. you shake your head.

" s-spencer? spencer reid? he-he means absolutely nothing to me." you say gently reaching for his hand. " don't lie to me." he whispers tearing up. " i'm not lying to you scott." you whisper rubbing your thumb gently against his arm. " your lying to

me. all you do is lie. your just like him." he whispers tears rolling down his cheeks. " i'm not like him scott." you whisper shaking your head, trying to calm him.

" your just like him.you lying bitch." he shakes his head standing up, forcefully pulling you up with him. his fingers dig deeply into your cheeks, surely 100% going to leave a mark. but who cares at this point.

" scott just listen to me-' he cuts your desperate cries with a punch to the mouth. you fall down to the floor, on purpose however. you want him to think your weak. your worn out. he can easily control you. he can easily throw you around like a rag doll. so he can feel some sense of confidence and have a sense of control. something he probably never experienced.

"i'm not listening to you. now you listen to me. you... you listen to me y/n. we are both the same person. we deserve absolutely nothing. we deserve everything our fathers did to us-"

" you know that's not true scott." someone speaks up from behind scott. their voice is strong and stern. it brings you comfort. never would you have thought, laying on the floor with blood dripping down your chin that the sound of someone's voice would bring you comfort. your heart feels warm. you can feel the familiarity of having control over your body come back. you smile. how could you be smiling at a time like this? your smiling. really hard while looking down at the floor. you refused to look up at scott. you refuse to do so.

because deep down you know you would be staring at the version of yourself that's buried deep inside you. that part inside you that keeps you wondering everyday, if you didn't take the path you took would you be like that. would you have done the same thing he had done? what makes him so different from you. just because you carry an id that gives you power over any normal civilian and a gun that's supposed to protect you and others. that doesn't make you any different though. because even though you have those things, you still think like scott. what if you truly don't deserve anyone in this world that would treat you with respect? what if you truly deserve someone as messed up as fucked up ad you are? because then they wouldn't understand right? they wouldn't understand how your mind works. but..like scott said. you probably deserve someone like scott, someone so sick and twisted-

why are you like this. why are you taking his words to heart. are you really that desperate and pathetic that you start taking an unsubs words to heart just because he shared an intimate moment with you. why? is it because you never in your life had experienced something like that and now you yearn for it? you start to believe every word he's said. your so naive. and your so vain. how can you be so gullible. why are you the way that you are. none of what scott said is true. none of it, absolutely none of it.

your too preoccupied with your brain breaking you down too notice two people coming over to you. your zoning out. your thinking hard. really hard. something like this requires a lot of thinking. but it shouldn't though. your supposed to just shrug off his words. not pay any mind to them. he's a mentally ill unsub who's murdered 5 women. nothing he says should make you reason with his thinking. there's nothing to reason with. he's insane. your not insane. your not insane. your just a girl who's seen some insane things.

" hey. your okay. i got you." morgan says gently grabbing you by the arms. "i got you y/n." he whispers picking you up gently. you stand up looking at the wall infront of you still zoned out. " hey y/n." emily pats your shoulder gently tilting her head to the side looking at you with such pain. you shake your head and look at both of them. " hi emily." you respond looking at emily blinking repeatedly. " hey you." she says smiling. " we've gotta get you to the ambulance come on y/n." morgan says wrapping his arms around you, pushing you into him.

" j-i don't need medical care morgan." you say trying to push your heavy head away but finding it way too hard. he feels too comfortable. too comforting. he feels too nice. his cologne smells masculine. really masculine. why is it comforting? why does it bring you comfort? you close your tired eyes for a second. " hey hey don't close your eyes on me I/n." morgan says tilting his head around to take a look at you, you shake your head softly. " i'm not dying morgan." you groan.

emily chuckles. " morgan's probably enjoying this." emily says wrapping up arm around her shoulder helping you walk, " cant have derek enjoying himself too much we all know how cocky he'll get and how high his ego will sky rocket." emily adds on looking at you smiling. her words make you chuckle. a painful chuckle. when your lips curve to let out a laugh a wave of pain washes over your face. "ow ow." you chuckle closing your eyes. morgan shakes his head,

"yeah you wish you can have a bit of this ego." morgan replies.

rossi opens the house door. his eyes immediately look to you. " it's alright i've got her." he says running to you. " derek go take care of reid he's in the ambulance." rossi says putting his gun away. morgan slowly and gently lets you go. rossi quickly replaces morgan. your head immediately shoots up. that hurt. you didn't even know you could do that. why did your head shoot up so quickly? just a second ago you were leaning into morgan for support because you couldn't bare to hold your head up and now suddenly you have all the energy in the world to shoot your head up.

"w-wait whys reid in the ambulance?" you ask your eyes wide, your pretty sure your eyes are half closed though. you can't bare to hold them open. you can already feel your left eye bruising. you can taste blood in your mouth. and you know there's blood dripping down from your eyebrows, from the healed over stitch. rossi and emily push you forward helping you walk. why aren't they answering you? what happened to reid? whys he in an ambulance? is he injured? what's wrong with spencer? what happened to spence? " i think that's a question he should answer." rossi says. what does that mean?

your quickly brought out of the house, thank god. you feel like if you spent another second in there you would go ballistic and break down crying. your heads down, your too tired. you see a pair of shoes infront of you. who's shoes are those? who is that? and why did they stop right infront of you? it's not spencer. spence would never wear those shoes. he was wearing converse earlier. dark blue converse. why do you remember all of this? don't you have some sort of concussion? how do you remember what pair of shoes spencer wore? god...

you feel emily and rossi's grip weaken around you. the unfamiliar person infront of you reaches forward and takes you. they lead you away from rossi and emily. your too tired to even care. they lean you against them. " where's...what's wrong with dr spencer reid?" you mumble stumbling in their hood barely having the energy to hold yourself up. " it's alright i°ve got you. here." they sit you down on something. there's bright red lights flashing around you. an ambulance.

" ma'am i'm gonna get an IV bag started is that alright with you?" the medic asks opening a cabinet. you nod your head hazily. you lean your head against the walls of the ambulance. he takes your arm rolling your sleeve up. you feel the soft pinch. your thankful for it though. it's stopping you from dissociating and falling asleep. you don't wanna fall asleep until someone tells you why spencer is in an ambulance. why do you care for him? why do you care for him after everything's he said- oh right. after what he's said. why do you care for him after he just publicly embarrassed you? that's so stupid. why are you so pathetic and desperate. did he publicly embarrass you? half of the team probably already knew. it's not that hard to figure out. it’s probably why you are the way that you are. they’re profilers. of course they would figure that out. what he said was true. they all probably agree. oh god..

" let me go! let me go! i don't need medical attention she needs it more than me! let me see her!" you hear a voice shout from the distance, you recognise it. your heartbeat quickens. not like earlier though. not in the way your heartbeat quickened earlier. that was in fear. no. this. this is in relief. your stomach starts to stir. in nervousness. your still leaning your head against the wall, but your looking down. your hair covering your face. you stop hearing his voice.

" ma'am i need you to lift your head up." the medic says gently placing a tray next to you, a tray your guessing is full of medical supplies and alcohol. you softly nod your head sitting up. the medic grabs one of the medical instrument opening the wrapping. he moves to the side to quickly put on gloves.

“ oh my god y/n..” you hear him say your name, in so so much pain. he sounds so upset. is he in pain? why does he sound so upset. what happened to him. is he okay. you look up. you see him. you look into his eyes. and suddenly all the words he’s said earlier rush buck into your clouded messy mind. but they don’t hurt as much. your so used to men blurting out hurtful words to you and you having to get over them, what else do you do? ask them to apologise? expect them to apologise?

no. they don’t do that. they’ve never done that. best thing to do is just get over it, because you probably deserve it right? that’s what you were taught.

he looks tired. his eye bags look darker than what they usually would look like. his hair is messier then usual. the two buttons on his dark blue vest are unbuttoned. he’s wearing his fbi vest. his dark blue pants have wet stains on the side of them. your guessing because he would repeatedly wipe his sweaty hands on them. a habit he has when he’s nervous.

he looks into your eyes. he sees the bruise that's already forming in your eye. the trail of blood rolling down your eyebrow from what he can see, that scar you have. you have blood rolling down the side of your face. your neck is red. an imprint of a hand already appearing. his heart hurts. it hurts so much. seeing you like this. but how dare he right?

how dare he feel pain in his heart? the pain your feeling physically and mentally is probably 10x worse than what he’s feeling. he wishes he was feeling it though, he wishes that right in this second all your pain would be transferred to him. add it on to his pain. he feels so guilty. you don’t deserve this. this is his fault. this is his fault. this is all his fault. your never gonna look him in the eye again. whenever you do your gonna remember this day. and how much pain he put you through. he hates it. he hates it so much. he hates himself so much.

"y-y/n." he's out of breath. he doesn't know where to start. he didn't have time to think of an apology, spending the entire car ride panicking nervous about you and wether you were safe or not. but now he can't think of anything.

he can't think of anything when looking into your eyes, the only thing he's thinking of is how badly he wishes he can go back in time and prevent all of this from happening. or make all of this happen but only put himself in your shoes. make him go through all this pain instead of you. You don't deserve this. you don't deserve him. you don't deserve his stupid apology that's about to come, that is if he can even muster up an apology right now. you deserve so much better than him.

"y/n i'm so sorry." spencer starts shaking his head his eyes wide. he can't think of anything. his iq of 187 has suddenly dropped down to 20. spencer who seemed to never stop his rambling suddenly can't think of a single thing to ramble on. you just made him stupid. and not in the way it's supposed to be. you make him stupid when you smile at him. not like this. he can't think of anything. he doesn't know where to start. he shakes his head.

" god can't you do your job!" spencer snaps grabbing a medical wipe and pouring saline solution on it. he stands infront of you. his angry demeanour quickly vanishes once his infront of you. something just hit him. he freezes infront of you. it's like all the color, the little color he already had in his face has drained.

you look at him in confusion. all though your upset at him it doesn't stop you from caring and growing concerned. " w-what?" you say blinking repeatedly looking at him. hes still looking at you. his lips part. he blinks repeatedly. he shakes his head.

"i-i'm just..i got scared." he stutters his voice cracking. " why?" you ask tilting your head to the side. " i'm scared your gonna flinch once i touch you." he replies quickly. really quickly. any normal person wouldn't catch it. but you did. vou've learnt to keep up with spencer's quick rambling. oh. oh. whys he so considerate? y/n stop. you can think that. you look down at your thighs. unable to think of anything to say. if he did touch you. would you have flinched? would you have reacted? you don't know. but spencer's not him. right?

" i'm not gonna flinch spencer." you say looking up at him. he nods his head gulping, "a-alright." he says. he lifts his shaky hand up. he gently dabs the medical wipe on your cut. disinfecting it. ouch it burns. your nails dig into the palm of your hand. his eyes are stuck on the cut. the scar. he knows where it's from. he might've been with garcia when she did her usual background snooping on new members of the team 2 years ago. he remembers how guilty he felt after it. finding out about such a dark part of your life without your knowledge or permission.

but that guilt doesn't compare to the guilt he's feeling right now. he feels tremendously guilty, he caused the scar to re open. all because of his foolishness. if he just shut his mouth earlier and wasn't such a smart ass. if he maybe was the one to go with you to scott anderson's house and not jj he would've been able to protect you. he probably would've shot scott anderson the second he would've laid his hands on vou.

he doesn't trust himself aorund vou. atleast not from the harm of unsubs and has the need to shoot any of them if they ever did you harm. he would probably lose his job. if he was there he probably would've lost his job. but he doesn't care. for your safety. he doesn't care.

" i'm so sorry y/n-" you can feel the medical wipe shake on your eyebrow, from spencer's shaky hands.

" it's fine spencer." you mumble looking into his eyes. is it fine though? is it really fine? whys he apologising? he's not supposed to be apologising right? this is new. this is so very new. they never apologise after hurting you. this is so unfamiliar? how are you supposed to react? do you tell them how you really feel? do you immediately accept their apology? they never apologised to you when they hurt you. whys spencers apologising? what do you say?

" it's not fine y/n. i-i hurt you. i c-caused this." he says spitting his words out in a shaky manner. what do you say or do? you've never made it this far whenever something similar to this happened in the past.

" spencer it's fine. i shouldn't have egged you on earlier anyways-" why are you taking the blame. y/ n stop. it's not your fault. it never is your fault when something like this happens. y/n please. it's not your fault. stop taking the blame. his heart aches even more. his throat feels heavy. who hurt you like this? who broke your heart like this? who messed up your image of love like this? who hurt you this bad. he hates them. he hates them for making you like this.

" y/n i know you have the personal need to justify everything i've said but y/n stop, just stop. i hurt you okay. and even though saying that out loud and accepting the fact that i said that it thr worst thing i've ever done in my entire life it's nothing compared to what you felt when i said that. i don't wanna be like him y/n. i don't wanna be him. i don't want you to think i can be him. i don't want you to see him everytime you see me y/n. because that would kill me even more. y-you don't have to talk to me anymore y/n i just don't want you to flinch or have this horrible feeling of rememberence whenever you see me. please just.. just don't take the blame for this because it's my fault. this entire thing was my fault and i put you through this y/n. you don't deserve this. i'm really sorry.”

spencer rambles. trying to push the heavy feeling in his throat away. he can't cry. he doesn't deserve to cry right now. he's nervous though. he's nervous about what your gonna say. he doesn’t have the right to feel nervous though. he should accept whatever it is. he did this to himself. whatever the outcome is. he just hopes you don’t have a sense of fear wash over you whenever you look at him and get memories of this day. that is if you ever look at him after this day.

no one's ever said that to you. you feel your tired eyes tear up. your about to cry. oh no. spencer panics. does he comfort you? do you even want his comfort? he doesn't deserve to touch you, he thinks. he drops the medical wipe.

" n-no please don't cry. ill go call

over emily or jj or morgan or hotch just p-please dont cry. i'll go-" it physically aches him to leave you like this. but he has to. he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable. he just made you cry. you must really hate him. he understands though. he just wishes you understand how sorry he is. but you probably will never know. because you probably don't expect him to feel sorry, you probably think he's faking it. he just needs you to understand that he's not him. he's not your dad. spencer actually feels sorry. he feels so so sorry for everything he's done and said. but you had to put up with years of your dad taking apologises you probably don't believe his. he hates himself.

you stand up. you barely have room to think clearly before a tear rolls down your cheek. spencer immediately removes his fbi vest, you bury your head against spencer's chest. you wrap your hands against his chest. he doesn't wrap his hands around you though. he's scared to touch you. your not sobbing. your too tired to sob. you just let tears slowly roll down your cheeks. " your not him spencer." you say out loud. spencer's heart skips a beat. he slowly wraps his hands around you. " i'm still mad at you. you shouldn't have said that earlier. b-but i forgive you spence." you mumble against his chest. he shakes his head, " you shouldn't forgive me y/n. your supposed to be mad at me. your supposed to be yelling at me. or-or hitting me." he says.

" i am mad at you spencer." you say pulling your head away wiping the tears.

"alright. good." he says

looking down at you. " oh god- im sorry that was stupid i shouldn't have hugged you-" you immediately start apologising shaking your head. you immediately sit back down. oh god your so stupid. why did you just hug him? your so embarrasing oh god. did you feel the need to hug spencer because you just needed to make sure that spencer wasn't him.

not that you would know what your dads embrace would feel like. but you just needed to make sure.

" no please don't apologise. d-do you mind if i sit next to you?" spencer asks pointing at the space next to you. you look at him and slowly nod your heart. he sits next to you. " once ive healed i'm yelling at you spencer." you say looking down at your legs, your tired eyes aching. " alright." spencer says nodding. you should yell at him. and you will. he had no right. but your too tired right now. you just hope. you really really hope that spencer doesn't spiral once your back in quantico and probably will forcefully be taken into the hospital by emily and jj. you really hope he doesn't drown himself in guilt and spiral. why are you so caring? does spencer care about you the way you care about him? that's foolish right? he wouldn't right? does he feel his heart quicken when he sees you? does he care the way you care? that's stupid god y/n you probably have a concussion just shut up.

yeah how stupid y/n. because if you knew the way spencer cared about you or the way his heart quickens when he sees you. you wouldn't believe it. it will take time though. it will take time for you to believe it. he's willing to work hard during that time. he just hopes you know even the slightest bit. but he wont say anything right now. you've already been through enough. he wont say anything for a while. though when the time is right. maybe you'll finally know how much he cares about you. for now, he'll settle for this just for now. until he can gain your trust back and make his feelings known. he'll settle for this. because just being next to you makes him happy.

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[an-idyllic-novelist]

Jin "Jiji" Enjoji relationship headcanons

warnings: fem!reader, spoilers beyond the Cursed House arc, OOC, tooth-rotting fluff.

Special thanks to @miaurieee for beta-reading this draft before I posted it :3 I am caught up with the Dandadan manga series up to Volume 10, which somehow I was able to acquire over the Christmas break by nothing short of a miracle given to how my local bookstore keeps running out of stock 😅 So if you don’t want to be spoiled, it’s probably not a good idea to venture any further.

For those who have chosen to stay, I hope you’ll enjoy these headcanons~!

Although he is a flirty and weird-ass drama queen by nature, Jiji is the sweetest guy that a girl would love to have as a boyfriend. Not only is he charismatic, funny, easygoing, he is also loyal. Once he knows he has found that special someone, he is in it for the long haul. And he knows that it’s you because…well, he’s got great instincts! :3

He would definitely walk you to and from school.

Do you want a drink from the school cafeteria? No problem! Just give him a few and he’ll be right back~! He might seem a little flighty, but Jiji has a really good memory. Remember how he knew Momo preferred Pompy even when it’s been years since he’s seen her? Yeah, he’ll have your likes and dislikes memorized in no time.

Dates with Jiji would be spontaneous; ranging between cozy and quiet, like window-shopping around the city and then grab something at the coffee shop, adrenaline-pumping like playing against each other at the local arcade to see who can win the most tickets or going on all the rides at the amusement park, it’s honestly the luck of the draw. But please don’t feel obligated to do everything in one day just to make him happy, okay? If you’re feeling tired and want to go home or if you’re hungry, he’ll totally understand.

Communication and honesty are important foundations in your relationship, so bottling everything up inside is not a good idea and might cause Jiji to second-guess himself or think he’s doing something wrong.

Now, in regard to the whole Evil Eye scenario: he will insist that you stay away from the Ayase residence until the exorcism is completed. He has a mountain yokai inside of his body, and it was his own fault for inviting him inside. The last thing he wants is something to happen to you and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. This would happen if you two started dating right after he transferred schools or continued dating until he left town for the city after his parents’ hospitalization.

Flash forward to Okarun making a deal with the Evil Eye and fighting the yokai on Tuesdays after school, with the cursed underwear being safely kept at Manjiro’s shrine. Once he knows that the Evil Eye will not break his promise, especially after accidentally transforming a few times at home, Jiji will feel a little more at ease being around you. Just don’t go around splashing anything cold on him, just in case. Room temperature is fine. His chi training is paying off, so in the unlikely event that it does happen, he can revert the transformation and go back to normal. He might be a little tired afterwards, though.

If you two weren’t already together prior to the Evil Eye situation, Jiji would definitely be falling head over heels for you as time passed. He would see you as someone who is amazing in their own way, even if you had some glaring flaws and were a bit of a weirdo too :3 Brownie points if the Evil Eye actually doesn’t call you a turd and is semi-well-behaved when he’s around you at school or in public.

Treat this eccentric dude right, and your relationship will definitely be one heck of a rollercoaster ride that will be full of firsts, maybe some scary things, but he’ll be by your side through it all.

Taglist: @bdudette @hoodiepandaninja16 @napbatata @karai-frost @kazudare @myduality @shidousprincess @sleep-all-day-everyday @taesy-miranda-lee @osarumi @satorousgf @cherie-soup @skwunkler @melodiblues @anonymity-222 @cumbersome-robes @zero-in-kyoto @h0undd0gzw0rld @decay-1 @justamegafan @minnie-1-3 @bumblebeebutter @theofficialfem @sadprimrose @bigbodycity @daniiixoxo @silentbreathss @skelletonscloset @mira-belcul18 @thatstrangesheep @thewindigo

[uh-oh-its-bird]

Offshoot of my "team Ro time travels to the founders era" post because @prinzgnomeovonchaos infected me with brain rot in the notes

So buckle in baby it's time for

Sakumo and babyKashi time traveling to the warring states ✨️

So first thing to get out of the way; Modern Hatake's and warring states era Hatake's do not hold up to the same standards.

The Hatake's during the states were a very small clan with a very big reputation. Hailing from Iron, they were an almost famous wild clan even all the way in fire country. Distantly related to the Inuzuka's but leaning more towards wolves than dogs.

They had a proper kekkei genkai and everything, unnaturally fast and strong, often born with some form of enhanced senses— be it smell, sight, taste, or even touch. Their white chakra fed into it, and they'd feed their chakra with diets of raw meat and the occasional light cannibalism during some special clan celebrations and rituals.

Unfortunatley Sakumo knows very little about the above because he was very young when his clan was pretty much all wiped out. He was raised by the only other survivor, his grandmother, who was pretty young herself when the clan got wiped, and unfortunatley was never all too concious of many of the rituals and traditions of her clan until it was too late.

Sakumo grew up to village standards and was mostly declawed because of it, and Kakashi is only doubly so. And with that dulling of all the different traditions and specific diets also came the slow fading of their bloodline limit, which was already pretty subtle if you didn't know what you're looking for.

Anyways moving on, and if you want more details for my headcanons ab warring states Hatake's vs modern standard Hatake's look at my other time travel post bc I talk ab it more there.

So Kakashi is like 6 (holy shit he's a BABY baby)

Google keeps giving me conflicting numbers for Sakumo's age at his death so we're just gonna shrug and say he's in his early 30's.

Then for the founders;

Madara (23)

Hashirama (23)

Izuna (19)

Tobirama (18)

Sakumo is staring at these guys going through it bc they are BABIES to him. And like look, he's used to working with or even occasionally under people much younger than him, but like. Oh man that's the shodai hokage. And he's like a toddler.

(He's a 23 year old man but Sakumo is kind of having a crisis so he can't register that)

So like. All the founders have major daddy issues, right? Like we can all agree that's plausible? I'm so sorry I just think it'd be *really fucking funny* if they look at Sakumo and just kinda. Yeah.

You know what I mean.

Anyways;

No idea how they got there!! This is set maybe a week before Sakumo offed himself but now he can't kill himself bc that'd mean abandoning Kakashi to the fucking warring states.

Kakashi fits the warring states standards alarmingly well actually. Honestly I think even for that time period he's still scarily young to be on the field. People are giving Sakumo looks like 'it's so hard what we've been forced to do to our children, the battles we've pushed them into, the things they've seen and done all too young'

Sakumo is going *hrrg.* and having a good long look in the mirror actually. Proper crisis, lots of guilt, Kakashi should not be out in the field this young and at least before he was mostly getting baby missions but now they're stranded in time and keep running head first into trouble.

I want Izuna and Kakashi to fight and even though Kakashi absoloutley should NOT win that battle I want him to win just so that Madara and Tobirama can make fun of him for losing to an actual child

Izuna is mortified he wants that brat DEAD

Uhh I have some more but I'm at work and actually hit post too early on this post so I had to come back to rush add all these edits bc I meant for it to stay a draft I could keep adding too later. So I'll just come add more later fr

[kerink]

okay, i finished the book of bill and i wasn't going to make this post because i was sure someone already had, but i was asked to make it anyway so here we go. my compilation of the billford content:

SONGS

three songs have been identified in relation to bill and ford:

the first is "we'll meet again" by vera lynn, which is about the singer wishing well to the listener before they travel, and promising to return home to them soon. this song comes up twice, first when bill sang it to ford in the fearamid and then again at the start of the book of bill, where ford says he still gets it stuck in his head upon waking up, giving the impression they both are singing it to each other at different points.

the second is a 1960s song by james and bobby; when you search this, the first song that comes up is "i'm your puppet." the meaning of this song is really straightforward, especially within the context of these two, but you can read this if you'd like. i believe this is the song ford is whistling in his dream before he's confronted by bill's previous victims. during this scene, he's sitting in a birch tree clearing (the tree commonly associated with bill) and sketching a yellow meadowlark.

as an aside, something interesting about the meadowlark is that its chest marking has a very peculiar resemblance...

the third is "sweet dreams (are made of this)" by the eurythmics. after bill tries for days if not weeks to talk to ford about the portal, bill resorts to violence and spends the night abusing ford's body and reputation. when ford wakes up, this is the song bill left playing for him.

as an aside, i think it's interesting that the first draft of the song was played on a black and yellow synthesizer.

HOW TO TRICK EVERYONE INTO LOVING YOU

there is an entire section in the book dedicated to bill outlining his dating tips. of the 8 tips bill gives, he uses 3 of them on ford. EDIT: he uses 5 of them

the first is "the love cage," which pretty much ver batum outlines what happened in the fearamid during weirdmageddon.

the second is "vulnerability," where bill advises you tell your date 1) how no one can relate to you and 2) that you have a tragic back story, both of which he does in one fell swoop.

as an aside, this is a fun chance to peek at bill being an unreliable narrator in some kind of mobius double bluff. when you read these two sections back to back, it appears bill is lying to ford to gain his trust, especially if you also just watched the previous video. however, earlier in the book, it's implied that the genocide of his dimension was traumatic and something he wishes he could undo, and later in the book, after ford leaves him, bill gets drunk and attempts to call his mother, sobbing. this gives the impression that bill was indeed being vulnerable with ford here but doesn't want us, the reader, to know it.

the third is "good ol'-fashioned valentines," where bill provides some cheap and easy gift-giving advice. he then follows this advice for ford's birthday.

as an aside, i think it's funny bill brings up cats here. who belongs to whom, william?

BREAKUP

them both accusing each other of cheating:

a callback to stan's season 1 joke: "my ex-wife still misses me, but her aim is getting better:"

this amazing lower back tattoo bill made him get:

bill totally being fine and normal and great after ford leaves him for good. in fact, he's doing so well that he got drunk and took himself to dinner to celebrate. he's not upset. he's not upset.

and let's not forget mabel calling it like it is, as always:

MISC

and finally, here are some various tidbits i just enjoyed:

ford's a cipherholic attracted to things that hurt him lmfao

can you just give him a normal compliment jesus

the tattoo reads "if lost return to bill"

also the "the rats were his idea? i get it now." get what baby hm? hm? hm? implying we WERE supposed to "get" something from it

fated i guess

not tonight dear i have a headache

in conclusion, i definitely think bill is more in love with obsessed with ford than ford is with bill at this point. probably because ford's had a third of his life to come to terms with their partnership, while 30 years to an immortal being is imperceptible. given what we saw with "the love cage" and with how bill tells ford it's not too late to join the henchmaniacs during weirdmageddon, he's probably still trying to get ford back. in his own insane, demonic way.

as an aside, i do think it's interesting that the end of the book implies bill blames stan for turning ford away from him. especially since what he cites is what happens at the end of the show, implying bill thought he still had a chance during weirdmageddon

anyway, thanks for reading! if i missed anything, please let me know!

[nicolewritesthings]

What would Madonna do?

Summary: Hopper!Reader tries to have a fun night on her favorite holiday, but her best friend’s love life gets in the way.

a/n: posting my drafts now because why not! This is another installment for Steve x Hopper!reader. Can be read as a one shot, but also the earliest timeline moment I’ve written in the series so far. Please read the blurb that kicked this idea off if you’d like :)

Steve Harrington x Hopper!reader, Slight Billy in there too, drinking + light petting

October 31, 1984 - Tina's Halloween Party

Music blasts through the packed house filled with Hawkin's students dressed up in their very best, or worst, costumes. Nancy Wheeler beelines for the suspicious red juice, leaving her boyfriend, Steve, to mingle with his beloved peers.

He scans the room, his gaze settling onto Hopper!Reader, his new pal, who was dressed as a very hot Madonna. She smiles wide and waves even bigger, grabbing tightly to the tequila bottle in her hand and shoving her way to Steve.

Steve beams down at her, his eyes fleeting down to her lips just for a moment before snatching the bottle out of her hand.

"Hey! All you have to do is ask. No need to be so aggressive," she rolls her eyes as Steve takes a swig, handing the bottle back to her.

He shakes his head, "Madonna. Really?"

She shrugs, taking a gulp, "it's sexy and fun. Just like me!"

"And who's the lucky man tonight?" Steve wraps an arm around her, surveying the crowd. He points, "George from first period? Or captain of the football team this time?"

Hopper bites her lip and grabs Steve's chin, turning his attention across the room to Billy Hargrove doing a keg stand, the crowd cheering him on. She smirks, "I'm thinking I'll finally give the new kid a shot."

Steve straightens up, "absolutely not."

She puts her hands on her hips and glares up at him. "Like you have a say in this."

"He's a psychopath. Like, really hyped up on testosterone. It's intense," he states, trying to plead his case. She takes another swig of the tequila, leaning closer, getting up in Steve's face.

"Maybe an intense, testosterone filled psychopath is just what I want," she cocks her head, turning on her heel and strutting to Billy who is mid celebration.

Steve shakes his head, chuckling a bit. Hopper always managed to surprise him. After the events of last year, the two ran in the same orbit now. But their friendship really kicked off when they were partnered together for Chem lab, to which Steve was shocked to see she was even taking Junior chemistry as a Sophomore. He didn’t know much about Hopper other than her cemented reputation as the Chief’s wild daughter. From the bits and pieces uttered about her in the locker room and from what he gathered at parties, he heard she could hold her liquor and was extremely talented in the bedroom. Whatever that meant.

The rumor was, that while she didn’t sleep with a ton of guys, he had only heard of two or three, she was the best they ever had. So when the boys at Hawkins are saying that, some of the girls take it and spin it to create jealous rumors that she’s a total slut. But she doesn’t care about that one bit. Hopper knows who she is and now Steve was starting to as well.

Regardless of the dumb high school reputation, she got along with everyone and managed to slip easily through the different social circles. Partly because of her numerous extracurriculars, but mainly because she was a genuine person. Kind, funny, and completely herself.

So they spent all of last Spring meeting for school stuff, and their relationship turned more into a friendship, bonding over their shared Upside Down trauma and similarly stupid humor. He only hung out with one other person more - Nancy, who didn’t particularly get Hopper’s vibe. She mentioned they had been friends once, but inevitably grew apart. The girls genuinely liked each other, but Steve had a feeling they only tolerated their friendship because of him.

But, again, Hopper was so much more than he expected and so was their friendship. It was easy with her and fun, something he never quite felt with anyone before. So, he can only sit back and enjoy the show, waiting for her silly antics to blow up in her face.

He watches as Billy's gaze lands on Hopper approaching him. A smirk appears on his face. She offers him the bottle to which he gladly takes. Accepting defeat, Steve retreats to the kitchen, looking around for his very drunk girlfriend.

Hopper smirks as Billy takes long gulps of the tequila. He wipes his mouth, "I see you've finally come around, Hopper."

"Oh no, I'm just testing the waters. You've still got to jump through a few hoops," she grabs the bottle back and takes a sip.

Billy shakes his head, laughing, "so it's true what they say about you. Always can count on the chief's daughter to have a good time."

"Guess you'll have to find out and see,” she raises her eyebrows, “let’s dance.”

She takes his hand, letting him guide her to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Nancy gulps down another drink while Steve reluctantly watches Hopper move closer and closer into Billy. He watches as Billy leans down, her hand gripping his shirt and pulling him toward her. Steve turns away, taking a deep breath.

"Hey Nance, let's dance -" he stops short as Nancy haphazardly dunks her cup into the punch bowl. He rushes over to her as she tries to go back in.

"No, no, no," Steve pleads, grabbing her arm.

Nancy turns, "get off."

He pulls her away from the bowl, "No, you've had enough, okay?"

"Screw you," she warns, yanking herself away.

"Nance, I'm serious," Steve pleads but she's quick to dunk her cup back into the bowl. "Hey. Hey. Hey. Stop. No, I'm serious," he warns, reaching into the bowl.

The full cup teeters between Steve and Nancy as they yank it back and forth.

On the dance floor, Hopper moves her body against Billy, their lips connected just slightly as she plays hard to get. He moves a hand to the back of her head, gripping it. She let's out a small gasp at the sudden pressure, smiling into his lips and leaning into his touch.

"Careful," she warns playfully, "you're so close to winning me over."

Billy laughs, pulling back to look at her, "oh yeah? What's my prize then? If I win."

"If you win," she teases, "hm. I’ll think about it.”

He pauses, eyes glimmering with interest, “you’re good, Hopper.”

She goes to lean in when a GASP echos from the kitchen, catching the entire crowd's attention. Billy continues to lean in while Hopper looks over at the scene, finding a punch-soaked Nancy scowling at a very distraught Steve.

"Nance," Steve pleads, following Nancy up the stairs.

Billy follows Hopper’s hard gaze on Steve. He tries not to rolls his eyes. "The married couple will be fine, don't worry," he assures her with just a hint of annoyance.

She ignores his slight tone and nods her head, trying to push Steve from her mind and focus on the extremely attractive boy right in front of her.

As if switching on a light, she snaps back to the flirty girl she was just moments before. She grabs his shirt and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

Billy wraps his arms around her, his hand finding her butt, gripping it tight as the other cradles her neck. She lets her hands wander his tone arms and chest. His lips are softer than she thought they'd be. Actually, he's softer than she thought he'd be. While he grips her tight, it's never harsh, just purposeful. She pulls back. He smiles down at her.

"Let’s get out of here," he smirks.

She nods, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the side door and past the stairs. Just as they reach the first step, Steve rushes down, colliding with her and Billy. She lets go of Billy's hand.

"Whoa, whoa. What's wrong?" she asks Steve, putting a hand to his chest.

Steve looks down, "nothing, Igotta go." He tries to leave but she's quick to grab his arm. She looks up at his watery eyes and brings a hand up to his flushed cheeks.

"No, something's wrong," she insists.

Billy groans from behind her, "he said he was fine. Right, Harrington?"

Steve finally looks up, eyeing Billy then Hopper. "Yeah, don't worry Hop. Have fun."

"That's it, I'm taking you home," she loops her arm into his and heads for the door. Billy throws his hands up, "what the hell?"

She looks back, a smirk on her face, "guess you'll have to work a little bit harder to catch me!"

"Oh, we'll see about that!" he calls back, attempting to cover up his intrigue with annoyance.

———————

The cool Halloween night settles around her and Steve as they walk down the empty residential street, handing the tequila bottle back and forth between the two.

"Bullshit! She said our entire relationship was bullshit! That loving me was, was -"

"Bullshit?" Hopper interjected.

Steve threw his hands up, "exactly! I can go my whole life without ever hearing that word again.

She bites her lip, smiling to herself, "yeah man, that's total...bullshit."

He stops in his tracks, "fuck off."

She nudges Steve, frowning "Seriously though, I'm sorry that happened tonight."

"I don't know what to do. This is the first girl I've ever really seen a future with. What am I supposed to do now?"

Hopper nods, tearing her gaze from him. God, he really is obsessed with Nancy. Poor guy.

"Okay, first of all, we're just in high school. You still have time to figure your shit out."

"Easy for you to say miss captain of the varsity soccer team, class president, Ivy League bait bitch," Steve huffed.

She laughs, "did you just call me a bitch?"

"Yeah, didn't feel right coming out, but you know what I mean. You have your life figured out. You're going to get out of Hawkins and have a big career in the city and meet some really successful guy and make very beautiful yet devious children while I take over my dad's business and marry Tammy or Courtney or Brittany then have a beer belly by thirty-five and hate my life. Not to mention, you'll forget all about me," Steve groaned.

"Wow, you’ve really thought this through,” she chuckles, crossing her arms.

Steve sighs, “well, I’ve actually thought a lot about my future. You know, a few kids in a cozy home, maybe a dog.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“But, Nancy’s always there,” he shakes his head, “no one else.”

Hopper sucks in a breath. A dull pain pings at the pit of her stomach. It hurts her to see her best friend so dejected, but also, can he not see that he’s deserving of this future even without Nancy Wheeler there to complete it?

She clamps a hand down on his shoulder, “any girl would be lucky to share that with you, Steve.”

He looks down at her, catching the honest look in her eye. He wants to believe her, but it’s too soon. Wallowing is the best option for now.

She stares into his big eyes, Steve’s face closer than she realized. She eyes his pink cheeks, tinted from the cold. He breaks her trance, shrugging and looking ahead as his house comes into view.

“Thanks, man” he says sadly. Man. Could that get anymore friendly? Hopper shakes that thought away and loops her arm into his, snuggling into his side. For warmth, she tells herself.

Steve changes the subject, “so you ditched Hargrove for me? That’ll go over well on Monday.”

“He’d be stupid to give you shit,” she shrugs, “if he’s really interested in me.”

“Would you actually go out with him?”

Hopper contemplates this, “yeah, why not?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “you deserve way better than him. You know that.”

“Oh sure. But not everyone’s looking for the love of their life, Steve,” she teases, “I’m just trying to have a bit of fun before life gets too serious.”

They stroll up his driveway as he smiles, “you always are. That’s what I love about you.”

He says it casually but she’s pretty sure that’s the first time he’s said it. Even if it’s just friendly, it still means a lot to her, stopping her up for a moment.

Steve breaks apart from her, heading to the front door and unlocking it. Hopper follows, quickly catching up with him. A smirk on her face.

“You loooooove me,” she sings in his face.

He rolls his eyes, “yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head, Hopper.”

She smiles wide, heading for the kitchen and making herself a midnight snack like she’s done before. Steve shuts the door, leaving the two teens to their familiar post-party routine.

But this time, it’s a little different. The most subtle of changes have occurred in their feelings for one another. A heartbroken Steve felt like his world was ending, only to have his best friend make him feel slightly less terrible, making him realize that he does care for Hopper so much more than he planned to. Hell, he loves her.

And then there’s her feelings. How that dull pain in her stomach intensified when he said he loved her. She would be lying if she never thought about it, loving Steve. She always chalked up the butterflies in her stomach to simple desire. He was a good looking guy, constantly flirting with her because that’s just how they are - two charmers who happen to be friends.

Well, for now.

[sundrop-writes]

i know it's one of the lesser voted ones, but i'm really excited for trouble is!! your fics are so good. take your time ofc, you're super awesome! <3

thank you so much!!!

I am honestly surprised that Trouble Is is one of the lesser voted ones. I thought it would be popular just on the basis of it being Sex Pollen. And because TMR seems to have a big active fanbase on Tiktok? There are a lot of edits for it? There are a lot of edits for it, with new ones being posted often. That's how I got inspired to get into my own personal TMR renaissance

Thomas is really hot as played by Dylan, and I am surprised that more people wouldn't be excited by the idea of a Sex Pollen fic starring him.

Anyway - the content of the votes don't really matter to me, because all the fics are finished in my drafts and will be posted at some point. And because you're excited about it, I have decided that I'm gonna post a little preview of the fic just for you <3

Trouble Is... - FANFIC PREVIEW

FULL FIC NOW POSTED

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: sex pollen - which means dubious consent (but in the full fic it's implied that the characters have pre-existing feelings for each other, therefore they want to have sex with each other very badly, the sex pollen just distracts them from the existing dangers of their world); WCKD drugging the characters with sex pollen for nefarious purposes; chemically induced arousal (to an extreme); there is no explicit sex in this section just mentions of sexual arousal and sexual attraction between the characters; implications of scent kink (from Thomas toward the reader; I think that's it for this section? It's not mentioned here, but Thomas and the reader are being trapped/held in a room against their will (which they are distracted from by the sex pollen chemicals in their systems).

...

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you - funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way. You’re part of me.

Trouble is - you’re part of me.

...

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?” 

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.” 

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.” 

...

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air. Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air - shamefully, something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories had still been so few and his head had still been so empty. Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy - even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect for him. 

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you. 

This time that wonderful scene that he knew as you had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. 

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet. 

He had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do. 

“Thomas - your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud. 

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste - and the fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you. 

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him. Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him from the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved to the veins protruding in his forearms to the trail of delicious dark hair that disappeared down into his pants. He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed) - and you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then. 

At least, he thought you hadn’t. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here - do you find it hot?” 

He moved on, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling inside of him, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like. Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off. 

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.” 

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you. 

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, keeping his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was.  “It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a pained whine - shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal.

Fuck.

[jenn2sec]

English vers.

Based On My Dreams Series (MAIN LINE):

❝ Healing Trip ❞

start - thursday20022025

couple - bigbang(you decide who) x fem!reader

chapters summary - after your strong resistance against the abuse from your boyfriend's (now ex) family, you were suspended from school for a year, so what will you do during that forced break? of course, take a direct flight to korea to heal! lets see how lucky you will be with bigbang-boys!

note - chaotic, bad words, side characters, this post won't feature bigbang, but read on and make your choice at the end!, funny, quantum multiverse, alcohol

caption section - after reviewing and organizing more ideas for the plot, i decided to officially develop the Based On My Dreams Series into a long-form fanfic (when i say long, i mean it will have a more structured storyline). y/n is in the late twenties and about to enter their thirties, a third-year student majoring in film scriptwriting.

We’re always open to feedback and ideas to make the story better!

[ Before I could make sense of everything, my feet were already standing on his grave. ]

After reviewing the entire script draft for the short film, you sent it to senior H/n. Just thinking about it made you frustrated—why did you have to do his work for him? This was supposed to be his graduation project! Your head felt as hot as a furnace, yet you still had to sit in the library after your morning classes, rushing to finish his “problem.”

“That jerk…” you mumbled, slamming your laptop shut before quickly stacking up your books into a neat pile and dragging yourself out of the library.

Time flew by, and you were already close to completing your second semester of your third year in university. Just one more semester and another year, and you’d finally have that bachelor’s degree in your hands. Lost in your feverish state, you found yourself daydreaming about internships—completely unaware that the so-called "talented" senior you had just cursed was now striding towards you with an air of arrogance.

“Hey, y/n! Come here for a sec.” He waved a hand at you like an impatient boss calling over an employee just to scold them. Just great. You had only insulted him in your head a moment ago, and now he had appeared like a summoned ghost. With a deep sigh, you bit your lip and walked over.

"I really appreciate your help, but you should really reconsider $#%&—" He kept rambling, his words buzzing in your ears like an annoying fly. What was this? Was he actually complaining about a script that he got for free?

You were too stunned to speak. The only reason you put up with this lunatic was because he was your boyfriend’s older brother and the son of the head professor of your department.

Let’s see… He was the son of the department head but was still drowning in over ten failed courses, barely hanging onto his chance to graduate. And ever since you had visited your boyfriend’s house and discovered that both of you were in the same screenwriting major, more than half of his overdue assignments had magically ended up in your lap. Call you stupid if you guys want—at first, you thought dating someone from the same school would be nice. His mother was a well-respected professor, and surely his older brother must be talented too, right? Wrong. And now, your so-called “future brother-in-law” was acting like he was the professor and you were the clueless student, lecturing you in the middle of campus with no regard for your dignity.

"I am sorry, but I’m really exhausted. Can’t you see the fever patch on my foreh—" You weakly protested, carefully choosing your words to avoid bruising his ego, but H/n immediately cut you off, clicking his tongue and placing his hands on his hips.

"Y/n, if you’re going to do something, do it properly. You can’t use being sick as an excuse to hand in a script full of plot holes!"

You froze. Your face went blank, as if someone had just smacked you over the head with a hammer. You could only stare at this shameless man in disbelief.

"Hey, are y—" Just as you were about to snap back, your younger boyfriend suddenly appeared from afar, grinning as he approached. Without hesitation, he hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek.

"What are you two doing out here?"

Seeing your boyfriend felt like spotting a lifeline in the middle of an ocean. You turned around, ready to whine about your suffering, but before you could even speak, the brat jumped back in horror, shoving you away a few steps.

"Wait, you’re sick?! Hey, hey, don’t get me infected! I have an internship next week!" He hurriedly pulled a mask out of his pocket and put it on, while his brother scolded him for overreacting.

And then, just like that, he kept going. Your dear senior resumed his endless criticism of your script, delivering yet another long-winded lecture about character development and scene construction.

A childish boyfriend. A useless, arrogant brother-in-law. And you—sick to the point of collapse, with a very solid pile of books in your hands.

Yes. With a rage-induced fever clouding your mind like a drunken haze, you didn’t hesitate. You hurled the entire stack of books at that senior’s face, then grabbed the thickest one and jabbed it straight at your stupid boyfriend, who is gaping.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU BASTARDS!!! ALL OF YOU, OUT! RIGHT NOW! F* OFF YOU MOTHER F******!!!!!!!!"

"That damn bastards….my gosh how can I know I’d break the library window! It’s all their fault! Huhuhu—" You wailed into your phone, sobbing so hard that your eyes were practically swelling shut.

On the other end of the call, your online best friend sighed. "So… what about your ‘future mother-in-law’?"

The mere mention of that woman made you cry even louder. "That witch! She only acted nice because she saw me as her eldest son’s academic lifeline! But the moment I broke their noses today, she went insane and demanded that the school expel me! Huhuhu—!"

Your friend let out a long, tired sigh. "So let me get this straight… You got suspended for a whole year just for assault and property damage? That’s kind of harsh. I’d say one semester at most." You sniffled. "No, no. Before that, I went to the academic office and reported that entire damn family—especially that bastard H/n—for forcing me to do his coursework."

"WHAT?!" Your friend shrieked in shock before bursting into laughter. Meanwhile, you grinned victoriously.

"Serves those assholes right."

You don't mind graduating a year late, you're a pretty good student after all—it's basically a gap year. But that asshole? His record's been erased. And his mom? Suspended for a whole semester. Ha!

"Why do you keep listening to those gay dudes all the time?"

A slipper flew straight toward the speaker—unfortunately, it missed. You've heard this comment enough times to no longer take it to heart, but you still had to put up some kind of resistance. Your older brother kicked your slipper further away—specifically, out onto the porch—before lazily walking over to the fridge to find something to snack on.

Meanwhile, you sat idly on the sofa, listening to your favorite music: K-pop.

It had been a long time since you last had the chance to relax like this. Ever since you got involved with that damn family, even your holidays were spent helping H/n.

So now, being able to unwind felt a bit unfamiliar. You started feeling like you had rested too much—your hands and feet were itching to do something.

"If you're so free, why don't you go out or get a job? Doesn't staying home bore you?" your brother asked, plopping down on the couch with a bag of snacks. He grabbed the remote and switched the TV to some streamer’s YouTube channel.

"HEY!" You grabbed your other slipper and threw it straight at his face—this time, it hit. After a brief scuffle, both of you lazily slumped back onto the couch.

"Getting a part-time job doesn’t sound too bad—"

Suddenly, your phone rang. It was your online best friend calling.

And with just one phone call, your plan to get a job turned into a healing trip abroad.

The room you rented was in an apartment complex located deep within a neighborhood already slated for redevelopment. Despite this, quite a few people still lived here. Most people—including your online best friend—found the place too cramped and bustling, but you actually liked it. Having lived with your parents and brother your whole life, you never had the chance to "coexist" with strangers like this. So even though you felt a bit uneasy, you valued this experience—it was something worth having!

Your online best friend picked you up from the airport and helped you find a short-term rental. (You had decided to stay for an extended period, given that you had an entire year of free time.) After finishing the move-in process, she immediately switched into tour guide mode and took you on an adventure through Seoul.

This was only the second time you two had met in real life—the first being when she visited your country for a trip. Now, it was your turn to visit hers. Twice was more than enough to erase any awkwardness. The two of you went all out, exploring every corner, from delicious street food to fun entertainment spots.

“Lucky for you, you know enough Korean to communicate, right?” she asked, biting into a strawberry tanghulu—the popular sugar-coated fruit snack often seen in TikTok dance videos. You nodded slightly, using your own candy stick to poke at the hardened sugar stuck on your molars before replying.

“Just a little. I’m definitely not fluent enough to compete with the locals.” You joked, recalling how, during your first meeting, she had been too flustered to even speak English properly.

Both of you had made an effort to learn each other’s native languages, but for the most part, you still communicated in English for convenience, occasionally throwing in phrases from the second language. So naturally, she reacted quickly to your teasing:

"야! 놀리지 마!! (Ya! Don’t tease me!!)”

She laughed awkwardly at her own outburst, making both of you burst into laughter. Your attention was then quickly stolen by a brightly lit bar nearby.

“Hey, I didn’t know Aven Star had a branch in Korea,” you remarked.

“Of course they do! They even invite artists over all the time. Wanna go in? Who knows, maybe you’ll run into one of your ‘husbands,’” she teased, nudging your shoulder.

You were about to agree instantly, but one glance at your outfit made you hesitate. “I can’t. I look like a complete mess right now.”

“Excuse me?! Stop acting like a pick-me girl! You look amazing, so get in there and have fun!”

Well, if that damn family knew you were out here vacationing and enjoying yourself, they’d be fuming. Just the thought of it made you relax a little more and confidently step inside.

The moment you entered, your ears were greeted by remixes of old-but-gold US-UK songs, refreshed with an upbeat twist that made them even catchier. The dim, flickering lights were adjusted just right—not harsh on the eyes—but the place was packed. That was typical for this bar. You never went bar-hopping much during your school days, but if you did, Aven Star was always your go-to. It was surreal that your favorite club had somehow followed you across the world, making your healing trip feel even more complete.

You quickly let yourself soak in the atmosphere while waiting for your best friend, who was busy flirting with the bartender (and ordering more drinks for both of you). The tension in your body gradually melted away, your shoulders feeling lighter by the second. It was hard to believe this trip was already working wonders—on just the first day.

Then, out of nowhere, a cold liquid spilled down the back of your neck, soaking your entire back. A sharp shiver ran up your spine, triggering an instant wave of shock and discomfort that shot straight to your brain, making you yelp. Luckily, the bar was noisy enough to drown out your outburst.

Spinning around, you searched for the culprit—and found yourself facing a guy dressed in a breezy, casual outfit. His face was undeniably Korean, but he wasn’t bad-looking at all. In fact, when combined with his overall aura, he looked…pretty cool!

His expression, however, was hilarious. Though the dim lighting made it hard to see clearly, his wide eyes, hand-over-mouth reaction, and panicked mumbling made it obvious he was apologizing and checking if you were okay.

You were in too good of a mood to get mad. You were about to say something, but then you spotted your best friend scanning the crowd for you. With no time to linger, you flashed the guy a quick grin, leaned in slightly, and said a few words before slipping through the dancing crowd to rejoin your friend.

"________"

| If You Choose to Say Something Playful.

| If You Choose to Say Something Reassuring. [comingsoon]

_____

F i x a r a w S o f t e n

thursday20022025

23:46

︾︾︾︾︾︾︾

to speed things up and because my english isn’t really that good, i decided to use a translation tool to help with the language switch. a bigbangxreader fanfic operating on the quantum multiverse theory, why not?!

every choice you make leads you to a different person, opening up distinct storylines, what do you think?!

hope you all understand and enjoy ♡

[elasticbeach]

Please tell me you are writing a part 3 to the breaking up with Shanks and it ends with a fluffy happy family

Part 3/ Breaking up with Shanks but realizing you still have feelings for him

Yall I didn’t even realise that I haven’t posted this 💀 this has been sitting in my drafts for waay too long, anyways thank you all for all the positive feedback, I feel like this part is written better than the first two. Anyways enjoy reading!

Warnings: None

Part 1/Part 2/ Part 3

You were standing in the kitchen while your little girl was having her usual afternoon nap, you were baking muffins just because, everyone loves muffins right? Actually your nerves were driving you crazy with every passing second and baking seemed to ease your nerves a little. Your mind raced with questions. Will there be a knock on your door? Or will the door be smashed entirely? Will he take your baby away from you? Will he even show up? Did he get scared and just decided to dump you entirely? Too many questions plagued your mind and while you stared outside the window deep in thought a knock brought you back to reality. Your head snapped at the sound of gentle knocks and your heart started racing. Slow steps getting you to the door, standing in front of it you were pretty sure your heart would explode as your heartbeat hammered loudly in your ears. Slowly you opened the door just to reveal the old lady next door. At this point this whole situation slowly started driving you mad. You had never experienced paranoia like this and had no idea how to deal with anxiety like that. After the lady left, you went to check on your daughter. She was peacefully sleeping in her crib, kneeling down next to her you brushed a few of her red locks out of her face. She really went after him, huh? you thought. Life still did not feel real, even when your daughter was born. you still felt like that young girl who just wanted some love and adventure. tears formed at the corners of your eyes, you miss him so much, it hurts.

A few days later you were laying on the beach trying to enjoy some sun while your daughter slept under the small tent you put up. Your mind did clear a bit at the ocean breeze and the warm sun tanning your skin. You almost fell asleep yourself, till you heard it "PIRATES!!" someone screamed in panic. You quickly sat up and looked at the horizont, that’s when you saw it, his ship. The ship you spent years on, before settling down. You quickly put a robe over your body and grabbed your daughter, you didnt even bother standing uo or trying to flee. Just pressing her against you and closing your eyes, anticipating the worst. A few minutes passed, you were too afraid to open your eyes. You heard steps approaching and thats when you opened your eyes. "Long time no see, ____" you sighed to embarrassed to even look his way. You heard him coming closer. "Please dont take her from me.." you whispered in a weak voice. You heard him sit down next to you. "I would never." he said in a serious tone and thats when you finally looked at him. His face carried a frown while his eyes showed sadness. He was hurt you could tell, tears formed once again. "Im so sorry..I really am." You said and sobbed. “Shh” He immediately started calming you down while rubbing your shoulder. You sobbed again before sniffing and calming your nerves a little, you looked at Shanks again. “You’re still just as beautiful.” He said with that smile of his, no mischief or lie in his eyes. It was the first thing he decided to say, nothing about the daughter and not how mad or disappointed he is but this. He called you beautiful, making you tear up again. He chuckled “Stop crying, you always make that funny face when you cry.” That made you chuckle a bit making you sniff and carefully hand him his daughter. Without a word he took the little girl looking at her little face. The little girl was inspecting her father for a few seconds before crying and wiggling, scared of the unfamiliar man. “I’m sorry, should’ve called earlier.” You started as he handed you your daughter with a light smile, as you started rocking the infant you continued to speak “ I was just so scared, I didn’t think it was necessary. No, that’s wrong..I was sceptical if you would even care you know? And it was just nerve wracking, because what if you took her from me??” You started sobbing troughout half of your monologue. “Calm down now you two crybabies.” He interrupted you with a smirk. “How come the two most important women of my life are crying because of me?” He chuckled a bit, again loosening the atmosphere again. “I’m sorry” You repeated, sobbing and wiping your tears with your shoulder, still having your daughter in your arms. Her crying stopped by now and she was inspecting Shanks from a distance now. “It’s okay.” Shanks says smiling at his daughter and then at you. “Must’ve been scary going trough all of this alone?” Shanks asks and you nod. You two spend up to three hours talking about casual stuff, him telling you about the adventures you missed. You telling him everything he missed of his daughters life and said daughter warming up to her daddy enjoying his company.

“I’ll walk you to your home.” Shanks said as you started packing. You didn’t even try to protest, because you know you want him to. You want his affection and attention, want him to stay. Forever. “Thanks” You flash him a smile before laying your daughter in her crib and the two of you start walking. And this image of the two of you, it brings you peace. It feels so normal, so natural. You probably look like a normal family walking back from the beach, everything feels so right, if only it had been like that since the first day. Your thoughts are interrupted by his voice. “So how are we handeling this whole situation?” You shrug, really not having a clue how to answer “I’m definitely not taking the two of you onto the ship, that’s way too dangerous. Just stay here, I will visit from time to time. You should call me more often, I want to hear more about your life. Maybe we aren’t lovers anymore, but we should at least keep in touch, we do have a kid together.” He chuckles after the statement, most definitely hiding how he actually feels, you know him too well to not notice. “Yeah, sounds good.” You reply, because you know that it’s over for the two of you. Even if he still loves you how could he possibly still want to be with you, a liar and coward that doesn’t even know what she wants.

Back home you bathe your daughter together and then you rock her asleep. As you slowly close the door to the nursery and walk to the kitchen he’s already waiting at the door. “Well, I think I will get going for now let’s meet tomorrow again, with the crew as well.” He rubs his neck as he speaks “I thought you were staying dor dinner” your voice getting more quiet troughout your statement. “I can stay??” He seems surprised and happily sits down at the dinnig table. You smile a bit and start preparing something small for the two of you. Dinner is nice, you talk a bit here and there but it’s mostly quiet, not an awkward quiet more of a enjoying each other’s company quiet. You would look up a few times, looking at his strong hands as he cuts the meat or how he licks his lips after each bite. You would lie if you said you didn’t miss the way his hands touched you or the way his lips kissed you and licked-. You stopped yourself right there, these times were long gone. You shoud just stop thinking about him in this way, he’s just the father of your daughter, you ex-boyfriend that YOU broke up with. “You alright?” You look up a bit confused. “You haven’t touched the food in like a minute just staring at it.” He looks at you just as confused. “I was just lost in thought, sorry.” You crack a smile and keep eating. You two finish eating in silence and he helps you clean up after.

“Well, see you tomorrow then?” He says as he steps over the door step. “Yeah.” You look up at him. You two look in each others eyes, seeing the desire, the love for each other. He leans down and presses a quick kiss on your cheeck. “Goodnight” He smiles. “Goodnight.” You smile back and close the door, you lean against the closed door and slide it down smiling like a fool.

The next morning you woke up a bit late. Your daughter was crying all night so you didn’t get all that much sleep. Rubbing your face with cold water you hear a knock. Drying your face and walking over to the door you slowly open expecting Shanks. As he looks upon your figure he immediately notices your tired appearance, while you still wear your Pjs. “You alright?” He asks as he steps inside. “Do I look that bad?” You chuckle a bit closing the door behind him. “No, not really. Just a bit..worn out.” The two of you chuckle. You lead Shanks to his daughter that is still asleep in your bed, since she refused to sleep away from you. “Look at her, didn’t let you sleep all night and now she’s snoozing away.” You smile at his statement, seeing how lovingly he looks at his daughter. “I wish I would’ve seen more of her and you..pregnant.” He looks over at you. You two share neutral expressions as you look at each other, both of you unsure how to handle the situation. You look down at the floor and sigh. “Look, I’m really sorry about everything-“ “Don’t, I understand.” He interrupts you. “No, please let me finish. Just listen to me please.” You sigh again and start talking. “I did NOT know of my pregnancy when I left and that wasn’t the reason I left. I just always dreamed of domestic life, but I also always knew that with you it would be impossible. But I don’t know what’s gotten into me when I left I was I don’t know..” You take a short pause to swallow the lump in your throat. “Maybe it were the pregnancy hormones or whatever but I need you to know that. I still love you and never stopped, I thought it was the better thing for me to leave and try to forget you but how could I? You are the love of my life Shanks. I don’t know if you could ever forgive me for taking your daughter from you, but I just need you to know that I love you. I never stopped loving you.” Tears stain your cheeks by the time you are finished and when you sob and look up you see him standing in front of you. The two of you fall into a long embrace. Hugging each other, with you just crying into his shirt. “Now calm down, I never stopped loving you either.” The two of you keep on hugging. He then pushes you away a bit just to capture your lips in a long kiss. You never felt so much joy in your life as his lips touched yours, everything else didn’t seem important anymore and you just forgot about those months of separation in this moment. You two parted for air and looked into each others eyes when suddenly a crying noise from your daughter captures your attention. “I will take care of her in the living room, get some sleep.” He smiled and wiped some of your tears. “I love you Shanks.” “I love you too.”

Repost are appreciated <3

[mystxmomo]

can you…write…kevgar… again.. please…

im not asking for a 100k words, 100 is enough for me.. please…

😭💔😭☹️☹️🥺😭😭💔😭eyyeus eueue 😭💔🥺🥺

Okay so like. I do actually want to come back and write something once this event wraps up, because I'm genuinely kind of baffled at how much we're being... like given? It's sparking some ideas. No promises on it though because I need to write being carried by the muses and the tides.

Edit: Also this art at the bottom is REALLY cute I forgot to mention it at first. Thank you for. Letting me see them....

Anyway. I can do you one better than 100 words. Back in like. 2022, I was working on a massive Hanahaki Kevgar AU. I ended up dropping it because I explored what I was interested in with "As the pieces fall into place" (Aka erectile dysfunction au) and was pretty happy with what I had + I think I used chunks of this dialog in that fic (So if some of that looks familiar thats why). However, I also had like. A REALLY NOT INSIGNIFICANT part of this fic written?

Thought it would sit around and collect dust forever in my docs, but you and I both know how sad the state of the Kevgar tag is in. Here's what I had of it put together. Again, I can't stress enough. This is unfinished. But it's also uhhh. Almost 5k words of unfinished? So hopefully some of it still scratches at your brain, even if it's just a draft.

"Original Authors note: 

Hello there main friend group, extended twitter friendgroup, and three random strangers in my puter that this pairing will appeal to, I hope this fic finds you well.

Basically, I saw a tumblr post maybe a year or two back that talked about the idea of Hanahaki not as a lethal disease, but instead a chronic one. The idea that it’s a manifestation of your emotions, and your emotions aren’t going to kill you, but by damn they’re gonna be a bitch to deal with. Especially if you keep shoving them down in a little box and avoiding them. 

Basically the flowers are a metaphor. It takes away from the tragedy but adds an angle of nuance that I as a writer find personally enjoyable to navigate and play with.

AND I thought to myself. Man you know who would be fun for that? Gay Kevin."

===================

Edgar Valden is real pretty, is the main thing.

Frustratingly so. Men, let alone men with personalities as rotten and cruel as Valden’s shouldn’t be allowed to be as pretty as he is. 

But he is, and it’s an issue. 

He’s also. Ah… Small. Frail enough to tug at Kevin’s heart strings in a way he’s not entirely comfortable with. He catches himself thinking about that mid-match, Edgar dizzy enough from a recent hit not to fight being carted around on his shoulder. A head smaller than Kevin, and lighter than some of the ladies, Edgar is easy on his arm and warm against his shoulder.

The first time he realizes it, the illusion is immediately ruined by Edgar catching his barings, and begins to kick and struggle out of his hold and cuss him clean. But a sickly, uncomfortable feeling settles in his stomach, and eventually even the most private of Kevin’s thoughts always have a funny way of haunting him. It’s easy to hate him when he’s standing in front of you, sneering and glaring like the bullheaded swine he is. But out on their game field, when the adrenaline runs so heavy his blood goes cold, and Edgar is flying around the field with the same amount of speed and dedication that he takes to his art, it becomes harder to separate pretty from fragile. And late into the night, when Kevin’s thoughts have a tendency to haunt him the most, there’s no escaping it. He prefers it to the guilt that plagues the back of his mind at those hours, but it sits at the pit of his stomach with the same amount of discomfort and nausea as that guilt does. And that guilt, inevitably, turns to rage.

And rage always comes back to frustration. 

When he starts hacking up petals and blood, he doesn’t think it’s Valden. He doesn’t think it’s anyone, really. 

//

Emily tells him that it’s called Hanahaki.

“I’m surprised you’ve never encountered it before,” She says, as a general musing.

“I’ve heard of things like it,” He says, “You tend to hear a lot of rumors n’ stories while travelin’ around. You can’t take everything at face value, y’know? Thought it was closer to tall-tales.”

She nods, her brows furrowing together. She tends to get like that when she’s deep in thought. Sort of snappy, and certainly less patient. But she hasn’t gotten to the point that she gets after they finish their matches, running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Instead, it’s quiet pacing.

“Our body has an odd way of reacting to…” She tilts her head, carefully considers her words before she says them. She’s smart like that, “Emotions. Stress. Eventually, it manifests itself physically,” She gives him a concerned look, “Has there been any changes in your life?”

He gives her a weird look. Permanent state of stasis they seemed to be trapped in, their changes were rare and minimal. He had less games these days then when he’d started here, and most of the new personalities at the manor were a respectable sort. To his silence, she almost rolls her eyes. Almost. She’s professional enough not to.

“Ayuso, it could be anything. Have the games been worse recently?” He gives her a stranger look for that one, and she tuts, runs her hands back through her hair and messes up her otherwise pristine looking bun, “Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t gotten a case of it in the manor sooner. Maybe because of how isolated we are..?” She considers it in silence, and Kevin thinks it would be wrong to interrupt her. But then she’s turning to look at him, “Can I see those petals again?”

Raising a brow, he takes out the handkerchief he’d collected them in. It’s from a personal favorite outfit of his, and at first he’s not actually sure what she’s looking for. Because she brushes the petals off to the side, and raises the cloth to the light, and what she says next concerns him more than anything else about the conversation has, “It’s an abnormal amount of blood for such a minor case,” She mutters, stares, “You did come to me immediately, right?”

He huffs laughter. His throat hurts, “‘Course, course. I didn’t see petals and think it was normal.”

She glares, “Don’t get smart with me, Ayuso. I swear, some of these people could come down with consumption and avoid me for it…” She sighs, and her shoulders fall, “Is it growing thorns…?” 

“Is that possible?” He asks, and feels somewhat foolish for doing so. Of course it is. She wouldn’t have mentioned it if it hadn’t been.

“It’s not unheard of,” She says, and steps forward to hand him the handkerchief back. When she looks over at him again, it’s with a certain amount of sympathy he rarely sees on her face, “You should be fine, but…I won’t say it will be pleasant.”

He chuckles, and it comes across as weak and forced, “Ms. Dyer, I may be something of a foolish man, but I don’t think anyone is foolish enough think flowers in your throat are a’pleasant experience.”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Let me see what medicine I can find. I might be able to kill a few of them off for you…”

//

He doesn’t want to acknowledge his unfortunate reality, but the first time he vomits up fist fulls of flowers, he’s in a match with Valen

It’s not a good match. Emily goes down fast. Kevin doesn’t have time to get across the map. Mike tries to pull off a rescue, but Michiko is faster than he is, and a bit more clever to boot. Edgar manages to pull something off with those paintings of his, but Kevin’s never been any good with the technology in the manor, and by the time Emily’s out of the game they barley have two ciphers done.

With Michiko distracted by Mike, it gives him the chance to slip away with Edgar. He knows Edgar took a bad hit, because he stays limp over his shoulder rather than attempt to fight and squirm against him.

(He’s warm, something whispers in Kevin’s ear.)

“There you are,” Kevin draws, and drops him on the ground with no amount of care or subtlety. Edgar stumbles back a few steps, attempting to blink away the lightheadedness that comes with these matches.

“... Thanks,” Edgar says, quietly, and brushes himself off at the knees. Though he’s doing well to hide it, he has an embarrassed blush on his face, and he needs to lean back against the crumbling wall to keep his balance. 

Kevin reaches out to steady him a bit better, and Edgar shoots him a look that could kill. 

“Go decode, I’ll catch my breath and find a way to distract her again,” Edgar turns to give him an odd sort of look, the normal irritation that shadows over his face mending away to something else entirely. Though what it is, he’s unsure, “We can probably still save this if I…” He’s trailing off, a distant, manic look to his eye as he does. It answers none of Kevin’s questions, and only increases his concern, and when Edgar kneels on the ground it’s to fuss with something in his hand.

He’d not noticed it before, but the painter already has a syringe in his hand. He must have scavenged the supplies from Dyer's chair, because he’s already trying to find a vein with shaking, cold-nipped looking fingers.

And like a pendulum swinging back and forth, his irritation washes back to sympathy. And with that sympathy comes guilt, and nausea. 

Kevin steps forward, and grabs his arm for him. Edgar immediately tries to pull away, but Kevin is stronger than him, and it only takes tightening his grip to get Edgar to still. Edgar squirms under his touch, and something in Kevin’s head equates him to being no different than one of those squeaking barn kittens that didn’t know threats from friends and so they yelled and hissed at anything that grabbed ‘em.

“Hold still,” he says, his voice strained, and Edgar does glare at him this time, “Save the supplies. Y’might need it later.”

Edgar lets him. Patch him up. He can’t argue with strategy, and their playing field is the uncomfortable equalizer. To Kevin’s discomfort, Edgar spends the entire time staring at him with this ugly, uncanny look.

…

“You’re hurt,” Edgar says, suddenly, and reaches out to grab Kevin’s face. Edgar’s hands are soft, and but his touch is not. His thumb brushes against his mouth, and he’s surprised to find that it comes back with blood. He doesn’t remember tasting it. Maybe he’s already so used to it, that he’d just not noticed it, “When did you take a hit?”

A smarter man would be able to come up with an excuse on the spot. It’s not unusual, afterall, to end the match covered in your teammates blood. Especially ones that run as poorly as there’s. Especially with Kevin’s position being as it is.

Kevin is not a smart man. He’s dull, and a coward.

“I’m fine,” He snaps, and pulls back from Edgar. Feeling suddenly quite defensive, he feels his lips curl up in defiance. It’s all show, really. Because underneath it, he can’t deny the sudden surge of nerves and panic and fear. He’s never been any different or any smarter than a cornered animal, but most men in his position aren’t.

 Edgar’s hand lingers in the air, fingers oddly delicate despite the blood. And Edgar stares at him. He stares at him for a long time, his eyes distant and hollow and cold, “Okay,” He says, and his tone is odd when he says it. Like Edgar doesn’t entirely believe him. And when Kevin thinks he’s going to leave it at that, he clarifies with, “Okay. You don’t have to tell me. Whatever. Just- Go decode. Maybe I can still save this for us, you useless asshole…” 

And Edgar trails off, stares at the spot of the snow where his own blood has dripped on the snow. 

There’s no fight left in him after that. There should be. This is the part where Kevin normally feels anger and discomfort at the mans provocation, where they ruin their match and draw the hunters ire. It’s normally the part where irritation takes over sensability.

Instead, Kevin stumbles away feeling nauseous. He doesn’t decode. Decoding would be the smart thing to do, and he is not a smart man. A cold sweat crawls over his skin, and he’s shaking hard enough that he’s having trouble staying upright. He feels it, in his throat and in his gut. Something cutting into his flesh, like the way a cats claws would dig into skin.

He makes it behind shack, before he needs to stop and stable his weight on the wall.

It’s petals and blood mix on the ground in a ugly red soup, chunky and red with rotting petals and cuts of flesh. He wheezes in an attempt to catch his breath, but he finds himself dizzy for it. Eventually, he needs to kneel on the ground and rest his head against the wall, unable to keep his eyes open without risking another fit. The cold weather of Leo’s is as much of a sting as it is a comfort on his throat and skin. And just when he thinks he’s settled his head, he lurches again, the cycle repeating all over.

He doesn’t realize the blood rushing in his ear is the hunter until he feels her cold hand on his back.

“Oh dear..” Michiko says, and her voice is soft on his ear, “This is where you’ve been hiding.”

Michiko is a sweet sort of lady. She doesn’t take the chance to knock him out over it. Instead, she lingers behind him and ushers him in the direction the dungeon must be, stopping him from falling over himself twice in the process

He’d not realized she’d found Edgar. She must have. By the time she guides him over to the dungeon, it’s already open, the wind blowing out of it. He drops into the dungeon without as much as a tip of his hat, and there's this cold, empty feeling that sits in the bottom of his stomach.

Valden was going to kill him.

// Editors note: These next sections are unfinished, but I still give everything I had for you. Anything that has a "...." Around it was supposed to have more of a lead in.

Edgar doesn’t kill him.

But also Edgar doesn’t talk to him for a while, after that.

He doesn’t talk to him. He expects a fight out of it, but he stumbles into the room so pale and dizzy that it draws the concern of Emily immediately. 

[Edgar picks a fight with Emily because he's confused and irritated]

“Come on now Valden, don’t give her a hard time ‘cause you’re in a shitty mood,” He steps in between them, and Edgar snarls at him.

“Don't fucking touch me,"

...

Something clicks into place in Emily’s gaze, something Kevin barely catches himself. She looks at the two of them. Opens her mouth to say something. A scolding, maybe.

Then closes it, her eyebrows furrowing.

//

The first time he coughs up a stem, he cuts up his throat so badly he can’t talk.

Perhap's its for the best. He feels uncharacteristically irritable about the whole thing, as the rose thorns hook into his throat and restrict his breath.....

“Ayuso…?” Edgar calls out, and he sounds surprisingly… small. It pisses him off. 

“Just-” Kevin draws in a long breath, holding his head in his hands, 

Edgar lingers in the doorway for a few seconds, blinking dully. He looks away, “I was going to ask if you’re alright.” He says, sounding short with him. “I thought….” He trails off, stares at him for a long time. His gaze burns into Kevin’s skin

“Nevermind,” Edgar grumbles, and pushes past him. It’s with a harsh shove, and some smarter part of Kevin thinks he might deserve it. But some ugly, more stubborn part of him only makes him angrier. 

//

....

“Of course I know what hanahaki is,” Edgar says, and the door closes with more force the necessary, “The droll hopeless romantics in the arts don’t know how to shut up about it.”

“You don’t hate me?” Kevin’s heart swells.

“Why would I hate you?” Edgar wrinkles his nose at him, “You’re annoying, and I wish you’d learn how to shut the hell up. But thats really not different than any of the other dumbasses that populate this manor."

Unsure of whether or not to be relieved or to scold the man, Kevin laughs. He feels light headed.

“Want to hear somethin’ funny?” Kevin doesn't wait for a reply, “I don’t…. think I hate you.”

Edgar takes a moment to process that. Then laughs at him. Loudly, and full body. It’s sharp on his ear, and as ugly as it is pretty. Perfect, for a man like Valden, “That's what you’re so worked up about?” He asks, and steps forward to look him over. 

“You’re fuckin’-”

“You’re throwing around children's insults and throwing up flower petals over the fact you might not hate me. Ayuso that’s- Ridiculous. Tell me you see how ridiculous that is,” He says, and his smile is hidden behind his hand. Kevin feels ill looking at it. Because even when he’s mocking him, that smile causes his stomach to turn and nerves to creep under his skin. 

(His smile is, while at first perplexed, otherwise sincere. It’s something rare to see on the man.)

And he- he doesn’t understand. Edgar doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand what this means for Kevin, he doesn’t understand the severity of that acknowledgement. 

Kevin barely understands what this means for himself. 

Kevin lunges forward and grabs him by the shirt. He kisses him.

Edgar looks startled. At first, he panics, and Kevin has acute awareness of the way his hand grabs at his shirt and wrist. He doesn’t pull away

But eventually, he calms as Kevin does. His hand moves from his chest to his jaw, cupping his cheek like it actually means something to him. His hands are soft, and Kevin’s are not. Kevin’s lips are chapped, and Edgar’s are sweet. It causes guilt and disgust to rest in his gut all the same, and instead of rage, it just sinks and sits there. 

When he pulls away, Edgar is giving him a distant, careful look. 

Kevin stares at him with exhaustion, pale in the face and ill in the stomach.

“Oh. You taste like blood. Come here.” Edgar says, and his hand lingers on top of Kevin’s wrist, on his cheek, thumb against the corner of his lip,

Edgar kisses him again. It doesn’t help, but Kevin still indulges in it like it does.

...

When Kevin breaks away, he’s shaking.

Guilt. Disgust. Anger. Discomfort. There are butterflies in his stomach, like the first time [his lady I forgot her name] grabbed his hand and smiled at him.

Fuck.

He pulls away, and he vomits.

Edgar is quiet this time. There’s no mockery, and no cruelty. He watches him with a blank expression on his face, hand drifting like he's unsure whether or not he wants to touch him again. Then, he kneels down next to him. A warm body against his side, a soft hand on his back, rubbing right up between his shoulder blades.

“Hey,” Edgar says, “Go to bed, Ayuso. We can talk later.”

His eyes burn.

Edgar helps him over into bed, and sits on the edge of it until he falls asleep. 

They don’t talk about it.

//

He tries to talk to Patricia about it.

“Mother once told me that love was something you chose to do. People think they fall in love. And maybe there’s some honesty to that. But love is conditional. It’s as much of a choice as cruelty,” Patricia says. She looks toward him, frowns, “But I will admit. You seem to have been born strictly to challenge that idea.”

Kevin can’t help himself. A smile hesitantly pulls onto his lips, and he says, “Y’think?”

“That’s not a compliment. Moron,” Her tongue clicks against her teeth, but her eyes soften on him.

“I don’t know. It sort of sounded like one.”

...

"Listen, Kevin. And I am begging you to listen closely. Because I'm going to tell you something I wish, more then anything, someone had told me," She struts forward, placing her hands on either side of his cheek. The touch is gentle, but firm, guiding his gaze to hers. She has to gaze up at him to look him in the eye, but when that meets, hers narrows on his with an almost predatory look.

But then it falls. Her lips twitch down, and her hands fall, "It's okay."

He laughs, "That's it?"

She considers her next words carefully. Instead of snapping back at him, there's a patient, creeping look to her eye, "It's okay that you're uncomfortable with this."

And his blood runs cold.

Something must change about his expression, then. Because she sways forward again, closer than before. She swallows, slow and collected, "It's okay to feel disgusted with yourself, and it's okay to feel guilty. That's outside of your control. I need you to think about that, because I know you don't understand it. What you're feeling now is- it's fine. It's just... Fine. But if you sit there and let it eat you alive then you're better off dead."

....

He coughs.

And coughs again, . He’s struck with a sudden wave of exhaustion.

He ... Sits down. He feels winded.

He holds his head in his hands.

"I don't think this was ever about Valden," He says, and his hand scratches at his throat.

"Maybe not," Patricia shrugs, "Maybe it was. You'll have to be the one to figure that out.”

//

He extends an olive branch.

"Do you wanna come drinkin' with me tonight," Kevin asks, and he holds back a grimace as he asks. 

Edgar looks at him weirdly, "Not really," He says, too fast for Kevin's heart to handle. But then he continues. Not in any consideration of Kevin’s immediate heartbreak, but because he muses outloud to himself more than he doesn’t, "It gets too loud in Demi's bar. That room is too damn small sometimes. That doesn't sound even remotely relaxing."

Kevin pauses.

"It can just be us," he offers, and takes a small step forward, "I ain't exactly picky about where I drink. If the bar is too loud I can come on up to your room, or you can come up to mine."

"..." Edgar turns to look at him, and his gaze glimmers with a curious interest, "Why don't you come by my studio tonight with some wine."

For a minute, the guilt in his heart is replaced by those soft, lovely butterflies that scatter and crawl about. 

“Alright.”

//

....

“Oh, it’s you,” Edgar wipes away the paint off his arms, and nods him into the room. Kevin offers him a suspicious, quiet look, but steps forward.

“Hurt my heart, Valden. Soundin’ so disappointed I showed up.”

“I didn’t actually think you would,” Edgar says, like an admittance, “Sit down.”

Kevin does.

“I hope you don’t mind if I paint you while we drink,” Edgar says, pouring the wine Kevin brought into two cups. And Kevin - he grunts.

“Now I didn’t exactly remember that bein’ part of the deal.”

“Sucks.”

Edgar extends the cup out for him to take. Kevin does. Their fingers brush, and Kevin’s entire arm buzz with the nerves that come from it.

Edgar works in silence, for the most part. It’s awkward, and uncomfortable. Kevin falls into sharp coughing fits, and Edgar without fail will wrinkle his nose at him, come on over, and wordlessly tilt his head back to the position he wants him in. His touches are soft, and careful. Calculated in a way that Kevin doesn’t often see on him. The wine aside, Edgar has tea prepared for him, which surprises him. Given that Kevin arrived so late, it’s mostly luke-warm. Edgar doesn’t bother mentioning or apologizing for that. 

He finishes off a glass of wine. Then another. It just further succeeds in giving him that uncomfortable, sticky feeling he’s never been good at handling.

Edgar stares at him, and Kevin feels that gaze crawling across his skin. The room isn’t warm, but it might as well be.

“I’ve never been good at portraits,” Edgar admits to him, suddenly, his gaze lowering to his pallet. Kevin waits for him to continue, but realizes that on his on he probably won’t.

Despite himself, he prompts him.

....

His gaze is tired. His figure is stiff, “I’m not good at this, Ayuso. I’ve never been good at this. So I’ll be forward. I don’t know why you’re here, and it’s really hard to convince myself of any explanation that seems reasonable.”

Kevin's throat itches. Edgar looks up at him.

“What are you asking me, then?”

“I don’t know.” Kevin says, “I don’t even really know what I want outt’a this, if I’m bein’ honest with you.”

Edgar rubs his eyes. It seems tired, “Fuck me, you’re so fucking stupid sometimes,”

Kevin feels that anger, that kneejerk horror, and he moves to stand. There’s a snarl on his lip before he knows it, as the embarrassment passes over him

“No, no. Jesus- Get that look off your face, I wasn’t insulting you. You just- Are.” Edgar’s jaw sets. His paintbrush slams down, and with it, Kevin stills. He looks like he has a headache, “You are.” He repeats, sharply, and more firm.

“How is callin’ me stupid not an insult?!” 

“What else am I supposed to call you when you act like this!?” 

Kevin stares at him in disbelief, and Edgar throws his hands up in the air. He holds his head in his hands and closes his eyes, and there’s this short, uncomfortable silence between the two of them. It passes. It always passes. 

Kevin gets up to leave.

Edgar catches his hand and stare at him. Kevin hadn't realized he could move that fast, or maybe that he'd been approaching him to begin with. Kevin turns to snap at him, but when their eyes meet he feels it all die out.

“Sit down,” Edgar says

Kevin.... sits.

[The note in my drafts here just said "Second Base" With no other context]

He feels. Guilt. For for wanting him like this. 

And, above all else, guilt at placing himself in Edgar’s life. Guilt for his feelings.

He coughs. 

Kevin nudges Edgar off of him, and for a moment Edgar’s eyes flash with panic and - To Kevin’s mild horror, betrayal. But Kevin doesn’t have time to sit on it. He rolls over and, as he’s become so accustomed to, hacks and coughs until vomit and blood and whole flowers pool out of his mouth. At first in chunks, and then and into a puddle on the otherwise clean cloth. It tastes like rot in his mouth, stinks like the mush thrown at hogs. 

When he comes back down from it all, Edgar is next to him folded on his knee’s. He has a hand between his shoulder blades, tracing sweet little lines into his back. 

When Kevin breath’s again, he’s surprised. 

His hand is still near his mouth, covered in the ugly [visceral] and gore. 

Kevin think’s Edgar will leave him as he did before, especially when he leaves his side and mumbles about not needing to do anything tonight. But to his surprise, he comes back. He has a rag in his hand, stained by paint but otherwise clean, and a cup of water. Edgar takes his hands between his own again and mindfully begin to clean it. His nose wrinkles up when his hands touch a little too close to the gunk, but to Kevin’s surprise, he still works to clean them.

It’s been a while since anyone’s done that for Kevin.

He feels emptier for it.

...

“Didn’t think someone like you would have the stomach for this,” Kevin says, eventually, when his body no longer betrays him.

“... My sister used to get sick when she was younger,” Edgar says, 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” He looks ahead, rather than at Kevin, “The maids were supposed to take care of her, but I…” Edgar trails off, his fingers twitching. Kevin doesn’t push him about it. He has a few stories of his own that he wouldn’t want told.

“Sorry ‘bout your uh-” 

Edgar looks down at the vile, and wrinkles his nose, “Why are you apologizing? It’s just spare bedsheets. They were probably Balsa’s anyway,” 

They sit in silence.

Kevin is the one to leave.

//

What he hates most, he thinks, is that Edgar isn’t wrong. Kevin can’t deny his own attraction to the man at this point. That’s why he was here, wasn’t it? And there’s such shame in that. He was better than that. 

He doesn’t have a defense for himself. He says, "Is it hard to believe I find you kind of- I don’t know. You’re interesting?"

Edgar's nose wrinkles. His face blanks over. God that's - infuriating. He does that when he realizes he's not going to be getting his way, that he's maybe not as right as he thought he was. Kevin knows this because Kevin's argued with him before, "What could you possibly find fascinating about me?"

“I don’t know yet,” He answers, weakly, and Edgar gives him a look with disbelief so thick he can cut through it. His throat feels dry. Not even the stuffy, clogged dry that could get him out of this, but instead an uncomfortable, distant feeling that has him falling silent and still. He wants to raise his hands up and touch them to the other man's shoulders, but just as much, he finds his hand paralyzed at his sides.

Edgar tries to take pity on him.

“Ayuso, that’s not- It’s not an accusation,” Edgar says, slowly, “It’s just what it is.”

Kevin draws a long breath in. It's patient, and careful, "You were okay with me using you like that?"

"You weren't using me," Edgar sounds annoyed, but there’s confusion there, "I want to fuck you. If I didn’t want to fuck you, I wouldn’t be here.”

Kevin flinches at the vulgarity of it. Maybe it's just how sharply it contrasts the emotions of the conversation, but he - He does flinch.

...

Edgar steps closer, so that they can sit next to one another. He's still and uncomfortable. "Okay."

Kevin laces their fingers together.

There's no guilt for that.

[gin-juice-tonic]

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

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

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

I have stuff in my phones notes app,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[noharaaa]

𝒮𝓌𝒶𝓃𝙋𝙪𝙣𝙠: 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘍𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 (sneak peek)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Josephine Jameson! Fem!Spider-Ballerina OC!

Author’s Note: A glimpse of Jobie's first official meeting shown here. This is a draft version, so the actual material may alter from this but still have the same general idea once I release it.

This beautiful spider OC belongs to anon tagged below. Please check out their blog if you haven’t yet. They post a wonderful Jobie art.

⠀͓ ↷˚‧⁺ @qirarey123 ╰┄ི͙┈ 𖡼࿔

Enjoy Reading!

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

(RE-EDITED because I’m a raging perfectionist who cringes at any slight errors.)

Self doubt and criticism. Those were the only thoughts racking her brain. She just couldn’t catch a break no matter how she tried. The voice in the back of her head was always there, pointing out everything she messed up.

Everything she thinks she is.

Failure. Not good enough.

Here, Josephine was again. Spiralling. Drowning in her own negativity.

Why couldn’t she be perfect? Why couldn’t she be enough? What was the point of even-

“Oi, your shoes are a bit mashed up, innit?”

A random voice snapped her right out of her thoughts, like a bucket of ice water spilled over her. She blinked, still a bit lost, her ears almost twitching to wonder whoever said that random comment. Her head was still a foggy mess from her bundle of thoughts.

“My what?”

Blissful. She had no idea what the guy just said.

But there he was, leaning against the doorframe, all nonchalant. Tall, intimidating in a laid-back kind of way, with hair that made him look even taller. She could barely make out his silhouette near the bright doorway, too weighed down by her own mess.

It took her a moment to adjust her eyes, realizing that he was looking at her shoes. Her head tilted downwards, following his gaze. Her pointe shoes were wrecked. Again.

She sighed, because of course they were.

“You're not gonna fire back with anything? Come on, don’t just take it. I don’t bite……Well, not hard, anyway.”

Her brows furrowed a little, tilting her head slightly in confusion. He was talking so fast, it was hard to keep up. His accent wasn’t helping either.

“Sorry….what?”

“I said I don’t bite. Do I need to slow down for you?”

It took her a few beats to process his sarcasm before she snapped back, “What does pride have to do with hearing?”

Great. Now she was feeling dumb on top of everything else. She hadn’t even noticed how badly worn out her shoes were until he pointed it out. Now all she could think about was how trash they looked. And here she was now getting roasted for it.

The guy just leaned back like he owned the place.

“The joke. Just whizzed right over-ah, forget it. But seriously, it looks like you’ve been stompin’ through thorn bush, you know.”

He seemed to be enjoying himself, like he was waiting for her to snap. She could tell from his voice.

“What’s your deal with my shoes? Who cares?”

“Because, mate, you can’t keep runnin’ around in those things. What if one of them falls apart mid-dance? You’ll be halfway across the room before you even notice.”

Now Josephine was getting annoyed.

“It’s really not that serious, okay? I can just get new shoes.” she retorted before quietly muttering in French, «Merde».

“Well, I figured a ballerina like you would at least care about her footwork . But seriously, your shoes are so done they are less like pointe shoes and more like….point*less* shoes”

Josephine wasn’t ready for it, but she actually chuckled. Almost shocked that it might’ve happened involuntarily.

She glanced down at her shoes again. They did look like something out of a bargain bin. Maybe worse. She looked back up at him, a tiny grin creeping onto her delicate face.

“See, now you’re just laughin’ at my rubbish jokes.” He grinned back, catching her reaction, “You’re supposed to be mad.”

She shrugged with a slight smile, “Maybe your jokes are just bad enough to be funny.”

“As long as you’re not taking it too seriously. You seem to got enough on your plate without worryin’ about those shoes.”

Maybe he was right. She had to stop walking through thorns.

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

Let me know if you would like to be on the tag list!

[thistlevalden]

Oh god. Ohh god. Erm well. Heres my old ok*gom art from 2020, first 2 were early 2020, last 2 were from mid 2020. Oh buddy 😞😞

You can tell i got them from instagram LMFAOO.

Fun fact. I used to participate in a challenge where i drew every ok*gom character for everyday. Managed to get to #136 and i have NO CLUE HOW EITHER. ?? 2020 me was build different.

Anyhow if youre looking for comparisons heres uhhh. Pieces from the span of 2 months ago (thats posted at least)

AAAAA ART LEAK THAT I WILL NEVER EVER EVER POST. Maybe someday.

Mmm so far the face LMFAO. Ok tmi I was so so so obsessed with drawing the face i had a really bad psychosis episode about it (in hindsight it was kinda funny/joke). But oh lord dont follow my example it was horrible. There are videos about learning how to draw the face you can just research that.

I find the face really fun bc you can play around with the features and stuff. Super fun stuff.

Ok this isnt anti fancy brush propaganda OMG. I love my fancy brushes but theyre only for convenience. I love using them and ofc they very much are crucial for my works (they wouldnt look the same without them) — But i know i dont nessesarily NEED them. Thats the difference.

Also its fun to just use the basic brush! sometimes having too much options and brush choices kind of gets overwhelming and makes you lose focus on the things you need to pay attention on. Sometimes simpler is better haha.

If anything using a basic brush helped me learn alot too. Because of the heavy resctrictions i get to focus on things that would normally go over my head because of how

(I learnt that trick in traditional art actually haha, i got so so overwhelmed with the choices in my color pencils i used my dinky 2 dollar ones and dollar materials and i had way more fun with it! I simply applied that logic in digital art lmfao. sigh i miss trad art. I should come back to it..)

Ok ok this is a really instresting question bc im not gonna lie with you on this one even i fuck this one up even now.

This applies to proper pieces where im locked in but when i have an idea i kinda sketch out some drafts and stuff. Like really really rough. As rough as possible literally scribbles, when i start focusing on a specific part of the sketch at this stage ive already failed BAJDHA. Its kinda just tl get the feel of the piece and where everything is moving, sometimes i put golden ratio and rule of 3rd overlays to help with the flow but thats just me BAHSVS. Then once i kinda fw the vibe i start doing the cleaner sketch

BUT where the "i fuck this one alot" is because i dont follow thay rule. Like 80% of the time BAUXBSJDB this is also a NOTE TO SELF. cause HOLY SHIT.

usually when i have an idea it kinda rots in my head for a long long while until i just involuntarily draw it out. Which is. Not good! But oh well. Art isn't about the process but about the destination 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ how you get there is completely up tk you totally

[fountainpenguin]

I had you blocked because when I first joined tumblr I hated smalletho cause all I knew of Joel’s boundaries was that one comment he made (I now dgaf and have seen his likes on here so my minds been changed) AND ONLY JUST UNBLOCKED YOU CAUSE I WAS SCROLLING MY BLOCKED LIST AND WDYM I WAS MISSING OUT ON LOADS OF ZOMBIEWOOD ???

No, that's fair - Block to your heart's desires - but this is SUCH FUNNY TIMING because last night I noticed you unblocked me [b/c I was in the Zombiewood tag and could see your posts] and I was sitting there debating if it was an accident and if it would be weird to start reblogging from you... So I'm glad to know! I am in the market and the market is ur blog.

/joking - do u have any idea how lonely it was to be blocked by what feels like the only other Zombiewood enjoyer on this website; I am trapped in rareduo jail and need to show you my toys--

(It was totally fine, but thanks! I do appreciate the unblock & note! I did always wonder, but I just assumed I was writing them in a way you didn't like, skdflj)

Thank you for reblogging my posts; I'll have to take a look and see if you have more arts I don't :> I am unleashed...

I've been compiling all my loose Zombiewood draft posts into one, and maybe I'll have to get that up this weekend. They are so weird??? My first watch on Double Life, I didn't really register HOW weird, but now I can't stop watching that season just for them. What is UP with them? They are here to put on a show for the audience and boy, did that deliver.

Zombiewood, my beloveds... I just think their "Don't tell anyone I don't hate you" -> /punches soulmate off a cliff as a joke and kills them both -> "You can move in with me as long as you don't try to hang out with me" -> "We are now parents to BigB and Ren's kid, who is a house" -> "You are now godfather to my kids" dynamic was unique and fun!! That is a VIBE... And they're exes?? Where else do I get two people like that... It's so neat how Martyn and Pearl both got dumped by their soulmates and they both approached the situation differently, Martyn trying to woo Cleo while Pearl just torments Scott and tries to live in his walls. I love divorce quartet. Sir/ma'am, this is a deathgame. Please get out of your ex's house.

1 million thoughts in my head about the "Martyn & Cleo were at each other's throats in Double Life, but he's also the Clocker godfather" timeline... So funny to me.

Your honor, they both picked donkeys as their companion animal in Double Life before they even crossed paths... Your honor, they are two wet and spooked beasts staring at each other across a ravine... Your honor, can you hear me?

[dayntee]

WIP ASK GAME

Ooh, this looked fun. Thanks for the tag, @opal-apparition. I don’t often talk about anything than Arlathan University, mostly because I hyperfocus like crazy and have a hard time with letting my ADHD get the best of me. 😆 But this was a fun exercise!

So, most of you probably know about my main longfic, That Year at Arlathan University. I just released the largest chapter I’ve ever written for it (at over 10k words, which is pretty unusual for me), so I’ve taken a short pause before I dive into the next one. It won’t be long, but I may miss a week of updating - my new job starts this week and I have no idea what to expect energy-wise when it comes to writing.

While I don’t have a snippet to share for it, I can say the outline to the “end” is finished, and while chapter count may fluctuate, I do know where it’s going now. We’ve officially entered the 3rd and final act of the story. Hang on to your butts.

I’m also working on three more Solavellan pieces (because I… usually get stuck on one ship for a long ass time). They are:

NAME WIP, but what I refer to as my “Bodice Ripper” novel. This is a retelling of Inquisition and Veilguard according to my personal canon runs, but also told from the perspective of a post Veilguard Bellara who’s not ready to let go of her adventures yet. To distract herself, she’s decided to write Lavellan and Solas’ histories so that they are properly preserved and carried on, and not lost as other Dalish tales were in the past. It’s also written rather saucily because I can’t help myself we all know Bellara is an unrepentant fanfiction writer at heart and she feels like the salaciousness will ensure the story doesn’t fade away. 😆 This was always planned to be the big one (150k+) before Arlathan U took over, so we’ll see how long it actually ends up.

NAME WIP, but currently earmarked as the “WoW AU.” The Inquisition is a World of Warcraft guild, told similarly to how the show The Guild was formatted, but following its own story and probably crammed full of WoW references. This idea is too fucking funny for me to not dig into as both a long time WoW and DA player, former Blizzard game master/employee, and someone whose really fallen in love with writing takes on Modern Era Solas. Outlining has started, I expect this to be a shorter multichapter endeavor (maybe 6-8 total).

A Moment in Mind - This is a Solavellan one-shot in Veilguard that asks the question “what if Lavellan tagged along for one of Rook’s conversations with Solas?” Probably part funny, part angsty/sad. I started this one ages ago before I had even finished Veilguard, but it got shelved when the Prof!AU took over my life. I do want to go back and knock this one out though.

I also have a few more smutty Pillars of Eternity pieces I want to go back and write for Watcher Idralia, because Aloth lives rent-free in my head, and I was too shy to write smut when I wrote most of my original pieces. I love a good couple who identify as switches, so those will likely be one-shot indulgences that get added to The Journey of Watcher Idralia at some point. They’re only base ideas right now, no outlines or rough drafts.

If I ever get out of Solavellan Hell, a few other fandoms I might write for (and have passing thoughts on) include:

Fields of Mistria (F!Farmer/Balor)

Baldur’s Gate 3 (F!Tav/Gale)

World of Warcraft (F!OC/Arator, which I’ve had text for since Legion.)

Honestly, if you have interests, questions, or thoughts, let me know! I love talking about all my silly OCs and ships, and it’d be nice to know if any of these ideas are particularly compelling to readers or other authors.

Tags to pass on: @cursedhaglette (because I love your stuff), @luzial (because I always need more of your writing, it’s a legit craving), and anyone from the Fen’Harem whose name I’m not connecting between Discord and Tumblr (some y’all be sneaky). Feel free to ignore if you’re busy! ❤️

Last thing - as a preview, here’s a raid composition list for the Inquisition/WoW!AU. I’ve already largely decided on class/race combinations, but what do you think they’d play?

(If you’re curious, I noted PvE and PvP for people who have a particular preference and rarely cross the line. Everyone else dips their toes in both.)

[ninyard]

kayleigh day hcs for the ask game 👀

this is so funny because i literally have a post sitting in my drafts of kayleigh day Moments that i've been thinking about for a few days now

realistic headcanon: when she was "selling" exy to schools and colleges and sports clubs across the world, and once she'd made enough money off of it to be able to, she would always make a point to offer free gear or trials or training to people in places where kids grew up in bad situations or surroundings. the schools with high dropout rates and high levels of gang affiliation amongt students, the programmes for kids who'd dropped out of school, the centres that worked with young adults who were previously incarcerated, prisons/juvies - it was really important to her to give people who had no chance at all in life the chance to be good at something. she didn't exactly inspire david to start the foxes, because he'd always wanted to do something like what he does now, but it was refreshing for them to bounce ideas off each other about how they can best help the people who need it through the sport.

may not be realistic it is hilarious: she kept her pregnancy a secret for a really long time. 1) so she could keep playing exy and they wouldn't want to take her off the Court because of it and 2) she didn't want david to work out kevin was his. so she told him kevin came early when he came perfectly on time, so wymack still believes kevin was a premature baby because nobody corrected it, because nobody knew. she probably was back on the court within a very short amount of time after giving birth because she hadn't been able to play for so long.

heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends: (iirc, there was something said about her death not being an accident, so this kind of goes in line with that. disregard if that's just something I made up oops) once kayleigh started to distance herself from the moriyama's in the lead up to her death, she worried that something would happen to her, considering how dangerous tetsuji's family could be. she wrote kevin letters for him to read when he grew up; for his first day of school, of high school, for his graduation, the day he went pro, for the day he won an olympic medal, the his wedding day, things like that. not even in depth letters, maybe some of them were cards, but they were just all of these different sentiments stuffed into one envelope with his name on the outside. just in case. when she died, tetsuji found it. when kevin found the letter that she'd written about wymack being his father, if he had've searched just a few books to the right he would've found the envelope, or one of the letters, or cards, a chunky bulge in between the pages of a book. tetsuji never gives it to kevin. maybe when tetsuji passes away however many years down the line, somebody finds it when they're clearing out his stuff, and they send it to kevin. or maybe tetsuji destroyed it before he ever got the chance.

unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own: kevin was older than just a baby/toddler when she died. in my heart he was older and remembers his mother being alive!! not saying he was a teenager or anything but in my head he was 7/8/9 when she died!