#i need a dedicated tag for these if I'm gonna keep doing them

[seelestia]

in celebration of the boop fest: genshin men as boopers.

⎯ something made on a whim to commemorate the lovely booping chaos going on. may not be accurate but i tried!!! 🙏 which one are you?? tag yourself /j this is the silliest thing ever, forgive me. fluff & crack (and made with love).

the harbinger of dedication (???): boop them once and oh, it's on. boops you back and will not stop booping you back — it's an all-out war! or at least, to them. they take this whole matter as an opportunity and certainly don't mind tiring their fingers out just tapping the button on repeat. does it for the fun and to get a reaction out of you. also, probably eats (sends) super boops for breakfast, lunch and dinner. it's their bread and butter.

childe (of course), arataki itto, cyno (has a desire to max out his boop-o-meter till the end - a completionist's habit).

the menace (as simple as that): they have no need to be booped because they're the one booping you first and a lot at that too. oh, you got 99+ notifs? yeah, that's an act of love and it's from them. they hoped you liked the gift because they had fun giving it. grab a handkerchief because you're gonna have to scrub that smirk off their face, literally.

wriothesley, kaeya, shikanoin heizou, lyney (he apologizes by treating you to a meal afterwards).

confusion (awkward ver.): ...what. what is this? what does 'boop' even mean? why does it sound so oddly menacing when uttered out loud? and why are you smiling at like that? it's a trend, you explain and they — reluctantly and nervously — send a boop back. they have no idea what they're doing but at least, seeing that proud look on your face amounts to something. maybe, they did well? they then proceed to send you another one just for good measure. how cute.

xiao, gorou.

confusion (boomer ver.): their first thought was that they're getting hacked by a... feline virus? how interesting (please explain). with some explanation from you, they'll eventually understand the concept! a passive booper at best, but has a proclivity to treat boops as a “i'm thinking about you” button. so just know one boop equals to one time you crossed their mind.

zhongli, neuvillette, dainsleif (still confused at the end of it), diluc (secretly because he has pride).

the 'humble' reciprocator (dark horse?): all is in perfect tandem. you give one boop, they give one back. you give two boops, they give two back. you squint your eyes at them from across the room suspiciously, they chuckle into their hand in response. is that an act of mischief or demureness? you wonder what will happen if you boop them one hundred times? well, let's find out. (they will give back the exact amount, no matter what.)

kaedehara kazuha, baizhu, kamisato ayato (a true hybrid between being humble and a menace, he is. starts off nice until he spams boops when you least expect it... with a smile, of course!).

the bystander with the popcorn: thanks for the boop, you get one back. yes, only one, sorry. they'd rather not participate in the chaos and prefer to keep their inbox clean. no offense meant, you're free to have your fun so go ahead. they're just here to observe because in their humblest opinion, it serves them well enough as participating does. oh, don't look at them like that. you did get one back, didn't you? rejoice in the fact that you're one of the few — if not, the only one — they gave a boop to. treat it as an approval badge. it means you're special (to them).

alhaitham, tighnari, albedo, wanderer (he thinks he's above this childish and pointless act of booping... or is he?).

the victim™: is getting booped left and right without rest. suffocating and drowning in them even. lady luck is not on their side; they swore they booped everyone back to infinity and beyond — surely, it's all repaid and they can take a break now, right? wrong. they rest for 5 minutes and come back to 99+ notifs every single time. (if you relate, you might be a victim of affectionate bullying. feel free to riot about it.)

kaveh, thoma.

the loser at the start line: sneezes whenever the paw comes up on screen, yikes. A+ for effort, though!

venti.

— thanks for reading!

© seelestia on tumblr, apr 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

[mythicmanuscripts]

"Cause yeah sure he lost his virginity to that brothel worker (which, by the way, I have many many thoughts on this because I am convinced this completely fucked him up for years afterwards)"

*Clears throat* Excuse me, ma'am. I'm gonna NEED you to tell me more about this 🙏🏻

Alright everyone strap in, I guess we are riding the angst train tonight. Honestly I have so many thoughts and feelings about this and part one of me thinks we should have a whole series dedicated just to Aemond’s recovery from that. You know what? It’s a tag now. ‘Aemond’s recovery’ is gonna the tag I use for discussions around this cause I think we all have thoughts and feelings on it.

Anyway, while the content of this answer isn’t explicit, there are definitely sexual undertones and implied sexual situations as well as discussions of assault and mental health so if you’re good with all of that, then venture out beyond the cut!

So I think the first thing to understand is that Aemond is very private and pretty closed off in general. Growing up he of course was taught about sex, and about the double standard between how women have to be virgins and men do not.

As much as the thought of sex made him feel uneasy because the act itself seems so… exposed, he was comforted by the fact that sex is supposed to take place within a marriage. He knows he will have an arranged marriage when he’s older, and he comforts himself by thinking that when he does have sex, it’ll be with his wife, in the comfort of their own bedroom. He imagines the comfortable bed, the candles glowing on the nightstand and the door locked shut to prevent anyone else from seeing him like that.

And then… well then he turns 13 and Aegon decides that’s old enough and all but shoves him against a brothel worker.

He’s confused, he’s uncomfortable. The room is far too bright, he can see everything, and he knows she can see him. The bed is sparse, clearly only used for sex and never for sleep. And the brothel worker… she keeps on touching him? Her hands are all over him and he doesn’t even know how but suddenly he’s naked and her hands are tracing his scar and he’s so so exposed.

He hates it, he hates every minute of it. He’s thankful he didn’t last long because he didn’t want to stay there any longer than necessary.

He had heard the tales from Aegon about how good it feels, and how often Aegon disappears to the brothels so that he can have more than just his wife. Aemond never understand what he meant and now that he had lain with that brothel worker, he still doesn’t get it. Yes it did feel good, but it felt as good as using his hand and when he uses his hand, he’s in his own room with the door locked, he’s safe there. 

In the brothel, people kept on walking in. They were mostly just looking for an empty room but almost all of them paused their search to watch him and the madam for a few seconds before leaving.

Seeing them do that made him blush a deep red and the madam made a big fuss of how sweet and soft he is and chuckling as his embarrassment. Only he wasn’t feeling embarrassed, he was mortified. All those people had seen him like that, had seen him naked and exposed and they had laughed and watched, and very clearly were into it.

They were getting off to something that was supposed to be private and secure and… and honourable. There is nothing honourable about what the madam does to him.

By the time he walks out of the brothel he feels like he’s been scraped raw, like his very soul is sunburnt.

He never goes back, never even considers it. He hated that raw, exposed feeling and he never wanted it again, ever.

And then a few years later his mother introduces him to his future bride. He’s already dreading their wedding night, being plagued by dreams of the harshly lit brothel room.

But then his future wife seems so good? She asks before she can touch him, even the smallest of touches. When her hands are on him, she’s gentle and caring and… and protective?

They’re sitting in the library a few nights before the wedding when Aegon and his drunken mates come barrelling through. They taught Aemond, asking if he knows what to do on his wedding night.

Aemond stays silent while that awful raw feeling starts to rear its head. And then, then he hears your voice. You tell off Aegon and his mates, telling Aegon that he doesn’t get to talk about a husband pleasing their wife when he goes out drinking every night and leaves his own wife to an empty bed.

That shuts him up, and pretty quickly him and all his friends leave the library with their tails between their legs. Aemond, meanwhile, feels incredible. You not only just stood up for him, but you defended the sanctity of their soon to be marriage. Aemond doesn’t feel as exposed anymore.

He begins to wonder if perhaps the wedding night won’t he so bad after all.

[mybelovedwoo]

brews and sunset blues

yunho x f!reader

fluff, strangers to lovers, small town romance/ wc: 1.6k

warnings: none:)

note: the second part of yunho's story is finally here ! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics, you can apply here!

yunho masterlist - main masterlist

The day after their last encounter, Y/n made her way to the bookstore, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over the quiet streets. The peacefulness of the town at this hour was something she cherished, a moment of calm before the day's activities began. As she approached the store, she noticed a tall figure standing near the entrance. She squinted, recognizing the familiar silhouette.

Yunho.

He was waiting for her, two take-out coffees in his hands and a bright smile on his face. Y/n quickened her pace, her heart skipping a beat in surprise and curiosity.

"Good morning!" Yunho greeted cheerfully as she approached. "I hope you don't mind me stopping by so early."

Y/n smiled back, slightly taken aback. "Good morning, Yunho. It's not a problem, just a surprise. You're up quite early."

"I thought I'd bring you a coffee," he said, handing her one of the cups. "Consider it a thank you for yesterday and a way to start your day off right."

Y/n accepted the coffee gratefully, the warmth of the cup spreading through her hands. "Thank you, Yunho. This is really thoughtful of you."

"I figured you might need a pick-me-up," Yunho said, his eyes sparkling with his characteristic kindness. "Plus, I wanted to see you again."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush slightly at his words. "Well, you've certainly succeeded. But what brings you here so early?"

"I told you. I'm gonna keep you company when I can. I won't let it get lonely for you ever again," Yunho replied, his smile as bright as the morning sun.

Y/n was momentarily taken aback by his sincerity. "I didn't think you were serious about that. Why are you doing this? You don't have to."

"I know," Yunho said, his gaze steady and warm. "But I owe you that much. Plus, I don't mind having a friend here while I stay."

Y/n couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. "Well, I can't say I'm not grateful. It's nice to have some company."

They stood there for a moment, enjoying the shared warmth of their coffee and the quiet morning. The bookstore, still closed and quiet, felt like their own little world.

"Shall we go in?" Y/n suggested, unlocking the door and pushing it open. The familiar scent of books and paper welcomed them as they stepped inside.

Yunho looked around, his eyes filled with genuine admiration. "This place really is something. I can see why you love it here."

"It has its charm," Y/n agreed, turning on the lights. "And it's a nice escape from everything."

They settled into a comfortable rhythm, Y/n going about her morning routine while Yunho wandered through the aisles, occasionally picking up a book to examine. Their conversation flowed easily, the initial awkwardness giving way to a growing familiarity.

"So, what are your plans for the summer?" Y/n asked, organizing a stack of newly arrived books.

"Besides helping my grandma and escaping the city?" Yunho replied with a grin. "I'm not entirely sure. I'm just taking it one day at a time, enjoying the change of pace. And maybe getting to know this town a little better."

Y/n smiled, feeling a sense of contentment. "That sounds nice. Sometimes it's good to just go with the flow."

"Exactly," Yunho agreed. "And I was hoping you could show me around. I'd love to see the places you find special."

Y/n looked up, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "I'd like that," she said softly.

-

Yunho found a quiet corner of the store, settling down with the book Y/n had recommended. He watched her as she worked, noticing the way she interacted with customers, her small, thoughtful gestures, and the way her face lit up when she talked about books. He was fascinated by her dedication and passion.

Y/n, meanwhile, was busy attending to customers, unaware of Yunho's watchful eyes. She moved with a practiced grace, her hands deftly arranging books and assisting patrons. The hours flew by, the rhythm of the bookstore's day flowing smoothly.

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the wooden floor, the store grew quieter. Yunho saw his chance and approached Y/n, hiding the book behind his back. She looked up from her task, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

"What's up? What are you hiding behind your back?" she asked, a playful smile on her lips.

Yunho grinned mischievously, then placed the book on her desk. "I finished it," he stated, a note of triumph in his voice.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "This fast?"

He nodded, his smile broadening. "I stayed up late last night. I was so captivated I couldn't stop reading it."

Y/n was touched by his enthusiasm. "I'm glad you liked it. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why," Yunho replied, his tone sincere. "The characters, the story, everything about it was compelling. Thank you for recommending it."

"Anytime," Y/n said, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction. "I have plenty more recommendations if you're interested."

"I'd love that," Yunho said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "In fact, I was hoping you could help me pick out another book. Let's make a deal. You give me a book, if I read it in a day, then you pick a place that you want to show me here and take me there."

Y/n laughed, enjoying the playful challenge. "And what do I win by this?"

Yunho's smile turned even more mischievous. "You'll have someone you can talk about your favorite books with, adventures with a new friend...and a free dinner."

Y/n considered the offer, a smile playing on her lips. "Alright, deal. But don't blame me if you end up with a reading hangover."

Yunho chuckled. "I'll take my chances. Now, what's the next book?"

Y/n led him to a different section, carefully selecting a book she thought he would enjoy. She handed it to him, their fingers brushing slightly. Yunho felt a spark at the contact, a thrill of anticipation for their budding friendship.

-

The next day passed quietly in the bookstore. The usual hustle and bustle of customers had slowed down, leaving Y/n with a peaceful afternoon. She found herself glancing at the door occasionally, wondering if Yunho would stop by again. As evening approached, she couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. She had hoped to see him and hear his thoughts on the new book.

Closing time arrived, and Y/n began the routine of shutting down the store. She flipped the sign to 'Closed,' locked the door, and gathered her things. Just as she stepped outside and took a deep breath of the cool evening air, she heard someone shout her name.

"Y/n!"

She turned around, her heart leaping with a mix of surprise and anticipation. There, running towards her, was Yunho. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and he was panting heavily, as if he had been running for a while.

"Yunho?" she called out, taking a few steps toward him.

He finally reached her, bending over to catch his breath. "I'm...here," he managed between breaths, holding up the book. "I finished it."

Y/n's eyes widened in astonishment. She had been waiting for him all day, and as the hours passed, she had started to worry that he might have forgotten about their little deal, or worse, returned to Seoul. But here he was, standing in front of her, breathless but triumphant.

"You did?" she asked, almost not believing her eyes. "You finished it?"

Yunho nodded, still catching his breath. "You did give me a challenge with this one, I give you that. It was a lot harder and longer than the last one. But I finished it, and I'm still on time...so where are you taking me?"

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, a mix of relief and admiration flooding her. He was something else, that was for sure. She grabbed his hand impulsively and said, "Follow me."

Yunho looked at their joined hands, a warm smile spreading across his face as he followed her. "Where are we going?" he asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

"I take this path home every day. It's a bit longer, but I don't mind. The view is worth it," Y/n explained as they walked through the town.

They moved through narrow streets and past charming houses, the evening light casting a golden glow over everything. Yunho matched her pace, their hands still linked, as they reached a familiar path that led to the shore.

The sound of the waves grew louder, and the salty breeze brushed against their faces. They arrived at a quiet stretch of beach, the sun dipping low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

Y/n stopped and turned to Yunho, a soft smile on her face. "This is my favorite place. I come here to unwind after a long day. The sunsets are always beautiful."

Yunho looked around, taking in the serene beauty of the scene. "It's breathtaking, Y/n. Thank you for sharing this with me."

They sat down on the sand, side by side, watching the sun slowly sink into the sea. Yunho turned to Y/n, his expression thoughtful. "You know, I think I'm starting to understand why you love it here. It's peaceful, and it feels like time slows down."

Y/n nodded, her eyes on the horizon. "Sometimes it's hard to slow down and take in everything that surrounds us. But you shouldn't take these kinds of moments for granted. They're the ones that matter the most."

Yunho looked at her, seeing the depth in her words and the way her eyes reflected the setting sun. "You're right. I've been so caught up in my life in Seoul that I've forgotten how to appreciate moments like this."

Y/n turned to him, a soft smile on her lips. "Well, now you have a chance to change that."

Yunho returned her smile, feeling a connection between them growing stronger. He bumped their shoulders together playfully. "Now you should get your well-deserved free dinner."

 "Thank God, I'm starving," she replied with a laugh. "Where are you taking me?"

Yunho grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "There's someone who couldn't wait to cook for you finally."

Y/n's heart warmed at the thought of the sweet old lady who had welcomed them so warmly. "I know exactly who you're talking about. I'm looking forward to it."

-

taglist: @engentiny @abibliolife @k-zuzu @dinossaurz @ateezswonderland @Reayahnadeem24 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

[lostalioth]

Could you make Sam, Dean, or Cas(one or all whatever you feel like but I love Sam🫶) with like an alternative/goth person? I can describe me as an example, real short with fluffy purple mid-length hair, tons of piercings and genderfluid(uses all pronouns), with a slim thick but still more of a slim thick/chubby/muscular with great humor like Deadpool as you loved animals and horror games. I love going to concerts and art, anything creative and going to college for marine biology/zoology!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘩/𝘢𝘭𝘵!𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳

warnings: gender neutral!reader (or i did my best to), goth/alt!reader (if i failed at describing that im sorry as well), reader described to wear eyeliner/makeup and jewelry and piercings mentioned, short sweet fluff with sammy boy.

a/n: a couple things i did my best to write this as gender neutral as i could? i may have failed as i tpcially write x female reader but i tried and i didnt know exactly what you wanted me to write besides one of the supernatural boys with an alt/goth person so sorry its just a short headcannon :) also this is my frist time writing for any of the supernatural boys so im sorry if he is out of character.

Sam loves to do your eyeliner for you on the days when you just don't feel up to it, your full makeup look often takes you a minute to complete. Of course as with everything Sam gets very dedicated to it and so he only does it after he has perfected it, not wanting to ruin your look with imperfect liner. Meaning sometimes it may just take longer in the end than if you did it on your own. You could care less though because as Sam does it, he will have a very soft grasp on your face and or neck the whole time. Softly caressing your skin with his thumb mindlessly in focus. The small action always makes your heart swell.

Plus: after almost 2 weeks of begging and endlessly promising to never show or tell Dean, he lets you do your signature eyeliner look on him. He wouldn't let you do your full regular makeup look on him but you were happy he even agreed to the eyeliner.

“Babe I promise you're gonna look so cool once I'm done” you gush with a small smile on your face. You had a hold on his chin to force his head still. You were currently sat on his lap in your shared room at the bunker, Him being sat on your vanity chair.

“You're lucky i love you princess” he chuckled softly and rubs his hands over your thighs, giving them a small squeeze as continue working on your masterpiece.

Speaking of your shared bedroom in the bunker, with your and Sam's combined wardrobes there was a severe lack of color. The both of you favoring black and darker colors.

You require attention from San often even when he is on one of his research deepdives. So Sam doing whatever he can to keep his girl happy worked it out that he will do his researching on the couch. That way you can lay out next to him with your head in his lap. He often finds himself playing and fidgeting with your necklaces or ear piercings, facial piercings, etc.

You have a darker sense of humor that tends to come out at inopportune moments on hunts. It never fails to break tension however and get a small laugh out of both the brothers.

Sam isn't all that big on PDA but loves giving you small random shows of affection, his hand rubbing your shoulder, a small squeeze of your hip in passing. His favorite though being small kisses of appreciation, reassurance, etc. though after a small and not entirely compliant of him messing up your makeup when he'd kiss your face and how it took you a long time. He began turning the small kissing habit into kissing your hand, the top of your head, your shoulder, anywhere but your face when you had your full makeup look on.

When you’d tag along on hunts with the boys Sam bought you a small vial necklace that matched all your other jewelry for you to wear and fill with holy water. Just in case you needed it.

The brothers also found out the hard way that when you're fully dressed up in your gothic/alternative look on hunts the three of you are often turned away at churches. You learned to pack a more normal outfit to switch into if it's necessary to step foot in church. You also easily overheat with your all black clothing. Sam started always keeping the AC on in the impala, at least when he's in the driver's seat that is.

Sam finds himself tracing or kissing your anti-possession tattoo that you had gotten alongside them. You don't often go on hunts with them, Sam being far too worried and nervous about your well being. He's concerned you'll get hurt even not out on hunts so he was relieved when you agreed to get the tattoo when they did. He wants nothing more than for you to be safe and happy.

“I will always protect you baby you know that right?” Sam questions softly as his finger traces around your shared tattoo and any others you have.

“I know that sweet boy” you smile fondly at your boyfriend and snuggle closer in his arms.

→ a/n: PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK AND HOPE YOU ENJOYED BABES AND SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS THIS WASNT PROOF READ :)

[questionablecuttlefish]

Honestly good to know I’m not crazy cause I do think there’s a certain lc erasure lately, it happened on ao3 in the arcane tag, their search word on twt is working weirdly, and ofc some people do not want her mentioned in arcane subs related. Honestly to each their own but I just find so funny how they’re trying so hard to bury lux but I assure u, if a lux show comes around the same people will be flipping sides so quickly (maybe not in the lc ship but yes in the loving lux side).

Plus I think it’s so cool that jinx has so many artists dedicated to her lately but as much as their work it’s beautiful, sometimes l can’t help but think “in what mad world will jinx wear smth like that or act that way” lmao, making her so different of how she is, even though she was so subdued in arcane s2 I think the fans subdued her even more in fandom spaces.

Anyways, this is the whole reason why I think lux is gonna be so popular cause I think fanon jinx rn is actually closer to canon lux.

I left Twitter in November and was never really on Reddit to begin with, and given the way the fandom's gone, I don't regret not being on either.

I do find the sheer balls out insecurity of those we shall not name who are trying so hard to erase Lightcannon and bully LC fans out of the fandom spaces both deeply aggravating and hilarious.

A certain other ship gets, what, the showrunners are fans, the animation studio are fans, there's most of a 40 minute episode dedicated to it, the artbook, a chart-topping song in French with a music video and a cover with Coldplay, they keep getting fed over and over.

And it's not enough, somehow?

Lightcannon hasn't shared a skinline in 10 years - oh wait, we got Lovestruck, yay! - oh wait, it's the comphet valentine's skin boooo - and LC fans sighing at 'airship to Demacia' is just our wishful dreaming. We don't trust Riot will ever give us what we want, why would we? They've burned us over and over again.

And yet some people are so scared of this 'non-canon delusional crack ship' where one partner doesn't even exist in the show and there's no signs she will that they're willing to try to bully its supporters out of existence? Really?

If we're so 'non-canon' why are we such a threat?

Baby shippers who can't share space are honestly not worth my time or energy to argue with.

I will critique another ship to my black heart's content but I'll never tell you you can't ship it. I'll never post negative comments on the work of another ship's artists, writers or cosplayers. I'll defend to the death your right to have your fictional blorbos.

Just don't tell me I can't have mine.

(...and may Great Azatoth help you if you try, because that's not a fight you'll win.)

OP, you're also right about the 'subduing' of Jinx. I'm deeply saddened by the fandom's slow burn domestication of a character who at her heart represents chaos, joyful destruction, rebellion against the rules, and the breakdown of established order.

But sure, let's turn the crazy firebrand into a blue-haired tradwife. That feels kinda political too, NGL, in this current cultural moment, doesn't it?

LC represents the opposite to me. Not because "Lux is crazier" - I don't even subscribe to that trope lol - but because Lux represents acceptance and support to Jinx, but Jinx represents rebellion and freedom to Lux.

Neither forces the other to be something she's not, but both represent an open hand offering something the other character already deeply, deeply desires and needs.

The whole world might be out to get them, but they'll be running hand in hand, and fighting back to back.

The freedom to love who you love and be who you are, no matter who others demand you to be, that's my Lightcannon. 💛💙🏳️‍🌈🦄

[kaeyas-beloved]

four sides and a bottom

Character: Kaveh

— a box full of your things, that’s it, that’s all

CWs: gn!reader (you/your), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, aftermath of a breakup

val’s no sympathy november masterlist

gonna apologize for dipping for so long but i'm also warning you that it could very much happen again <3 also i'm a little rusty with writing pls be nice to me :(

Kaveh wishes your relationship could’ve ended on good terms. He wouldn’t be able to kiss you or cuddle up to you with a glass of wine after a tough day, but at least you would still be his life. That and that alone would be good enough for him.

On rougher days, the words you spoke echo in his head, disrupting him as he goes about his day. When his mind isn’t occupied it’ll wander to the last day he was able to call you his, making even simple tasks like working or making a cup of coffee painful. A pang in his heart followed by an uncomfortable weight on his chest, throat blocked, barely able to breathe.

“We’re done Kaveh. No more, I can’t keep doing this!” The architect squeezes his eyes shut, willing away the repeat of the past. Without thinking, he takes his almost forgotten glass and downs a greedy gulp of the dark red liquid, the sweet yet bitter drink coating his throat and stomach, making his head spin and his heart beat just the way he likes it - stuttering and skipping as if to stop and bypass the thoughts he’d rather forget.

As much as the deadline loomed over him, Kaveh couldn’t, for the life of him, work on his latest project. Instead, his eyes kept trailing to the box pushed against his closet, the contents overflowing and peeking out for the world to see. By the fourth glance he groans and stands up, chair dragging along the wood floor and nearly toppling over from the force.

Some days he doesn’t know why he keeps this box of reminders around, other times he knows exactly why. People will cling to the last things they own when it affects them so greatly in life. You, by far, were one of the greatest effects on him.

There’s a clink and a thud as Kaveh sets the box of your things on the table, and it’s almost sad how he’s able to identify exactly what made each noise. He’s only memorized everything in it a dozen and a half times after all. A pocket watch, a picture frame, a scarf, a sketchbook, a ring. Meaningless things on their own or to the outside eye, but to you and Kaveh, they meant the world.

Clear as water he could remember when he gifted each of these to you, save the frame and picture. That was your own doing, something you had set on your desk because you liked looking at how happy you both were that day (or so you said - he thinks it's just because you liked looking at him specifically).

He’d given you the scarf to stay warm one night, the watch because you said it had a pretty design (you scolded him a little after finding out he almost spent all his mora on it for you as a gift. You were still touched nonetheless though). The sketchbook was given after you let slip that sometimes you liked to doodle. You always said you didn’t feel as talented as he was, but he’d always shoot back and say that as long as you appreciated the art of it all, the process, and you drew with a smile, then anything you drew was perfect (you were perfect).

The ring was a promise, one that he hadn’t intended to break. This gift you were too speechless to get on his case about financially because the words of love, dedication and loyalty that he added along meant the world to you. The promise to love you forever, to always take into consideration your feelings, and to one day make you his.

In some poetic, way maybe each item was an accumulation of things he was willing to give, when the reality was that you only needed him. Thinking on it now, it hurts more knowing that his absence was what caused your split in paths. Then again…

“Everything hurts when I’m not with you… I miss you.”

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx // @leemidnightmoon // @bisexuawolfsalt

+

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere // @kaeyastittysucker

[shadysubject06]

Hii hii!! Not sure if your asks are open per se? But I’ll shoot something over anyways! Don’t feel pressured to respond ^^ (these are gonna be relating to your fnaf:sb au!!!)

Firstly, what inspired you to give the DCA a frozen half mask? I honestly find it to be SUCH a cool design choice and I wanna know your design process! :D

Secondly (DCA related again </3), what’s your interpretation on Eclipse within your universe? Do they exist? Are they a third entity, a combination of Sun and Moon, a security program with no learning AI, or perhaps something else entirely? I’d love to hear your thoughts! (Personally I interpret them as a combination/security program :0!)

Lastly (yes… once more… DCA related…), do you have any fun facts about Sun, Moon, and Chica’s friendship that you’ve been itching to share? Or haven’t gotten the chance to touch on yet? This AU honestly made me grow really attached to the idea of the DCA and Glam Chica being friends! It’s so so SO sweet!

That’s it for now!! Thank you so much for making your AU btw!! It’s been awesome to binge <3

GOLLY HI!!! Sorry, I didn't see this till now! I'm so glad you're enjoying my stuff, thank you!!! I don't have a name for this "AU" since it kinda started as just this series of snippets of the DCA and Chica being besties and then it started bleeding into all the feelings I had about SB's corporate horror subtext and all of the assumptions I'd had about the direction they would take the story after Help Wanted, and now it's kind of a….retelling-slash-one off comics story. If you or anybody else has name ideas for this on-going saga I'd love to hear them so that I could put it all in a dedicated tag! Now that I've got that ramble out of the way I'll answer your questions! (I lied I'm gonna ramble more cuz I'm really good at it ksfdlnlksdfnlksndf)

1) I have a tendency to redesign characters a bit when I make fan art because trying to stay on model to the original design makes my art come out a bit stiff. I'd seen a lot of fan art for the DCA where they had their whole mouth move, but with the way their faces have a "moon" side, it made me think of a Phantom of the Opera mask. Then I heard that in the Pizzaplex books they were apparently a theater robot that was repurposed for the daycare, so I just decided to lean into it! I've been playing with the idea of making the eye holes on Sun and Moon's mask different to mimic the tragedy/comedy masks!

2) Ooooh the security program is an interesting idea!!! So, I don't know how actual programming stuff works. And since I believe that the robots in FNAF have been sentient since Sister Location, meaning that they've been advancing robo sentience in-universe further for years, I tend to play around with the sentience and the programming fighting with each other at times. When it comes to what I think Eclipse is…. I'm actually gonna put that under a spoiler because it's something I've been teasing at and I can't keep story secrets to save my life, so you can look at that answer ~ at your own risk oooOOOooooOOOooo ~ Now. To answer the third point and give you that Eclipse spoiler. I need to add it in a reblog. Because I was writing out this whole thing....and I wrote so much that I hit the text limit. Which I have never done before. Which also freaked Tumblr out and it wouldn't let me post this no matter how much I erased. So please give me just a few minutes and I'll get you the rest of the answer FDLKSNLSFKDNSLFKN

[khywren]

find the word tag

rules: i'll give you five words. find the word (or closest approximation you can) in your works and post an excerpt. tag others to play and give them new words too!

thanks so much for the tags, @xxnashiraxx, @vividiana, @deadly-diminuendo, @bloodinwine! i am, of course, doing every single one of all your words, so this one's gonna be a bit long, but why not? it was fun going back through some of the fics i haven't looked at in a long time~

dream

In her struggle to wake, she had anchored herself to his presence in her own mind, heart thundering loudly in her chest as she had finally torn herself from the dream as if surfacing for air.

( adrift, chapter 1 )

fire

When he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are the fire that finally sets you alight, blazing red embers that simmer with need. You feel warm, almost deliriously so, as the heat that had been pooling low in your stomach begins to ebb throughout the rest of your body.

( denouement )

pull

The anger that's been simmering inside him erupts, and his eyes flash in warning. But she meets his ire with determination, either too drunk or too stupid to realize what she's done. The memories she's pulled to the surface, long since locked away.

( mist and shadow )

sweet

( vis medicatrix )

His eyes pin you in place, wine-dark and hungry. You're left with no option but to look at him as he watches you carefully, considering. “Or are we going to pretend that you're not aching for my cock already?” His voice is honey-sweet, rich and thick and sinfully decadent.

tears

Tears well in her eyes, blurring her vision. Ysera brushes them away with the back of her hand. She seethes with anger, both for herself and for the lives that were lost because of her inaction. Astarion practically wilts beneath the venom in her gaze. Her voice is strained and stretched thin when she finally finds it. “You really are awful, you know?”

( adrift, unpublished chapter )

sunshine

The roaring of the rapids is what finally catches her interest, and she stops on the river’s edge, gaze trained on the churning, frothing water as it rushes past. The whispers in her mind are an ever-present companion, especially after sunset, like an itch she can't quite scratch. It's easier to drown out their mournful serenade here where there is so much else to draw her attention.

( adrift, chapter 3 )

melt

The snow is falling thickly now, settling in an icy blanket along the rooftops nearby. Astarion makes a small noise and sighs quietly through his nose, resisting the voice in his head that tells him how ridiculous he must look when he sticks out his tongue to catch a snowflake drifting towards him. No sooner has it melted on his tongue than does he hear Ysera's muffled laughter beside him, hand clapped over her mouth when he turns to frown at her.

( frost & flame )

stay

( adrift, chapter 5 )

It's almost concerning how much she likes it. How, for the first time in her life, she feels like she can be of use to someone, instead of just a burden. She likes that, too. Astarion makes a show of gathering the remaining blood on the corners of his mouth with a flick of his thumb and licks the digit clean. He never stays for long once he's finished with her, but tonight it seems he has other plans in mind, and it's more than just the weather that's keeping him.

smile

Astarion’s mouth was made for sly smirks and flirtatious grins, but the tender smile that spreads across his lips now looks better than any of them, the hard edges of his face smoothed by Gale’s profession of love. It suits him, Gale thinks – he will dedicate his efforts to ensuring that Astarion will never again need to hide behind the echoes of his past.

( between the lines of fear and blame )

greed

“Greedy little thing aren't you?” he says, his eyes darkening. He steadies himself with a hand on your hip and hovers over you, lowering his mouth until he's just above your lips. “How lucky for you that I'm feeling exceptionally generous tonight.”

( ravenous )

blood

His rage is a volatile thing, barely leashed behind the fangs he presses into her throat. A soft whimper escapes Ysera's lips, and she clutches at his shirt. Somewhere on the periphery of his mind, he realizes he's hurting her, but the rush of blood that pours into his mouth as he punctures her neck without warning washes the thought away on a current of red. Her pulse pounds in his ears, and with every swallow he can feel his own strength returning. He had been purposely avoiding her before, vexed by his concern for her wellbeing, but it all seems so pointless now.

( mist and shadow )

lips

( khywren's kinktober 2024, prompt 8 )

“You’ve got me dead to rights,” he says eventually, hands held up in surrender. The irony occurs to him, then, and he giggles mischievously, “Well, even more dead than I already am, of course.” When she doesn't laugh at his joke, his expression sours, lips pursed as he pouts miserably at her and sighs. “My humor is wasted on you.”

sun

“She sat with me until sundown and made sure that we – that I – had somewhere safe to go,” Astarion continues. His smile turns sardonic as he adds, “In that moment, all I could think of was how weak and ashamed I felt, and she never made me apologize for any of it. She never has. I've never understood why.”

( khywren's kinktober 2024, prompt 11 )

tempt

“I’ve been thinking about it ceaselessly, that delicious little moment we shared.” His voice is low, all gravel and practiced temptation, so quiet that it forces Ysera to focus only on him. And it's not exactly a lie, far easier to weave into the fabric of the fantasy he hopes to paint in her mind.

( adrift, chapter 5 )

adore

There's a sort of aloof detachment in her voice that Astarion finds rather amusing. It's the same sort of subterfuge he often uses, one of his favorite habits that she's picked up from traveling with him these past few weeks. Oh, she isn't nearly half as subtle about it, wiggling her hips in his lap as she is now, but gods if her efforts aren't adorable nevertheless. Astarion spares a cursory glance at the book in her hand, a roguish grin spreading across his face as he finally understands why Ysera chose this night in particular to pay him a late night visit.

( khywren's kinktober 2024, prompt 4 )

soft

With a soft sigh, Astarion grasps Gale’s hand and brings it between them, lacing their fingers together. He smooths the pad of his thumb across the back of Gale’s hand with absent, subconscious strokes. It is a profoundly romantic gesture, one of many that Astarion has gained a proclivity for since their settling in Gale’s tower in Waterdeep. Through mirroring the comfort that Gale’s touch has brought him during their time together, Astarion has begun to learn how to use his hands not to hurt, but to heal.

( between the lines of fear and blame )

lust

( what am i supposed to do (but sink my teeth in you?) )

He revels in bringing her this uncontested pleasure, safe in the knowledge that no one has ever made her feel so whole, so complete. His eyes rise to meet her own, so dark with lust that the rich gold of her irises has become like molten honey. She watches him with rapt attention, committing the moment to memory as best she can.

promise

( mist and shadow )

One after another over the course of the evening, he has watched from afar as the tieflings that had survived the journey to Last Light have circled her like vultures, taking what they needed from her – reassurance, hope, a promise to ensure their safety. Alfira is but the latest scavenger, coming to collect the final scraps. And Astarion is furious. At the tieflings, for being too weak to carry their own weight. At Ysera, for letting them use her without a second thought. And at himself, for being no better than any of them.

faith

“The terms seem rather generous, don't you think? You have so little faith in me.” She clearly doesn't believe that he can avoid waking her, even with the tea to lull her into a deeper sleep. “I'll remind you that I am a rogue – and a rather skilled one at that.” Ysera remains unconvinced. “You're also a man,” she says confidently. “Most of you lose all rational thought the second the clothes start coming off.”

( khywren's kinktober 2024, prompt 6 )

death

Astarion had begun his new life – his undeath – on his knees. How strange it had felt, to be on the other side of the equation, as Ysera had knelt so willingly at his feet and offered herself to him with no strings attached.

What else might she be willing to do for him with the right amount of persuasion?

( adrift, chapter 5 )

i know most of you have been tagged or done this already, but if any of you feel like doing it again, here's your chance i guess. 😅 that's what i get for always being super late to the party.

no-pressure tagging: everyone who tagged me, plus @verbenaa, @nyx-knox, @roguishcat, @pinkberrytea, @obsessedwhyyes, @elinorbard, @ladyduellist, @nerdallwritey, @hellethil

my words: caress, fang, embrace, brush, smirk

[mystxmomo]

can you…write…kevgar… again.. please…

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

😭💔😭☹️☹️🥺😭😭💔😭eyyeus eueue 😭💔🥺🥺

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

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

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

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

"Original Authors note: 

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

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

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

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

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

Edgar Valden is real pretty, is the main thing.

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

But he is, and it’s an issue. 

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

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

And rage always comes back to frustration. 

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

//

Emily tells him that it’s called Hanahaki.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Valden was going to kill him.

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

Edgar doesn’t kill him.

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

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

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

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

“Don't fucking touch me,"

...

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

Then closes it, her eyebrows furrowing.

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

....

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fuckin’-”

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

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

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

Kevin barely understands what this means for himself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

When Kevin breaks away, he’s shaking.

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

Fuck.

He pulls away, and he vomits.

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

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

His eyes burn.

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

They don’t talk about it.

//

He tries to talk to Patricia about it.

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

He laughs, "That's it?"

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

And his blood runs cold.

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

....

He coughs.

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

He ... Sits down. He feels winded.

He holds his head in his hands.

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

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

//

He extends an olive branch.

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

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

Kevin pauses.

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

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

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

“Alright.”

//

....

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

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

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

Kevin does.

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

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

“Sucks.”

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

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

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

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

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

Despite himself, he prompts him.

....

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

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

“What are you asking me, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kevin gets up to leave.

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

“Sit down,” Edgar says

Kevin.... sits.

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

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

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

He coughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels emptier for it.

...

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Sorry ‘bout your uh-” 

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

They sit in silence.

Kevin is the one to leave.

//

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

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

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

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

Edgar tries to take pity on him.

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

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

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

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

...

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

Kevin laces their fingers together.

There's no guilt for that.

[logmore]

hello logmore! silly question but i was curious about your thoughts on like a dragon: infinite wealth so far. you mentioned being bored by the first few chapters (fair) so i’m curious what your impression is now that you’ve played more of it. i wish sega was a bit more transparent about the development of the yakuza games because im kind of fascinated by some of the decisions they made in this one

I finished the game last night so I can reply now. I will talk about Infinite Wealth spoilers here:

Things I like:

Combat: Just Yakuza 7 combat but fleshed out, which is perfect. Being able to position your character is great, the team chain attacks and weapon attacks and stuff are fun to set up. The one flaw with it is that it does not interact with Kiryu very well, and by the end I was actually doing less damage with Kiryu if I got a tag team or weapon attack instead of a basic Brawler attack.

Classes: There were a lot of classes I ignored in 7 because they just weren't doing anything; it was just better to leave Joongi, Zhao, and Eri as their defaults and go to town. I think 8 has an improved skill inheritance system that made it more worthwhile to try out different classes, so by the end I switched every character away from their base class. Desperado and Aquanaut stood out as being very flexible and fun.

Kiryu: Technically this is an Ichiban game, but its more of a send-off to Kiryu than anything. I like how there was a ton of content dedicated to Kiryu revisiting characters from the past games, delivered in a way that I still liked it even though I only played 0 and 1. I thought the way they introduced leveling up his stances + gaining the ability to go beat-em-up mode was pretty clever. I also liked equipping him with gear that gave him buffs every turn so he could tear enemies apart like King's Hawaiian rolls.

Yamai: They knew what they were cooking here. You have to fight this guy like 4 times and I enjoyed it every time. He's cool, he looks cool, even the main characters say he is cool, and if he isn't playable in Yakuza 9 I'm gonna be astounded.

Things I don't:

Slow start: The first chapter got me pretty invested, but after Ichiban goes to Hawaii the story is a fucking slog for like 15 hours. I got so bored I stopped playing, and when I came back it finally picked up again.

Side content that I wasn't ever going to do: This is the reason the start of the story is so slow. I'm sure Dondoko Island and Crazy UberEats and all that is fun, but it isn't the type of thing I'm playing these games for, and when so much time in the story is spent ramping up all these side games to play, I just feel like I'm wasting my time. Next game might as well have a Virtua Fighter 6 tournament in the middle of it, why not?

Villains: Bryce and Ebina are just lame characters. This is a game with essentially 2 final bosses, but neither of them have the emotional core or the weight of the bosses from 7. Bryce is literally just 'a weird guy shows up', and while I understand what they were going for with Ebina, his goals seem so disconnected from what the protagonists are experiencing that him taking his shirt off and fighting Kiryu doesn't feel like a real climax. Getting Danny Trejo on board was a pretty inspired choice, but you fight Dwight so early that it framed him as a weakling that didn't matter. And he keeps coming back, in spite of that! There were a few showdowns in 7 where it felt high stakes/intense, but in 8 they had to bust out Sawashiro again to capture that.

Managing 2 parties at the same time: On one hand its cool because it means I get to use every party member, but I wish they bumped up the XP of whatever party you weren't playing, so that when you switched between them they were both at the same level. There were a couple of points where I had to grind because the difficulty of the content was scaling based on what my previous party had left off at, so I needed to get my current party to that level first. I also had to spend a lot of time doing the dungeons to get the materials for weapon upgrades on 9 characters. Just kind of time consuming, but it isn't the worst thing in the world.

Tatara Channel: Its dumb, but this is the only thing in the game that actually made me mad. The social media aspect of the story already feels dated in a way, and I don't care about Vtubers to begin with, but the thing that actually got me upset about this shit is that all the Tatara Channel scenes are just story recaps with unskippable dialog where something relevant MIGHT happen at the end. At one point I got tired of it and just skipped the cutscene, and then all of the sudden Kiryu is in front of Tojo HQ ready to fight. I hope they never deliver a plot in this way ever again

Even though I wrote more negative things than positive things, I still liked this game a lot. 7 is a way better story, but I think Ichiban and Kiryu are just too strong of protagonists to truly hate on the story, even if a lot of things surrounding it are dumb. I'm looking forward to playing pirates with Majima, and I will wish on a genie's lamp for Yamai to come back as a playable berserker-type character

[sameschmidtdiffname]

i recently had a thought about the reader's online friend!josh futterman, like if these two actually KNOW each other irl but have no idea about it because they use nicknames

i'd really appreciate it if you'd write something like this and I hope my description of it makes sense i used a translator for this lol

in love with your writing btw !!! <3

Bbgirl I gotCHUUUUU

Familiar Strangers

A Josh Futturman x Gender Neutral! Reader Series

Summery: They always say you never know when you'll meet Mister Right. But damn. This is a new level.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, coffee shop AU, Josh never wins 'Biotic Wars' AU, fluff, meet cute, online friends who don't realize they're friends irl as well, brief mentions of smut, otherwise SFW.

Notes: Alright, first actually planned series! Is it gonna be a slowburn with twenty parts? A mini series? Who the fuck knows! Not me! Let's pray, mfers.

                                 ¤•1•¤

                    °☆>》Maggie's《<☆°

"Please tell me there's a chance for us," she says with baited breath. "Don't tell me you're walking away."

The atmosphere of the small, brick walled coffee shop is calm for 10 o'clock in the morning, but I'm not complaining. God knows I prefer this over the alternative anyways.

"You know that I can't answer that," Oshua says to Tiger, agitated.

This guy, always trying to be mysterious.

"I've waited for you my whole life. You could give me a goddamn-"

The ring of the shop bell tears me from my reading, my head darting up to see who has come to disturb my morning of peace and fiction.

"Hi!" The customer says in overly bright voice. One look at the man and I already know he's the chatty type, not willing to just duck in and out, keys jingling from the black belt on his hip as he flashes a bright, genuine smile, waving his hand enthusiastically while keeping the other in his pants pocket.

Motherfucker.

"Hi!" I try to return with the same bright smile and tone, but I feel irritation spike into my chest as I hear the soft 'click' of my phone shutting off. "Welcome to Maggie's, what can I get you?"

Gentle sunlight streams in through the permanently clouded bay windows of the shop, illuminating the store in its warm glow that just makes a morning feel particularly peaceful. There isn't much foot at this point in the morning, most people already having arrived to work an hour or so earlier, myself included. It was a busy enough part of town, a good location for a coffee shop to thrive, especially with the loyal flow of customers from Kronish Laboratory, a tall, dull building dedicated to scientific research, and the little coffee shop that signs my checks often had the pleasures (read: irritations) of dealing with said researchers and keeping them alive while they work on the miracle cure for herpes. Most of them being particularly rude and short about their orders, usually in a rush for a regular cup of black coffee and swiping it from my hand before storming out to resume their endless work typing away at a computer to log their samples after what must be their too short lunch break. Or maybe too long. Can never tell with those assholes. Most of which I know through mental nicknames. It's partially because I'm no good at actual names. And partially my own form of disrespect and entertainment. Come on, you do it too.

"I don't know," the unfamiliar man says brightly, placing his hands on his hips as he looks at the chalkboard sign hanging behind my head. "What do you like?"

'Whatever gets you out of here the fastest,' I think. But instead I say "Well, what exactly are you looking for? Tea, coffee," the door, "smoothies?"

"Hit me-" gladly. "-with a tea," the bright man says just so... brightly.

Thank you for being so descriptive. "What kind?" I ask, trying to keep my smile sweet.

"Whatever you like," he says with a shrug.

"Vanilla chai?"

"Sure!"

I need to stop being so irritable when someone interrupts my reading. I'm not even allowed to be on my phone at work technically, except the manager generally doesn't care so long as I at least make half an effort to hide it and don't do it in front of customers. And maybe I wouldn't even really care about the interruption except I've been waiting for the release of this part for two weeks, and Nick had been so secretive about the ending he didn't even let me beta read the work before posting.

"What's got you in such a mood?" I ask the smiling man, turning to begin making the drink. Oh, size.

"What do you mean?" He asks, raising his brows, still smiling. Brightly.

"You're like a big... ball of sunshine," I say, gesturing towards him before holding up a small and large cup, now gesturing the two like they were on scales to silently ask his preference.

"Oh, I'm just excited this morning. I'm not usually like this," he says, laughing a little as a small blush grows on his nose, glancing down at the floor before returning his gaze to the cups, pointing at the small.

"Yeah?" I ask, putting the large cup away.

"Yeah. Finished a big project this morning, so I'm like," he shrugs, now scratching the back of his head as he tries to subdue his smile, pressing his lips together and now crossing his subtly built arms across his chest.

"Well, congrats," I say. There's a small moment of slightly awkward silence as the tea quickly brews, both of us not really sure what to say next. This is the part I hate about customer service. I feel bad if I'm not constantly keeping them engaged, but if they're constantly talking I wish they would shut the fuck up. I already can't read regular conversation cues, there's just no winning with this shit.

"I like your uh..." the man I've decided will henceforth be known as Sunshine drawls. "Apron."

I look down at myself, taking note of the dandelion yellow cloth stained with coffee at the bottom from an hour ago when it accidently dipped into a puddle of the stuff while I was cleaning up a spill someone hadn't even told me about only half an hour after opening.

"Thanks," I say, looking back up. "Company issued."

"Oh, we match!" Sunshine jokes, pointing at his grey jumpsuit. Alright, the man may be way too energetic for the morning, but at least he's entertaining about it. I take an actual look at his attire now, a janitors outfit with what I should've expected to be a Kronish Laboratory logo right above his name sewn onto the suit.

"That we do..." I glance at his nametag. "Futturman."

"Fut-turman, not Foot-turman," Sunshine corrects me.

"Oh shit. Shoot. Sorry, man," I laugh awkwardly, offering an apologetic smile as I pour the warm, steeped tea over the ice.

"Iced in Febuary?" He asks, giving me enough grace to not focus on the subject.

I feel my own blush creep onto my skin, a side effect from the name jumble and realizing I hadn't asked his preference. Get your head in the game, idiot.

"I can make you another, if you'd like," I offer sheepishly.

"No!" He blurts, straightening his posture and leaning against the counter. "I mean-" he coughs awkwardly, glancing away. "No, iced is good. I like iced, just uh- figured you... wouldn't have the same preference."

Please, God. It's too early for this.

"I don't like the hot to room temperature texture," I say awkwardly, searching for a lid. "Too... I don't know. Iced to room temperature is better."

"Totally agree," Sunshine says quickly.

Glad to know neither of us can interact with humans properly.

Another moment of awkward silence, except I know what to say this time.

"So, you work at the lab?" I ask. For the small moment I didn't have his attention, he seemed to be surveying the small cakes on display inside the counter beside me, looking at a little white cake with strawberry coating on top before turning back to me.

"Oh! Yeah, no, I just- Carl told me about the place, said I had to try it out," he says, shifting his weight as he stands. "Good vibes and all that."

"Carl..." I say, trying to remember if I've known a Carl.

"Big, like," he gestures his hands long then wide. "Works security, looks like," he makes a sort of stern, almost mean mug face. At that it clicks.

"Oh! Carl!" Deftones Guy. "Yeah, I know him," I say with a more relaxed smile, chuckling a little.

"Yeah, said you guys discuss music sometimes," he says, nodding enthusiastically like he's glad we know the same person.

"A little," I say, placing the drink on the counter. "Alright, Mr. Futturman. $6.70 is your total."

The dark haired man nods, pulling out a green wallet with an emblem on the front from one of his deep pockets. I try to get a clear look simply out of curiosity, but his large, tanned hand covers it too much for me to see what it is.

"Here you are," he says, handing me his card. There's more silence, this time comfortable as I swipe it, our machine beeping twice in decline. At the third beep, Sunshine begins to shift his weight again, licking and biting his bottom lip nervously.

"There should be money on there," he says with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh, it's the machine. It doesn't like working," I clarify. "One sec."

Quickly, I pound my palm into the righthand top corner of the device, right under the chip reader before inserting the blue, cloud covered card once more and waiting for the transaction to clear. At the much more calm, non-nuclear level beep we both breathe a sigh of relief as I return the card to him with a smile.

"Alright," he says with that bright tone to his voice once more. "Now I can see what's up."

We both can.

"I hope you have a good day, Mr. Futturman," I say brightly, still a tad pink from leftover embarrassment.

Sunshine nods and smiles at me, toasting his drink before turning from me and beginning to walk away, taking a sip of his drink and humming in approval, turning quickly and giving me a thumbs up before tripping over his own foot and stumbling into the door like a bit of an idiot, making me giggle slightly before I make myself look away to give him the same grace he'd given me earlier. And with that last exchange he's gone, and I'm free to return to my art.

The tall man looked sadly at- ah shit, I jumped ahead.

"I've waited for you my whole life. You could give me a goddamn answer, Future Man!" Tiger spat in anger and frustration, forcing the emotions she could barely even allow herself to feel overwhelm her in her attempts to communicate.

Emotional angst for my bright morning. God bless, Nick.

-

As I push open the door to my apartment, my phone is buzzing with still silent notifications of what I can guarantee are Tumblr sourced. More specifically, Tumblr messaging sourced. As I push the door shut with my foot, one glance at my old, outdated phone confirms my thoughts.

felinehusband: Okay, give it to me straight.

I smile at the notification, allowing my oversized bag filled with too many items to clatter to the ground loudly, unlocking my phone and responding quickly.

icanfixhimdotorg: Dude.

I walk as I type, entering the kitchen and opening the door to the small freezer to see which cheap meal I'll try not to nuke tonight.

felinehusband: Dude? ,:)

I smile at the message, picking out chicken teriyaki as I hit send.

icanfixhimdotorg: Worth. The. Wait.

I cross to the beaten microwave, the appliance cheap and secondhand from Facebook marketplace. It's honestly a miracle the thing hasn't blown up in my face or given me detectable cancer, but despite the large dent on the side, still usable. Google said if the door still seals and there's no opening, it was safe. And it got that dent from me dropping it on the way inside the apartment on move in day after I already paid $50 for it after getting it from some overworked mom who hardly wanted to even charge that low. I sure as hell wasn't gonna get a refund, or anything functional for cheaper.

I leave my phone on the counter as I open the frozen meal, vent the film and slap it inside. Now to wait for seven minutes.

felinehusband: Oh thank GOD. I've been anxious all day.

I chuckle softly, smiling as I lean against the permanently grimy counter.

icanfixhimdotorg: I don't know why!! You always post such good work :)

felinehusband: Well, I post work that always has good reception.

icanfixhimdotorg: The difference?

felinehusband: ... I'll get back to you on that one lol

I tap my foot against the floor, listening to the muffled echo mix with the loud hum of the microwave as I stare ahead at the mint green, poorly painted wall in front of me.

icanfixhimdotorg: No cervix penetration?

There's plenty of ways to meet friends. I didn't not bank on responding to a request for beta readers for fanfiction for some moderate, slowly dying game fandom to be one of them.

felinehusband: ONE TIME!

The quick response makes me laugh, clicking off my phone as I turn my attention now to my waiting meal that I'm going to devour much too quickly while working lines for my production.

Nick and I started chatting about six months ago. I had already been following him for some of his shit posts, midnight blogging, and when he started posting fanfiction I was one of his first readers.

'Biotic Wars' doesn't have a particularly big following on Tumblr as it used to. When the game first came out, people were going insane over how to beat the final level. The community thrived from memes, overly elaborate theories, fanfiction, you name it. It helped that there was a huge boost in the gaming community in general around the time it came out, what with 'Five Nights at Freddy's' cranking out sequels faster than anyone could keep up with, 'Undertale' breaking out onto the scene a little bit later. The gaming side of Tumblr was alive and thriving, and the amount of overlapping there was between fandoms only made it bigger. That was how I found the fandom personally. That and binging several different speed-running videos.

At the point Nick came onto the scene, most had generally lost their interest in the unbeatable 'Biotic Wars.' The fans that remained did so out of genuine interest or hyperfixation instead of temporary trends, and while good work was still being posted, everyone had at that point either begun to shift their own writing focuses, lost time to post frequently, or shifted to other platforms such as Archive of Our Own and had stopped crossposting to their Tumblr. So a decent, well paced, new angst fic following a lone Wolf and Tiger reminiscing on their old journies together as they attempted to survive a bitter winter night without any supplies other than an old tarp being used as their only attempt of shelter as they attempt to ride out a storm after a mission gone wrong popped onto the scene, people were immediately captivated. And even though it was a one-shot, the work received enough attention that a spin-off fic was posted within the following 48 hours. And once those two had blown up, Nick was quickly recognized in the community for his content, shitposts and fics alike. And he was very lucky to have overwhelming positive feedback. Until his first smut, that is.

icanfixhimdotorg: Nico, baby. It's an important first step for every smut writer.

Oh, it was brutal. First, he decided to go off the deep end by just jumping straight into some tenticle situation for poor Tiger. Now, granted, he did post a poll before hand asking if we readers would enjoy the consumption of some outrageous shit, to which 78.8% of voters said yes, myself included. But when reading a 'baby's first smut' fic, one doesn't really expect... that. But I'll admit, it was surprisingly good quality. Until the cervix penetration.

"Coiling in her womb." Yeah, Tumblr had a fun day with that one.

It took less than a day for him to post that he was searching for smut consultants and beta readers, to which I responded both out of genuine interest and a bit of pity since I was sure his ask box was filling with several new comments. No one was surprised when he ended up turning off anon for a few days. And since I had responded to quite a few of his works/posts already, I was one of the lucky few selected for such a job since he recognized me. And once the doorway was opened for casual chatter, both of us just kind of never stopped. Either by constantly responding to each others posts, automatic reblogs at each notification of a new post, or messaging each other about our days kept us both sane as we tried to just survive each new day as adults.

I look up from my notebook where my tragic script is scratched across the $0.75 college notebook as I lazily attempt to memorize my lines while mostly keeping my eyes trained on the old TV in front of me to check the buzz from my phone, swiping it open to read the new message.

felinehusband: So how's season four going?

icanfixhimdotorg: Dude.

I watch the screen until I feel the phone buzz once more in my hand.

felinehusband: No spoilers!! I'm still trying to push through season three for you ;)

Nick was sweet. Good for a joke, claims he's a little awkward, but a good friend. Sweet enough that about two months ago he'd let it slip he'd begun watching my favorite show simply because "If I have to see you go insane over animated anthropomorphic animals interacting with humans again without context, I'm gonna lose it."

icanfixhimdotorg: Binge it!! You're gonna lose your mind!!

felinehusband: You're gonna delay part 10 lmao

As I take the last bite of my meal, I realize the time, sighing as I begin to do the mental math of how long I have until practice tonight. Knowing how little time I have to prepare, I pause the episode and type one last quick text.

icanfixhimdotorg: If it does, it's worth it honestly. You won't believe this shit, Nick.

As I stand from the sagging, horrendously textured couch I catch his parting message while I stretch, popping about five different spots in my back.

felinehusband: Okayokay, if it means I can read your over the top rants again, it's worth it :)

icanfixhimdotorg: Excellent. Got to go, showering for practice tonight.

I trail quickly through the small apartment, grabbing whatever clothes are passable in public while remaining comfortable enough to sleep in when I immediately collapse into my bed around 11 tonight, an old, tattered, turquoise towel I'd stolen from my parents when I moved out, and grabbing my soap from the kitchen sink before making my way to the bathroom. Listen, Seventh Generation is cheap and works just as good on the human body as it does on dishes, alright? I'm trying to get a mortgage one day.

As I wait for the water to shift from its arctic temperature to something more bearable, I check my phone one more time to quickly reblog a gifset and read Nick's departing message.

felinehusband: Knock 'em dead, Mercutio :)

felinehusband: Also, I need some input later tonight for this like. Slowburn thing. May be an AU. Not sure, we'll see. I'm thinking coffee shop

Ah, yes.

icanfixhimdotorg: A classic.

                             >¤》○《¤<

I'm making no current promises on how frequently I update this series. Hopefully it'll be something I can work on while working and such, but we'll see what happens. My current hope is to post at minimum one request and hopefully one part for this series per week. However I will warn one of my current projects is about to wrap up, meaning I'm going to have to focus on that next week as much as possible, meaning I probably won't get anything done writing wise next week unless I aim for a drabble or headcanons. And even then I'm not sure I'll have time for actually editing and such, so don't be surprised if the only content you get next week is some rambles like I've been doing for Peeta lately or nothing at all. Alright, love y'all!! Stay safe, stay healthy <33 see you next time.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[lizard-queen-izzy]

OK! WE'RE DOING THIS!

Everyone shut up and sit down. I'm talking about TMA. I am listening through for the first time, I'm through S1 and halfway through S2, and I already have many Thoughts. Today, we will be focusing on my evil ship thoughts, because I missed my chance when this was coming out so now I will subject you all.

I know Jon and Martin get together at some point, and yknow, that's all fine and good.

BUT I WANNA TALK ABOUT JON AND TIM, OK?

There is so much potential for something there, and they would be so incredibly messy after the S1 finale.

[I've lightly scrolled through the jontim tag, and I truly don't think there's enough of you talking about how tragic they are. Platonic or romantic, they're so so sad.]

They both worked in the research department before Jon was made Head Archivist, and even though they definitely weren't close, they were definitely friendly. My Firm Belief is that Jon was the only one who took Tim seriously despite his more lax attitude, he saw his strong work ethic and his dedication and treated him accordingly. And Tim was the only one who listened to Jon, the only one who thought he had anything to add and took his suggestions.

I believe they were hired around the same time, and once they met there was a silent understanding that they were there for eachother. It was nice to just have someone in their corner in this new environment.

When Jon got promoted to Head Archivist, he was adamant about Tim being on his team, because he knew Tim would help get the results needed. [I have a whole, how everyone got assigned to the team timeline thought out but that's not why we're here]

Tim is the only member of his team who Jon doesn't think would have written Antonio Blake's statement as a joke to scare him. Which means he trusts him the most out of all of them. Which wouldn't be as important if he showed distaste for them equally, but he regards both Tim and Sasha highly, and only really seems to have an issue with Martin at this point. So why would he trust Tim to not have written it but not Sasha? Unless he's known him the longest and has reason to put that faith in him.

AND THEIR CONVERSATION AT THE BEGINNING OF MAG 33?? You're gonna listen to that, the first time we as the audience meet Tim, and tell me you don't hear how much these two care for eachother? Even when Jon starts getting upset/loud, he calms quickly for Tim, and doesn't let himself fully yell at him. He also leaves it up to Tim to fix the mistakes, an example of him trusting Tim's judgement and work. And Tim is so calm with him! The man keeps getting worked up and starting to get loud, but Tim stays calm and let's him self correct and say what he needs to before proceeding himself. He knows Jon is stressed and has a lot on his plate. He knows these mistakes needed to be discussed with him and corrected somehow, but he's still not going to force Jon to re-record the statements if he really doesn't want to, he's willing to find another solution. And then he leaves to go work on it so Jon can get back to recording the statement.

And Tim telling Jon he doesn't understand the filing system and Jon explaining it calmly to him, admitting he doesn't really get it either but that's how it is.

You also have to see my vision for how the S1 finale effects them. A traumatic experience where they were both scarred mentally and physically in the same ways. Something that should have brought them even closer, maybe finally made them feel comfortable being proper friends outside of work. But they both react to it SO differently. And that is the beginning of their downfall. That is the beginning of the end.

Because Jon spirals. He stops trusting everyone. He pushes them all away and starts crossing boundaries. HE SPIES ON TIMS HOUSE. And he can't even calm down long enough to see why this bothers his coworkers. Why this hurts Tim.

The beginning of S2 from Tim's perspective is awful. Your first friend in this workplace is overworking himself, throwing himself back into work the second he's cleared physically well enough to go back. But he clearly hasn't moved past it, and you can't blame him for that. Everyone copes differently, but then he turns on you. He stops trusting you, starts pushing you away, starts spying on you. Can you imagine how much that hurts? To have the first person in this terrifying new job who ever put their trust in you, who ever believed in you, to turn on you just when you need them the most.

THEY ARE SO FUCKING MESSY. GOD.

Anyway. I very well may be back with more JonTim thoughts as I continue to listen. But this is what I have for you today.

[majimaisms]

Man I keep trying to answer back to that one response you made back to me but tumblr keeps disappearing it after it says it was sent? I dunno, I’ve been away from this site for too long haha I don’t know how it works anymore. I don’t wanna spam up your messages in case it is going through, but just in case it isn’t I’ll just paste the response I just sent here so you don’t think I’m being rude and not answering;

‘I wrote a whole response to this a couple days back but apparently tumblr just ate it? I dunno. Anyway, I’m not sure on the source of it, I was joking on bsky that Majima probably wanted to be friends with the guy who could buy beer without getting carded and someone replied saying that Saejima has a line in one of the games about going to Juvie so they assumed they met there. As for Shimano, as far as I can tell he didn’t have a family until 1985? (In Kiwami the Shimano portrait says that his family was established in 1987 and I was like “???” So I looked it up and at least according to the fan wiki he was a captain for Dojima until he started a family under the Dojima umbrella in 1985 and eventually split off to form his own free-standing family in ‘87) so if we’re assuming Majima swore in around the same time as Saejima when he was approx 15/16, he would have sworn under Dojima and followed Shimano to his family when it formed. It’s easy enough to say that Majima went to Dojima because it was the biggest toughest family with the biggest toughest badasses, but just for the sake of a “Majima followed Saejima to the Yakuza” hc it’s worth interrogating why he wouldn’t be in the same family, and I just kinda like the idea Sakai’s family was so small and insular because they stress how big he was on oldschool honour and accountability, so he’d be choosy about only recruiting guys that he wanted to take responsibility for.”

hi omg im sorry it took me so long to get to this. i actually saw your reply to the post! and went to double-check my knowledge of the 80s timeline, and then forgot to reply back 😭 i don't know why tumblr was disappearing those replies for you, but they're still visible to me. weird as hell

saejima not getting carded is so so real. lmfao. do you have a link to that person's reply on bsky? i kinda wanna go and ask them if they remember where it's from. also yeah, i did check and apparently shimano didn't have a family at the time, youre right. THE KIWAMI PORTRAIT IS REALLY INTERESTING? (@kkrazy256 made a really useful post about the y0 timeline that i use as reference all the time, but i don't know if they're aware of the portrait thing so i'm gonna tag them in case they would be interested in hearing about it)

i think you have a good point about sasai being more picky with his recruits and thus having a smaller family btw, i hadn't considered that before. and i need to chew on the knowledge that majima joined dojima's family first... i could see shimano still being the *reason* he joined, but i can also see shimano taking a liking to him after he'd already joined up under dojima. i'm still curious about what his main motivation for joining was. the way it usually goes with the rgg guys, they're moved by their patriarch's "manliness" and it inspires them to follow them anywhere, but i feel like majima's relationship with shimano is an outlier in this sense. as in, i think he was impressed by slightly different things in shimano, not his dedication to honoring old school yakuza values. at the same time, i can't imagine majima being in it solely for pragmatic reasons like getting money. i think he mainly saw shimano as someone to model himself after, much like nishitani, lee and sagawa in y0. much to think about either way

[the-writing-trash-panda]

A bunch of incorrect quotes I got from this site.

Gray: Yeah, I find it quite emotional. In like a cool way.

Lucy: Did you just say it makes you cry in a cool way?

✨

Natsu: Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey!

Lucy: But I'm a vegan.

Natsu: Wakey Wakey Vegetables and Sadness.

✨

Erza: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

✨

Wendy: Oh, they left the bowl out?

Wendy: It says, “Take two pieces of candy.”

Natsu: Nobody around though…*grabs the entire bowl and runs off with it*

Wendy: NO—

✨

Gray: Erza-

Erza: *sighs* Jellal used to call me Erza...

Gray: ...Because it's your fucking name.

✨

Natsu: Laxus has only knocked me out three time this week. Our friendship is really developing.

✨

Wendy: Okay happy campers! If you were a fruit what would you be and why?

Erik: I'd be a tomato because no one accepts me as part of the group.

Wendy: ...

Erik: ...

Wendy: OKAY HAPPY CAMPERS-

✨

Laxus: Where are your parents?

Wendy: What are parents?

Laxus: That’s just about the saddest thing I've ever heard.

✨

Wendy: There are three chairs and five kids. What do you do?

Rogue: Get two more chairs.

Sting: Cut each chair in half to make six.

Natsu: Make them FIGHT for their seats!

Erik: I would never be near children.

Gajeel: Get rid of two kids.

✨

Sting: It’s not gonna work, I’m not a snitch.

Cop: Fine, let's try something else. Tag a friend you recently committed a crime with.

Sting: Lmao, @Rogue.

✨

Erik: Good morning. As you begin your day, remember that violence is always an option and often the answer.

✨

Bickslow: We’re playing Scrabble. It’s a nightmare.

Evergreen: Scrabble? Scrabble’s great.

Bickslow: Not when you’re playing with Fried, it’s not. He puts words like “ephemeral” and I put “dog.”

✨

Bickslow: Say no to drugs.

Bickslow: Say yes to drugs.

Bickslow: It doesn't matter if you say yes or no to drugs, cause if you're talking to drugs... then you're on drugs.

✨

Bickslow: I made tea.

Laxus: I don't want tea.

Bickslow: I didn't make you tea. This is my tea.

Laxus: Then why did you tell me?

Bickslow: It's a conversation starter.

Laxus: It's a horrible conversation starter.

Bickslow: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

✨

Fried: What are you writing?

Bickslow: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information.

Laxus, looking over Bickslow's shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy.

✨

Fried: Do you guys ever have a civilized conversation that doesn't require insulting each other every time you get a chance?

Bickslow: No.

Evergreen: No.

Fried: Didn't think so.

✨

Gajeel: I could kill you if I wanted.

Droy: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

✨

Gajeel: Goodnight to the love of my life, Levy, and fuck the rest of y'all.

✨

Teacher: Your child was in a fight.

Levy: Oh no, that’s terrible!

Gajeel: Did they win?

✨

Levy: You three, explain right now!

Jet: It was Gajeel.

Droy: It was Gajeel.

Lily: It was Gajeel.

Gajeel:

Gajeel: …fuck.

✨

Sting, being robbed: Please! Have mercy! I have a family! A wife and kids… a dog…

Minerva: Literally none of that is true, Sting.

Sting: Okay, but I’m sexy! That’s gotta count for something, right?

✨

Minerva: New year, same me. Because I'm perfect.

✨

Sting: Are you ever going to listen to me?

Rogue: Yes. Absolutely.

Sting: When?

Rogue: When you're right.

✨

Sting: Between Minerva, Rogue and Yukino, there are three braincells.

Sting: And Yukino has all three of them.

✨

Sting: Life keeps fucking me and I can't remember the safeword.

✨

Sting: I don’t need any more friends. I already have four.

Yukino: Don’t you mean five?

Sting: *looks directly at Rogue*

Sting: No, I’m pretty sure I meant to say four.

✨

Yukino: Why can’t we all just get along?

Minerva: Because most of us are assholes, Yukino.

✨

Sting, gesturing to Yukino: Rogue, look what you did! You made Mom upset!

Minerva: Mom, please don’t cry, we’re sorry!

Rogue: I’m sorry Mom... :(

Yukino, near tears: I DON’T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO ANY OF YOU!

[feralkwe]

[insert witty greeing here]

i've had a startling number of new follows (thanks, @thefreelanceangel lmao i'm still sweating over here), so hi! i'm b! just b will suffice, thanks! i've been here since around 2008 and i'll probably die on this hellsite. don't bother rolling me out the door, i'm where i want to be. if you see someone using feralkwe elsewhere, it's probably me. for handy reference, i am also on ao3 and bsky with this handle.

this is hardly a dedicated blog, but i've been in a ffxiv hole for some time now, and don't see myself surfacing from that any time soon. pretty sure that is why most of you are here now.

i'm a filthy ascian-shipper in my villainfucker era. my wol, kit hareington, has an original primal only tank stance, and that is gonna be the bulk of what you find here. i also spent around 15 years in the dragon age fandom, and am not an 'anders apologist' so much as i am a 'he was right' girlie. i love complex, complicated, difficult characters. my love and/or hatred of them tends to stem from this, and if i have a strong feeling about them, it's probably because i find them well-written. i am not hydaelyn/venat friendly. it's not headcanon. it's not a bit. this is how i have interpreted and view the lore and the canon, and how my wol reacts to the story as i play it. i have an entire 'elidibus and zodiark are saviors actually' ted talk at the ready.

that's my 'gun shots to bring the rent down' paragraph.

i'm not going to give a laundry list of information to remember. you'll have to trust that if i speak about something it is informed by my lived experiences and intersectional identity. the exception is that i am aggressively a turtle island ndn, and kind of angry all the time right now as a result. that said, i'm an open book, my askholebox is always open (no anon tho--seriously shut anon off, your life gets better), and i love to chatter and get to know people!

i do not follow a lot of people back, and am slow to do so when i do. i also sometimes rotate who i do follow depending on what my brain can handle. it's not personal, and i still try to interact with people outside of that. i'm not really a 'mutuals only' kind of person. i am also not afraid to block, and will do so for any variety of reasons. i welcome you to do the same with me if it brings you comfort and makes your tumblr experience better. i love getting asks and being tagged in things! if i don't reply, it's probably because i got busy or distracted and try to keep up with it.

i'm a long-time fic writer, a new gposer, amateur shitposter, and love sharing and getting excited with people about what they create and get joy out of. many of my fics are listed in my pinned post. i am also committed to being the enthusiastic supporter fandom person i want to see in the world. i just need more joy in my life right now.

hardly exhaustive, but here are some tags to block or follow if you are so inclined:

b does life -- what it says on the tin and that's jenga -- my anders-specific tag as i do not and will not post in general dragon age tags of any sort. b plays ffxiv -- also what it says on the tin. kit hareington -- that's my wol. b writes fic -- another 'on the tin' tag. kitlidibus -- this one's newish but if you'd like to avoid seeing my shipping nonsense, there you go. block away. b's gpose shenaniganery -- i'm new to crimes and am flailing around trying not to make body horror with brio. i swear i am gonna make a bloopers folder to make all new gposers feel better.

if you want my attention, just talk to me directly. that's all i want, and what i try to do. i'm imperfect. so are you. i hope we can build from there. we're all playing in sandboxes and making dolls kiss because it helps get through the horrors(tm).

still here? cool! come by and say hi! i'd love to chatter!

[graboidmilk]

Hello!! You may not being doing this oc drawing stuff by the time you see this but either way I wanted to say words at you regardless lol. If you just want to reply but not draw that's totally chill

I really admire your artwork!! You can tell there's so much dedication and quality but into it while also posting consistently. Everytime I'm doing my daily scavenging through the Outlast tag I always keep an eye out for you! I wish all the happy things for you

Anyway, here's my (prime asset? Or other ex-pop?) oc! Even if you don't draw them I'm happy you probably say this :)) Have a good day! (Lore is outdated but the look stays the same!!)

AOUGH I'M GONNA CRY

Thank you so, so much for your kind words, they really mean a lot to me :')) To know that there are some people that seem to anticipate my art, let alone in a positive light,,, it's humbling, in the best way. It's sobering.

I'm so grateful for people like you who see my little late night doodles and deem them something worthy of attention 💙💜

Now then, as for Ray;

HELLO ??? AWESOME DESIGN ??? GOD I knew as soon as I saw them I NEEDED TO DRAW THIS MOTHERFUCKER IMMEDIATELY

I really hope that the portrait is everything you were hoping for, and thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to draw them !!