#i hope i can tell this story in full one day because i'm really proud of what i'm cooking up

[daemo-ut]

HELLO I AM POPPING IN TO SAY 3 THINGS

I love Daemo!! Their design is soo cool, love the double horns :)

2. in the daemoverse- based off of that one drawing of him and Frisk- does Flowey get goat-like characteristics (fur, horns, etc) as he gets older?

3. Has Chara moved on (As in, their spirit/ghost has been put to rest)?

hello! thank you so much for checking the story out! :D to answer your questions:

thanks again! the lower pair curling down on the sides of their head is intentionally meant to fill in the silhouette shape of toriel's ears in spite of daemo's, uhh, characteristic lack of cartilage lol

he does! i love the idea that flowey starts sprouting two horn shaped thorns on top of his head as he settles down into a timeline and finally grows up. it's a really funny way to display the futility in his attempt to, pardon my puns, eradicate the part of himself that was once asriel from the person he wants to be.

:]c

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think the new division of Cartoon Network Studios will end up exploiting and abusing AI to make new cartoons of their old properties?

I wouldn't put it past any studio to do this.

We're at the end of The Animation Industry As We Know It, so studios are going to do anything and everything they can to stay alive.

The way I see it is:

AI "art" isn't actually art. Art is created by humans to express ideas and emotions. Writing prompts allows a computer to interpret human ideas and emotions by taking other examples of those things and recombining them.

Just because something isn't art doesn't mean that humans can't understand it or find it beautiful. We passed a really fun prompt generation milestone about a year ago where everything looked like it was made by a Dadaist or someone on heavy psychedelics. Now we're at the Uncanny Valley stage. Soon, you won't be able to tell the difference.

It's not just drawings and paintings that are effected, but writing and film. It's every part of the entertainment industry. And the genie is out of the bottle. I've seen people saying that prompt-based image generators have "democratized" art. And I see where they're coming from. In ten years, I can easily see a future where anyone can sit down at their desk, have a short conversation with their computer, and have a ready-to-watch, custom movie with flawless special effects, passable story, and a solid three act structure. You want to replace Harrison Ford in Star Wars with your little brother and have Chewbacca make only fart sounds, and then they fly to Narnia and fistfight Batman? Done.

But, sadly, long before we reach that ten year mark, the bots will get hold of this stuff and absolutely lay waste to existing art industries. Sure, as a prompter I guess you can be proud of the hours or days you put into crafting your prompts, but you know what's better than a human at crafting prompts? Bots. Imagine bots cranking out hundreds of thousands of full-length feature films per minute. The noise level will squash almost any organic artist or AI prompter out of existence.

AI images trivialize real art. The whole point of a studio is to provide the money, labor, and space to create these big, complicated art projects. But if there are no big, complicated art projects, no creatives leading the charge, and no employees to pay... what the fuck do we need studios for? We won't, but their sheer wealth and power will leave them forcing themselves on us for the rest of our lives.

The near future will see studios clamp down on the tech in order to keep it in their own hands. Disney does tons of proprietary tech stuff, so I'm sure they're ahead of the game. Other studios will continue to seek mergers until they can merge with a content distribution platform. I've heard rumors of Comcast wanting to buy out either WB or Nick. That's the sort of thing I'm talking about. The only winners of this game will be the two or three super-huge distribution platforms who can filter out enough of the spam (which they themselves are likely perpetuating) to provide a reasonable entertainment experience.

400,000 channels and nothing's on.

I do think that money will eventually make the "you can't copyright AI stuff" thing go away. There's also the attrition of "Oh, whoops! We accidentally put an AI actor in there and no one noticed for five years, so now it's cool."

One way or another, it's gonna be a wild ride. As the canary in the coal mine, I hope we can all get some UBI before I'm forced to move into the sewers and go full C.H.U.D.

[chireikiden]

do we know whether zun writes the script for each official manga word for word, or if he gives the artists a detailed outline and they write the dialogue? i often wonder this because i feel like the writing styles of each manga can differ quite a lot, and some of them feel really different from the way zun writes dialogue in the games.

I don't think we can say for sure how he works with each individual manga. However, the largest sample we have is from this spring's Dai Touhou Project Expedition, which included some of ZUN's scripts for Lotus Eaters. As photography was banned in this section, afaik we only have the recreated text in this blog post here, in Japanese of course.

In these examples, the dialogue is the one thing that ZUN does include word-for-word, while most other descriptions are very brief. This matches how the artists clearly draw e.g. characters' reactions and general behavior very differently.

The scripts have been reframed a bit for the expo, and Mizutaki's comments are a later addition, but we can assume the contents themselves are pretty unedited (or else there'd be very little point in displaying them as a showpiece). I'm gonna go through a couple.

Here we have the script for the first few pages of Lotus Eaters chapter 4. The Japanese dialogue is word-for-word identical between the script and the finished manga, and though this could be a change made for the expo, I doubt they did that. I've borrowed Alpha Beta Kappa's translation for the dialogue, but the point is to illustrate what is and isn't in the script:

Chapters 4–5｜"The Haughty Grab Even the Red Ape" (Part 1–2) Page 95 ― ZUN's Script ――Night-time cherry blossoms at the Hakurei Shrine. Reimu, Marisa, Sakuya, Remilia, Youmu, and some other usual characters may or may not be there. Everyone's already had some drink, and the party is in full swing. Sakuya brings out a dessert on a large tray. Marisa: "What's this?" Sakuya: "I tried my hand at a dessert. In the Outside World, it's called tarte soleil, or 'tart of the sun'. Supposedly it's quite popular for it's sunlike appearance. Although as the sun hardly suits my mistress, I tried rearranging it for a night theme. I call it the tarte lune. It's not too sweet, so enjoy." Everyone's excited. Sakuya looks proud. Marisa: "Fits right in your hand!" Reimu: "This is wonderful." Everyone happily finishes dessert as well. No one's looking at the cherry blossoms at this point. Reimu: "Jeez, your cooking's so good. I'm glad we asked you for help again, Sakuya." Sakuya: "Oh, it's nothing. I merely prepared it to entertain the mistress. Perhaps this is the best the shrine could hope for, but it really is nothing praiseworthy. To think you'd be so easily pleased." Reimu and Marisa smile awkwardly. Reimu: "R-Right... Well—" Marisa: "Y-Yeah, that's right!" Mizutaki's Comments ZUN-san's script didn't really clarify what this tarte lune was supposed to look like, so I just came up with something tasty-looking based on the appearance of the real-life tarte soleil. It says that Sakuya made this for dessert for Remilia, yet Remilia doesn't actually have any lines here. Luckily she's a pretty easy character to make move on page.

Obviously this is a pretty simple, dialogue-based scene, with not much else happening plot-wise, but it shows how all the little interactions on page and even what characters are present is left to the artist's discretion. Sometimes the script for an entire page is like "Miyoi's cleaning happily, when suddenly there's some noise at the door", and sometimes the script ends up becoming a different number of pages than expected. Because the whole point is to be the script for the story, though, it can also be pure description when that's what the story is being told through:

Chapters 11-12｜"Love the Customer, Hate the Sin" (Part 1–2) Pages 106–107 ― ZUN's Script Mamizou and Komachi begin to exchange information. Mamizou keeps the existence of Sanshoku Geidontei a secret, but tells her about the fake name customer. Komachi recognizes what she's talking about! And shares what she knows. Mamizou looks like she understands everything now, and seems satisfied with herself, but her face is also a little solemn. Mizutaki's Comments This scene had no dialogue, only ZUN-san's description of Mamizou and Komachi's conversation. Figuring out how to draw stuff like this is difficult, and I feel a bit lost sometimes, but it's also fun in some ways. Since the location wasn't specified, I wanted to give the feeling that they're hiding themselves from humans but doing so right under their noses, so I chose the underside of a bridge across the river (canal) that runs through the Village. Where else would Komachi be but a "river", after all!

In general, we have Mizutaki's word for the scripts being a bit vague sometimes, but being able to discuss them with ZUN during the process:

Chapters 1–3｜"A Drunken Evening Leaves no Memories" (Part 1–3) Page 77 ― ZUN's Script Suika: "Ah, yeah. I just figured she was that sorta youkai. The kind that always appears at bars. Getting people drunk and then wasting 'em. Good sake makes for a good suima. Bad sake makes for a bad one. And an oni's sake, well..." Reimu: "Well what?" Suika drinks directly from the gourd. She laps up the last bits of the bottomless Ibuki Gourd. Looking drunk and very smug, she goes: Suika: "That makes for... the strongest kind of suima. Unmatched, and unparalleled." Mizutaki's Comments At the time that I got the script, this scene had basically no stage directions. When I tried asking ZUN at our meeting what the mood was supposed to be like, he suggested that Suika blow an alcohol-laden breath at Reimu, so the end result is what you see. (*We were usually also drinking during our meetings, and it's not like I really have any clear notes from them, so there's also a good chance that I'll misremember things. Please read with that in mind...)

We don't get to know how much of the embellished fight scene against the dream-pig that follows was in the script, and how much of it is Mizutaki's creation. But it's already easy to see that with directions like this, any scene can be drawn in many different ways.

If this is representative of the other manga too, it seems that the dialogue itself is straight from ZUN, but almost everything else we see on page is just drawn based on his very general directions. This means that even if the text is pure ZUN, it can still be greatly affected by the context, and the less dialogue there is going on, the more of the page is made up whole-cloth by the artist.

Presumably there are differences in how he works with different artists for different manga, and CDS for example has far less dialogue than most of his other manga, but I must assume that is on purpose. For example, he's said on some show or other (don't ask me to dig up the source, sorry) that he enjoys how he can just kinda tell Akimaki to stick in a fight scene and cut loose (which tells us both that it's Akimaki's doing, but also ZUN-approved).

I can't say with confidence that the dialogue in CDS or any other manga is also word-for-word from ZUN's script, but I think it's plausible and likely, and the artists just have a lot of room to put their own spin on it even without touching a word of it.

There's also other factors in the dialogue pipeline, of course, such as:

ZUN himself is writing in a very different format in the games than in the manga, and the manga generally have a lot more and lengthier dialogues.

The text is split up very differently (into small text boxes vs. across multiple bubbles and pages). And believe me, if you've never translated Japanese, the way things like periods, ellipses, commas and conjuctions are placed is half translator preference and half trying to wrestle with the way the text is split.

The game translations are generally massaged by a number of translators, while the manga are hammered out by individual translators in a couple days with maybe proofreading at most, meaning that their individual styles also affect things more directly.

[literaryavenger]

Broken - bonus part

Summary: It's been a year since Bucky moved in and now it's his turn to help you, only problem is you won't let him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Language. A lot of fluff. Eating disorder. Angst.

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: I made this bonus part to explore more about the eating disorder that was hinted in the first couple of chapters. I had plans to incorporated in the story when I was planning on making it longer, but with how it went it didn't feel like there was a place for it. I'd like to thank @ordelixx for giving me the idea for this additional part. Hope you enjoy it, I'm always open to more ideas so feel free to spam in my inbox or messages, know I always appreciate it! Also sorry it took me so long to finish this but I started it and then kind of lost inspiration :(

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Masterlist

It’s been a year since Bucky arrived at the tower and about 11 months since his hearing.

As conditioned by his pardon he’s been going to therapy, he’s been training with the team and has been doing more and more missions, on probation, but still he’s been doing better than ever.

Even Tony had to admit that the more time he spent with Bucky the more the super soldier grew on him.

If a few months ago he begrudgingly spent time with the super soldier at your request, if anything to spend time with you too since you’re still inseparable, now Tony actively seeks him out; wanting to study his new vibranium arm, testing his gadgets since he got hurt less easily than the others. Or sometimes simply to talk about things like astronomy after Tony found out about Bucky’s interest in the subject.

They’ve even had a few conversations on Howard and his friendship with the sergeant back in the 40s.

You're proud of all the progress Bucky’s made, and you appreciate the fact that getting more comfortable in the 21st century and becoming more confident didn’t make him pull away from you.

It's a fear you had, that maybe Bucky stuck to you because you were the first person after Steve that made him feel safe, that the more people he got familiar with the more he was gonna pull away from you, not needing you as much anymore.

But, to your delight, Bucky’s still as touchy and clingy towards you as ever, if anything he's grown even more affectionate.

He never lets a day go by without telling you how much he loves you and appreciates you, kissing you any chance he gets and holding you tight every night in the room the two of you have been officially sharing the last few weeks since you’ve all moved to the new Avengers Compound upstate.

You love Bucky’s attention and you’re just as affectionate towards him as he is towards you. Everything was going great.

Until it wasn’t.

You’re on your way to your room, looking forward to seeing Bucky after a full morning of mission reports with Steve and then training with Natasha.

She obviously kicked your ass and you're exhausted, wanting nothing more than to be in his warm embrace for the rest of the day.

Thankfully, it’s friday afternoon and you have no new missions which means your weekend is wide open.

You stop on your tracks when you hear your name being mentioned in a conversation right around the corner.

You recognize one of the voices as Sharon Carter, one of the agents of Shield that lives and works at the compound the Avengers now reside in.

You don’t know why you stop to listen in on the conversation, you’re not really one to eavesdrop, but something about her tone makes your legs refuse to move towards her direction. Which just so happens to be the way towards the Avengers only part of the building.

Your stomach drops when you hear the other girl’s next sentence.

"And can you believe she got Sergeant Barnes to date her?" Sharon groans before answering.

"Of course she did, he was all broken and vulnerable and she was like the first person he met at the tower. He obviously got attached to the first person that was nice to him, otherwise how do you think a girl like her could ever have a chance with him?" she says matter-of-factly. 

"You’re right, I mean he’s probably still with her just out of habit. He’s too nice to hurt her feelings." the other girl says, giggling.

"Exactly." Sharon agrees, laughing with her friend. "I mean, he’d never go for her if he met her today. He’d probably be flirting his way through the actually pretty girls that live around here, like you and me."

You can hear their laughter growing louder as they get closer to where you are frozen on your spot and feel yourself starting to panic.

You can’t face them right now, the only thing on your mind is finding a place to hide in.

You see a door behind you and you sprint to it, reaching it, running inside and closing the door softly in record time. You press your ear up against it and can hear the muffled laughter and some more comments on you and Bucky.

When they’re finally far enough that you can’t hear them, you let yourself relax, pressing your back against the door and looking into the dark closet you’re hiding in while you let their words really sink in, your brain working overtime to make sure you didn’t misheard or misinterpreted anything.

Once you’re sure you indeed heard everything correctly, tears start to form in your eyes.

Is that really what people think? That Bucky’s just with you because he pities you?

You’ve always known Bucky was beautiful, definitely the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life, and you’ve always known he was out of your league.

You know you’re by no means thin, but you also don’t consider yourself fat, especially not after all the work that it took you to get to a place where you have a healthy relationship with your body.

Yes, you still have your doubts and insecurities, but that’s just in your head.

Although here you are, hiding in a supply closet, tears streaming down your face, because there are actual people outside of your head that see your flaws too.

One thing is to wonder about this stuff in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, the voices in your head taking over, but to hear those same thoughts coming out of someone else’s mouth hit you hard.

You don’t even know how long you stay hidden, but at some point you snap out of it and dry your tears, opening the door and making the way to your room.

It feels like only a second passes and then you’re opening the door of yours and Bucky’s room. You make a beeline for the bathroom, barely acknowledging your boyfriend when he greets you as you lock the bathroom door behind you.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at your cold shoulder, immediately getting worried. He gets up from the bed and knocks on the door of the bathroom calling out for you. "Everything okay?"

You can hear the concern in his voice and it only makes you feel worse as you find yourself wondering if he’s actually worried or just that good at pretending.

You look at your reflection in the mirror and all of a sudden you feel nauseous but you barely have time to realize it’s not just in your head when you’re suddenly throwing up in the toilet.

Bucky’s more worried than ever as he hears you be sick from the other side of the door. "Doll, I need you to talk to me or I will break down the door."

He knows it may not be the ideal thing to say, but his concern outweighs his rational thinking when you stop making sounds as he still hasn't heard your voice and is worried you might’ve passed out.

"I’m okay." your voice is quiet, but at least you’re conscious. 

"Can you open the door for me, doll?" He can hear you sigh and shuffle a bit, probably getting up. Then he hears the faucet of the sink being turned on as you splash some water on your face.

He’s a little calmer now, patiently waiting for you and he lets out a little breath of relief when he hears the lock click.

You open it reluctantly, trying your best to look normal, but Bucky can see right through you.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he brings his hands to your cheeks and you can’t help but lean into them for a second before you grab his wrists and gently lower his hands, his face more worried than before.

"I’m fine, Bucky." you say, your voice almost emotionless.

"You were just throwing up. You’re not fine." it takes all of him not to reach for you again, not wanting to cross your boundaries.

"It’s nothing. Maybe I’m just sick. I’ll take a shower, it’ll make me feel better." You don’t give him time to respond as you close the door and lock it again, starting the shower.

Bucky feels like he can barely breathe, your behavior making him more worried than he’s been since the 40s and he had to take care of sickly little Steve.

Youìve never acted like this with him, when you were sick or even grumpy from your period you usually became clingy and wanted him around even more than you usually do. But he gives you the benefit of the doubt.

If you were sick this wasn’t the moment to think about himself. He has to take care of you first and he can ask more later you when you're feeling better.

With new resolve he heads towards the kitchen, determined to get everything you might need to make you feel better.

You stay in the shower for over an hour, trying to avoid Bucky as much as you can, but you know you had to get out and face him eventually.

When you come out of the bathroom you find him sitting in the desk chair, the desk full of things you’re pretty sure weren’t there when you entered the room.

Bucky's on his feet and coming towards you in a second, your favorite pair of pajamas in his hand.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks you softly, worry still present on his features.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, taking the clothes and changing as fast as you can, a small ‘I’m fine’ leaving your lips. 

"What's all of this?" you ask, stepping around him and walking towards the desk.

"Oh, I just brought you some things to make you feel better." He can't help himself as he wraps his arms around you from behind while you look through the things he brought you.

He got you all sorts of pain meds, your favorite snacks and drinks, your heating pad and your favorite comfort book.

You want to cry at the sight, but part of you can't help but doubt Bucky, even with how sweet he’s being.

You snap out of it when you feel Bucky give you a kiss on the shoulder and, suddenly, it all feels fake and it’s too much for you. 

You place your hands on his and move his arms away from you, then start heading towards the bed.

"I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep for a bit." That's all you say as you lay down and turn your back on him, tears threatening to fall down again.

You hear him sigh behind you. Then he moves around and you feel him lay a kiss on your head before he walks out the room shutting the lights on his way, wanting to give you the space you clearly want.

You aren't sure if you're glad you can cry yourself to sleep freely or worried that him walking out solidifies the voices in your head that are telling you that maybe Bucky really doesn’t love you.

When you wake up the next morning Bucky’s arms were wrapped around you from behind.

Usually being in his hold makes you feel safe but right now all you can concentrate on is the feeling of his hands on your belly and how disgusted he would be if he woke up and realized the position you were in, no matter how many times you've been like this.

You slip away from his embrace and go to change into work out clothes. You went to sleep pretty early yesterday so it was still early in the morning when you woke up.

You aren’t expecting to meet anyone yet but, once again, you're proven wrong by the shuffling coming from the kitchen as you make your way to grab a bottle of water.

You approach carefully without making a sound and when you peak around the corner you see Steve, probably back from a morning run, in front of the counter with his back to you and a water bottle in his hand.

You try to move as quietly as possible, even with enhanced hearing your skills have gotten so good you're able to sneak around the super soldiers when needed.

You decide to use the stairs to get to the gym, the door leading to them squeaking lightly. Steve turns around at the sound but seems to decide it was nothing as he shrugs and makes his way to his room.

You’ve been at the gym for a couple of hours, stopping only to grab water from the mini fridge, when the door opens and you hear Bucky’s voice.

"Hey doll, I’ve been looking for you everywhere." His voice sounds genuinely concerned. You have to give him props on his acting skills.

"Yeah, couldn’t sleep." You say without looking at him, barely stopping your punching of the bag in front of you.

"I thought you were sick." he’s slowly getting closer, you’d almost think he was trying to corner a scared animal.

"Clearly I feel better." you shrug, trying to end this conversation as fast as possible.

You feel his hand on your shoulder and finally stop, taking a deep breath before turning to face him.

His face looks more worried than you’ve ever seen it and it almost makes you forget your own concerns about the reality of your relationship.

Almost. 

"Maybe you should go visit Bruce, make sure everything’s okay." his eyes never leave your face and you try your best to hide any emotion but it’s always been too easy for him to read you so you shrug his hand from your shoulder, trying to put a little distance between you.

He looks genuinely hurt, but, again, what would you expect from a trained assassin? Pretending comes as naturally to him as breathing. 

"I’m fine, Bucky." you turn back to the bag and resume your punching. You’re so lost in your own thoughts you don’t even notice him walking out of the gym.

You work out some more before deciding it’s enough and go back to your room, thankful for the first time that Bucky’s not there.

After you shower and change again you find yourself with nothing to do and, for once, you wish you had paperwork to keep you occupied and give you an excuse to avoid everybody.

You grab your purse and make your way out, mumbling something about having errands to run in the city when you come across some people in the living room, basically running out of there so fast you can’t even tell who’s actually there watching tv.

You spend the whole day running around the city, not really having a destination but when the sun starts coming down you decide to head back.

When you enter the living room you can see everyone sitting at the kitchen table.

"Finally, you’re here! We can eat now." Sam shouts happily and you know you can’t escape this.

"Sorry, didn’t realize you were waiting on me." You say quietly while sitting down in the only free chair that’s unfortunately next to Bucky.

"It’s okay, koala bear." Steve smiles from your other side. "Bucky said you weren’t feeling great, so Wanda made your favorite."

You try to look excited while smiling and thanking Wanda as she and Vision place the food on the table. If she notices something is off, she doesn't say anything, just giving you a smile of her own in return.

"Where were you all day?" Tony asks you.

"The city." you simply say, trying to sound as casual as possible while making no attempt to look at him, or make eye contact with anyone else for that matter.

But Tony seems satisfied with your answer, taking your lack of conversation for tiredness and going back to talking to Clint.

You manage to avoid all conversations with nods and hums and you can feel Bucky’s gaze on you almost as it burns but you can’t find it in yourself to look back at him.

When you feel his hand coming to rest on top of yours on the table you feel like something inside you snaps and you get up abruptly, making everybody stop as they give you confused looks.

"Excuse me, I still don’t feel well. I think I’m gonna go to my room and rest." and, without giving anyone the chance to say anything, you walk away.

There’s a second of silence before the team seems to dismiss your behavior as grumpiness from feeling sick, after all the rare times that you do get sick you get very irritable.

Bucky seems to be the only one to notice your untouched food. 

After less than five minutes the door to your room opens and Bucky comes in, finding you sitting on the bed staring at nothing while being clearly lost in your head.

He makes his way to you and kneels down in front of you.

"What’s going on, doll?" He tries his luck again, putting a hand on your knee. He hopes that giving space all day allowed you to come around and now you’ll talk to him.

You prove him wrong by getting up, not even sparing him a glance, and making your way to the closet to try and busy yourself so you won’t have to look at him.

"Nothing." You offer nothing more and Bucky starts getting frustrated with you. 

"What is wrong with you today?" He knows something’s wrong. He knows you better than anyone, and he’s trying to be patient with you but you’ve never acted this cold towards him and it scares him.

"Nothing is wrong." You know you’re pushing it. You know you’re doing nothing to alleviate his worries, but you can’t help the feeling that he’s the one in the wrong.

He’s the one out of line, he’s the one that betrayed your trust and hurt you and toyed with your feelings and lied to you about his own. You had every right to be short with him.

Right?

"Something is obviously wrong, why won’t you just talk to me?!" He almost whines and you roll your eyes, your own unjustified irritation coming out.

"Oh, for the love of God, just give it a rest!" you almost yell, and the surprise you find in yourself is nothing compared to the one on Bucky’s face.

"What?" he’s almost whispering and the hurt in his voice for some reason just infuriates you more.

"Stop treating me like I’m made of glass! Not everyone is as needy as you, you know. I’m a grown ass adult and I don’t need you!" You can’t stop shouting, knowing full well you don’t mean a word you’re saying. But you want to hurt him as much as you’re hurting, as wrong as that is.

"Don’t you think I know that you don’t need me?!" He’s yelling too now, and you know you pushed the right button "I know damn well how strong you are, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still worry about you!"

"I don’t need you to worry about me!"

"Well, that’s too damn bad for you, because I love you and I want you to be okay!" God, even shouting he’s still being nice to you.

"Well, that’s too damn bad for you, because it’s none of your business if I’m okay!" Not the best response, but at this point you honestly have no idea of even control of what’s coming out of your mouth anymore.

"God, why are you being such a child about this?!" Bucky barely understands what’s going on right.

The two of you have never fought before, not so much as an argument, and now here you are in a yelling match that started because he's concerned about you.

"Oh boo freaking hoo, poor Bucky having to deal with a child! If you don’t like me just say so!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" He’s beyond confused now.

"If you don’t want this," you gesture between the two of you "just leave! Go and find someone you actually like! Don’t stay with me just because you feel like you have to!"

"When did I ever say that? Are you out of your mind?!"

"Yes, I’m crazy! Now just leave me the fuck alone!" you yell at the top of your lungs and Bucky seems to freeze in his spot.

Assuming this is over, you turn around and climb into bed, your back to Bucky once again.

When you hear him sigh and start moving you feel like you’re reliving yesterday, except this time you don’t expect him to kiss you but just leave.

He turns off the lights, but you frown when you don’t hear the door, instead you feel the bed dip behind you. You tense up when Bucky’s arms wrap around you from behind, bringing you closer to him with your back pressed against his chest.

"I will choose you over everyone. Even on the days where we don’t understand each other." He whispers in your ear after a moment of silence and you can’t do anything to stop the tears that start coming out as you feel Bucky holding you tighter without saying another word.

You want to believe him, you really do. But Sharon’s voice in your head is like a net, not allowing you to fall fully into Bucky, not being able to accept that someone like him truly loves you.

So you start spending your days by yourself, avoiding people as much as possible.

Everytime you're in a room with someone all you can think about is how they're probably judging you, making just want to run away and hide.

But isolating yourself does nothing to ease your worries as you now spend all your time overthinking and hating on yourself.

You start pulling away from Bucky too and it's killing him.

You still won't talk to him, everytime you're together you pretend that everything's fine.

You put on a smile he knows is fake, really doing the bare minimum to keep a conversation going and when he touches you he always gets the feeling that you wanted nothing more than to slap his hands away.

But you always try to be discreet as you inch away from him with any excuse that comes to mind.

It's the change in your relationship with Bucky that starts to clue the team in on your behavior.

As much as they have fun giving you shit for it, they all admire your closeness and were happy that you found each other.

So they start paying more attention to you. Everybody can see something's wrong, but if you wouldn’t talk to Bucky about it, really what chance do they have?

It doesn't stop them from worrying though, seeing how you seem to waste away.

You spend too much time in the gym, losing weight at an alarming rate and not getting enough sleep to function, sometimes resulting in you falling asleep during meetings or on the mat at the gym.

But you refuse to let Bruce look at you. You refuse any help really, your temper shorter than ever as you end up snapping at people more often than not.

You try to keep it together, but it's obviously not working. The only thing you manage to do is avoiding meals without anyone noticing.

After weeks on end of this, the team decides to do something to try and cheer you up, taking the opportunity of your birthday coming up.

Steve manages to convince Tony to have a small party, just the team and agents of Shield, instead of one of his big parties full of strangers.

They're careful when they approach you with the subject, having taken to walking on eggshells around you. You can’t help feeling bad for the way you’ve been treating them, so you decide to be cool about the party, even knowing deep down you’ll regret it.

Natasha and Wanda offer to go shopping with you for a new dress for the occasion, but you decline their invitation.

You know they're trying to be nice, but just the thought of going from store to store, seeing all those beautiful, skinny women trying on pretty dresses you’d never be able to fit into, together with the two gorgeous redheads, it sounds like hell to you.

Which is why you ask the team to have a more informal dress code than usual, allowing you to dress as comfortable as you can be at the moment with loose fitting pants and a large hoodie.

You arrive at the party in the ballroom of the compound that Tony just had to have and are thankful to see everyone dress casually, most of the girls not even wearing dresses.

But you still try not to linger too long on their looks, not wanting to feel worse than you already do about your own appearance.

Arms wrap around your body and you hear Bucky wish you a happy birthday.

You give him a few seconds before you wiggle away from the embrace and turn around. You give Bucky your best fake smile and thank him before kissing him quickly on the cheek and walking away towards the bar to get some water.

You don't need to be getting drunk and throwing up more than you already do every time your stomach forces you to eat anything.

You spend the whole night going from person to person, trying not to talk to anyone too long and making sure to always keep moving to avoid too many questions.

You know it's only a matter of time before they start coming. Even Fury is present, worried about you ever since he had to take you off missions for passing out on the field.

Soon came the moment you’d been dreading most: Wanda comes toward you with your favorite cake with candles lit and everybody starts singing.

You know that with being the center of attention you won't be able to get away with not eating and the team would piece things together if you try, having already gone through this years ago.

Honestly, you're a little disappointed nobody had figured it out yet, but not entirely surprised as you told yourself everyone just didn’t care enough.

And why should they when you look the way you do?

Everyone cheers as you blow on the candles, fake smile still going strong. The cake is cut and everyone is enjoying Wanda’s culinary talent. You even manage to eat yours and keep it down without looking disgusted with yourself.

Everything was going great.

You're behind the bar now taking another water bottle from the mini fridge when you accidentally knock over a glass full of straws that was thankfully made of plastic so it didn’t break.

While you're picking up straws you hear footsteps getting close to the bar that hid your kneeling figure and stop what you're doing when you hear Sharon talking about you. Again.

"And did you see how she’s dressed to her own party? No wonder Bucky’s been staying as far away as possible all night." she's basically whispering, but it's still loud enough for you to hear.

"I know, he’s probably ashamed of her. Wouldn’t surprise me if he dumped her tonight." the two girls giggle the sound seems to snap you out of your trance.

You get up so fast you scare Sharon and the other girl, their startled squeals drawing the attention of the rest of the party as everybody prepares for any danger.

But there is no danger, all everybody can see is two mortified looking agents and you with tears in your eyes that you don't even feel starting to fall.

The whole team is worried sick, everybody getting closer to the bar, but Bucky is the one that's at your side before you can even think about blinking the tears away.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he looks so worried, almost like he himself is about to cry at the mere thought of you being in pain.

But that can't be it, that's not what you're seeing.

He's probably just embarrassed you're being overly emotional for no apparent reason, and that look in his eyes is him getting ready to break up with you right here and now.

At that thought you can literally feel the cake you just ate coming back up and all you can do is run as fast as you could towards the nearest bathroom with a very concerned Bucky running after you after silently agreeing with Steve with a single look that he’ll be the one to check on you.

You make it to the toilet just in time to unload, barely registering two hands taking your hair and holding it away from your face.

You finish vomiting and clean your mouth with some toilet paper before throwing it in and flushing it, shuffling your body backwards until your back hits the tub and you close your eyes while resting your head back against it.

You feel your hair falling back down on your shoulders and can make out the sound of the faucet running for a few seconds before you feel a wet towel gently brushing your cheeks and mouth.

You open your eyes and are met with Bucky kneeling in front of you, seemingly examining every inch of your face to try and understand what’s going on.

Before he can ask you for what felt like the thousandth time though, you can't hold yourself back anymore.

"Please don’t leave me." your voice is weak enough already from all the vomiting and the sobs that start coming in certainly don't help.

Tears start to fall like waterfalls but you don't let any of that stop you from going on. "I know I said I didn’t need you, but I do. I need you so much more than you could ever know."

Bucky wraps his arms around you and he's more than relieved when you don't pull away for the first time in weeks.

Instead, you cling to him as you keep pleading with him not to leave you in between broken sobs while he moves you to sit curling on his lap.

Bucky’s heart breaks for you and he wonders if this was how you felt everytime you comforted him, feeling even more in awe of you now that he knows how hard it was to see the person you love like this.

All he wants is to make you feel better and take away all your pain, but he had no idea how.

When you show no signs of calming down after several minutes he decides to try to talk you down, hoping not to make things worse.

"Doll, I need you to calm down." he tries to pull away just enough to look you in the eyes, but you just hug him tighter, almost terrified that he's just gonna get up and leave forever if you let go and you start getting more agitated by the second. 

!Baby, please try to take deep breaths." he's trying really hard not to panic himself now. "I’m not leaving, I promise. I’m staying right here with you, but you need to calm down, please."

Maybe it's because he's basically begging you, maybe it's because of the panic and concern you think you can hear in his voice or maybe it's his grip getting impossibly tight on you that grounds you, but your brain seems to clear just enough to give your body the command and you start trying to take deep breaths.

When you loosen your hold on Bucky he grabs one of your hands and puts it on his chest right over his heart, the steady beating giving you something to concentrate on as you try your best to copy his breathing. 

It takes a few more minutes but you calm down, tears still falling silently down your cheeks while Bucky rubs your back with his metal hand, his other warm hand still over yours on his chest.

"I’m sorry I’m such a mess…" Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, quiet, full of sadness and desperation.

This isn’t you.

This isn’t the confident, strong woman that kicked ass and defended Bucky even to your own family from day one.

What happened to you?

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky's asking himself the same question.

What happened to the sweet, bright girl that offered him a hug after five seconds of knowing him? The girl that calmed him down from a panic attack and kept him company through the night even after knowing about his past?

The girl that let him hang onto her like a koala and allowed him to let it all out? The girl that was patient with him, understanding and never once judged him, no matter how broken she’d seen him?

He really can't think of anything that could've happened to break you this much, to bring you to basically have a meltdown on a bathroom floor.

But whatever it was he needs to know now, and he's more determined than ever to find out.

"Doll, you’re not a mess. You’re hurting, I can see it. We all can. And I know you’re strong, but everybody needs help once in a while. Whatever’s been happening, you don’t have to go through it alone. Just like you didn’t let me go through anything alone. You were always there for me, you’re always there for everybody." he pauses and you take the moment to spiral further.

This is the only reason why he’s still with you. You were there for him, you cared and comforted him. So he feels the need to stay with you because Bucky’s loyal, no matter what his feelings actually are.

But he’s gonna fall in love one day with someone, and what is that gonna mean for you? He’s gonna leave you to be with the person he actually wants, loyalty or not. Your fall down the rabbit hole is stopped by Bucky’s voice.

"Please let me be there for you. This is killing me, watching you do this to yourself. Please tell me what’s going on, baby, because you’re scaring me so fucking much. Please." he finishes in a whisper.

Before you can even properly process his words, you feel a tear that's not yours fall on your cheek, making your eyes widen and you look up to see Bucky already looking down at you with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Your hand goes up to his face automatically and you feel him lean into it. You sit up straighter on his lap, leaning in to rest your forehead against his and closing your eyes while willing yourself to stop the tears long enough so you can talk.

Bucky doesn't push you, finding comfort in your touch after having missed it for what, in his opinion, is too damn long.

"I’m sorry… I just…" you don't even know how to start to explain it.

Bucky can see you're having a hard time finding the words, so he tries to help by saying "You don’t need to rush it, doll. I don’t want to push you to talk about something you clearly don’t want to... But I’ve just been so worried. You’ve been pushing everyone away, and you don’t sleep and stay at the gym until you almost pass out. You think that I don’t hear you throwing up, but I do. And, even with all your oversized clothes, I can see how much weight you’ve been losing. It’s killing me, baby, I hate to see you like this. I just want to know why." he kisses the side of your head and you're on the verge of tears again.

Trying hard to hold them back, you force yourself to speak. "I heard some people talking about me…" you start, your voice still quiet, and you go on to tell him everything.

The conversation you overheard, the insecurities that it brought to the surface, the issues you had in the past and the struggle you’ve been having the last few weeks.

By the end of it Bucky he doesn't know what to feel. He's enraged, worried sick, sad at how miserable you’ve been. Just to name a few.

But more than anything he's heartbroken at how much you’ve been questioning your relationship with him and his love for you. He's devastated to think that everytime he told you how much he loves you, you doubted him and convinced yourself he was lying.

And the worst part is he has no idea how to change your mind.

Is there anything he can say that you won’t doubt? Anything he can do to show you how much you mean to him? Probably not, but he has to try and make you understand.

Your eyes are still closed, not daring to see the disappointment in Bucky’s face.

"Baby, look at me." he says firmly but gently enough to not make you think he was in any way mad at you.

He waits patiently until you look at him which, after taking a deep breath, you do and only then he continues while taking your face in his hands "There are so many things I want to tell you right now... but I’ll start with I love you, doll. I love you so much it actually hurts. Maybe we got close because you were nice and patient with me, but that’s not why I love you. I love you because you’re kind and smart and strong and dedicated. You can kick ass like no one else and you’re still the sweetest person I’ve ever met. And I’m almost 100, I’ve met a lot of people." he smiles when he finally gets you to giggle, the first real laugh he’s heard from you in weeks.

"You’re compassionate and understanding and loyal and beautiful beyond compare. I fell in love with you because of who you are, not what you look like. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re pretty, I think you’re gorgeous and I love your body. I love everything about you. Every. Single. Thing." he punctuates every word with a kiss to each of your cheeks and then your nose, making you giggle more. "You think I’d ever leave you? I could never even consider being with someone else. God, you were never even supposed to mean this much to me! I was never supposed to fall so hard... But you know what? I did and that’s the truth, and that’s what keeps me holding on because it hurts like hell to let you go."

You're obviously in tears, not being able to look away from Bucky’s eyes even if you wanted because of his hold on your face, not that you're trying that hard to get away.

You have no words to describe the way you feel, not even being sure if you fully believe him. The look on his face, though, makes you want to believe. Makes you want to tell all the voices in your head to fuck off until the only one left is Bucky’s saying all the things he just said, over and over again.

But can you really let go of them that easily?

"You don’t have to carry this by yourself, doll." Bucky can see your internal struggle. "Lean on me. Let me help you make this easier."

There's nothing but sincerity in his eyes, he can't possibly be that good of an actor to be faking it, right?

So you decide to trust him.

You trust him with your life, why can’t you believe that he really loves you? 

You can. You do.

You will...

"Okay…" You’re basically whispering, still a little worried he’s just pretending and is gonna rip the rug from under you any second now. "I love you, so much. And I want to believe you love me… but it may take me a little while to accept that completely. I’m sorry…"

"You don’t need to apologize, baby. It doesn’t matter how much time it takes, I’m here for all of it. I want nothing more than to help you feel better, starting with helping you love yourself as much as I love you." he wipes your tears with his thumbs before he gives you a soft kiss on the lips. "And not worrying what jealous, unimportant, random people think of you. You’re beautiful inside AND out, don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Not even this." He taps the side of your head.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly, neither one of you needing to say more at the moment. After a few minutes like this, you’re both done crying and you let go just enough to look at each other.

"Can we go to our room?" you ask him and he nods, letting you get off his lap and then getting up with you.

He doesn’t let you get too far from him while you go to the sink to try and make yourself look decent as he follows you so closely you might think you’re glued to each other.

Your eyes meet in the mirror and he smiles at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, he gives you a kiss on the shoulder before resting his head on it.

You successfully wash off all the makeup you put on for the party, your efforts now ruined by all the crying.

"You’re so pretty." Bucky tells you, his eyes never leaving yours and you smile a real smile this time, turning your head to give him a kiss on the cheek that makes him smile even more.

You get out of the bathroom and you tense up seeing everybody still at the party, your breath hitching in your throat as embarrassment crawls up on you.

You can see the team’s worried looks and the last thing you want right now is to go through the last 40 minutes all over again, in front of everybody.

You just want to go to your room and cuddle up with Bucky, but the super soldier had other plans.

"Can I have everybody’s attention?" you look at him with a frown, but he simply smiled at you and keeps going once the whole room is looking at you two. "It’s been brought to my attention that some of you have some misconceptions about our relationship."

You didn’t tell Bucky who you heard the conversation from, only that it was two agents just in case he might think it was someone on the team, and it almost looks like he's scanning every agent’s face to try and figure out who it was, but he continues nonetheless.

"I’d just like to make it clear for everyone that not only I love this woman more than life itself, but I, and everyone who knows her for that matter, think she’s the best, most caring person I’ve ever met. Not to mention the most attractive, in my ever so humble opinion." he wraps his metal arm around your waist and brings you closer as your face gets redder, and you can see the team chuckling and grinning at Bucky’s possessiveness and your flustered form. "And it’s also absolutely none of your business what happens in our relationship. But, since you’re all here I might as well give you something real to gossip about."

To say you're confused is an understatement. You turn back to him when Bucky’s arm disappear from around you just in time to see him reach into his back pocket, pulling out a ring box and getting down on one knee.

You hear gasps around the room, your own being muffled by your hand in front of your mouth as your eyes grow wide.

"Bucky..." It's barely a whisper to begin with, your hand almost not letting it escape at all.

"Baby, I meant every single thing I’ve said today. I love you so much. I’ve been carrying this around for a couple of months, looking for the right time to do this. But when you started pushing me away I thought maybe you were changing your mind about me. I was terrified and decided to wait, but I realize now if I had done this when I first wanted to, the last few weeks probably wouldn’t have happened. I could’ve saved you so much pain... I don’t know if this is the right time, but I do know that I’ve been ready for a while and right now I honestly can’t think of a better way to show you just how much you really mean to me. So…" he opens the box to reveal a rose gold ring with one big diamond at the center and two smaller ones on each side of it, then he takes your free hand on his. "Doll, will you marry me?"

He can feel you trembling, tears forming in your eyes once more as the whole room seems to hold their breath.

"Yes!" you're finally able to get out and Bucky feels like he can breathe again, happiness spreading throughout his whole body.

You basically throw yourself on him and he catches you with ease, getting up on his feet while you wraps your legs around his waist like a koala.

There's a chorus of cheers, the team immediately gathering around you to congratulate you both.

It feels like too little time when you finally detach from Bucky as he gently put you on the ground before slipping the ring on your finger and kissing it, his eyes never leaving yours, silently telling you he belongs to you and only you.

You’re about to lean in for a kiss when two strong arms pick you up making you squeal, Steve’s laughter in your ear as he says something about finally having a sister-in-law and making everybody laugh.

After a good 15 minutes of hugs left and right, Bucky intervenes.

"Okay, okay, can you please not smother my future wife?" your heart skips a beat when he says that and you're sure you're smiling like an idiot as he makes his way through the team to get to you.

"You know, he actually asked me for my blessing. I told you he cares very much about you." Tony whispers to you while he passes, giving you one last squeeze and a wink before everybody gives you and Bucky a moment.

He wraps his arms around your waist and finally kisses you.

When you pull away you both have big, goofy grins, never wanting this moment to end.

There's no separating you, and now everybody knows it.

Requested taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes

[annawayne]

Hi Anna! Stella here!! I was wondering if you have any Jeanpiku headcanons since you said you like this ship too! Sending you massive hugs and I hope your day goes well🙏

Stella, hello! ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

And oh, thank you so, so much for asking! JeanPiku have a very big spot in my heart and I adore this ship a lot, especially in post-canon setting, with them and AruAni being chaotic Ambassadors couples :D

So, for the headcanons!

1. I honestly imagine Pieck being a messy one out of the two, not because she's lazy and unorganised, but rather because she doesn't care too much about such things. To put it simply, she's not a person who thinks that it's worth her energy that much if she could spend some time on more exciting things - cuddling with Jean or reading, or anything else (and she's that one person who looks gorgeous no matter what). Jean, on the other hand, is the one who really hates when something is *not in the right place*. Opposites attract, we could say, but it's more like they compliment each other like a perfect puzzle. I also advise everyone to read the adorable oneshot by @zuzusexytiems , "Dirty Socks", which is basically about it!

2. JeanPiku is that one couple who are perfect hosts. If Connie among Ambassadors is the one who comes up with some wild (yet great!) ideas, so JeanPiku are behind every party, gatherings, dates and spontaneous events that turn into incredible time together. I honestly think that Jean, with his excellent diligence, and Pieck, with her witty and observant approach, always organize the best parties or events, where everything is thought out and organised in a precise manner, so everyone feels comfortable and enjoys their time. I also think that JeanPiku are often the ones, who drag AruAni on double dates, like Armin is too anxious and tired sometimes to even raise his head because of being the leader, Annie is often his right hand and in help, so JeanPiku, seeing this lemonheads disaster duo, drag them to unwind and spend time together.JeanPiku are always here for the rescue, and leave it to them to organise the best events!

3. Out of the two, it's Jean who spends more time in front of the mirror and in the shops. Pieck teases him, but it's a great understatement to say she loves the way he looks - more of she adores it.

4. Jean is obsessed not only with his hair, but with Pieck's, and let me tell you - I'm sure, that Pieck's long, gorgeous locks are much more mesmerising for him than his own.

5. Pieck is incredible at public events. Her speeches are witty, her words laced with precise intonation where she knows she needs to pull the certain emotions, she knows where to smile, where to drop the octave in her tune. She's excellent not only with politicians in the stuffed rooms, but on all this formal soirées, she shines the most, where they can drop a bit all the formalities and be a tad casual - and oh, she uses it in full. However, there's another side of it: as much as Jean is mesmerized by his girlfriend to be that smart and he's insanely proud of her accomplishments, he can't help but imagine how he breaks bones of some stupid politicians who ogle her with these silly, disgusting gazes. Let me tell you, that he has a companion in this, Annie, who throws the same daggers with her eyes during all these soirées, watching Pieck and Armin being all smiley, polite and too good-looking in her dress and his suit amongst these disgusting and petty people. Jean and Annie are besties when it comes to such situations, aggressively sipping their wine and discussing murders of people who don't cherish their loved ones as if it's something incredibly casual.

That's it for now!

Actually, you know, it was quite an interesting and out-of-box post for me, since I usually don't think about ships in "headcanons", and often just see the story around it and then, build everything in the particular setting, according to their characters. So thinking about headcanons like that, out of the context, it was also an unusual, but quite exciting thing, so thank you a lot for asking, I had a lot of fun with it and it really distracted me from everything not very good going on, so I'm very, very grateful!

I wish you all the best, Stella, and have a wonderful *timezone*! 🩷

[ellieromanov]

I loved you too.

Pairings: Natasha x R

Warnings: angst, breakup

Words:600

This is very different from what I normally write but it's very angsty so I thought I'd share. This is just a text conversation inspired by the "peeled orange" story on TikTok.

2020

Me:

Hi.

Natasha:

Hi.

Me:

How are you, Natasha?

Natasha:

I'm good. Surprised. I wasn't expecting to hear from you again.

Me:

Sorry.

Natasha:

Don't be.

How are you? Are you okay?

Me:

Trying to be.

Natasha:

I'm sorry.

Me:

Why?

Natasha:

You're trying to be, but you aren't. I'm sorry.

Me:

That's okay.

Natasha:

Was there a particular reason you reached out?

Me:

Yeah actually.

I just wanted to tell you that I got the job.

I'm moving to Berlin next month.

Natasha:

That's incredible Y/n! I'm proud of you

Me:

Thank you. I don't think I would have been able to do it without you.

Natasha:

I doubt that's true. You have talent.

Me:

thanks.

Natasha:

your welcome.

Me:

I still wouldn't have been able to do it without you.

Do you remember when I first got the call for the job?

Natasha:

Yeah I do. We were in the living room watching Elf.

Me:

And I nearly didn't answer the phone because I didn't recognize the number.

You were the one to tell me to answer it anyways.

Natasha:

That's true.

You cried so hard afterwards.

Me:

I did.

Natasha:

I don't think I ever ended up seeing the ending of that movie.

Me:

Sorry.

Natasha:

That's okay. I'll watch it again.

Me:

Natasha?

Natasha:

Yeah?

Me:

How's Yelena?

Natasha:

She's okay.  She misses you around here.

Me:

I miss her too.

Natasha:

I think we all miss you.

Me:

Yeah.. I miss everyone too.

Natasha:

Yeah.

Me:

I miss being cared for.

Natasha:

You are cared for.

Me:

By who?

Natasha:

By your family, by the team, by friends.

Me:

But no by you.

Natasha:

That's not true.

I care for you very much. I love you Y/n, im just not in love with you anymore.

Me:

Oh..

I still care for you too.

Natasha:

I know.

Me:

Do you think I'll be loved again?

Natasha:

Of course you will be Y/n. You're young you have so much time to be loved. I promise.

Me:

When you left everything changed so much.

Natasha:

How so?

Me:

A lot happened with the family.

Inge died.

Im sorry i didn't tell you sooner.

I've been struggling with that a lot.

Natasha:

Im so sorry Y/n

Me:

Me too.

Natasha:

I wish I had been there for you. Im so sorry I wasn't.

Me:

It's okay

I've also learned that I have very little control so the things i don't have control over I can't worry about it. I can only worry about the things a do have control of.

Natasha:

That's very true

Me:

For such a long time I thought it wasn't real.

Natasha:

What wasn't real?

Me:

Us. Love. I don't know.

Natasha:

It was real Y/n. And love still is. I know because you are full of it.

I also think kindness is real because you are kind. Good people exist, and one day one of those good people will love you for all of your worth, remember that Y/n.

Me:

You're still always understanding

Natasha:

I try to be.

Me:

Thank you for responding Natasha.

Natasha:

You're welcome.

But Y/n you can't text me again. It'll only hurt.

Me:

Okay...

I love you Natasha.

Natasha:

I loved you too

———

2021

Me:

I miss you

———

2021

Me:

I saw you on the news today, you look different, good. But different.

———

2022

Me:

I know you said to stop messaging you. I’m trying.

———

2022

*missed call*

*missed call*

Me:

I really loved you.

I Hope you find happiness.

I know you’ll do great things.

But It’s time for me to let you go Natasha.

I can’t keep doing this to myself

I have to let you go.

———

2023

Natasha:

I miss you so much.

I wish I still had you.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most.

I love you.

I’m so sorry if you ever doubted that.

———

[sky-the-trans-guy00]

Her PR Guy -Ch.1

hey everyone! I started this fic a really long time ago, and decided to re-write it for a different player! Let me know if you have any requests and/or feedback :)

Feel free to use this idea for a fic if you're interested; I have no problem with re-using ideas.

Disclaimer

I wrote this story with a trans male insert because I, myself, am a trans dude, and there hasn’t been a whole lot of content in this fandom for trans men.

Backstory

Y/N worked for an NWSL team post-grad, as a social media assistant and decided to hop across the pond to work for Arsenal WFC,  after being offered a job as their primary content creator and media person.

Y/N’s POV

I met Alessia while working in Arsenal’s Public Relations Department. I had just moved on from an entry-level position at Bay FC with little to no idea what type of world I was stepping into. Armed with a passion for sports and storytelling, my job was to run the social media accounts, and help craft stories that captivated fans and media members alike. What I didn’t realize at the time, is that my story would be worth telling someday, too.

It was my first media day working for Arsenal, and I was totally freaking out. I mean, this was my dream, one that I had fought tooth and nail for. I had never dared to imagine this possibility, but here I was, and I felt woefully unprepared.

Get it together (Y/N)! We worked so hard to get here, and we got this. The board believes in us, and so do I!! You wanted so badly to have a fresh start, and here it is.

I went over to the players and introduced myself, "Hey everyone, my name's (Y/N), my pronouns are he/him, and I'm your new PR guy." A lot of the players seemed stunned, probably because I'm a guy working for an WSL team, so I decided to clear some things up. “I’m also a proud trans man who knows that the future is female, especially in sports. I’ll be mainly working with the photographers and videographers to get content for our socials, but I’m here if you need anything.”

Alessia’s POV

After Y/N walked away I was still captivated.

“He’s a cute one,” said Leah.

“Definitely,” I replied emphatically.

“He could be just what the doctor ordered, with your recent breakup and everything,” added Lotte

“He’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure,” Alessia responded while looking at you as you walked away from the team, ”Let’s just hope he isn’t too full of himself….”

Y/N’s POV

It’s been over a month since I introduced myself to the players, and I can’t get Alessia Russo out of my head. She’s been flirting with me since we met, but I can barely function in her presence, not to mention I literally work for the team. Before I can get too in my head about it, I get a call from my buddy Alex.

“Hey (Y/N/N)! How’s the new job going?”

“It’s going well,” I replied, “I think I have a crush on one of the players though…”

“I fail to see the problem bro,” said Alex.

“You are a hot eligible bachelor, and any girl would be lucky to have you. You even told me that two of the players are together, so workplace dating is obviously not a problem.”

“Yeah, but I’m not trying to deal with another Karen incident!” I exclaimed.

Karen was a close friend of mine in college who really fucked me over. I managed her campaign for Student Body President, and when she found out I had a crush on her she flipped out and cut me off, only after she won the election. She ignored me for weeks following her win, and when we finally spoke about what had happened, she told me she thought it was best that we ‘keep it professional.’ To add insult to injury, all of our mutual friends decided I wasn’t worth sticking around for. I tried to take the high road and didn’t tell anyone my side of things until it was too late and they had already taken her side.

“How long are you going to let Karen control your life? You can’t keep giving other people your power, bro.”

I knew that he wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t ready to let go of the past.

“Yeah, but this girl is so out of my league it’s unbelievable. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure she has a girlfriend!”

“You sure about that Y/N?”

“Not entirely, but why would she date a loser like me when she has her pick of almost every queer athlete?”

Much to my chagrin, I was not athletic by any means, which was definitely an insecurity of mine. Deep down, I still felt like the sad, closeted, insecure kid with no friends from Middle and High School, despite all of my work in therapy.

“You may not be athletic, but you’re super kind and loyal as fuck. Trust me when I say that what you think you may lack in physical appearance pales in comparison to the type of person you are. You’re full of green flags— except for your inability to take a good selfie, which most people who know you happen to find endearing. Face it Y/N, the only thing that’s standing in your way is you. You control your own destiny, and you my friend are a catch; remember that.” Said Alex

“Thanks for hyping me up, my guy. I’m definitely going to talk to my therapist about this.” I said.

“As you should, Y/N! I’m here for you if you need anything, and I’m only one call away. You got this homie.”

I ended the call and reflected upon Alex’s advice.

Everything you want is in reach and ripe for the taking, you got this Y/N, I thought to myself.

[dutifullylazybread]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Ahhhh!!! Thank you so much for this!! 😭 This is such a wonderful ask! 💕💕💕

Full disclosure, I only have seven fics posted to Ao3, so the list is a bit sparse. I'm hoping to change this soon with a few lil smut pieces and some stories that I have cooking!

Deeply and Immovably So - [WIP] My Rolan x Tav long-fic. Most definitely one of the projects that I am the most proud of working on. It is a slow(er) burn than I am used to writing, but it has been so much fun to work on. I've gotten to really discover my writing style with this fic. 😊

At the Tail End of Things - [COMP] A Rolan x Tav smut!fic. I wanted to write something cute and domestic. Deeply and Immovably So can get really heavy at times, so to take a step back and just write some smut for the sake of writing smut makes me happy (though I am very sorry to the first 100 or so views who read this while there were some glaring errors I caught when I went back to edit!)

With You. At The Start. - [COMP] A Rolan x Tav fluff!fic written as a (very late) Valentine's day treat. I loved this one because I got to dig into the description and play with how spells are described and feel to the caster. Definitely a nice little treat for me.

Volo's Erotic Library - [Contributed a chapter][COMP] See, I don't want to tell you all which chapter I wrote, because I want everyone to read the collection and see how utterly cringey we all got while working on this (my one hint is that I cracked open a new pairing tag on Ao3... as did plenty of the other fics in this collection!). I loved contributing to this because it was fun to see how hard everyone could go. I wrote my chapter with the intention of just having fun and being ridiculous, and I accomplished exactly that!

A Quiet Homecoming - [COMP] This is the only non-BG3 fic on this list. This is my Vilkas x Dovahkiin smut!fic. This was also my very first forray into smut. So it's not perfect, but it is something that still makes me smile when I look back on it. Further down the line, I might write a ten-ish chaptered fic with this pairing, but that's a while out yet!

Thank you so much for this ask!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to respond! This was so fun though!! I'm going to (no pressure) tag @underdark-dreams @kimberbohwrites @lemonsrosesandlavender and whoever else would like to jump in! I'm not sure who has and hasn't done this yet, so if you have, no worries!! 💕

[watchingblsnowandforever]

We Are Ep. 14: Part 3/3

Hello again!! =D

Part 1 and Part 2

Warning: long post 😊😅 (also, I'm so sorry for the delay, I've been sleep deprived for the last two to three days because my insomnia and depression made comebacks, but I'm better now)

She reminds me so much of my own mom-

My mom adopts my friends, and no one has any say in it, while my dad encourages her 😭👍🏼

I absolutely love her relationship with all of them. While it's given that Peem will talk about Phum, Q has talked about Toey too, and it's quite obvious that Peem and his og group of friends have visited quite often before. She asks no question, and is so comfortable with them that they don't hesitate for a second to introduce their boyfriends. This is maybe not realistic (I'm pretty sure my mom while very similar wouldn't be this accepting) but it's very in line with this show, and I really like it.

GIVE ME MORE ACCEPTING PARENTS IN BL!!!

I am 100% sure that for a moment there, Phum's brain short circuited 😭

I mean, just look at it from his perspective. The boy he's head over heels for talks about him like this to his mom. If it were me, I'd be having an existential crisis right there, he has much more self control than me.

I'll be living here, in this moment for the next 1000 years, thanks for asking.

Listen, I'm a big fan of domestic fluff, BUT THIS???

Also, I don't usually talk about these, but on Phum's t-shirt, it says "ALWAYS FORWARD NO TURNING BACK" which is very relevant here because Peem helps him see a future, and to enjoy the present as it comes back. He's slowly but surely leaving his scarred past behind.

I have so many fic ideas smh

And yet, I don't really see you, complaining, Peem.

He says while sipping from his own glass. Very convincing, Peem.

THIS WAS SO CUTE OH MY GODS 😭😭🫶🏼

Btw, Peem? Phum is calling you "meow" for the rest of your lives. Just like you'll be calling him Puppy Phum. <3

oh-

These few seconds spoke so much.

The realization that this is what a real family is supposed to look like, that he'll probably never have this with his own parents.

But then- then he realizes that now he can have this. He can have Peem, and a family full of love and sit in the midst of his brother and his friends and Peem's friends and be accepted and loved.

Maybe he can't have this with his own parents, but he can have this with Peem, and that for him, is already far more than he could have ever imagined.

I just love that addition 😭😂

Peem is absolutely incapable of not calling Phum some version of "idiot (affectionate)" and I adore him for it. <33

Oho, violent Fang is back.

But seriously, let the others sleep, Pun and Toey 😭

THIS LOOK. ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US??

There's only two eps left (?!!!!!), so I really hope that the next one is when they get together

The small thumb soothing his tummy 🥺🫶🏼

All we got are crumbs of ChainPun throughout and they still managed to make us go insane. Mad respect for their friends who have to deal with them on a daily basis 😭👍🏼

Also, when Peem got up to ask what they were doing and Phum pulled him back to sleep, did y'all see that tiny forehead kiss? My man never misses a chance to kiss Peem, and I am so proud of him.

This reminds me of such a funny story-

So. We went to visit this historical building (note: historical) and the stairs leading up were naturally kind of steep and broken. It was very crowded, so it was four or five teams/families to one guide. We went up slowly, but since the guide was obviously very used to it, he went up faster, and was waiting for us at the landing. So one couple asked how he got there so fast, and he jokingly said "I took the lift" and the man was like "Why didn't you tell us before?? One of us [I don't remember who he said] just had knee surgery!" and the rest of us were just staring at him like ???? are you listening to yourself- 😶

My parents and I laugh about it to this day 😭😂 (this was almost 8 years back OH GODS SAYING THAT MADE ME FEEL SO OLD-)

What next ep looks like:

What I looked like after watching the trailer:

(In that order.)

That's it for ep 14! See y'all in 4 days (I fear for what will become of me after I watch ep 15).

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here have a croissant 🥐

[lolotr]

fanfic author 20 questions!

I am late to the party, but i was tagged by @shadowquill17, thanks my love <3 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

51

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

162,166 total words! Not too shabby

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I've written for a bunch of fandoms, but these days it's mostly Dead Boy Detectives. in theory i have other fandoms, but none that i'm so feral for at the moment

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

all of them are DBD which is kind of astonishing to me, this fandom never ceases to amaze 1. after the insects have laid their claim 2. like breathing 3. terms of endearment 4. a certain step towards falling in love 5. you can throw a party full of everyone you know

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes, every single one, no matter how old the fic is! i might be a little slow or miss one every so often, but i really try hard to respond to every one i get. comments mean the absolute world to me, so i want to thank everyone who takes time out of their day to tell me they enjoyed my work <3 <3 i also LOVE when fanfic writers respond to me, so i assume other people do, too

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i am an angst with a happy ending sort of bitch, but probably one of the fics i wrote during the Nothing Much To Do Radio Silence (TM) when we were all losing our minds with no updates. haven't read those in forever, so maybe Something to Do, Someone to Blame? or maybe it isn't cinema that i wrote for Nothing Like the Sun? or maybe Tropes for Keleidotrope?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

gosh, so many. again, i write mostly happy ending stuff, so it's hard to pick just one. maybe my fourth favorite public building to visit, if i had to pick one that hasn't been mentioned already. though after the insects have laid their claim has a VERY happy and corny ending that i will forever be proud of haha

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, thank goodness

9. Do you write smut?

yeah! i'm new to it, but it's a lot of fun

10. Do you write crossovers?

not usually, but i'll stick characters from one universe into a similar universe because something resonates (like Heartstopper Squared or The Quest of the Maddening Mace), but i don't usually write characters meeting or anything like that.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of! *fingers crossed*

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but if anyone wants to do so, just make sure to tag me in it and go right ahead!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yeah! i have stuff in progress (that we haven't worked on in a while sorry @courfaeriedust) but i've also definitely written collabs that i've published, i think?

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Charles and Edwin from Dead Boy Detectives have such a special place in my heart, and I really hope this hyperfixation doesn't go anywhere, but in terms of pure longevity? Merlin and Arthur from BBC Merlin. I've been reading that shit for a decade. Special shoutout to Alex and Henry from Red, White, and Royal Blue, and Drew and Harrison from Keleidotrope, because I'm still insane about you all too, don't worry.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

THAT IS QUITTER TALK AND I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT. but to give a kind of cutesie answer, i'm not sure i'll ever be done with the libraryverse. there's so much story there, and i keep having ideas for it, so maybe i'll be able to keep playing in it forever. that would be kind of nice.

16. What are your writing strengths?

why are you making me say nice things about myself. why. overall, i think i'm good at dialogue. i actually wrote a whole manuscript in instant messages because i love writing dialogue so much. i'm pretty good at getting into characters' voices, whether they're my own or someone else's, and i find a lot of joy in writing everything from banter to flirting to meaningful conversations (but some of those are easier than others lol)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

action, descriptions, things that aren't dialogue. i also tend to keep my writing kind of short, so i don't always allow for moments to breathe the way they should.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

woooooof the only other language i speak is hebrew (and not amazingly well) so probably not. if i ever got good enough at another language, maybe? but english is my first and by far my strongest language, so I don't think i'd ever be able to express myself well

19. First fandom you wrote for?

as far as i remember, Lord of the Rings. (no you will never find it.)

20. Favorite fics you’ve written?

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE, THEY'RE ALL MY CHILDREN. how about this, you tell ME what your fave stories of mine are, because im tired of linking things. and because i thrive on praise lol

i am too lazy to tag people specifically, so anyone who writes fic is welcome to answer!

[iloveyou-writers]

Hi! I'm sorry this ended up longer than I intended to. I really needed to let it out, and I hope you can share some wisdom with me.

I am feeling hopeless about my writing today. Lately I've been fighting with thoughts about how I'm not getting better, and some jealousy completely pushed me to the edge.

For the past couple of months, I've been working on one of the biggest fanfic projects of mine. Normally I don't read on a fandom if I'm actively working for it, exactly because then I compare my writing to others', but since this is taking more time than my other stuff, I allowed myself to take a look today. I immediately found a story that I haven't seen before, and I was exited the whole time! It was great, and have me so much joy.

At first I was full of admiration towards the writer, and inspired to continue woekint on my own story. It was one of the best things I've ever read, and I immediately sat down to write a comment. Then something clicked. My story can't compare to this. The topics are so much different, but the way they write the characters, dialogues, everything, it's so much better.

I tried to tell myself I'm going to get better, but I just hate that despite having great ideas, the finished work will never live up to stories such as the one I read today. Because even though I know I've gotten better in the many years I've been writing, I never had any work I'm proud of, or one that fit the idea I started with. That what makes me feel the most hopeless.

This broke my heart, so I don't want to ignore it, even though I'm "technically" retired from tumblr.

I do want to offer my utmost respect to you for giving yourself boundaries due to knowing yourself well enough to acknowledge that you have an issue with envy.

It is so healthy that you try to work with what you know your attitude tends to be and that you set a boundary for yourself not to read fanfic while you're writing. It isn't that you're not allowed to ever read it, but while you're writing in the fandom. That's great. That's wonderful. I'm proud of you for that.

It can be really easy to fall into the hole of "I'm never going to be good enough." You read something and you can be so amazed by others. I'll bet, though, that if you wrote the exact story you just read, you would likely feel differently about it. Why? Because we artists are HARD on ourselves. It really is true when they say that artists are our own worst critics. We judge every word, every movement our characters make. Why? Because we know the story we're trying to tell. We know what we envisioned when we started typing.

To us, we're comparing our writing to what we wanted it to be.

Readers? Yeah, they can have expectations or hopes for writing, but they ultimately didn't know what we were envisioning while we wrote it. They only know what they read. So they see it with fresh eyes and they see it for what it is, not for what it was supposed to be.

So it's really easy for readers to see the amazing aspects of a writer's work when a writer might only see what they did wrong or what they had to change in order to make the story work.

It's still the same incredible piece. It's still wonderful and I'll bet you're a much better writer than you feel like you are. 💗🫂

Maybe take a step back. Maybe take a few days off, so that the feeling of being "worse" isn't so fresh. Maybe do something else or work on a totally different story. Busy your mind so it isn't focused on what you feel you're not doing right.

No one's perfect. I guarantee the writer that made the story you read is nitpicking the things they wish they didn't have to change or that they feel they could have worded better.

So cut yourself slack. Remember to love your writing, to love where you're at. Writing is a journey. It isn't about getting to the destination. It's about enjoying the ride there. :) You'll get there, just remember to appreciate your writing for what it is now. And one day, you'll be where you want to be. Just keep working at it and loving yourself and your work.

Thank you for reaching out and I really, really hope you find comfort in this response.

Happy writing, my dear nonnie. 💗 I'm wishing nothing but happiness and pride in your work.

~Hannah

[kitty-av]

Alright Phandom, I am finally vibing and ready to get into character design with a very loose idea of characters basically all connected by Pariah Dark.

So far I have his bodyguard alongside Fright Knight, who is his sister-in-law, and is design wise based on a shark/sea theme, and who I think I will call Thalassa.

I have his advisor, who is a sneaky gremlin with a heart of gold, whom is going to be based on a candle/ parchment, and who I think I'll call 'The Archivist' because it's ominous and I can't come up with a name for him.

I don't have anything else, I might design the ghost queen because I already know she's there because Thalassa is her sister, but I don't have a particular theme for her.

I kind of want ideas, if anybody can pitch in? I might go the elemental route and have air and earth characters to complete the roster, but that seems a bit too obvious, so I'd like some ideas.

I'll put in some designs here so people know what I have so far.

This is Thalassa (for certain/generally what she's going to look like)

I haven't come up with a full colour scheme for her yet, so feel free to suggest that as well.

As for The Archivist, his story is a bit more convoluted, because really I wanted to recycle him from a 'skin' I made for an Identity V OC I made back when I played the game. Funnily enough, the OC was a cinnamon roll (his name was Ethan) and that's not what I'm going for with The Archivist.

Here's the skin in question (which I'm still very proud of UwU)

I've decided to keep the colour scheme (though I might make his skin green for contrast again)

But here's my sketches in the dp style so far:

Right away I knew I wanted him to have floating hands and a scroll as a forearm because I made sketches where I could play with that in my own style.

In this sketch I hadn't made the decision to add asymmetry in his design, but I knew I liked the scroll arm. It's just been awkward fitting it in the DP style, and I hope I can figure out how to make it look better.

But basically, the idea is that he looks like a big candle but also he's parchment-like in his clothing. Something about candles and old burnt paper goes together well aesthetically, I think the vibes are correct.

The only thing I'm worried about is his face, because even though I tried to modify it a little it looks like Danny (he's my comfort zone character so that might be why).

Either way, going with specific things as inspirations for characters is working because I like what I've made •^•

(Also if any artist who can do the DP style sees this, please tell me how to force the scroll arm into looking more natural, as much as I know I have to kill my darlings, as it were, this darling looks really really cool when I do it in my style-)

Soo... Yes! That's it for now. I would also be happy if anybody suggested a discord dp server I can hang out in. I remember I was in a really big one but I lurked because I'm just not used to big servers and I didn't know what to do lol

(I really want to share my designs and ideas with fanfic writers btw, because I know I'm too perfectionist to write the stories myself, so maybe communicating with writers can help me kinda maybe do that-)

So... Yeah! If you've read this far, thank you! I hope your day or night goes great! ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

[holybibly]

Hello! I usually don’t send in asks cuz it makes me super anxious but I decided to be brave today🥹 I just wanted to pop in and give you praise for your writing because I think it’s impeccable!!💓 I’m actually in awe a lot of the time when I read your work because of the way you manage so well every time to tell a story and your writing is so cohesive that if someone just told me to read something of yours and didn’t tell me it was your writing I’d be able to tell that it was the talented you who had written it, which I think is an amazing trait for a writer!!💞

Thank you for sharing your work with us and allowing us to read it. I hope you take care of yourself and that life is treating you kindly🥺💓

God bunny, you have just made my day. First of all, I'm very proud of you, my love, I love how comfortable and free the bunnies feel on my blog.

Hmm, I think there are no better words for a writer than that. Creating unique content is always very difficult, but developing your own style is even harder. I am happy that my bunnies can recognise my ffs without me indicating that.

I want to give them a bright and memorable experience because: "I know I am your favourite". My blog will be one year old this November and to be honest, I never expected to become a popular author with such a large audience.

I really enjoy writing and creating content. My brain works 24/7 on ideas and I wish I could clone myself so I could write full time. But for me, my blog is also a way to escape the stress of everyday life and reality. Who needs the real world when between the lines of a book you can be anyone and create any scenario you want? This is what I love about writing.

So I hope to create more unforgettable and wonderful memories with you, my sugar bunnies.

And yes, life has treated me well. I am the princess the whole world revolves around ~

[wordy-little-witch]

Oooooughhhh. Two Random One piece regression hcs because I had a bad day pls enjoy:

Usopp: Love that you mentioned him as someone who is Robins chosen storyteller ™️, because that boy is just SOOOO big brother coded. Revels in it really. Big and small kids alike are just immediately drawn to him and he’s lowkey proud of that. The cool caretaker that lets you do cool stuff when you’re little. Genuinely, I love him, I can’t not imagine him as just one of the best people to look after someone that’s regressed. Just radiates comfort.

Perona + Buggy: for some reason can easily imagine her getting spooped and accidentally using her devil fruit powers on Buggy by accident…. Which makes him regress immediately because he was already slipping and getting a face full of bad thought ghost isn’t helping. Perona does not know Buggy regresses. PANIC. Full blown panic. Like “Crap! I emotionally scared this yonko!” Crocodile and Mihawk enter the room utterly confused to a stressed out pastel goth trying her damndest to somehow calm down their husband with a bunch of plushies and toys and making funny faces at him. It only helps a little, mainly because Buggy is more confused than anything tough.

She’s glad when things get cleared up and she learns that she DIDNT traumatize Buggy so hard he perma regressed. Very apologetic about it as well. Often offers to help out as a secondary caretaker for him, but rarely ever gets to do it, because she is a bit much for little Buggy. He loves her but she can easily go from “Fun spooky ghost” caretaker to “Way too much and in his face” caretaker by accident, so it’s best when someone’s there who can remind her to give the clown a little bit space. Whenever their energy matches they both get on like a house on fire. She probably loves when he looks an after her when she regresses, even though she usually is a very independent kiddo and doesn’t necessarily want someone to take care of her. But Buggy just knows how to handle her specific brand of chaos and actually encourages it. Mihawk kind of hoped he’d encourage her to calm down a little…. Pff

1) baby doll I hope your day gets/got better bc if not I'll find anyone who was ever mean to you and i'll make them snort their bone dust like coke ily mwah mwah apply to forehead

2) i!!!! Love!!!! Getting!!!!! Regression stuff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

3) Usopp is criminally underrated and he'd be the BEST caregiver or at the Very Least Babysitter ever and I'll die on that hill happily. He's the type to kiss booboos and tell stories and match energy and keep you happy, safe, and hit that perfect sweet spot of Encouraging You and Not Be Overbearing. Perfect mans. I don't always love snipers but when I do it's Usopp Only. I'd trust him to give me open heart surgery but he might slip a rubber duck in there. I'd be fine with it.

Robin absolutely feels Safe with Usopp. It's. Hard to explain. But he manages to hit every single Comfort Person Point she has, and if Franky is busy and Robin is regressed, she's with or near Usopp.

((When Luffy eventually feels comfortable and safe to regress, he's clingy and quiet. And Usopp just likes having a captain shaped backpack, giving him snacks and preening with each and every giggle he can get out of the other. And when Robin is little too, it's a wonderful mess - in a literal sense. Who doesn't love fingerpainting on a deck literally covered stern to starboard in paper?? Trick question, everyone does.))

4) Perona+Buggy just!!!!! Yes!!!!!!

I'm caught between the idea of Buggy being mostly unaffected by her ghosts and him just. Getting the hit and not really responding much.

But when he's already teetering and that ghost pulls everything to the forefront like a sucker punch, he is absolutely Not Prepared.

Frankly. I could see the situation along the lines of them having a mild argument. Perona gets mad, and just fwoosh sends her little guys out. It's knee-jerk. It's just A Thing She Does. It's likely not even the first time she's done it specifically TO Buggy. The last few times just resulted in a semi badass semi depressing moment á la Lapis and Blue Diamond from Steven Universe.

This time Buggy goes very still and she's still throwing a fit until she realizes there's no sound, no clap back, nothing. And she looks up. And Buggy's completely blank faced with tears streaming from his eyes. He's nit even moving to hide them or wipe them away. This isn't the first time she's seen him cry, not by a long shot, but it is the first time she's seen him like.... this.

Somehow, she thinks through the panic, she's almost prefer outright wailing.

She's trying desperately to fix it, both because Oh My Bats I Just Scarred A Yonkou and OH MY GODS I JUST SCARRED MY DAD'S CLOWN SPOUSE

She's doing everything she can think of. Cute things make her feel better, so those should help. Right?? A-And soft things! For cuddling!!! That's good for bad moods. Maybe a snack? What does Buggy like. She tries everything. She's spiraling. She's losing it. She even tries to antagonize him into anger - a comment on the nose should work!!

It doesn't.

It makes her panic that much harder.

Shit shit shit she broke him-

And then Mihawk walks in, Croc on his heels. She's crying. Buggy's still crying, ominously blank faced. She's certain Mihawk's gonna kill her (or ground her, which might be worse-), but he just stiffens, takes one look, then nods once.

And Perona watches as that glacial exterior melts into smth vaguely familiar, as his voice takes on that One Special Tone for when she's regressing and- oh.

Ohhh

Ohhhhhh that might be worse, actually.

Crocodile wordlessly pulls out a comically large plush wani toy, sets it down nearby as his sand drags a small chest from under their bed. Then he takes Perona by the hand and leads her to the kitchenette.

"I... I didn't mean to...."

"I know," the logia user offers in a short response, tone a normal level of cool but also somehow gentle. "Stuff happens sometimes. Lil' brat is usually unexpectedly tough, but sometimes that armor is a little looser than usual."

"Did I hurt him?"

"Possibly."

She whines softly, burying her face in her hands. Another hand, far larger and far warmer, plops onto her head. She peeks up at Croc. He sighs around his cigar.

"Shit happens, kid. You made a mistake. It was an accident. All we can do now is work with things and get better moving forward. Understand?"

She nods hesitantly. "I... I want to help. I couldn't help, but I want to."

"You were doing fine."

"Huh?"

He hands her a small little basket - it's full of small baggies, a few juice boxes, and a few apples. One of the fruit has a knife stuck in it. She tilts her head, uncomprehending even as he nudges her back to the main room. "You scared him," he says simply, "and instead of screeching like a little banshee or hiding, he stayed still. Was he responsive?"

"His eyes would follow me when I moved. But he just didn't.... emote. Like at all. It wasn't cute at all. It was.... like a bad kind of scary."

"He was aware, he was scared, and he stayed with you. Look, Bug is stronger than he seems, and he's more vulnerable than he lets on, but that chucklefuck is not stupid by any means. Even terrified, even regressed, even in a bad spot mentally, he trusted you enough to stay. He knew you were safe. What's done is done, pinkie. Now let's go get some snacks on out there and salvage this evening."

".... okay."

<><><><><><><><>

And obviously once things chill out enough, I think it would be adorable if Perona, stressed and fidgety, starts slipping herself. Playing with Buggy once he's calmed a little is actually really fun, even if the kid is semi-verbal. He's mostly self sufficient, and she genuinely enjoys the time they spend sitting together on the carpet while Hawkeyes and Crocodile watch over them. They make a very super duper extra ultra cute block castle, and eventually when Buggy manages to doze off, it's with his head on her shoulder. She just smiles and snuggles closer.

((There's absolutely copies of the picture then taken))

Usually Perona is a little more hyper than Buggy. Big or Little, she's a pastel little whirlwind. When Buggy's up for it, he is THERE and he is THRIVING.

But when he's not, they really do need that buffer lest someone get bitten.

((Bonus points, Perona and Buggy, while they do often look after each other, occasionally regress together at the same time. Whenever that happens, Buggy is smooshed within an inch of his life. If he had a berri for every time a florid haired person who sometimes regresses decided while regressed that he's now their baby brother, he's have two berri, which isn't a lot but it's odd that it happened twice.))

[j0kers-light]

Hi, Chaos! This request is kinda specific, but you can make it more general if you want. Let's say the reader wants to dye her hair blue (or any color, but I like blue💙) She doesn't want to tell J though, she wants to surprise him and see his reaction. (Positive, negative, "Hmm... such a beautiful color on ya, sweet girl. It, ah, suits you" or something to that effect). I'm not really sure, but I'm very curious what could be done with a reader who (with no experience and lots of nerves) decides to get her hair dyed and then J reacts. Plus, I'm curious of your take on this. I hope you have a good day!

Hello my beloved @alittlesmartcookie !! 💙✨

Blue Is the Warmest Color (hehe wink)

This one is a personal fav since my hair is currently blue and also because blue is my favorite color followed immediately by black. So I hope you enjoy and gather the courage to dye your hair!!!

Image credit

You have absolutely no idea what possessed you to travel to the beauty supply story and buy bottles of bleach and arctic fox.

It originated from a lazy night in, a random spurt of boldness or maybe pure irrational thought, plus the fact that J wasn't around to tell you it was a bad idea.

He'd been gone for the entire week-- out of town doing who knows what, leaving you unsupervised.

You were craving something new and feeling reckless and what better way to get both desires out of your system than with a new look?

You could always cut it if you didn't like it.... 👀

You already experimented with bangs (mind you it was DIY and you were absolutely petrified it would look terrible) Brad Mondo would be so proud!

You look phenomenal with bangs but you never dabbled with color before.

You thought it was impossible with your hair type. What if you damaged your curl pattern or messed it up forever?

Smart Y/n would've done extensive research before applying bleach, but you were feeling reckless and not thinking straight. YOLO?

The store clerk gave you some tips on how to dye your tips and sent you on your way with the necessary tools to get the job done.

You decided to start out small and just dye the ends of your hair and work from there if you ended up hating it.

You weren't ready for a full head dye job. You weren't that bold and you genuinely did not know if Joker would like it.

His opinion didn't matter since it was your hair but you still wanted him to like it!

Joker was your heart and if he didn't like your new look... nope you did not want to think negatively!

You donned plastic gloves, mixed the color and toner together, blasted some motivational music, and got to work.

You were not expecting the opacity and the payoff to be so...

"D__n, I look good."

You had finished dying and rinsing out the remaining color and set about styling your hair. You couldn't stop flipping your locs over your shoulder and staring into the mirror. You were most definitely feeling yourself.

Your electric blue hair tumbling down to your mid waist looked so good! Your hands were still shaking as you ran a hand through the loose curls to apply a finishing serum. Color treated products were now your hail Mary.

You can't believe you actually did it. Two hours ago you were sitting on your couch with virgin hair and now... you laughed out loud and quickly covered your mouth.

You did a small victory dance and didn't notice J walking into the bathroom. He heard you laughing to yourself and decided to see what all the fuss was about.

Your back was to him and his eyes widened at the vivid blue that was now your hair.

"Uh... doll?" he said.

You screamed as you turned around. You weren't expecting Joker for at least another day or so!!

You didn't have time to clean the stains in the shower or rid of the soiled towels, forever stained blue. No one warned you that hair dye well dyed everything.

"HI JOKER HOW WAS YOUR TRIP?!" You turned around and tried hiding your hair as if he couldn’t see it.

Too bad he could still see it in the mirror's reflection. You were so cute when you were nervous it made him smirk.

You couldn't get a good read on if Joker was upset or not but he walked up and spun you around by your shoulders. You heard his indifferent hum (the one that could be interpreted as good or bad) and waited for this verdict.

Your heart couldn't bear it if J hated your new look. He kept quiet as he played with the freshly dyed strands. The vivid color was a lot to take in. The suspense was driving you insane so you started to talk your way out of this just in case you were in trouble.

"I can cut off the blue if you hate it but I was bored and wanted to try something different and you really shouldn't leave me alone for long periods of time when I get like this you know I'm just as unpredictable as you and why aren't you—"

Joker made eye contact with you in the mirror. "Bunny. Slow. Down."

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. "If you hate it then I can—"

Joker snorted and bent down to leave a big wet kiss on your cheek.

"Its uhhh diff-er-ent but I didn't say I haTe it. Hmm, such a pretty shade of blue an' especially on you sweet girl. It ah.. suits ya."

He rested his chin on your shoulder and continued to admire you in the mirror. It took him a minute to get over the initial shock factor but the color was growing on him.

You were speechless. He liked it!

"You.. you like it?" Your face cracked into a smile. Joker hummed and nuzzled his nose into your neck. It made you break out in giggles.

You were so nervous about him hating it, you didn't calculate the possibility of him liking it.

You spun around to give Joker a hug. He caught you with a roll of his eyes. He could tell you were nervous about his opinion but he would still love you if you decided to go blonde or even shave your head.

No matter what style you chose, you would still be his girl, his Bunny.

He was more concerned about being away from his sweet girl. A week was far too long and he wondered what else you got into during his absence. Hopefully you behaved yourself.

"Oh, I accidentally stained the shower by the way." You mentioned.

You said it so casually, Joker didn't register it at first but then his eyes snapped open and darted over to the shower. He could see the splattered walls from across the room.

On second thought Joker was never leaving you alone again. Who was gonna clean that?!