#it's supposed to draw in kids with their colourful colours and other stuff

[nariism]

come out and haunt me

pair. itoshi sae x ghost!reader

content: fluff, angst/comfort with a happy ending, reader is a ghost, platonic + romantic interactions, strangers to friends (to more?), slight pining

synopsis. sae is 13 years old when he moves to madrid. his temporary apartment is old and cheap, and worst of all it's haunted. but he finds your company better than nothing, even if you do tend to knock all of his belongings over.

wc. 5.7k

You are dead.

As it comes to all mortal humans, you have died. You can't remember when, or how, or why— only that it is your duty to haunt this home, that you are abysmally cold, and that you are dead.

You don't know if you had any last words, what it was like to draw a breath, or how to stop feeling so cold. Cradling yourself somehow makes it worse. But you are dead, so what does it matter if you can't remember?

If you had aspirations and meaning in life, then you suppose you should try to find them in death, too. So you float around empty halls, deliberately bump into things just for the fun of it, and pretend that you aren't dead. It is purposeful enough.

There's a boy who lives with you.

You are dead, and he is alive, yet he seems completely unbothered by your loud, obnoxious presence.

Sae feels more dead than alive.

He is 13 years old when he moves into his temporary home in Madrid. It's old and worn. It is all his parents could afford with Yen in a foreign country.

His new home is despairingly lonely. It makes the heart in his chest sink into the pit of his stomach. He misses Rin. His parents. Japan.

He should be thankful. He doesn't mean to be a brat. But the small apartment is cramped and cold and smells like mildew. He's allergic to something in the walls. His light buzzes horribly when it turns on.

And, well. The place is haunted.

You are a ghost haunting an old, rickety apartment in Madrid.

You've never seen your reflection in the mirror, but you're pretty sure you look scary. There has been others before him— a young couple with a dog; a retired carpenter; a businessman complaining about how shitty work is over the phone. Each and every one of them have left you the same way: screaming, crying, colour drained from their faces and packing their suitcase before you could even say hello.

It's a little lonely, being a ghost. Sometimes you wish you came off a little friendlier. You have no ill intent, you're just bored. Bored and lonely and wishing to know why everyone thinks you're so terrifying.

The boy who lives with you is the first. He's the first to look you dead in the eyes and shrug you off. He's the first to fall asleep knowing your presence is watching. He's the first to leave out a bowl of warm, steaming rice for you even though he seems to know you can't physically eat it.

His company is silent, as is yours. It's better than nothing.

Sae is 13 years and 5 months old when he tells Rin his apartment is haunted.

"A ghost? Seriously?" Rin sounds unimpressed even through the static of the phone call. Take it from the kid who watches horror movies in his spare time. Freak, Sae thinks.

"Seriously. I have a picture."

He can hear his brother pulling his phone away from his ear to look at the image he just sent. The call goes quiet for a moment, and then Rin is scoffing in the microphone again.

"Quit messing with me." The younger Itoshi sighs. "This isn't funny."

Rin is only 11. He lives at home with Mom and Dad. He's not alone right now, in a place where everyone speaks a jumbled language he can't decipher yet.

He doesn't understand that even if Sae isn't being haunted, he shouldn't crush his brother's hopes that someone, or something, is watching over him.

"I'm not," Sae deadpans.

"Yeah, okay, and what does this ghost do, then?" He still sounds skeptical.

"Mostly just knocks over my books and stuff."

From his couch, he watches you bristle in embarrassment and scurry away into the darkness of the hall.

You are some sort of untethered soul, unsure of where your actual body rests. It could be 10 meters from this apartment. It could be in Antarctica, for all you know.

Okay, well, Antarctica is a bit of a reach, but you're certain that your body is somewhere. You wonder what kind of clothes you used to wear; what kind of music you used to listen to; what kind of hairstyle you used to prefer.

You wonder if these things are anything like Sae's.

He's all you have right now. It would be nice if you had some things in common. Maybe you could be friends, if he was ever going to acknowledge you to your face instead of gossiping to his brother.

You watch him quietly from the kitchen table, waiting for your bowl of rice. You must make some kind of face when he instead places a plate of eggs in front of you.

He almost laughs, you think. He hasn't shown any sort of emotion in response to you thus far, so it's hard to tell.

"Coaches told me I have to be stricter about my diet," he says out loud. It's the first words he has ever spoken to you. It's the first words anyone has ever spoken to you.

He eats his bland eggs silently after that remark, eyeing them disdainfully.

You have that in common, at least. You miss your warm bowl of rice.

Sae thinks you are funny.

He's only ever known ghosts to be malicious, benevolent beings. Things stuck in purgatory with no way out, forced to wander the mortal plane and thus turning into baneful monsters. Watching spooky movies with Rin has ingrained this into him—  hardwired his brain into giving him goosebumps whenever you're around even though he knows you're harmless.

He has to wonder how anyone could ever find a ghost like you genuinely scary, with your avoidant eyes and that patience while you wait for breakfast.

He doesn't mind doing twice the amount of dishes. Not if it means he doesn't feel alone.

You do silly things, like shoving his belongings over when you want his attention, or sitting on the floor and blowing bone-chillingly cold air into his face when he's taking his midday nap.

He's discovered that your inconsistent corporeal interactions with the world are quite amusing.

"What's your name?" He asks one day over eggs that he's shoving around on his plate.

Silence. Of course.

"Don't have one?"

You shake your head, but really, you don't know. You can't remember.

Sae has never been the talkative type, but for some reason he just can't keep his mouth closed. Being a complete shut-in and not having anyone to talk to outside of his team would do that to him, he guesses. He's thankful that you at least don't seem to have a language barrier when he speaks Japanese.

"Should I name you?"

Your offended expression screams: What am I, a pet?

He just smiles, placing his fork down and observing you carefully. And the name he decides on dances at the tip of his tongue, sounds so sweet coming from his lips.

You can't help but think the name was meant for you, in life or in death.

You like listening to Sae talk.

He has a voice smooth as silk, so charming and boyish. He's young, you think. He told you once that you also looked rather young, and asked you how old you were when you died.

Even if you had an answer for him, it's not like you could have told him.

Sae is famous for his age, you discover one night while watching television with him. You're sitting on the floor and he's on the couch. You cause the TV to frizzle and crack with static but he doesn't shoo you away. Maybe he finds your presence more valuable than the background noise of the screen.

He's in a recording, playing what he calls "football"— light blue uniform, eyes wide with adrenaline, sweat sticking to his forehead and a proud shine in his expression. He isn't smiling by any means (you've also discovered that he rarely does), but you can tell he's happy.

"I'm going to be the greatest striker," he says from the couch. He talks about his dreams a lot, which is apparently what he used to do with Rin, but you don't mind filling in that role temporarily. "I'm going to be the best in the entire world."

You don't know anything about football, but you believe him anyways.

Sae is 14 years old when he gets his first contract payment.

This is his chance, he realizes, to move out of his shitty little apartment and into an actual livable home.

He has to consider if you'll feel lonely, if you even can feel lonely, and if you'll like hanging out with your next housemate, whoever it is that's unlucky enough to have a ghost befall them.

He's getting soft. If it were any other point in his life, Sae would have taken the chance to move out without hesitation. But you've been there for him since day one, kept him enough company — no matter how quiet — for him not to go literally insane.

You're the only thing he has in Madrid that he can come home to right now. You’re the only reason he even comes home at night instead of just sleeping in the locker rooms.

If not him, who else would feed you crappy bland eggs in the morning?

You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. At some point, it became his routine.

"I was thinking of moving out."

Your head tilts to the side. You seem perplexed by his statement.

"Like, leaving. Leaving here."

You blink at him, head tilting the other way. There's a look in your eyes that tells him you understand. There's also a look that tells him it's not your first time being abandoned, left in this terribly lonely, smelly apartment.

"I can never tell what you're thinking," he huffs.

You're still for a moment, just staring at him as if you suddenly can't understand Japanese. But then you get up from the table, walk over to the container of dry rice that's been untouched for so long that it's gathering dust, and knock it over.

"Hey," he scolds sharply, chair screeching as he stands. "I have to clean that, you know?"

You start moving the spilled rice into place. He watches curiously as you sort dry rice into a pile. You don't know any Kanji, he isn't surprised. But you know enough to draw him a universally understood symbol.

When he peers over at the messy counter, he finds himself staring at a giant X. Stay, it means. Don't leave.

That night, when he knows you've retreated into the closet where you seemingly go to sleep, he crumples up the lease for his new place without signing and burns the paper.

It's because he needs to make you eggs tomorrow morning. Only he would know to do that.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?"

You raise your head from the edge of the bed. You've made it a new habit to protect him in his sleep, from what he can tell. Perching yourself on the floor beside the mattress and resting there, head in your arms, making his sheets cold.

You shake your head. Of course not, he internally smacks himself. What a ridiculous notion.

He rolls himself over onto his side, looking at you from under his duvet. "So when you sleep, you don't see anything?"

Another shake of the head. He isn't sure you're understanding him. There's another pause as he peers at you, and then he sighs, eyes sliding shut.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?" He asks again, this time emphasizing his words in a different way and hoping you'll answer him the way he wants.

Your eyes shift away for a second, as if pondering. When you look back he's surprised to see that you look... bashful?

You point at him, then at yourself, then shy away again.

You. Me. Friends.

Sae feels silly that it makes his heart ache a little— the sadness carried in your face and a loneliness so powerful he feels it rattling in his own bones.

Well, the two of you have a lot more in common than he thought. How long had you been alone? Was that really all you ever dreamed of? Having a friend?

Suddenly, his doubts about his own dreams feel immeasurably small.

He reaches out to pat your head. His hand goes through you.

Sae is 15 years old when he packs up his belongings for a flight to Japan.

"I'll be back," he promises with a small smile. You believe him. He doesn't lie to you.

You wait patiently at the door for him for two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours. When he comes home, he finds you sitting on the floor like you always do with your head in your knees and a sleepy expression on your face.

He seems colder. More withdrawn, for some reason.

"Miss me?" Sae asks, but he's not even looking at you. He makes his way over to the kitchen and dumps a cup of rice into the cooker, suitcase abandoned at the door unpacked.

You trail behind him curiously, watching him in confusion as he washes it in the sink. He pauses, finally glancing at you before reaching over and dumping a second cup of rice in.

"I stress eat. Don't tell my coach."

The words don't make much sense to you, but you nod anyways.

For the first time in months, he places a bowl of warm rice in front of you. You do as he does, say thanks for the food in your head even though you can't eat, and observe him. You both sit quietly in the dim light of the apartment, moonlight beaming through your single rickety window.

He only gets four bites in before he puts his head in his hands and sobs.

You've never seen someone cry so hard before. Usually, they only do it when they first catch a glimpse of you and flee in terror. You've never known it to be such a painful sound— like a bird singing for the sky but never finding it.

Sae sits there for a long time just crying to himself, not caring that your presence is still watching. It's not like you'd ever judge him or have the voice to speak this secret, anyways.

"Fuck—" he hiccups, wiping up his face. "—Sorry."

You look at him funny. He has no reason to apologize. He's just a kid. A 15 year old kid who needs to stress eat in the solitude of his lonely apartment right now. It makes your chest squeeze; an unfamiliar, horrible feeling that's completely new to you. You wonder if this is what all the anime he watches calls a heart.

By the time he finishes crying, his rice is cold. And when he looks up, his eyes widen. Your lips are trembling and you look like you want to shout at him, but you can't. You are dead. You're a ghost. You can't yell some sense into him, even if you tried.

In the pale moonlight shining into the room, he can see tears illuminated on your cheeks.

Sae is 16 years old when he meets his first partner.

"They're nice," he reassures you as he slicks his bangs up with gel. You shake your head in disapproval and he rolls his eyes. You always liked his bangs down, thinks he looks better that way. "Well, I can't stay single forever."

You scowl at him and swivel on your heel to stubbornly deny his claims. He just laughs.

"You're seriously jealous?"

You shoot him a glare.

"If you really don't like them, you could always scare them away. You are a ghost, aren't you?" He reaches up to pat your head as he always does. And as always, his hand phases through you.

He turns around to fix his hair again, leaning into the mirror to see himself closer.

You're not sure if you even have human features. You can't see them in a reflection, anyways. Even if you did, you're sure they're pretty scary.

You glance at Sae in the reflection. He looks as good as ever, no longer a scrawny little 13 year old kid who eats rice for breakfast every morning. You wonder if his partner is pretty like he is.

He must notice the chill in the air grow ten times colder— a telling sign that your mood is dropping. He turns around to see what has happened, only to find you sulking.

"What?"

You pout, gesturing to the mirror. He looks to the vanity, then to you, and he shakes his head with an exasperated smile.

"I was wondering when you'd ask," he says as if this was a conversation he's been waiting for. And then he talks. Talks more than you've heard in a long time— since he came home from Japan, probably.

He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does.

He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point.

"You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now.

Silence fills the room as he waits for your response. You don't do anything but gawk at him, and he chuckles.

He doesn't show up to his date that night.

"Your hair got longer," Sae points out one day while he's scrolling through his phone.

Your eyes flutter open from where your head rests on the coffee table. You hadn't even noticed. Can ghosts grow? 

"You know, I used to think you'd stay the same forever, but you've been growing up with me. It's cute."

Have you? Is it cute? Are you seriously so tethered to him that you've been unconsciously changing to match him?

Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?"

You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays.

He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles.

Sae is 17 years old when he gets the eviction notice.

Four years. Four long, hard, unbelievably painful years later, and he's finally being kicked out of his house.

13 year old Sae would have celebrated. All he feels now is despair.

He doesn't tell you. He can't. How can he explain that he won't wake up every morning at 6am sharp to make you eggs? That you won't have someone around who will tell you every little thing that's changed about you from the last day? That you won't be able to doodle him little incomprehensible blobs with dry rice anymore?

He shouldn't care so much. You're not chained to this Earth. You might just disappear once he leaves, inperceptable to anyone else. The thought makes him so sick that he throws up that night. He tells you he ate some bad food.

Sae doesn't want you to feel sad or lonely, but it's not like he can just become a squatter in this place. His dream is to play football, not be thrown into jail.

You wake up one morning, and he's gone.

There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here.

Well, except for the plate of eggs and bowl of rice sitting on the stove.

You thought you would have been used to being alone by now. For some time, you were used to it. But that was many years ago.

You're not sure how long you've been haunting this apartment in Madrid, nor do you know how much time passes after Sae leaves. The world seems to come to a halt, actually. Without him, what fun is being a ghost?

Now you're just a lost soul like all the others. There isn't anything special about you. You're just the ghost that used to haunt Itoshi Sae and wake him up from his naps.

For the first time in years, you only know one thing. A singular fact that keeps you bound to this world: it's your duty to haunt this home. There is nothing else.

No one moves in after Sae leaves. No one new comes to be haunted. No one dares to set foot into this apartment. You remember that there were moments when life flickered inside of you, if even for just a fraction of your infinite time. The reason for that has abandoned you without explanation.

There's a knock on the door one day. You can't open it, and the person outside doesn't bother sticking around to see you phasing through the door to look around.

There's a birthday cake on the floor with candles that say '19' sticking out of it.

Only one human in the entire world would have deemed today to be your 19th birthday. He's nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to Japan on his 21st birthday. Sae is having trouble remembering what you look like, despite seeing you in his dreams every night.

It's a terrible realization. So terrible that it makes him sob into his pillow at night when no one in the world is awake to hear his anguish.

Japan is lonelier than Madrid. He never thought it would happen, and he blames you entirely.

He doesn't have anyone waiting for him when he opens the door to his luxury penthouse apartment. He only washes one plate in the morning. He wakes up from his midday naps undisturbed and rested.

Sae misses you deeply. And he can't help but wonder if you feel the same.

(You don't know what the yearning ache inside of you is. You don't know what to call it.

You miss him, too. You just can't put a name to the feeling.)

He doesn't stop seeing you in wisps; little blurs in his peripheral that make his head turn fast as lightning. Wherever he looks, you're gone.

It's not fair that you're a ghost who both literally and figuratively haunts him. He'd like to move on in life and forget about those 4 miserable years he spent living in that damned apartment.

He can't. Sae is incapable of moving on from that place. The irony of it is that you actually can't move on from that place, for some reason.

He would give anything to have you haunting him again. It doesn't matter where in the world the two of you are, if you were together everything would be okay. He's impossibly lonely without you.

You start to think that you're the selfish one.

The idea of leaving this terrible apartment in Madrid scares you to your very core— whatever soul is resting in your incorporeal body. It's not fair to place the blame entirely on Sae. Not when you're too wimpy to leave this place and find him.

Death is lonely without him.

One step forward, one day at a time. It's the advice Sae used to mutter to himself while getting ready in the morning.

One step forward, one day at a time. One step forward, one day at a time. And day by day, you're slowly inching closer to the door.

Sae talks to Rin and all he can think about is your confused smiles and head tilts. He talks to his parents and all he can imagine is how cold the room would be if it were you. He talks to his fucking therapist and thinks that all of her shitty advice can't compare to your quiet understanding— that your tears of solidarity are the only thing that could make him feel better.

It's fucked up, really, that he can't move on. His body is in Japan going through the motions: playing football, being famous, being interviewed and going home to nothing. His heart is in Madrid. You took it with you and refuse to let go.

You're the closest thing to love he's ever felt, perhaps— his only friend in Spain. His only reason not to leave. A ghost from his childhood that protected him in his sleep and ate bland eggs for breakfast across the table from him every morning. A ghost that would sit on the floor and wait for him to come home every day. A ghost that kept him company when he had no one else.

He loves you. He doesn't. He needs you. He doesn't. He misses you. He doesn't. Whatever. What does it matter now?

"So playing football has always been your dream?"

Sae stares blankly at the interviewer. He's reminded of a distant conversation: he is laying in bed looking at a ghost with a lump in his throat, and then he makes his first and only friend in Spain.

"Yes."

"And now that you're back in Japan, will you be playing for the national team?"

"I have no interest in playing on such a weak team." In other words, he has no reason to stay in Japan.

"So where will you go?"

Anywhere but here, he wants to say. In reality, he doesn't know where to go anymore if not to his old apartment in Spain. He just knows that he wants to come home to your sleepy face.

(That night, he makes two bowls of rice. He cries like he's 15 years old again and just ruined his relationship with his brother.)

You've never been outside before.

You've heard about it, almost entirely from Sae but also from little snippets of anime he liked to watch. It's brighter than you imagined it to be, and warmer. You're not sure you've ever felt so warm before— it's hard to when you are a walking freezer.

There isn't anyone to tell you where to go. No one pays you any mind. You wonder if you even exist anymore outside of the small confines of that old apartment.

Something tells you that you do.

You don't know where to start looking. He could be all the way across the globe for all you know, though he did used to talk about his home country.

You have no map. You have no sense of direction. You have no one to ask for help. 

All you have is the soul caged within your ghostly body tugging in one direction, and wispy feet dragging your body along in response.

Sae is 23 years old when he finally signs the contract to play for Japan, after months of being pestered by Rin about it.

His relationship with his brother is complicated. On one hand, he feels as though Rin will never truly forgive him for what he did when he was 15. On the other, he looks so ecstatic to be playing football together again that Sae wonders if their discourse was imaginary.

Japan is just a smidge less lonely with Rin in his life.

He wants to tell you all about it. That everything worked out and it's fine now. That you can stop weeping for him and to wipe up the tears that fall into nothing.

He counts the distance between you. Fourteen thousand kilometres separate him from telling you how he's living his new dream: playing football with his little brother again.

Fourteen thousand kilometers, ten years of needing you, and a reminder set on his phone to buy you a birthday cake again this year.

His heart aches.

Japan is loud and busy and everyone is always in a hurry to get places.

You have to wonder if Sae really grew up in a city like this, and how he turned out so calm and unmovable. The street names are all in Kanji you can't read, but your soul tells you that you're going the right way, anyways.

There's a crowd gathering when your feet finally come to a halt. Lights flash and there are fancy looking people with microphones clamouring toward the center.

It's only a fraction of a second that your eyes meet, and then someone shoves him into the back of the car and they drive off.

He must be famous here, too.

Sae is 24 years old tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if you were just a figment of his imagination or if you were truly standing there under a streetlamp watching him.

It wouldn't be the first time he dreamed you into existence; on some occasions you feel so real that he nearly reaches out to attempt to pat your head, like he always used to do when he was younger.

He goes back to that spot a couple hours later. The crowd is long gone and it's the dead of night— no one would be around to witness Itoshi Sae looking psychotic.

He doesn't find you in that spot. Instead, you're two blocks down and crouched in front of the window of a 24 hour shop. There's an ad for sparklers, and though you can't read the poster itself, the picture makes you stare with wide eyes.

He crouches down beside you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

"Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod.

He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light.

He smiles at you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

When the sparkler dies out, he lights another. And another. And another, until he's gone through all the packets he could afford with the Yen in his wallet right now.

As if 7 years of distance never existed between you, he reaches out to pat your head. His hand falls through you.

You think Sae's new apartment is pretentious, but it's clean and open and doesn't smell like mildew.

It's hard to imagine what kind of purpose you had before him— all your memories are flooded with his hands and eyes and bangs and small smiles reserved for you. You think that the only reason you were ever materialized into the mortal plane was to haunt him, and only him. Itoshi Sae's permanent looming presence.

He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, you've noticed he's been smiling more lately since you started waiting for him to come home by the door.

Sae is 25 years old when you fall asleep beside him in his bed.

You don't care that he's a kicker or a blanket hog in his sleep. It's not like either of those would affect you. He watches your sleeping face carefully, waiting to see if he would ever wake up from this blissful dream and be alone again.

But every time he wakes up, there you are.

You've grown since he left you in Madrid— you don't look like some lost little kid anymore, at least. He wonders if your souls are truly so intertwined that you would change alongside him, regardless of the distance.

Your eyes flutter open and his breath catches in his throat. You blink at him slowly in the pale moonlight, brows furrowed.

You point at him. Then yourself.

You. Me.

He nods in understanding.

When he drops a plate of protein pancakes in front of you for breakfast, you look confused.

"Oh, sorry. Do you want rice?"

You shake your head. You don't care what's for breakfast, as long as you're sitting across from him while he eats it.

"I'm going to be the world's best midfielder," he tells you one day. You're on the floor and he's on the couch, and it's like time had never even passed.

You don't know what that means, but it's his dream so it must be important. The most important thing in the world.

What you don't know is that it's not his entire dream. World's best midfielder doesn't mean a thing if he can't come home to tell you all about it.

You are dead.

You're a ghost haunting Itoshi Sae— one that followed him from Madrid all the way to Japan. You don't remember how, or when, or why you died. You can't remember what your face looks like either, no matter how much Sae tries to describe it to you. 

You are dead. You're a ghost knocking over Sae's belongings to get his attention when you want it. You're the ghost curled up in bed with him even though he has to wear two layers to stay warm because of it. You're the ghost watching him rotate through different breakfasts that he says could never compare to a good old warm bowl of rice.

You are a ghost, and Itoshi Sae gave you a name. A birthday. A purpose greater than being a loud nuisance.

You are a ghost who likes to watch him light sparklers on his balcony. Who feels the things described only in the books he reads to you. Who learned to love somewhere along the way.

You are dead, and somehow alive at the same time.

(One day, Sae will be brave. One day, he will tell you he loves you. One day, he will thank you for waiting for him at the door when he comes home.)

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

HIII i was scrolling through ig and i came across this video and i immediately thought of aaron when he's away from a case and then reader and their kids facetime him AAAAAAA IT'S SO CUTE I LOVE DAD!AARON SM🥰🥰💗💗 (also im new to the fandom and this is my first time requesting and i love your stories sm anyways have a nice day/evening ahead!) https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cv-QhCIAx7R/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Missing You

Warnings: Mentions of cases, a little sad stuff because he can't be home :(, much fluff and happy stuff 🥰, not proofread, let me know if I missed anything<3

Word count: 943

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

A/n: Hi darling! Thank you so much for coming to me with your first request 🥹🫶. I hope you like it 🥰. That video was so adorable by the way and Aaron would definitely do that 😭 I love our man 🥹.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @cr1minalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11 @htchnr

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

Whenever Aaron is away on a case you all miss him dearly just as he misses you. He does his best to keep in contact with you throughout his day and then before the kiddos go to bed he tries to make sure he can facetime you all before they go to sleep.

The little Hotchner bugs are always excited when they get to see their dad even if it's only over a video call. He still manages to make it fun for all of you even if he can't actually be there. It's always a nice way to end his day. It's more than just missing you all but he also needs to make sure his little family is okay. Especially if it's a case involving kids. He always calls more when children are involved.

"Daddy's calling! Answer it answer it!" Your little girl is yelling excitedly when Aaron's contact pops up and you immediately press the answer button. When his face shows on the screen you smile and wave at him before the little Hotchner bugs steal the device from you, not that you mind.

"Daddy! Look look! I made this for you for when you come back home!" Little girl Hotchner holds up a drawing she had made earlier that day. It's the four of you, or at least it's supposed to be. It's really just four colourful blobs. One is you, another is Aaron, and the other two are her and Jack.

"And I made this for you in school!" Jack shows Aaron his own art piece which is definitely easier to make out but both are equally loved by you and Aaron.

"Those are both beautiful! They should be in an art museum." Aaron smiles big and it warms your heart.

You all tell Aaron about how your day went and he listens with that same grin as his little bugs ramble on and on happily. Jack's sister tends to go off topic more often than not but Aaron doesn't mind. Neither of you do. He's just happy to hear their voices and see their faces.

"Daddy what happened! You look like a kitty!" Your little girl exclaims when the face of an animated cat covers Aaron's and moves when he turns his head or talks. You're giggling as he talks to them and pretends not to know what they're talking about. Then it turns to a dog and Jack laughs as your little girl gets a confused, but joyful expression on her face.

"Daddy, can you do a T-rex? Please?" Jack asked as he looks at the screen in front of you all.

"Oh no. What's that sound?" You can hear what you think is Aaron imitating a dinosaur and then the dog face goes away and is replaced by Jack's request.

"Rawr!" All three of you giggle when you see it and you hear Aaron's big laugh come through the speaker and your heart flutters at the sound. You miss him but you understand he can't be there as much as you all wish he could and that's why you always make as much time for things like this as you all can when he's away. It's important to all of you that you spend time together even if it's just a video call. It's still special to all of you.

Eventually you have to end the call because the little loves need to go to sleep, everyone is disappointed and they both bed for five more minutes. Of course you give in. They miss Aaron and you won't deny them that time with him as long as it's not insanely late and as long as he doesn't need to leave so he can work.

After the five minutes is up, Aaron tells them it's time for bed and they both frown but nod in understanding.

"I miss you all and I love you. I want you both to be good for your mother, okay? I should be home in a couple of days and then we can do whatever you want. How does that sound?" He smiles at the end and they both cheer up and nod eagerly.

After you all say goodbye and hang up you don't get them ready to go to sleep right away. Instead you all make a little video telling Aaron you love him and saying good night then send it to him. You know he feels a little down when you have to end the call and you want him to have something to bring his spirits up a little bit.

That's when you finally get the Hotchner babes ready and give them their nightly forehead kiss good night. You always give them both two kisses each when Aaron is away. One from you and one from him. Which they both return to you. One for you and one for their dad.

It's hard to be away from Aaron but you know it's even harder for him. When he's away you still have the little ones. It always makes you sad so you're constantly sending him photos and videos of you and your sweethearts so he still has some of the feeling of being home. It helps him get through those rough cases and he saves every single memory you send him.

When he finally gets home he's been so kept up with everything from the calls and messages that it almost feels like he wasn't even away. You make sure to keep him well informed on all three of you so he doesn't feel like he's missing out as much and he's incredibly grateful to you for it.

[blakbonnet]

Artist of the Week!

So last weekend, I announced that I'd like to feature an artist every weekend for both new fandom joinees who might not have seen some of this art and older fans who like the nostalgia. This week's artist is Ash @aha-my-villainous-thoughts 💖 who also, wonderful that they are, agreed to answer a few questions for me!

Which App Do You Use To Draw When I’m at my big set up I use Clip Studio Paint, I love it so much. It’s very straight forward to dip straight in, has all of the bells and whistles you need from an elite drawing program, and the community elements where you can see assets and brushes is a lot of fun - although I still to this day have no idea how to earn coins to buy assets?! I use a XPPen Artist 15.6 Pro Graphics Tablet to draw into the program, although my best tip with graphics tablets is to get a screen protector, mine got covered in marks before I noticed. Recently I also got an iPad 10.9 to use as a digital sketchbook I can carry around, and while I am enjoying Procreate, I think CSP is a better art program overall.

Fave Brushes? On iPad I stick to the technical pen, studio pen and the soft airbrush, along with the textures and the light pen. I don’t think Procreate has great ‘painting’ brushes, whereas on CSP I would marry the Gouache brushes, I love how they blend and texture as you work.

Your favourite piece you’ve drawn? I’m a super self indulgent artist, I try to draw the kind of stuff I like to look at, so it’s a lot of colour, a lot of fabric and details. My fave piece for detail is the one I did for the OFMD RBB last year - Crescente Devotione, there’s a blushing sentient stool in it! For colour I’m in love with this sleepy time Ed in a lil negligee and a Holly Golightly eyemask, he's my lock screen because I'm trash.

Who harder to draw: Ed or Stede? Oh for sure Stede. I love Rhys Darby, but the man has like no lips. I stand by this meltdown.

One essential tip for beginner artists? Comparison is the thief of joy, don’t measure yourself against others - particularly when you’re finding your groove. Be self indulgent af. Also get a screen protector for whatever digital screen you draw on, and BACK. THINGS. UP. Whether in an online account, or on an external harddrive - or both?! BACK THAT SHIT UP.

Why OFMD? I’ve been in a few fandoms in the past, always as a pretty passive enjoyer, little fanart here or there, little fanfic sprinkled around, but there’s just something about the way this fandom feels? It feels like a group of friends who’ve got their own lives and their goals, but they still exist in each other's orbit, it’s like this feeling of returning home to somewhere you’re always welcome. There’s so many good moments in the show for both comedy and some gut wrenching pathos. Sign up for the hot guy in leather and get got by this beautiful delicate little love story. It’s something about queer joy of thriving, not just surviving. Something about finding love and romance no matter your age or what’s past before. Something about found family, and unlikely friendships, and community and silliness. I was already a goner when Taika put on the wig, but then when he teared up in a blanket fort while trying not to die? Excuse me sir, I did not need feelings that powerful. It was literally waking me up at night thinking about his last shot weeping in the nook - like are you kidding me?! I’m supposed to finish watching and be normal after that??

[picnokinesis]

My friend is running a text-based rpg campaign, and I'm absolutely in love with it, so I decided to draw a 'cover' for each day in the story. We'll see if I can do one for each day, but I'm SO proud of how these turned out so far - all of them are inked in my notebook first, and then coloured digitally. If anyone's interested in the story, I've explained more about it all under the cut!

OKAY. So the game is called City of Mists, and basically it's...kinda hard to explain, but I'd call it 'cyberpunk noir', but with a 90s technological aesthetic. Kinda like when you read Issac Asimov's books and they're using computers but it's all cassettes and film-based technology. Anyway, it's awesome. Every character has a normal life in the city - their 'logos' - but there are some characters who are called Rifts, who have something mythological manifest within them - their 'mythos'. Now, the mythos can kinda be anything, but the point is that it's a legend or story that manifests within the character, and thus gives them new abilities. And every Rift has to balance their logos and their mythos - because to delve too much into your mythos means you forget your normal life and become entirely consumed by the mythos...but to focus too much on your logos means to lose, and forget, your mythos entirely. The 'mist' of the city obscures mythological and supernatural things from those who haven't 'awakened' yet - but Rifts can see through the mist.

So, my little guy is - sighs. Okay. Y'all are gonna laugh. Please be aware that I know, okay? I know. It's fine. This is a choice I've made. But he's called Nakis Sandhu, and he's an investigative journalist (NOT with amnesia) who, when he was a kid, was involved in a train accident that killed his parents, but him and his twin sister miraculously survived. He's trans, and he has a van - he doesn't live in it, thank goodness, but it is important because his mythos is Captain Nemo from 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas (this is why he looks like Sacha Dhawan, because like....Sacha Dhawan should play Captain Nemo and I'll die on that hill). And so Nakis, when his mythos awakened, turned his van into the Nautilus - Captain Nemo's submarine - and so it now works underwater too, and can travel undetected. He also becomes like, a technological genius and can invent stuff on the fly, but he never studied engineering or anything - it just comes to him in flashes of inspiration.

Nakis' main thing is that he's trying to figure out what happened in the train crash when he was a kid. He saw something different to everyone else, because he saw through the mist - what everyone else thought was an accident was actually two Rifts duking it out (I think). One of these Rifts was a blue bull that is apparently called 'the Bull of Thunder', and the other was a man with fire based abilities - called 'The Burning Man'. On Day 2, Nakis discovered a metal case that had belonged to the Burning Man, that had been hidden for twenty years - since the day of the accident - and was full of clues, including some photographic film that needed developing. Unfortunately, seems that there's a strange filter on the photos, so it's impossible to tell what's on them...luckily, my guy made friends with a photographer on Day 1 (who I believe is another player character) whilst investigating something else, and as a result he's now passed the film on to him, in the hopes that he'll be able to clear them up.

One funny thing: Day 0 was supposed to be a 'chill' day to figure out how the game mechanics worked, and figure out what your character would do on a normal day. Nakis immediately went to investigate something and then nearly ended up drowning RIP. On Day 1, when continuing to investigate the thing from Day 0, he...got shot in the shoulder HAHAHAH but he's fine, he's doing great, he didn't bleed out in his apartment which is always a win. He also bumped into another player character by doing this - so yay!

[bobbybutterfly]

I’m back ya’ll with more art! I had all the characters designed for a while but didn’t get around to posting them. Now I’m going through sort of an art block. I’ve got lots of ideas for stuff but everything I draw is crap. So I thought I should catch up on my other stuff. Like talking about this squirrel design for Apple Jack. Now isn’t she cute!

I really like the colours on the powered up ponies. Though I did give her a different shade of pink I thought suited her better. I also gave her a bolo because southern. These uniforms aren’t supposed to be realistic. More like something they would wear in promo images. Lastly look at the little band I put in her tail. I should do something like that with other squirrels.

I made her a squirrel because they’re farmers and Apple Jack’s personality is farm. Nah. I don’t approve Apple Jack hate. I didn’t think of her all that much, when I watched MLP as a kid. Now as an adult (it feels so weird writing that) I find her relationship with her family quite interesting. She always puts herself last. Probably because she was parentified, by having to take care of Apple Bloom and the farm. One of these days I got to write an Apple Jack / Rainbow Dash fanfic. I think she contrasts well with Rainbow Dash’s selfishness.

In the Squirrel and Hedgehog universe she would be raised very patriotic. She would often be the voice of reason. Though she would butt heads with Pinkie Pie over leaving her family and Fluttershy for not wanting to serve her country.

I don’t know why my ramble about the first character is always so long. Anyways. One of my best designs, Rarity! Originally I wanted to make her a mouse and reserve the weasels for the alicorns. But come on. Rarity deserved all the glam only reserved for high ranking military officers.

She was born into a royal family. Given a high ranking position in military since birth. Rainbow Dash had to earn her high rank through blood sweat and tears. With both of them having quite strong personalities they would of course hate each other. Rarity likes being in the military and bossing animals around. Though she can be a bit too much sometimes, she has a soft spot for mice. She doesn’t see them as her equals, but treats them better than many weasels.

Lastly Twilling Sparkle! My best design. It’s the bangs and eyes. I specially didn’t put any highlights in them. The idea for her came from my IRL friend. She told me Twilight Sparkle should be a lab rat. Technically she’s a lab mouse but the joke still works! Once I get over this drawing problem I might do the honorary seventh members. Sunset Shimmer (probably a fox) and Starlight Glimmer (definitely a hedgehog).

Until now I haven’t thought of how Twilight became a scientist. She probably started as a regular soldier. Then one day they needed a lab assistant. She would prove to be quite good so the scientist decided to teach her the ways.

Now I guess I should mention my idea for this MLP Squirrel and Hedgehog fanfic. Basically the mane six would crash on a deserted island. They would have to throw away all their prejudices to survive. Proving friendship is magic. I should do some research how war prisoners are transported. And some research on military ranks too. I’m not sure who is captured. I thought it would be the weasel side considering there’s a scientist amongst them. But on the other paw how would a group of ordinary soldiers manage to catch such high ranking animals?

If you got any ideas for this story, please write to me.

[andi-dromeda]

This is a rough idea of what their god forms could be. I’m sure they have many though and definitely too many for me to draw.

I gave Grant sheep eyes, sheep horns, a wolf tail and a wolf cut to show his sheep and wolf thing. Then for the Hunter I decided to give him a scythe.

Tara’s hair is supposed to look like sea foam, I gave her vines for her earth connections and then to show her sky stuff I gave her lots of stars and one eye to be sun-like and one eye to be moon-like. @autisticrosewilson said that so I did that because they are very smart and have good taste.

@autisticrosewilson also talked about Jason being the most split of the three and having other versions of himself following him around and whilst he can hear them, he can’t see them. He also just generally can’t see magic that well. Until they all ascend, some massive part of their powers is kept from them. Jason can’t see magic correctly and has something like the mist from Percy Jackson going on. To him they’re certainly in new outfits but Tara’s just wearing a sundress, some heels, a slinky on both legs and a top hat. Then Grant’s just wearing a crop top, a mini skirt and some sandals. He’s enjoying the view but is aware he isn’t seeing what’s really there.

Tara’s vines aren’t glowing because the way she’s held back is she can’t use any of her sea and sky powers. She’s limited to just earth until she ascends.

Grant has bad hearing when it comes to magic but most crucially danger. Sheep have similar hearing to humans but wolves have amazing hearing. As a god he’d have super hearing on par if not better than superman’s but he can’t access it until he ascends. His bad hearing was one of the things that made his first death kind of inevitable as a mercenary. If it hadn’t been the serum that killed him, it would’ve been him not being able to hear threats. At some point Slade started to think Grant as a kid just kept ignoring him but in reality until Slade got close enough Grant couldn’t hear a thing. (Because Slade sucked!)

For Jason’s design I kind of just slapped Shera together with a slightly altered colour palette and I was done. @autisticrosewilson mentioned Jason’s birds being robins and shrikes so I decided to give him grey, see through wings.

Then you have the Ghost and the Robin. I didn’t read Gotham war because I’m a Jason fan and whilst I can enjoy angst, I can’t stand DC fucking him over all the time and never having anything get resolved. However, I did enjoy the artists using his hood to completely cover his face in darkness and just showing the whites of his domino. For Robin I just copied his Robin costume pretty much. I drew both of them with smaller lines to make them look less there, if you get me? They’re both holding weighing scales which is Jason’s thing.

Tara has a harp because she plays with the strings of fate. Grant has a scythe because I thought he deserved it. Jason got scales because justice stuff but also I thought it’d be funny if he ever tried to use them for baking. I know those are different scales but I think Jason deserves to use his scales and all blades for dumb stuff.

Also Grant has yellow eyes. Tara has one yellow, one white. Jason has white eyes but black and white to resemble his domino masks. Even with a bare face, his masks and personas have become such a part of him that now he’s got domino eyes. In my au, Jason started off with brown eyes. After dying, his eyes went kind of grey. I’m a golden Lazarus pit truther especially because in lost days the Lazarus pit is literally gold so when he crawled out his eyes were gold but after a week or so they went green. After he died again by the batarang Bruce threw, he woke up with blue eyes and he figured it was the universe mocking him for wanting his father’s love. The only thing he will ever have of Bruce is his training, his trauma, his hatred and his eyes. Also, whenever he uses the all blades, his eyes go black because the all caste have fully black eyes and white hair. When he ascends or whenever he gets close to ascending, his eyes go black and white.

[sonic-adventure-3]

I accidentally drew the same goddamn pose 3 times lmao. Why is posing legs so hard i always fall back on posing them in the shape of a 4. Also, new freak!! Her name is Jerryjack. More about her + individual images + couple other things below the cut vvv

I don’t think I’ve posted any drawings of her other than her first, but i’ve been drawing rig a lot more like this rather than that first one. More graphic head shape, more upright ears, one eye hidden, mouth hidden by scarf, what have you. I think she looks cooler and is way easier to draw like this, but is a little less sonicy, im sure I’ll find a balance sometime. Rare carrion non-blep, this pose is cool but i did not even try cleaning this up lol.

And jerryjack!! She sucks so bad i love her. They’re Rig’s best friend, known each other since they were kids and learned the trade (killing) under the same mentor. She’s 11 months older than Rig, so she’s about 25ish. She hates consistency, commitment, seriousness, kids, stagnation, compassion, anything boring, and many many other things. She loves anything fun, stirring shit, lying, inflicting blunt force trauma, herself, lockpicking, and money. She’s purely self-interested and does everything she does for funsies. She’s not a part of the postal crew cause she thinks it’s boring and is allergic to commitment but hangs around and ‘helps out’ sometimes. She’s a hitman on her own, and has way more connections through that than rig, occasionally floats jobs her way. Also sometimes places bounties on her when shes mad. Or just cause.

Unlike Jerry, Rig is a very routine and organized person. She wakes up every morning at 6 sharp despite not being a morning person. Miraculously, she and jerry lived together for 2 years and during that time rig ate microwaved oatmeal every single morning and got groceries on tuesdays. All this is to say Rig is very methodical and likes routing and things that are expected. So Jerry lost their shit when rig called them randomly and casually told them that she’s starting a non-euphemistic postal service and also spontaneously took in a couple kids. Naturally, she’s very wary of squabble and carrion, especially the latter. Assassin recognizes assassin, silly recognizes silly, they try to kill each other and then become besties (who still periodically attempt to kill each other). As for squabble, she’s surprisingly fun to interact with, so jerry warms up fairly quick and becomes a truly awful influence on her.

Here’s the first drafts and base. She’s obviously a jackalope but calls herself a hare for some reason. Is part of that reason because i couldn’t think of a pun name other than jack like jackrabbit and ‘jack the jackalope’ sounded a little too stupid for my taste (as if ‘jerryjack’ isn’t stupider)? Ummmmmmm.

Anyway, i decided to nix the asymmetrical antlers cause theres a limit to how much asymmetry i should stuff into a set of characters, carrion’s already got the lopped off ear and etc. the back and tail marking is supposed to emulate ribs

I’m still super duper undecided on jerry’s outfit and colour scheme. Every outfit ive thought up so far feels way too simple or untethered to reality in comparison to the postal crew’s, however i think the postal crew is a bit too complicated (or way too complicated in squabble’s case) and too grounded for sonic, so. Idk what to do abt that. And as for their colour scheme, as seen above her first drafts have the same red and green of the postal crew, but seeing as she doesn’t work with them it’s definitely the better choice to diverge from that. Saturated orange is the most tense and unsettling colour to me so i think it suits her off putting nature, but the white and orange combo reminds me intensely of like. 1960s egg chairs. WAIT and ulala space channel 5. And various stupid tech startup kitchen gadgets. Just generally a combo with a lot of nonthreatening and safe associations rather than the warning sign i want. Idk man i’ll workshop it eventually.

Also, cloak rig. Her previous red coat was stupid. Not sure how much smarter this is but it looks cooler. Still doesn’t usually wear it other than in towns to hide her wings or when it’s cold. Also also this is the same fucking pose again

[echeveriaaa]

15 Questions for 15 Friends

Thank you @serpent-and-seraph for tagging me!!

Are you named after anyone? My first name is just something my mom liked, but I got a middle name after my aunt's (who was one of the kindest people ever and who means a lot to me, so it's nice to sort of have something from her with me at all times)

When was the last time you cried? Some time last week due to being stressed by exams. And watching the last episode of Inside Job. (Leave it to me to only be able to express sadness with the help of animated sitcoms)

Do you have kids? No, but I have a niece and a nephew who I adore unconditionally

What sports do you play/have you played? I've done martial arts for most of the last 10 years and enjoy the occasional football/volleyball game for funsies. At the moment I mostly do solitary exercise for my zoomies and mental health though

Do you use sarcasm? Noo, never. (wink)

What is the first thing you notice about people? I thinkkk the way they look at me. Also, hair.

What’s your eye colour? brown

Scary movies or happy endings? Scary movies that end happily.

Any talents? I have an affinity to Visual-Artsy-Stuff (even though I'm not the most skilled at it, but I suppose that is not the most important thing about it) and people tell me I'm good at listening

Where were you born? Northern Germany

What are your hobbies? drawing & painting, sports, reading, caring for my plants, walking around in nature and staring at cool animals/clouds/trees, singing (badly) when I'm stressed, going feral over movies/shows/other people's art, hiding in my room and get cozy (that counts right)

Do you have any pets? I have plants ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

How tall are you? 5'4" / 1,65m

Favourite subject in school? Art and Biology

Dream job? Partly working as a neuropsychologist and partly in research (and secretly writing and illustrating insane little books)

Since I haven't been back on Tumblr for long, I don't really know that many people yet/anymore, so I'd like to use this to get to know some of you a little! If you're feeling like it !! :)

@deansgapjacket @secretlywingedphantom @marikacrea @chenfordsrollisi @journeytodrawiii @skylightangels

[maithefluffychicken]

True Colors

Rated T, Geraskier, DnD, getting together, coming out, fluffy fluff stuff. Ao3 link. Enjoy!

"Ok, your turn, bard," Geralt asks him, smirking. "What are you gonna do?"

Jaskier smirks back at him, very smugly, looking at Geralt and leaning in just so.

"I'm gonna roll for Vicious Mockery, let the bard save the day again, huh?" He grins, rolling the dice between his fingers… Long and slender fingers that have their nails polished with the rainbow’s colours and that are not distracting Geralt at all.

The whole group gasps when the dice stop rolling and…

"No fucking way!" Lambert yells, hands flying to his head.

"Holy shit YES!" Exclaims Eskel at the same time.

"Fucking bard and his stupid good luck with the dices!" Laughs Aiden.

The dice is showing them a natural 20. Perfect score. When Geralt talks again over the laughs and yelling of their friends, his voice is full of emotion and he talks faster than ever.

"Dandelion the Bard looks at the Elf King dead in the face and he starts singing solemnly, casting Vicious Mockery while strumming his lute. Dandelion?”

Jaskier improvises a rhyme and a silly tune for the delight of his friends.

Geralt can’t hide his own smile, his best friend is gorgeous like this, just having fun while playing DnD with a bunch of misfits; Jaskier could spend his time with someone much better than them, any girl of their class would be delighted to be in a date with Jaskier, and yet…

“He thrust every elf/

Far back on the shelf/

High up on the mountain/

From whence it came/”

Jaskier sings with a deep, rich voice, and Geralt wants to be annoyed by his antics… But the game is still on.

Lambert and Eskel snort and Aiden just shakes his head, smiling and leaning over Lambert.

“The Elf King looks at you and draws his sword, but your Vicious Mockery…”

“And my amazing Nat20.”

“And your impressive Nat20, yes… Are too strong for him and he falls on his knees, dropping his sword… Aiden, roll for acrobatics! While the bard was singing and melting the King’s brain, you’ve been surrounded by elves: three warriors and two archers…”

—

To eat the greasiest pizza after their DnD session is a sacred tradition… A sacred tradition that his brothers are now ignoring in favour of, well, get laid, Geralt supposes.

Eskel left them in a hurry, arguing that he had a date with Triss, his long-live crush, and that he wanted to impress her at the Arcade, and soon after, Lambert and Aiden left together, no explanations given, Aiden had just smiled at them shyly and waved his hand in goodbye.

Leaving Geralt alone with, well, with Jaskier.

That is not a problem itself, Jaskier decided long ago that Geralt was his best friend and somehow, that he was Geralt’s best friend too. At first, Geralt was baffled by the whole thing: a stray kid, adopted along with two other boys by a single father, leaving almost in the middle of nowhere, they all were misfits, outcasts… and the brightest, loudest, happiest kid Geralt ever known just decided that they should be best friends.

That was ten years ago, give or take. Geralt can’t remember the exact moment when he thought about Jaskier as his best friend, after trying once and again to scare the younger boy away. 

And now… Well, now Geralt was feeling rather odd around Jaskier. Not angry at him, nor upset. But… suddenly shy, everytime he found Jaskier looking at him, or worse, blushing whenever Jaskier casually touched him in the arm or whatever.

Being alone with Jaskier is both thrilling and terrifying, and Geralt feels tense and hot all over his body watching the boy licking his fingers clean after finishing a portion of pizza. His lips glisten under the dim light of the shitty pizza joint they both love. 

“Geralt, dear, you’re staring, do I have something…?” Jaskier says, and licks his lips. Geralt follows hungrily the path of his pink tongue lapping those full, pouty lips.

“N-no, you’re ok, I was just…” Geralt stutters.

I was just wondering how it would be if I kissed you, his not-at-all-helpful mind supplies. Jaskier is still looking at him, smiling fondly, and Geralt feels petrified by those bright, ice blue eyes.

“This pizza is not that good to render you speechless, Geralt,” Jaskier laughs. “Or are you thinking about my Nat20 again?”

Geralt snorts at last, looking away to avoid Jaskier’s natural spells.

“Huh, Jaskier, that was just luck,” Geralt teases.

“Knowing how to play and they call it luck,” Jaskier replies, shrugging and smiling. “It was, as you said yourself, impressive.”

Geralt shrugs too. 

“Well, ok, it was, are you happy?”

“Very.” Jaskier’s smile widens and Geralt… Geralt wants to make Jaskier very happy again, he just doesn’t know how to. So he changes the topic.

“Hey, what’s with your fingernails?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier eyes widen in fear and he looks at his hands like he hadn’t realised that they were there the whole time.

“Oh fuck, I just forgot about them after…”

“Hm?” 

“I-I need to go! I’m sorry!”

Jaskier stands up and takes his backpack and rushes to leave, almost bumping into a young couple in his run.

“What… Jaskier! Wait!”

-

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

Jaskier had forgotten completely about his stupid rainbow nail polish after the gig; it had been the first year that he was able to perform at the Pride and he was so freaking happy to be able to play and sing for an audience like him.

He was still floating about it two days after, and he arrived to Geralt’s place to play DnD without realising that his nails were still proudly showing the rainbow flag.

And now he was running away from his best friend, scratch that, running away from the love of his short life, and feeling the tears running down his flushed cheeks.

He was still inside the closet for his dearest friend. Of the Morhen boys, Eskel was the first one to know, basically because he found Jaskier crying his heart out when Geralt started dating Yennefer, a girl from his class. So Jaskier confessed his love for Eskel’s brother then, and Eskel held him tight until he stopped crying.

That happened two years ago, when Jaskier was just fifteen and was still discovering his own body and feelings. And boy, he discovered how much a broken heart hurts.

Then, not long ago, was Jaskier who stepped in to find Lambert and his very dear friend Aiden making out in the Morhen’s green-house. Lambert and Aiden were petrified in fear and Jaskier had to confess himself and to promise them that he would never get them out and that he would help the younger boys to hide their romance until they were ready.

That was how Jaskier found in the younger of the Morhen brothers a fierce protector and a dear friend.

But Geralt…

Jaskier couldn’t get out in front of Geralt. He’s his best friend, more than that, Geralt is more important to Jaskier than anything else, Jaskier doesn’t want to lose him, and…

And it’s not like Geralt will reject him because of his sexual orientation, no, Geralt has never showed a hint of hate towards the queer community; no, Jaskier is afraid that if Geralt knows about Jaskier being, well, gay or bi or pan or whatever, Jaskier is still discovering that… Jaskier is afraid that Geralt will know about his feelings for him.

Jaskier is barely able to hide his love for Geralt now, shielded by Geralt’s wrong assumption about Jaskier being straight. The moment Geralt realises Jaskier is attracted to men too… Geralt will know. And Geralt will politely say to him that his love is unrequited. And then Geralt will stop being his friend just as he’s stopped being friends with Yennefer after their break up, and Fringilla before Yennefer, and Keira before Fringilla… Geralt doesn’t believe in being friends with those that want him. 

Jaskier can’t have that.

Jaskier would not let that happen.

“Jaskier!”

Geralt is running after him, and fuck, he’s fast.

“Geralt, please, I need to go!” Jaskier yells back at him, people avoiding them and watching them in confusion.

“Ok but.. I’ll call you later to check that you’re safe at home…” Geralt says loudly, and when Jaskier looks over his shoulder to look at him, Geralt is not running anymore, just looking at him with the saddest expression ever.

Jaskier stops running too.

He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, his backpack is heavy and tugs at his shoulders, and his lungs - used to sing for hours - hurts with the need to scream and cry.

He’s so tired.

He looks at his coloured nails again, the rainbow flag he’s so proud of seems like it’s making fun at him, now. But no, he’s the one making fun of the flag, he’s the one hurting himself.

June is the month to be proud of who we are. June is the month to be honest.

If Geralt doesn’t want to be his friend because he has feelings for him, well, then maybe Geralt is not his best friend after all.

It’s going to hurt, Jaskier knows it, but this constant lie is hurting him too.

Jaskier turns back to where Geralt is standing, his pained expression doing things to Jaskier’s heart. The extremely blond boy is just looking at him with concern and hope and by the way Geralt is clenching his fists, Jaskier knows Geralt wants to reach him.

“Geralt…” He whispers, his voice breaking. A lump in his throat is threatening him with more crying.

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt says instead. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m so sorry, I never wanted to upset you.”

Geralt takes a step closer to Jaskier, and good lord, why is everything so difficult? How can they be in this situation now? They argue a lot of times, for a lot of things, but Jaskier has never felt this scared before, nor has seen his friend this sad because of him, apparently.

“It’s not… It’s not your fault… It’s… Can we please go back to your house?” 

-

Geralt drives them back home, in silence.

He adores silence, it’s so difficult to find a moment of peace in his house, with Lambert being always a mouthy bastard and arguing about everything, and Eskel’s constant chattering and teasing and… And with Jaskier.

Loud, noisy Jaskier, always talking about fucking everything, always singing or humming for fuck’s sake. Jaskier, who is unable to be silent for more than five minutes, the boy even talks during his sleep, always with so much to say to the world.

Now, Jaskier is not talking, nor humming. He’s just sitting by his side during the short ride to Geralt’s house. And Geralt hates the silence.

His best friend has his eyes red and puffy, silent tears running down his cheeks, and Geralt is doing his best to just don’t reach and wipe them away gently and to promise Jaskier that everything is going to be fine, even if Geralt can’t understand what the fuck is happening.

Once at home again, Geralt leads Jaskier to his room and rushes to prepare tea for both of them. When in distress, prepare tea. Drink it, and then carry on. That’s what Vesemir says.

“Thank you,” says Jaskier with a soft, broken voice. It’s so wrong, Jaskier should be always happy, singing and chirping and…

“It’s a rainbow flag,” he adds, stopping Geralt’s thoughts.

“”What?”

“My fingernails. I painted them like this for… the Pride,” Jaskier explains, but he sounds off, scared even. Scared of what, Geralt doesn’t know. 

“Hm,” he answers, with a lack of something better to say.

“I… I played there, with Priss and Essi, for… for the Pride concerts, we applied and they… wanted us there…”

“That’s great!” Geralt exclaims and startles Jaskier, who clings to his cup tightly. “You three have been doing great with your band, of course they wanted you there! Why didn’t you tell us? We could have gone!”

Somehow, to say that, to… to offer Jaskier his support, makes Jaskier sobs harder, and Geralt wishes to know what to do.

"What? Jaskier, what…?"

"Geralt, it was the Pride!" Jaskier whines.

"Yeah, you just said that."

"Do you know what it is… Do you know what the rainbow flag means?" Jaskier asks, looking at him with panic in his eyes. 

Geralt looks at him, at his pouty lips now wet, and back again at his glistening, weeping blue eyes.

"Hm," Geralt needs a moment to think about something that is not kissing Jaskier. It's not easy, the need to comfort his friend and to reassure him is too strong. But he manages.

Rainbow flag. Yeah, that rings a bell, he has seen that flag, somewhere. He thinks Aiden, Lambert's best friend, has some stickers and such with it, and other flags with different colours.

Oh.

Oh.

"Yes, yes of course I know what it means, Jaskier," Geralt answers, feeling delirious. I just didn't want to hope.

"And?" Jaskier asks, expectantly. "Geralt, it was not a simple gig, we weren't there just because, but because Priss and Essi and I, we are… I am…"

Geralt kneels in front of him, and lets his hands rest on Jaskier's lap.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Geralt asks softly. "Were you afraid of me…? Did you think that I would… that I wouldn't want to be your friend anymore?"

Jaskier nods slowly, more tears spilling from his eyes.

"But not for the reason you think," Jaskier cries. "I know you would accept me as I am, but…"

Geralt's heart is breaking, watching his friend crying, sobbing hopelessly and thinking that Geralt could ever stop being his friend, for any reason at all… That's just absurd, because Geralt… he… He's in love with Jaskier and…

And Jaskier doesn't know it.

"Jaskier… Julek… it's ok, I'm here," Geralt promises, taking Jaskier's tea off his hands and hugging him, as tight as he can. Jaskier clings to him, sobbing.

"You'll hate me!" Jaskier cries, grabbing his shirt, and Geralt just… just can't.

"Never," Geralt reassures him. 

"You'll hate me because I love you!" Jaskier yells. "And you push away all of your ex girlfriends, so why would I be different?" 

Geralt freezes then, still holding Jaskier.

Jaskier loves him.

Jaskier loves him.

Flirty, flighty, social butterfly Jaskier, the boy who decided to be Geralt's best friend.

Bright, loud, noisy, wonderful Jaskier.

"It's… quite different," Geralt says at last and Jaskier snorts.

"It is, Jaskier, because… Because I…" Geralt takes a deep breath. "I love you too."

The last part is just a whisper, reverent, contained. It's a truth that he's been avoiding for years. 

Jaskier squirms until he can lock his blue eyes with Geralt's own.

"You mean… as a friend?" He asks.

Geralt smiles at him fondly and shakes his head slowly before leaning in, his eyes flicking from Jaskier's eyes to his lips. 

Jaskier's breath is warm against Geralt's lips, his skin is wet and a little clammy after all the crying and sobbing.

"Geralt…" Jaskier whispers, breathless.

"May I?"

Jaskier closes his eyes slowly, leaning in until he can find Geralt in the middle.

Their first kiss is chaste and shy and, well, not how Geralt would have imagined, not with Jaskier crying in fear and rushed confessions, but it's perfect, because it is Jaskier who is kissing him back.

Geralt reaches for Jaskier's hands and threads their fingers together.

"You had no idea what the rainbow or the Pride mean, right?" Jaskier asks, smiling wide, with his forehead resting on Geralt's shoulder.

"I thought you simply liked the…, what's it called? The colourful aesthetic." Geralt answers, shrugging, making Jaskier chuckle.

They stay like this for a while, Geralt studying Jaskier's painted nails and caressing his hands softly.

"You could paint mine," Geralt offers.

"Geralt…"

"Maybe for the Pride next year?" Geralt asks, hopeful. "I.. I could go there and see your gig…"

Jaskier kisses him again, less chaste, more hungrily, and Geralt can't suppress the growl that rises from the deep of his chest.

"I'd love that, my dearest."

-

“Ok, ok, Eskel, your turn…”

Jaskier can’t help but to look at Geralt in awe while he leads the party through the Dungeon; Geralt always seems happy and free during their DnD sessions, but lately he seems… resplandescent.

Geralt glances at him and smiles knowingly while Eskel keeps talking, and Jaskier’s heart does a somersault under his golden gaze. Gods, Geralt is going to be the death of him, and now that Jaskier knows his taste, his hunger, the caresses of his hands… 

“Hey, bard, wake up!” Lambert exclaims. Aiden is basically sitting on his lap, laughing softly. “Do your bard wiles!”

“C’mon, give us another Nat20, bard!” Eskel cheers.

Jaskier chuckles.

He takes the dice and rolls it over the table.

By his side, Geralt smiles at him, wide and unguarded, his hands at either side of the Master's screen, and every one of his fingernails are painted with the colours of the rainbow, to match Jaskier’s own hands. 

“Ok, dice, gimme a Nat20!”

[maddiebiscuits]

i don't know how to phrase this any other way so i hope you don't find this rude or anything: you are (imo) a very skilled, very prolific art toaster. it's great quality artwork obviously, but your turnaround is wicked crazy fast to me. what does burnout look like for you? how do you manage to toast so many arts? what dark magics must you employ??

The hard truth is I worked in journalism for two years between 2010-2012 and customer service/hospitality starting at 16 years old in 2007 all throughout my life until 2022 and I don't want to go back to any of it now that I'm almost 33 - that's the main motivator to keep my freelance gig career doing art commissions going as long as possible. Fear and loathing of going back to that work environment keeps me focused.

In action...I'm not quite sure if I ever experience 'burn out'? I do experience art 'block' in that I can't think of anything to draw on my own or feel really unsatisfied with my work...so I just goof off with my canvas or do studies, but this doesn't interfere with doing commissions where I am told what to draw.

I just enjoy the physical act of drawing. Sometimes when I'm bored and restless and going for a walk doesn't help, I just draw more. When I was a kid I would just come home from school and draw crap between playing Gameboy/N64/Gamecube or browsing Elfwood/Newgrounds/DeviantART/Gaia Online, so it's literally just a habit now. If I don't draw for a long time I feel anxious and unwell. Somehow I just programmed my brain to think that art = leisure fun time, even if it's for work. I also tend to get into a "zone" sometimes and just put on video essays or music and a few hours later I'll have worked through some commission stuff.

I have three 'task lists' for my workflow:

A public trello board organized by work order types (N/SFW link)

A personal trello board organized by type/date in chronological order

A coloured tagging and folder system in my emails where I can just see the actual dates/timestamps of my last correspondence with a client so I know exactly who in my taskboard needs to be prioritized for their next WIP update

I hold myself to a standard of sending a client a WIP in stages:

rough draft (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

line art (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

final render (1-14 business days)

tweaks (1-2 business days)

So ideally, the client gets a finished commission in 3-6 weeks, so about 1-2 months. For larger projects I send more WIPs and the process is obviously longer. For simpler stuff like chibis, it's rarely a full six weeks. Over holidays I add an extra two weeks to my noted turn-around to account for IRL time off. On all my terms of service I have a maximum four months turn-around, essentially doubling the time I know my work flow is just in case there's some sort of medical or equipment emergency in my life that I need to account for that gives me a buffer (I also notify all clients)

Monday to Friday I wake up usually...late morning/early afternoon? I do anywhere from four to eight hours of artwork, broken up by walks, stretching, eating, cleaning, cooking, hanging out with my partner, etc. I look at my personal trello taskboard and emails to see what must be done and what can wait. I try to get at least 1-2 things done in a day though, be that sketches/line art/renders/revisions.

Right now I am looking at my email and task board, and the client with the highest wait time chronologically is someone who is waiting for their final render (sketch and line art already revised and done for them). Last email correspondence with them on the email says 9 days ago (so 7 business days, I'm supposed to take Sat-Sun off). Their order was paid in full and confirmed by me on November 9 and it is currently December 13, so I'm at about the 5 week mark (not accounting for delays in clients getting back to me of course) and I am very much On Course for my work load, no one has been without contact from me for 14 days or more so I'm pretty ahead of my game right now! I could take tomorrow off if I wanted, or only do 3-4 hours of work if I feel like it.

However the more work you finish and post, the more you show prospective clients your ability to finish orders and show your audience more art for engagement, so ideally I always like posting stuff when I can, it just creates a cycle of positive production and income.

[all-or-nothing-baby]

15 QUESTIONS, 15 (or whatever) TAGS

i was tagged by @ash-mcj—thanks dude! HERE is their's.

.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY?

my middle name is the name of my mum's friend/dad's ex who died (my folks ended up getting together a year later).

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

about 10 minutes ago? to WELLY BOOTS which is an amazing devil song i've heard 10,000 times before. i honestly cry a gajillion times a day bc i don't just cry at sad stuff but also anything that moves me: from hearing a wonderful piece of music... to someone saying something kind to me or anybody else (real person or fictional character)... to being overwhelmed by the enormity of life and all its fucked-up and wonderful complexities... seriously, absolutely bloody everything makes me cry!

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

yes, two of 'em; a brilliant, beautiful, super-talented, immensely kind and outrageously hilarious 24 year old and a brilliant, beautiful, super-talented, immensely kind and outrageously hilarious 15 year old :) they're incredibly different individuals who bicker like siblings absolutely should and love each other a lot. i love them both so much it makes me cry when i think about it (surprise surprise).

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?

oh, no, never. (probs too much at times—although i don't always understand when others are using it with me #neurodiversesquad).

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

used to do what the american folks call 'run track', back in the day before chronic illnesses became the villain in my story.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE?

whether they, you know, get it (or not).

7. EYE COLOUR?

erm, a bit of an odd sort of dark grey/blue with lots of dark green swirls and splodges

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

oh definitely scary movies, horror my beloved <3 i think i'm finally (bc it's been on my list for so long omg) gonna get around to watching RELIC tonight! *scratching at the door noises*

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS?

forgetting absolutely fucking anything and everything all the fucking time. ALWAYS knowing the first letter of the word i can't think of. having a bit of a photographic memory. being able to play the william tell overture by flicking my fingernails against my front teeth. making really good pancakes. good at accents. pretty good at drawing faces. playing music by ear. great at making inconsequential lists lol

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

blackpool, a seaside town in the north-west of england, UK. imo it's a veritable shithole these days, only good for trashy arcades and getting stabbed... but i do miss the ocean now i don't live there.

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

making art, making words, making mixtapes, making trouble, making time for reading, making music, making a mess.

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS?

yes—i couldn't imagine not having critters in the house! i have 4 precious arseholes cats: little jimmy novak and moriarty, who are both house-loving cats—like, they do go out, but are indoors wanting cuddles more often than not. whereas the other two, grace jones ii and goku, are practically feral and only really come home for dinner and if it's raining hard (and the occasional i-will-allow-you-to-stroke-me-and-let-you-have-the-honour-of-me-sitting-on-your-knee-i-suppose).

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU?

5'2". short king.

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

loved art and english in high-school, and also enjoyed drama and history. i studied art at college and fashion at uni (which was a mistake, that world was very much not for me pfft).

15. DREAM JOB?

i honestly don't dream of jobs. but if i did? i suppose a portrait artist or published poet who was paid enough to actually live on, aha.

.

tagging, play or nay: @shealynn88 @sharkfish @novemberhush @greyhavenisback @poebin @jmeelee @raisesomehale @rajalagang @ohhalefire @halinski @kikiroo @lovebillyhargrove @harrgrove @slytherkins @witchsickness @ltleflrt @wellwaterhysteria @deklo @chasingcastiel @racheld93 @gabedemon absolutely anybody else who wants to do the thing!

[ran-orimoto]

You're an only on many who talks about J.P on this site. I can ask you what you think on Junpei becoming a singer for Izumi? Doesn't it make you angry?

Hi, Anon. Thank you for the ask. You kinda… Touched a delicate topic here, because I have got mixed feelings about this Serena from Pokemon situation, but, surprisingly, I’m not totally condemning this choice from the writers like some have. I…Can look at it more brightly than people expect me to and I can also say I don’t think the opera singer thing came out of blue.

For starters, there’s a part of me who wants to believe he was embarassed about Izumi teasing him. It’s an audio drama and we have no idea about his expression there. If you ask me, Izumi mentioning the ice skater and Tourin Olympics is way too specific to be a random anecdote that hasn’t had an impact on Junpei’s past self. I think that “Junpei, you’re really a fanboy” kinda made him awkward on the spot. On another hand, it’s obvious his crush is still there and his “I’m studying opera to be closer to you” hasn’t been thrown there for a nonsense reason, either, which means there might be a pinch of truth in what he says.

It…Sucks? It…Disgusts you because it shows Junpei is stuck at the same point, which is also something he was aware about in the original series? Remember the library scene with Tomoki, where he admits he hasn’t changed at all? It makes you wince because Junpei was supposed to be an engineer or a magician? I understand these feelings very well, but I also want to see, indeed, try seeing a sense in whatever they have done in that drama (which is my favourite one from Frontier, mind you).

Taking in consideration the job choice, I believe there have been two reasons behind it:

• Junpei’s skill at entertaining people that has been shown in the whole anime.

• The necessity of connecting characters with Italy.

• Junpei being interested in Izumi’s culture and not becoming a singer because of her, but getting into a field connected with Italy because of her, because he wants to connect with her through her language and culture. “Get closer” means “I want to get closer to your world so we can also get closer as friends”.

Listen, as an opera fan, I want to underline sometimes I find myself wishing he had taken on some other kind of career as well. Junpei is a very colourful character, showing to be good at the most disparate activities: he is good with kids and you think he would be a great teacher like Juri and Hikari (Digimon, we need a man teacher among your characters, just saying); he likes drawing on freaking blue prints and you think he could give engineering or architecture a chance; there are some scenes in which he seems to interact with Trailmon so often and you think he could turn driving trains in a future job; he’s interested in magical tricks and, like many would have liked, you can imagine him going professional in the field; he likes imagining himself as the mc of a tv series, so you can picture him as an actor.

All of these observations are valid and true but the point in his character is that Junpei is just interested in so much different stuff. Profiles describe him as a “kid who is bad at school but has got an academic knowledge thanks to his interest in miscellaneous stuff”. And you can notice this trait of his scattered in the show in the smallest and silliest frames too, like, for example, when he mentions elephants’ graves, or when he raises his hands up to the Sun and mentions UV rays, or when he quotes horror tropes. In the most recent drama he also reveals himself to be a fan of detective stories??🤣 He has got a lot of interests and I can kinda see this as something he does to deal with loneliness. ���Always staying alone, maybe he reads a lot or watches ton of documentaries.

Headcanons aside, Junpei could have been all these things but their attention ended up falling on his most entertaining side, pushing them to pick the opera singing career.

Now. Unlike Takuya, Junpei has always had an interest in Italy thanks to Izumi. In the anime it’s never shown except when he joins her while she’s yelling “Buono! Buono!” before eating at the island restaurant. Yet, it’s a characteristic of his that surfaces in “Izumi’s Love letters”, or whatever it is called. It’s basically the part of the 2002 drama where she sends imaginary letters to the boys, Junpei included. In the one she addresses him, she talks about the fact Junpei makes her happy when he seems interested in her tales about Italy, especially when it comes to food, and she proposes him (+ the others, she specifies at the end XD) to visit Italy together.

It has always been there and even if that curiosity was born in him thanks to Izumi, I’m so sure he is cultivating his interest on his own as well. You…Can’t absolutely take on opera if you don’t feel it in your heart🤣. It’s a suicide, okay, and ,most of all, you have to own that gift to pursue that dream. It’s not like you will start studying opera and you just need to study to go forward. It’s not enough at all. Thus, Izumi saying Junpei has entered an honour university after some opera exam makes you understand he’s seriously giving his best in what he’s doing and is also rather great at it.

“But he’s doing it to get closer to Izumi whwhwhwhwhhwhwhwwwwwweewe”

Not only ,in my opinion. He’s also taken that path thanks to Izumi, because that’s how their relationship has always worked, -excluding times in which the writing was trash-.

It’s not like I want to say the others have got no role in Junpei’s and Izumi’s growth, but looking back at Frontier for a nth time with a dear friend is making me realize how their friendship was based on improving thanks to the other’s presence. Izumi faced her issues for the first time in a serious way thanks to Junpei in the Tsunomon episode. Her collaboration with him and her opening herself to him without prejudices helped her move forward and take a first step towards her improvement. Junpei learnt how to be more genuine around her, starting from being such a spoiled a$$ to understanding he could build a good relationship with her if he was himself. Compare the Floramon ep with the Tsunomon ep to notice how he became a totally different person in her regards after having got the spirit, whereas he keeps on being tough to Takuya and Co. If we exclude the sexist philosophy behind the Bolgmon episode, we can take in consideration that the affection he had towards Izumi also pushed him to go over his limits even when he felt so unsure about doing it. He wanted to get her spirit back and it was enough for him to give a glance at her sadness to get courage, get his beast spirit and maintain a partial control on it: actually, Bolgmon managed to hit Grottemon only when he remembered he was attacking him for Izumi’s sake.

There’s…Nothing wrong in getting inspired from a person and letting that person shape us; in seeing them as a sort Muse of light in a world that’s probably too dark to allow us to see where we should put our feet. What matters, though, is to go over that phase eventually and build our person on the precious lessons our Muse has given us. “Train of Hope”introduces us to a still immature Junpei who has got a lot to learn, a very flawed Junpei who can both be himself around his crush but can also make the mistakes he used to make as a kid, and, again, guys, it’s fine??? Digiworld doesn’t mark the end of these kids’ development. Every kid seems to still be flawed at its worst in that drama, not only Junpei.

Still, we are talking about him now, and what I can tell you is that the infamous tenor role they have given him has got a lot of potential behind its frivolous appearance. It could give Junpei the opportunity to live new experiences outside Japan, grow further, plunge in a world of entertainment aiming at making people both laugh and cry, and that’s also perfect for a character like him. A grey one who could hold both comedy and tragedy in himself; a lightning that can both bring but also rob the world of light. In a nutshell, he wouldn’t only be a perfect tenor because of his knight fantasies and his unrequited crush XD.

And if these experiences will help him grow out of his crush on Izumi, may it happen. Somehow, even if I could spend ages talking about Junzumi and spreading love for them, I would find it a very good ending for him: him eventually finding happiness first of all in himself and, possibly, in another person as well. By then, he will have become a much better person and ,you never know, sometimes he might remember how everything started and might thank Digiworld and Izumi for everything.

PSA Just a question: do you use J.P as a nickname for him?🤣💕

[cobrakatharsis]

ck secret santa 2022!!

my @cksecretsanta22 gift for @secondclassfangirl !! some lawrusso fluff for ya featuring domesticity, baking, johnny having a healthy sprinkling of emotional issues about the holidays, and the euphoria of suddenly realising you have a family. i hope you like it!! 🤍

ao3 mirror

Johnny hates winter.

He’s lived in the Valley his whole life, sure, so winter isn’t much - a mild chill, putting on a slightly thicker jacket or just being a little cold in one of his usuals - but it’s the principle of it.

Daniel always complains about winter too, but it’s Cali winters he hates. He talks about winter on the East coast constantly, about snow and real thick jackets and numb fingers and runny red noses. He’s got countless stories from his first sixteen years, about swiping plastic trays from the cafeteria at school to go sledding in big groups, or how he used to always get in trouble for throwing snowballs too hard at his cousins, or all the stuff he used to do with his parents and later just his mom. His stories from since he moved are less dense, but still very much there, recounting every holiday season he’s spent back in New Jersey - always visiting, with so many damn family members to visit - and so many traditions to uphold. Holiday traditions.

They’re abstract to Johnny.

His Decembers have really always just been another month.

Sid’s house was always decorated December 1st, all tinsel anywhere tinsel could be put and pinecones and green and red and the huge awful fireplace in the drawing room being the center of attention. A huge obnoxious wreath on the door and a decked-out tree even bigger than the man himself. At least one big stupid dinner with all of Sid’s big stupid friends. Johnny got presents on Christmas morning before he was sort of told to clear off and play with his new stuff so Sid and Laura could be alone for the day, but none of it ever felt like routine or tradition. It felt like stuff that just happened. Like being in a play in elementary school, being told what scene was next between each one because they were all dumb kids who couldn’t actually be trusted to know or remember. He was just going where he was supposed to be, no real idea or care what was coming next.

His holidays have always been like that since, although perhaps a little closer to the ones he’d shared with his mother, pre-Sid. No tree, no decorations, no dinners. Just observing the holidays through the actions of others in decorated shop windows and stuff being sold that they couldn’t afford. A treat, perhaps, on December 25th, as the one real mark of a “special” time of year, but ultimately letting it pass by like something on the other side of a window.

With Daniel and all of his traditions, such a thing is impossible.

Johnny wakes up on the 1st of December, some time nearer noon than Daniel seems to know how to get, to a scent he doesn’t recognise filling the pleasantly warm house. Venturing to the kitchen, half-asleep in his boxers and a threadbare t-shirt, reveals it as cookies - trays and trays of them, little roundish sugar cookie looking things doused in white icing and Christmas-coloured sprinkles.

“Christmas cookies,” Daniel clarifies, briefly glancing up and smiling when he notices Johnny stood watching. “They’re Italian.”

Johnny hums and approaches, swipes one up from the tray nearest him and eats it immediately. It’s…almond-y, soft like cake, still kinda warm. It’s good.

“Yeah?” he asks, still chewing. “What makes ‘em Italian?”

Maybe it’s the effect of the Christmas season that Daniel doesn’t admonish him - doesn’t even give him A Look - for his thievery. Or maybe he’s just finally used to it, but either way he simply keeps attending to the tray of cookies he’s still icing with a steady, experienced hand.

“The same thing that ties anyone and anything to a nationality.”

Johnny hums, wrinkling his nose briefly in consideration as he watches Daniel work. “Can’t be Italian if they were made in America.”

“I was made in America, Johnny.”

“Yeah, but—what, these cookies got a bloodline?”

Daniel laughs then - that beautiful, sincere laugh like Johnny amuses him now instead of just pissing him off, though Johnny’s sure he still does that plenty - and shakes his head.

“Just come help me ice these.”

Obediently, Johnny walks over, but wrinkles his nose again when he’s handed the weird, unwieldy plastic bag full of icing that tries to flip right out of his grasp and promptly explodes a glob of icing onto the counter when he grips it hard to compensate.

“I’ve never iced cookies before,” he decides to admit before he fucks it up entirely. Daniel’s putting his oven gloves on with his back to Johnny - the cute red tartan pair Amanda got him.

“What, you never helped your mom when you were a kid?” he asks, distracted.

“My mom didn’t bake, LaRusso.”

Any other time, Johnny’s sure that sentence and bitter tone would earn him one of those godawful looks from Daniel, and follow-up questions. Daniel’s always trying to learn more about Johnny’s childhood where he can, but as it is he’s thoroughly engaged getting yet another tray of cookies out of the oven and safely onto the overcrowded counter.

“Jesus. Are you baking for the whole of California?” Johnny asks, grateful for the out. Daniel grits his teeth in playful bashfulness.

“No, just half of New Jersey. I’m sending these to family,” he says, gesturing to a few of the completed trays. “…And the kids are all getting some. And Amanda, Chozen, Jessica…”

Johnny huffs a laugh as a smile grows on Daniel’s face. “Yeah, alright, my mistake.”

Daniel leans over and shoves Johnny in the shoulder to direct him back to the tray of uniced cookies in front of him. “Look, I’m not seein’ much icing goin’ on over there. You gotta do it before they get too cool or—“

“Okay, okay!”

They don’t turn out good. Johnny’s icing is a disaster, all lumpy and uneven, some drowned and some barely grazed - and his sprinkle application goes about as well, but when he says he’s done Daniel comes over and looks at them and smiles like the sun, all eye crinkles and dimples, and suddenly Johnny forgets about everything his childhood was filled with instead of baking as Daniel kisses him hard on the cheek.

They keep a few of that batch, shared between the two of them and eaten right there in the kitchen by the counter, stood all close together and giggling like they’re doing something sneaky. Daniel insists they’re not as good as the ones he used to make with his Ma, even promises that he’ll ask Lucille to send some so that Johnny can have some “real” ones, but Johnny tells him honestly that they’re good. Daniel credits Johnny’s icing and decorating technique with making them special, so the rest of that batch - “our batch”, Daniel calls them - are divvied up into cute, expensive glass tupperware containers - with matching lids! - to go to Amanda, Sam, Anthony, Robby, and Miguel.

Their family, Johnny realises. They made cookies for their family.

“I’ve never done that before,” he mumbles.

“Done what?” Daniel asks, clicking the lid into place on Sam’s container. It’s pink, with little flowers on it, like a little girl’s lunchbox. Miguel’s and Robby’s, piled on the side, have blue splotches of paint and little cartoon lions respectively. Amanda and Anthony’s are next up - leaves and cartoon game controllers. Johnny remembers buying them all, some time soon after he and Daniel had moved in together. Picking which one from the store’s selection fit each person.

“I don’t know,” Johnny says, suddenly a little overwhelmed by the big feeling taking root in his chest. “I was talkin’ about the cookies again, but…All of this.”

It doesn’t really make sense. Too disjointed to really be a thought, but Daniel looks up at Johnny like he understands. Bumps their shoulders together.

“I’ll take more of your firsts,” he says. Johnny snorts.

“I was being wholesome for once!”

“You were, you were,” Daniel grins, “But I mean it. We’ll do more stuff. Got the whole of December to go.” He neatly clicks the lid onto Anthony’s box of cookies and piles it on top of Sam’s. “We go ice skating on the second Saturday.”

“Never done that either.”

“It’s a learning curve.”

“Always is.”

Daniel smiles. Amanda’s box joins the pile atop Anthony’s, and finally Daniel’s hands settle on Johnny’s waist, thumbs running gently back and forth over the worn fabric of his t-shirt. “I’ll teach you,” he promises. “And then when we go next year, you’ll be a pro.”

And for the first time in his life, Johnny’s looking forward to the rest of the holidays. Looking forward to next year’s.

“You’re helping me bake next year too.”

“That mean I have to get up early?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh.”

Johnny can’t wait.

[themichaelvan]

tagged by @changingcore / 15 questions for 15 mutuals (oh fuck do i even have that many)

are you named after anyone? - birth name, nope. does it count if i got my chosen name from a fictional character??

when was the last time you cried? - this morning!! nothing 2 be concerned about i got woken up by the fire alarm (also nothing to be concerned about it just needs the battery replaced) and was so tired & upset i started crying, which happens. more often than i would like. hm. maybe i named myself after the wrong afton kid

do you have kids? - nope!! i do like interacting with them though but only like 3 max at a time JFJRJFNG

do you use sarcasm a lot? - irl yes, online only sparingly. & i make it very exaggerated not usually deadpanned or anything so people can Tell (which of course nobody needs except for Me but i digress)

what sports do you play/have played? - did soccer when i was a little kid (Hated It), was on a swim team for a while, and did marching band for the longest (which is my favorite and yes it counts as a sport and you cannot say it doesn't until you've been in marching band. cunt)

what's the first thing you notice about other people? - typically clothes and then hair! i have a relatively mild (but still pretty bad compared to ppl without it) case of face-blindness, and i CANNOT tell people apart by their faces at all unless they have smth like a bunch of facial piercings or a scar or smth Noticable so i tend to look at other things first.

eye colour? - ??? hazel-brown ??? no idea tbh but at least partially brown

scary movies or happy endings? - HAPPY ENDINGS. i am soso scared of scary movies i will gladly watch the little prince for the 60th time. Alternate Universe - Everybody Lives / Nobody Dies is one of my favorite tags on ao3.

any special talents? - ? What does this mean. i guess proofreading/editing?? i have always LOVED doing it and i just. naturally keep track of all the Language Rules and enjoy using them. the autism kicking in i suppose. and yes it does count as a special talent actually you would not BELIEVE how many candies i got in 5th grade from ppl bribing me to read over their essays.

where were you born? - arizona/usa. same town as my mom actually (despite her moving like 7 times in between her birth and mine)

what are your hobbies? - listen to music and pace around my room until i pass out. and painting, writing, drawing, various other arts n crafts, guitar, percussion when i have the chance (rn i only have a practice pad :|), and mobile games of heavily varying quality.

do you have any pets? - not atm but i used to have two cats (both still alive just in different household) that i still consider my little kitties :] i have 150+ pictures of them on my phone if you ever need cats i Got you

how tall are you? - 5'11" now!!! was hovering around 5'7"-8" for the longest time but i recently had a growth spurt and now im only the SECOND shortest in my family (out of six)

favourite subject in school? - by the material probably math! it is sometimes difficult for me to get a concept but once i do it's Easy. i also do have an advantage (parent has math degree and is good at explaining) but i try and make up for it by helping everyone else as much as i can jfjdndjf. by the Class def band/music class if that counts. both of my music teachers have been both very scary yet very nice to me and i loved their classes so so much and i extremely enjoy playing instruments with other people (when they behave)

dream job? - sorting pokemon cards in a comfortable chair as a day job with a 4 day workweek, being a freelance renowned fiction editor on my own time, with occasional music-related gigs (tutoring, repairing stuff, playing in concerts, etc). i give you no shit if i could do that for the rest of my life and get paid well enough to live on my own or with roommates i like, have a cat, and have enough time and energy to homecook a meal 3-4 nights a week i would be so happy. that's all i want in life. "oh you would get bored doing the same thing day in day out" no i wouldn't "how" autism.

tags: @irradiatedblood @schmope-is-dead @sapphireclaw @bmo-2143 @pokette @soldiertransgender @astral--horrorshow @catnerdenby @unrestrainedbalderdash @buggiboo @lunar-anomaly @altruisticmystik @syntacticerrortxt @catlokis-blog @rosesareredjaybirdsareblue . okay. okay i think that's 15. im pretty sure. jegus.

[dragonsongmakhali]

<Get to know the mun!>

1. Are you named after anyone?: Nah, though my middle name is from my father's side. Fun fact: my dad actually wanted to name me Trillian, from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Kind of wish he had won.

2. When was the last time you cried?: I think I may have teared up at some point during Suzume when we went to see it in theaters.

3. Do you have kids?: No, and I do not plan on having any at the moment. I've got a niece, though, so I've got a little one in the family to buy obnoxious toys for.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?: It's part of the family vernacular, so yes.

5. What sports do you play/have you played?: sports??? Not really. I was in color guard in high school, and I practiced kung fu for many years in/after college. Sadly I have lost all of my athletic ability as I've aged.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?: Their outfits! I love seeing the stuff people choose to wear, even if I don't put any effort into my own clothing.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?: Happy endings, I'm terrible with scary movies.

8. Any special talents?: I am extremely good at making chicken pot pies specifically. Alright at most other forms of cooking too.

9. Where were you born?: Orlando, Florida.

10. What are your hobbies?: FFXIV/gpose, I suppose gaming in general, writing (generally only for the current hyperfixation, and even then only in the notes app on my phone never to see the light of day), and once in a blue moon I draw.

11. Do you have any pets?: Just one, a german shepherd named Orion who has the most adorable face I've ever seen.

12. How tall are you?: 5'1.7", but they let me say 5'2".

13. Fave subject in school?: I think the class I was most excited about was Calculus (thank you Sho Minamimoto).

14. Dream job?: I've got a job that pays the bills and that treats me well, which is pretty much as close to a dream as you can get in this economy. I'm a software developer :)

15. Eye colour?: Brown.

Tagged by: @loveliestbun (thank you!! This was such fun :>)

Tagging: Grabbing some folks from my tag post, if you've done this already/don't wanna do this then uh. post a screenshot for me instead :D @aethericfist @airis-ray @duchessdynamic @ae-fond-seeker @aethericmusings @blackestnight

[robotstrategy]

Recalled • Part 1 • 4 - Roland

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 1 Masterlist • Next

Life is tough when your own body wants to reject itself, your brain wants nothing to do with your body, your body wants nothing to do with your brain, and your brain wants nothing to do with itself. When, what can be assumed to be like, a tithe front temporal lobe mixed with in other brain parts of a manipulative train-wreck, things won't work too well.

After trying to stab himself with a fork Roland has been admitted to the facility’s Psych Ward, he has to be force fed and isolated as he’s trying every way to hurt himself. He doesn’t want to be here, yet he does, it’s all so confusing to him when nothing wants to work together, so he wants the easy way out.

“It's not like I haven’t died before, just let me down easy and I’ll be out of your way.” He tells the nurses. 

“I’m sorry Roland, that’s not how it works here, you’re wanted alive and it will stay that way.” She says back. They all say stuff like that he can even hear it from the other rooms, it’s all in that unmoving voice, the same unmoving voice he’s heard before, the fake weird emotion in it that pulled him apart and put him back together.

“You’re just like them aren’t you, you want me to put on that damn poker face and walk to my death unfazed, well guess what, it was too early then and it’s too early now, I don’t want to be here.” Roland paused, then muttered. “If you really wanted me happy, you should’ve just lobotomized me.”

The woman tears up a bit. “I suppose I’ll just leave you alone then.” Roland suddenly freaks out, he knows that if she leaves they’ll monitor him more on the cameras. It makes him feel like he’s back at Happy Jack Harvest Camp which he so desperately craves yet is ultimately afraid of. 

“Please don’t leave!” he yells. “I swear, I won't talk to you like that again, I’ll be good I promised, JUST DON’T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE!”    

As the nurse touches the door, she looks back to Roland who is bedridden, weighted cuffs on his wrists and ankles make it so he tries to move he’ll just topple over. Sighing, she goes back over to him grabbing a key from her pocket, but before she does anything she holds his forearms together criss crossing them.

“You will be on your best behaviour, you understand me?”

Roland nodded as she unlocked his wrist cuffs, holding onto him firmly she leads him out to the corridor which leads to a curtained common room. Everything is white and light gray much like in his room and much like the surgical room in the Harvest Camp, it makes him uneasy. Yet there’s others here, kids just like him who got recalled and aren’t dealing with it well. There’s also sprinkles of colour all throughout the room, from the toys in the corner, the books of the bookshelf, and the crayons sitting at a table that Roland has been led to. 

“I want you to draw something, I’d say draw anything but I know how some of you are, nothing inappropriate.” The nurse tells him.

Trying to ignore all the eyes that fall on him from around the table he picks up a teal, blue, gray, black, and brown crayon. Putting his fist to his cheek to think for a moment he looks back down to his paper and draws some sharks, a tiger shark, a great white and hammerhead. After adding more details and finally being satisfied with his work he looks back up to see the others eyeing his art.

“I like that one, what’s it called?” One of the Recalls asked, pointing to the tiger shark.

“I-It’s a tiger shark.” Roland mumbled.

“It reminds of a boy from the graveyard, what’s his name again? I can’t remember, I know he had a tattoo like that though, and he had a scar on his face, it looked like he got caught in an explosion.” Another Recall added. 

All the other’s looked at the Recall funny before Roland butted in. “I had a shark tattoo like and I did make it to the graveyard, I didn’t know anyone else with a shark tattoo like it, I guess maybe someone was brought in after I was unwound.”

“What is the graveyard?” Another one asks. 

“It’s an Airplane Graveyard out in Arizona, all the unwinds from refugee centers eventually make it there by plane, we would have stayed there until eighteen if the raid didn’t come.” A girl from the other side of the room says playing with one of those put to shape in the right hole toys. All the toys are very childish, but after all aren’t they all just scared children.

“Raid? I was unwound before that happened.” Roland acknowledged, now facing the girl. 

“Hmm, I guessing your the kid who never made it back, I got there after the incident happened.” The girl said. 

“The kid? No- if I- there was two others with me, one of them, god I can’t remember his name, he was set to be unwound after me.” Roland explained.

“Two boys and a girl went out with the admiral, and one boy and girl made it back, the boy had a new arm, with a shark tattoo” The second Recall explained.

Roland couldn’t believe it, not only had the boy never been unwound he had somehow made it back to the graveyard with the great possibility of now owning Roland’s old arm. ‘Fine, let him have it,’ He thinks. ‘It’s one less burden in this godforsaken place.’

“Apparently I lost the parts of my brain which had my memories, I can’t remember anything outside of here.” Another Recall added while covering their entire piece of paper in black crayon.

“That’s scary! Are you even going back to your parents? How long will you even be here?” Another one questioned.

The other one tears up, “I don’t know, I don’t even know who my parents are, they keep trying to do tests on me and I just can't seem to remember anything. I don’t what my parents are even like, I apparently have a twin brother, but he wasn’t unwound like I was, what if he’s competitive, what if our parents pit us against each other when I come back?” As the Recall starts going hysterical a nurse pulls him back from the table and guides him back to his room. 

There’s some silence for a bit until the girl in the corner stops playing with the toys and comes over to the table, before sitting down she black piece of paper and crumples it up, going over to the bins at the front of the common room she stands between the recycling bin and the trash, it takes her a moment but she eventually decides to throw it in the trash. 

“Why did you do that Angela? The paper goes in the recycling.” A nurse tells her.

Angela looks back towards the nurse, before looking up to remember something.

“Back at the graveyard there was the question of ‘would you rather die or be unwound?’” She recalls. “Most people said that they would rather die, so I am doing the boy a service by not recycling his things.”

“It was Hayden who said something like that, wasn’t it?” Roland had remembered Hayden yet he could not remember the boy, but whatever, if he remembers correctly Hayden was a blond-haired boy with braces and he liked Spam. On harder days in the basement Hayden made it easier for him, he just had to give the boy a can of Spam and he’d be fed. It was harder with Mai and the boy, who he now remembers was a bit stubborn, there was a girl with him, he can’t see her too well in his memory. She’s just horrified, he doesn’t know why, she just has a baby with her, and then she doesn’t, there in a big warehouse with a bunch of other unwinds, on a random night while knocking the boy a bit he follows her into the bathroom and…

Roland picks up his paper and without thinking puts it in the recycling bin, he then goes back over to the nurse that brought him.

“Can I go back now?” He asks her.

Not seeing how much he’s upset himself over a memory, the nurse smiles at him. “Of course. You’ve done very well today, it was brave of you to come out here.”

Going back to the room Roland feels awful about himself again, they’ve given him back his wrist cuffs so there’s no point in trying to hurt himself, he’ll be more inconvenienced by the weight of them if he even tried. So he just lies down, his bed is probably the only comforting thing about this sterile place, there’s music softly playing in the background, it’s too low for Roland to understand any of the lyrics, but that’s okay, because he’s rather not pick up anything dark in them right now.