#rewrote it like 5 times

[marikodraws]

You're the one person I refuse to lose to! You're the one person I refuse to lose.

🧤 Ta-da! Here's the comic I did for @rivalszine

[seokminfilm]

can't feel my face | vernon chwe

pairing: vernon chwe x reader

warnings: non-idol au, college au, college student frat boy vernon, college student reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, kissing, bits of romantic tension, slightly-drunk vernon x slightly-drunk reader, the two obviously like each other, vernon may possibly be out of character (vernon's hard to write okay)

now playing: can't feel my face (the weeknd)

Oh, how you hated Vernon Chwe.

Sure, he probably didn't know who you were or take time to even acknowledge your existence, but just seeing his face made you want to stomp your foot on the ground like a toddler having a tantrum.

He was perfect. Too perfect, you thought.

Even though he was a frat boy, and spent most of his time partying, skipping school, and seemingly changing his girlfriend every seven buisness days, he still had above-average grades, and participated in the college's extracurricular events. He was the valedictorian of the seniors, and was the college's star basketball player.

Damn him and his stupid smile, and his contagious laugh, and his deep brown eyes, and his pretty eyelashes⎯

Nevermind that.

What you were focused on was Vernon's eyes on you.

You could feel the piercing gaze of his dark brown eyes on yours as your friends and his friends commuted across the room. He hadn't stopped looking at you ever since you all finished dinner, and no matter who drew his attention away, he'd always glance at you for a few seconds before going back to what he was doing.

At first, it annoyed you, but now⎯now you found yourself wanting to meet his gaze.

What did he even want from you? Why was he looking at you so intently? You hated Vernon Chwe⎯you wanted nothing to do with him, and here he was, staring at you like there was something more.

"Vernon, you keep staring at her like you want her or something." One of your female friends joked, laughter spreading across the whole table as Vernon's friends giggled like schoolgirls. You tried to keep the reaction off your face, but your eyes widened on their own.

Vernon, on the other hand, was unbothered, leaning back in his chair as his eyes never left yours as he said "Maybe I do."

The whole table went into Ooohs after Vernon said those words, and you froze in place, feeling your whole world silently crash around you as you looked down at your empty glass of soju.

Of course, you were slightly tipsy⎯you were bad at holding your alcohol, but they had wine instead of soju, which got you drunk after just three shots of it.

All of this to say, you were drunk enough to not say anything overly detrimental to you and Vernon's already strained relationship, but not drunk enough to understand the weight of his words.

The dinner went on as usual, but it was obvious neither you or Vernon cared about the party anymore. As the whole crowd went to the living room to prepare to have a Mariokart tournament, you went outside, the chilly air helping you clear your cloudy mind as you sat by the lit up pool, comfortably chilling on a lounge chair as the moon rides the ripples of the pool water.

A few minutes later, the door slid again, and you looked back to see Vernon, trudging out in a black puffer jacket as his slightly tinted cheeks are illuminated by the fairy lights on the porch. He quietly sits down beside you, and looks to you again, that familliar yet annoying gaze meeting your eyes again.

"What do you want from me?" You ask⎯your voice is smaller, timider than usual, and you hate it. You've never been shy when it comes to Vernon. Unlike other female students, Vernon doesn't affect you.

At least, Vernon used to not affect you.

Vernon didn't reply for a while, quiet as the sounds of the wind running over the water and the fading laughter of your shared friend group inside blended together as one. After a while, he spoke.

"I don't know." Vernon's voice was always a shock to you⎯it was annoyingly monotone, but in a deeper range with a slight accent. All of your friends swore he lost his accent when he moved to Korea, but you could still hear it when he spoke English.

"Vernon, you⎯" You laugh, but it sounds more like a scoff coming out as you continue. "⎯You can't say "I don't know" to a question like that."

He falls quiet again, and you do to, sighing at the conflict of emotions in your head as you chew at your lip. The air stings your throat and nose, but you don't mind it. You'd think you would be uncomfortable with Vernon out here beside you, but it wasn't that bad at all.

"I think I want you."

You did a double take, turning to Vernon with wide eyes as you feel your cheeks start to heat up. He doesn't turn to face you for a while, finally meeting your gaze after a few minutes as he sighs.

"God, I want you." He says again, and you come closer to him, now just inches away from his warm body as you stare into his eyes. His eyelashes are long, something you've always been jealous of, and you swear you can ses flecks of green in them.

"Kiss me." You whisper, and for a second, you can't believe you even said those words. Vernon falls silent, pink, lithe lips parting as he takes your cheek in his soft fingers and brings his lips to yours.

The feeling is like sparks dancing on your skin, and you sigh heavily, shoulders deflating as Vernon's hand falls down to your waist. Vernon is soft as he kisses you, the blank faced facade he puts on crumbling as he breaks into a soft smile under you.

You're frozen in time: you've never seen Vernon like this before, quiet and soft. He's usually the life of the party, or always the popular one of the group. He's never withdrawn like he is now, simply doing what he feels and making you feel good either way.

He pulls away after a few more soft kisses, and his cheeks flare an even brighter red as yours do the same. After a few awkward moments of silence, both of you laugh, true happiness slipping in between you for the first time.

"I can't feel my face." You mumble, and Vernon breaks out into a wide smile while covering his mouth with his fist, the exact smile you've seen when he laughs at something his friends say. It makes your heart flutter as he comes down from the small high.

"That's interesting." He smiles, and you blush, wanting to say more before your friend interrupts you two.

"Interesting? Not even a "Oh no, are you okay?"" You tease, and Vernon smiles, clearing his throat.

"Oh no, are you okay?" He even feigns worry, defined eyebrows upturned and pretty eyes widened as he puts his hands on his cheeks.

You laugh out loud at his reaction until your sides hurt, and he chuckles at you, his face lighting up as he sees your smiles and giggles. After a few more laughs, you stop too, looking at Vernon as you smile.

"So, I, um⎯" You start, and Vernon just nods, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as he answers it with a "Yeah..."

You two didn't know what had just happened, but you knew it was good.

It was really, really good.

a/n: oh my god this was probably the most grueling fic i've ever posted. i spent about 1 hr on the banner to get it to fit tumblr's gif guidelines, and i rewrote this & almost changed plots about 3-5 times 😃 i will plan for the next vernon one i do because even though vernon's my ult....i'm so bad at writing him and writing for him 😭 anyways next WILL be dk garten of banban au!! okay byebye lyr nation ALSO ALSO masterlist will probably be coming soon!! we're stacking up on fics 🙏

taglist: comment if you want to be added!

[tabieeee]

Chief Engineer Parallax

he/they/it (masc but not really)

Titan TVman's source of ego, Parallax often showers his titan in compliments and pretends very hard that he wasn't just doing that whenever someone else pops by

At work he is stoic and professional but that facade breaks easily into a goofy ass motherfucker

Opposite of an average TV, he is far more emotive and emotional, it weirds them out.

Acts professional, prefers to be goofy

Nervous & heartfelt

Knows how to fight, but is a coward

Creative, loves crafting figurines and other knick-knacks

Has a titty window for his chest screen. and his titties.

Emojis are always either sideways or upside down

Can walk up walls and defy gravity

Parallax is an expert in melee weapons and classified TV-tech, very knowledgeable but gets overwhelmed easily. He has no visible gear that allows him to fuck with gravity, but he does anyways. Goddamn secretive TVs.

[paintsplash1712]

I think the reason I love Agatha All Along is because it feels like a comic series I'd read in my comics nerd phase like Loki: Agent of Asguard.

Maybe it's the vibes? Maybe it's because I'm a Billy Stan so I'm always going to see him as his comic self? Or maybe something else?

But if Marvel released a comic adaption of this series I think it'd fit right in!

[googleeyes]

I would have been soo invested in Ezri and Julian's relationship if Ezri just liked him and they didn't try to convince us it was Jadzia all along. Dax joins Ezri and is so excited to see their good friend Julian again and Oh God No he's Hot

[majimasleftasscheek]

congrats on finishing your neighbour!au comic! I really enjoyed seeing each update, and the ending was just PERFECT 👌

THANK YOU

it was super fun making all those lil parts, I wouldn't mind doing something like that again 👀 and seeing people be excited for the next bits was so

[theallianceofcelestials]

Surprise Watchful Nightmare update! Bet you weren't expecting that!

Little interlude between the capters "Explore the world" and "Change is okay", so if you were expecting finally seeing certain individuals interact with the kids and their nightmarish dad, sorry, not yet.

But! This chapter is short and sweet! Perfect to read before bed!

[agerefandomrambles]

Title: Drive

Word count:

Little! Reader

Cg! Boone

Warnings: nausea, chronic illness, swearing (the s word)

Plot: part 2 to nauseous

Dedicated to @aew-regression-cove

"I'm so sorry kiddo. Something happened with Kate and I've gotta go help. I promise I won't be long and Boone is gonna stay with you for a bit" Tyler shouts as he runs around the house, gathering all the things he might need.

Kate's appendix had to be removed and Tyler is going to New York for a week to help her recover. The only problem? You've been hit with one of the worst flareups you've ever had the day he's supposed to leave.

You've been hovering over the toilet on and off for almost an hour now. The chronic nausea isn't anything new but you're so miserable that you almost wish you could throw up so at least it'd go away.

"I love you sweetheart. You know that right?" Tyler says, crouching in front of you with worry in his eyes. He's caught between his 2 sick littles and as much as it's killing him, he has to go help Kate.

You nod weakly, letting out a soft sob. "Don't leave Dada. Stay. Kate come here and you help both" You beg. You already know what the answer is going to be but you have to try anyway.

"Come on kid. That's not fair and you know it. Boone is going to come and help you while I'm away." He consoles, pulling you into his chest for a tight hug.

After a few minutes, you separate and he rushes out the door to catch his plane.

Time seems to melt away from you as you sit in the bathroom, the cool tiles at least taking away the hot flushes.

After a while, the bathroom door creaks open. You look up hopefully, hoping that Tyler had magically changed his mind and came back.

Boone crosses the bathroom and crouches in front of you, frowning when your face hardens and you turn away from him.

"Oh come on little one. I'm not that mean, am I?" He tries to joke, frowning when you don't turn around.

"Alright. Come on. We're not throwing a pity party" he says after a moment of continued silence. He sits down, scooping you up in on fluid motion.

On his way out of the house he has the foresight to grab your bucket and some cold water that Tyler had thankfully left by the front door.

Boone carries you out to his pick up. He gently places you in the passenger seat, settling the bucket between your legs on the floor, before buckling you in and placing your water in the centre console.

"I know you're feeling a bit shitty right now but sitting in your bathroom for hours is only going to make you feel more miserable. We're gonna go on a drive with the windows down and music playing" He explains, starting the truck up.

He wordlessly hands you the aux and you put on your favourite country play list, something with a beat and a good guitar. Within 10 minutes your nausea has died down enough that you're singing along with Boone.

Boone drives you around with the windows down and music blaring until you've finally fallen asleep.

He quietly turns off the music and silently drives back to the house. Once you're there, he unbuckles your seatbelt and carries you into the house. He tucks you into bed, making sure to keep the water and bucket within arms reach, before settling down in the armchair in your room, content to play games on his phone til you wake up.

[suddencolds]

almost done... 🙏

[thebusylilbee]

welp, the reviews were right : Trap (2024) mixes what Shyamalan does best and what he does worst !

it's very frustrating because for the most part this is a genuinely well shot film and the setting of a killer being trapped in a stadium during a concert has the merit of being pretty original, you can truly feel the tension rising all throughout the story. but as usual when Shyamalan meets an obstacle in his story, instead of coming up with a smart way to get around it, he just decides that he'll do no such thing and the audience will simply have to politely ignore the blatant problem :/

so the result is that 80% of the movie is like legit really good but then you got 20% of absolutely pivotal moments that are just pure unadulterated bullshit... like just stupid-plot after unnecessary-plot-twist after completely-implausible-nonsense... it's still not a fully unpleasant viewing experience tbh, but man what a shame that they didn't feel the need to fix those bad parts !

[kittykatninja321]

Adventure Time stakes changed me forever because now I will forever see asking a loved one to help you die as the ultimate sign of trust and agreeing to help a loved one die as the ultimate act of love and devotion. PB turned to Marceline and tenderly said “Your natural lifespan is going to be richer and fuller than you can imagine, and someday, when you die, I’ll be the one who puts you in the ground”. Like Marceline has left her life in Bubblegum’s hands and PB has promised to treat it gently. Oughhh

[catboy-jupiter]

i'll be like "i'm a god of writing" and then an hour passes after i post or submit something and i'll be like "i'm so dumb there's so much i could've done better if only i'd waited a bit and looked at it with fresh eyes i would've noticed how much it sucks & what i could've improved that looks so much like first draft material there's so many revisions i could make why i am i so impulsive and overconfident" and then i'll start writing something else and be like "i'm a god of writing" again

[blu3cl0v3rs]

Summary: Morro's night routine.

Warnings: None

Prompt: Day 3 - Sleep

Extra: Generic "Morro gets revived and lives with the Ninja" AU. Inspired by my own nightly habits.

Everyone was asleep. Everyone except Morro. He was in the living room, a single light glowed above the ex-ghost. He aimlessly scrolled on his phone, given to him by Jay so he could "connect to the modern world", Jay's words.

The tiny digital clock in the corner read '22:57'. He mechanically rose from his spot on the worn couch and went over to the light switch to turn it off. The wind elemental methodically went room to room, cleaned up any unneeded messes, turned off forgotten lights, shut and locked windows, until the only unentered rooms were the bedrooms.

He spread his hand out in front of him and felt around in the air. His reach stretched down the hall and into each door, looking for the slow cadence of breathing from each resident, or whirring of fans in Zane's case. They all slept soundly.

Morro slunk to the bathroom with silent footfalls. He went through the usual process of preparing for sleep: brushing teeth, braiding hair back, and heading back to his own room to set out what to wear the next day.

He settled onto his bed, mattress compressing under his weight. He peeled back his covers and curled up underneath them. Morro softly hummed a lullaby Wu taught him until his mind drifted off.

Everyone was asleep.

[feetoffire]

horses of RA: Ranger Horses (or ponies, as it were)

the Kicker post was simple. the ranger horses are....less so :)))

Tug, Abelard, Cropper Bumper Blaze

quick glossary:

withers: where the shoulderblades meet, positioned at the base of the neck

hands/hh: horses are measured in ‘hands’, which are the equivalent of four inches, from the ground to the top of the withers. abbreviated as ‘hh’ (hands high). if a horse’s height falls between two full hands (i.e. between 15 and 16hh), the number of inches over the lower hand measurement is added as a decimal - 15hh and two inches becomes 15.2hh (~157cm), etc

pony: anything standing taller than 14.2hh (~147cm) is a horse. anything standing lower than 14.2hh is a pony

draft: think Budweiser Clydesdales - the big solid workhorses, often but not always with hair (referred to as ‘feathers’) on their lower legs

lots of musing below, most of which is essentially speculative evolution of the ranger horse:

first and foremost, the average riding horse in the middle ages was, well. a pony. Big Tall riding horses didn’t exist yet (and wouldn’t for another several centuries), and even the drafts of the time topped out around 16 hands, which is on the smaller side for a draft today. couple that with the heights of the foundation breeds flanagan mentions (temujai, hibernian, gallican), and ranger horses are decidedly pony-esque. probably large-pony-to-small-horse sized, since they're supposed to be carrying grown (albeit short) men, but still roughly pony sized.

also the sass. ponies are sass incarnate. (and often ‘shaggy and barrel-shaped’).   

ANYWAY we all know that the temujai are a barely-veiled reference to the Mongols under Chinggis Khaan, so it makes sense that their horses are the equivalent of the irl Mongolian horse. with their insane endurance, hardiness, and deceptive strength, it’s no wonder that they’re the basis of the ranger ponies. only problem is, they’re a little too small. 

Mongolian horses average 12-14 hands, but i sincerely doubt ranger ponies stand less than 13.2hh, for comfort as much as welfare. generally, horses and ponies shouldn’t carry more than 20% of their weight, and as a rider in the height range of a short man, the ponies i’m most comfortable on are ~13.2+; the majority of Mongolian horses are smaller than that, which is....less than ideal.

this is where i think the other horses flanagan mentions come in: for height and added versatility. the horse Halt brings with him from Hibernia is probably a Connemara, and we know Abelard comes from Gallican lines, which suggests the Camargue. given their proximity to Araluen/England, i wouldn't be surprised if the Welsh cob (section D), Highland pony, and moorland types like the Dartmoor were in the mix as well. as a bonus, all of these breeds tend to throw solid color coats, which i’m assuming are preferred, considering the ‘lay on the ground and pretend to be a bush/rock’ trick Will and Tug pull in book 9. hard to do that if the horse is speckled or splotched (sorry Bumper). 

so where does that leave us? a taller, somewhat lighter, probably scope-ier, solid-colored Mongolian horse that stands ~13.2-14.3. endurance, attitude, brains, and height all at once. perfect.

sounds amazing, honestly. i wanna ride one

[dhmis-autism]

SORRY. JUST REALIZED I ORIGINALLY SKETCHED THE STUFF FROM THAT LAST WIP POST IN. MARCH.

GODDDD...

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

Ok I lied, I also desperately want more about VLTD because I'm FERAL for it... *please*?? I'll take any little snippets you're willing to offer <3 - @fieldsofview

@fieldsofview god okay so Violet is coming a bit slow. I got 6k into it and realized I was already bored with the story. It just wasn't doing it for me, so I put it back in the percolator to stew some more and NOW I think I have the right setting for it. Originally I wanted to send them to Alaska bc of Nash's little throwaway thought about being brother of the year by buying Jo a plane ticket, but that's just not working for me creatively. Tennessee is where it's at, you know?

SO INSTEAD, he's going to buy her the ticket not knowing the reason she's been down in the dumps lately is because she misses when it was just the two of them. She's going to have a bit of a breakdown bc she's feeling all that and now he's trying to send her away?? But she still doesn't want to say it's him and Teddy that are the problem bc he's literally never been this happy before and she won't be the one to ruin it. So instead she confesses she misses her friends, which she does but also there's drama between her and Bella because of her moving away so it's a bit of a nasty surprise when she finds out that instead of Alaska Nash has arranged for her friends to stay with them for a week.

So now she has to deal with even less one-on-one time with her brother and also all the drama she thought was safely sequestered in Buford Hills.

So I'm going to have to cut most of what I have written (*sob*) but the intro is good enough to keep so here you go!

Here there be spoilers for Blue, like don't forget about me!

There’s an art to picking a hotel cheap enough that living out of it for three weeks won’t bankrupt you, but nice enough you won’t need to worry about bugs. In Jo’s opinion, it all comes down to the desk.

Hotel rooms follow a basic formula: bed (obviously), mini fridge (to store stress pudding), shitty single-brew coffee maker (always the same), a microwave (always different), an armchair in the corner (to sit in whilst eating pudding), and a desk. A good look at the desk and you’ll know whether you’ve made a mistake.

Too squat or wobbly—clearly not intended to be used—you’re in a cheap hotel meant for a single night stay and expected to be gone by breakfast. But a nice desk with a matching chair in a room that doesn’t make you feel like a dirty street urchin means you have successfully walked the line between frugality and indulgence.

Careful not to topple the precarious stack of client notes, Jo scoots the hard four-legged chair closer to the desk that’s too low to fit her thighs under despite being all of 5’4” in her derby skates. She sticks her plastic pudding spoon between her teeth and moves the stack away from the edge while creamy chocolate warms on her tongue. The sleeve of her favorite sweater, an ancient thing with a brown stain over her left breast that looks like a fatal stab wound (pudding incident of 2022), catches on the sharp corner but tears free without trouble thanks to the tattered state of the hems.

“When’re you gonna be home?”

She picks up her phone to see the familiar worry line between her brother’s eyebrows. Nash’s hair is overgrown again—beachy curls inching over his ears and peeping around the sides of his neck. He looks tired, but he always looks tired. More important is the aura of peace that he’s carried like a favorite blankie since they moved to their little mountain.

She swallows and slips the spoon from between her lips. “Thursday.” She points her spoon at the mini fridge where three pudding cups remain—one for each remaining day. “Think you can get the place baby sister proofed by then?”

The stress lines framing his mouth flex. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

She sticks her spoon into her pudding and leaves it there as she prepares to dig for whatever he isn’t saying, but, for once, he beats her to it.

He casts a surreptitious look over his shoulder then hunches forward and says, “Teddy’s got napkin swatches all over the front room.”

Ah, and they’re talking about Teddy again. It was a fun novelty for the first two months—she’s never seen her brother fall all over himself like he did for Teddy—but it’s been three years and she’s over it.

“I don’t understand why swatches. Why not just give us one of each napkin? It don’t make sense.”

“Uh, yeah I guess it’s kind of weird. Why napkins?”

His expression turns dour. “He wants me to pick one for the reception.”

“Alright, so pick.”

They were supposed to get married in February (fucked up, unnatural time for a wedding but nobody asked her), but then Teddy freaked out acting like a little backyard shindig wouldn’t be good enough and now they’re shelling out actual cash money to stand around in a swanky lodge for six hours and eat overpriced chicken.

Downright foolish, but again, nobody asked her.

“I tried but he said he could tell I was just trying to get out of it.” Steel gray eyes stare into hers. “Jo, I don’t care about napkins.”

“I don’t think anybody cares about napkins.”

“That’s what I—!” He lowers his voice. “That’s what I said.”

“But Teddy cares about—,”

“That’s the thing,” Nash interrupts, eyes wide, animated in his exasperation. “He doesn’t care either.”

“Then why—,”

“He thinks—,” He wrinkles his nose, then confesses, “He thinks it’s one of those things where maybe I do care, I just haven’t thought about it enough to know.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I know.”

“They’re napkins.”

“I know.”

It takes another five minutes to talk Nash around into telling Teddy that he’s put in enough due thought to determine he very much doesn’t care what people wipe their hands and face on at their wedding, but he turns down Jo’s suggestion that they stick a paper towel roll on each table so he must care at least a little bit.

When they hang up the pit of missing home hasn’t filled an inch. Even worse, her pudding is room temperature.