#so it's not like it's bc it's been a long time bc i still make myself try things

[ghostwitchboy]

So great that you're able to see light and sunshine coming out the world's ass for you. I've been actively fighting my depression for over a decade and have done everything I can to not succumb and guess what, everything good, even the little things, are still being ripped away from me systematically.

I was making progress. I was able to eat food without feeling sick for days. I was able to sleep normally. Some days were bad still but I could do things most of the time. I was back in school. Sure, things were rough, like my work study job was constantly cutting my hours till I could only afford the gas to get to school and not much else, let alone not being able to save, and I finally managed to leave my abusive relationship with someone who drained me dry emotionally, financially and in so many other ways and just so many things in my desperate escape from them. But I had support of friends and my granparents, who knew all of the trials and Horrors I've been through, the abuse by both partners and parents, the homelessness caused by both, the chronic illnesses I've never been able to look into because I've been too poor and to sick to try without insurance or travel.

So things were getting better in small ways, right? Ignore the news, finding out every day more of my rights are being stripped away, do my best to document the Nazi and fascist things going on in my government without being depressed about it, ignore the multiple genocides whenever it becomes to much to handle, resist by surviving and being happy when I'm too ill to go to protests and too broke to donate to relief funds, right? As long as these small good things keep happening, there's reason to have hope right?

And then my granparents told me they were done with me and once again I'm having to face homelessness with no net. My civil rights are being repealed and my identity erased by the fascists in power while I look at the requirements I don't meet to receive aid from homeless shelters and services because I wasn't fired from a job, I was a student who chose not to take summer classes and I'm not actively looking for one anymore because while I could spend hundreds of hours applying to jobs that don't actually exist, even if they did exist, they won't even give me an interview because my application is tossed out the minute their filters catch that I don't check mark the boxes saying I'm able and willing to stand for 8+ hours and carry heavy loads (I know because I did that for nearly a year before saying fuck it go back to school), therefore have control over my employment and and I'm disqualified from most aid. Or they require Medicaid, which I filed for back in November nearly a year ago and "Oh, you know they're just a mess right now, be patient", but since I don't have it in also disqualified from aid. And I never had the money to get full proper ADHD or ASD diagnoses and even when I got partially diagnosed in hs, my parents did everything they could to suppress it so The Family looked good, so I can't adult for federal disability, which also won't even spit in my directive because I was able to hold a semblance of a job or schooling in the past 5 years and routinely uses fake or dead jobs to justify denying people who've been applying for years. I have no car and can't get one because I have no money (literally only have$150ish left) and banks don't give loans to jobless homeless people with no equity. Every friend who cares about my wellbeing is living with their parents and living paycheck to paycheck and I cannot be a burden on them.

So not only is every big thing going wrong, but so is every little thing. And a half-spoken-word poetry piece of a song written by a fed and housed white man from Scotland four years ago telling me to get out of bed bc "beds are for sleeping and masturbating, and you've had about as much as the human body can take of either of those things" isn't going to magically make my bones not ache and space appear for me to exist in without fear or having to let go of every material possession I have because the gods know people hate the concept of someone who's homeless holding onto the belongings they've collected over their lifetime because that's too much dignity for that station of life to be allowed. No amount of jaunty "dah dah dah"s are gonna magically make every day worth living when every year, nearly every month or week now, things are getting worse and I'm more likely to be murdered for being trans than to ever own even an apartment at this point.

So fuck right off with your, "You're just in your early 20s, not everyone younger than 40 is hopeless, just look at the bugs, it'll be okay! :D" bullshit. I've tried that.

And now I'm running late for packing up my belongings, because the only good news I've had recently is that a friend was able to convince her mom to let me store some of my life in her attic and I'm working on a tight schedule to pack it up despite my aching joints and sore muscles and severe hopelessness because I'm goingto be 27 in a week and I'm still in the same place, still without a home, and people are more intent to ignore everything than to fucking do something about it for those of us who aren't as lucky.

[organic-bloodbath]

Seizure

Nam-gyu x Reader

Summary: You get a seizure during one of the games and get help from someone completely unexpected.

A/N: Never imagined to write about this junkie but this gif made me kinda feel things. OOC but idc. Also didn't know if i'd even post this cos it's basically just for myself as someone who has epilepsy and deadass would actually die there bc of it if i didn't get my meds 🧍🏻‍♀️

i'll probably delete this

♧♧

When you were about to start the first game, you noticed someone familiar in the distance. At least someone who reminded you a lot about a specific person from your past. No, it couldn't be him… could it?

When you locked eyes with him, you got your answer – it indeed was him.

Nam-gyu.

The boy you had gone to the same middle school with all those years ago. The boy who hung out with your brother after school at your house. The boy who sat next to you during math classes and kept stealing your erasers. The boy who told your first crush that you liked him, just to tease and make fun of you, and you ended up running back home crying. The boy who stared at you a little too long when he saw you in bikinis for the first time when you were 15 years old — though you didn’t seem to be aware of that. The boy who was a pain in the ass for eight years of your life.

"Well, well, well. Who do we have here?" Nam-gyu said when you had returned to the dorm after the first game, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had a blue ‘O’ patch attached to his green jacket while you had chosen the red ‘X’, dividing you into separate groups, just like back in school.

You hadn't seen him at all in the past 10 years. He had changed a little but not enough to be unrecognizable to you.

"Nam-gyu," you said, crossing your arms. "Long time no see."

As the games progressed, you ended up into separate groups. Nam-gyu was with Thanos, Min-su and Se-mi, while you were with Gi-hun, Dae-ho and Jun-hee. You barely looked at his way, almost forgetting he even was there.

Only once in a while did you spare a glance or two towards his way. However, Nam-gyu was looking in your way a lot more than you did to his; he hadn't seen you at all in a decade and god, how much you had changed. The last time he had seen you, you had been a girl but now you were a grown ass woman.

And pretty as hell too, though that's something he'd keep to himself.

When the hide and seek game was about to start, you examined the triangle key that was hanging on your neck.

"Hope you're still a fast runner like in middle school," Nam-gyu snickered behind you, holding the knife assigned to him and gently tapped your shoulder with the flat side of the blade. "Because i'm gonna hunt you down."

"Yeah?" you said, crossing your arms and tried to look all confident, lifting your chin up high. "I'm gonna wear you off quite quickly."

Nam-gyu left you alone and teamed up with Myung-gi who had changed vests with Jun-hee, now both men in the red team.

During the game, you ended up losing Dae-ho who you had teamed up with, having no idea where he was right now. However, you kept searching for the exit on your own, opening as many doors as you could with your key, but always running into dead ends.

Just after you had entered the next room, Nam-gyu right behind you, you suddenly stopped on your tracks. All you did was stare ahead of you, mind completely blank.

"There you are," Nam-gyu smirked, finally catching up with you, but the arrogance quickly turned into confusion for how you were acting at the moment, not answering to him with some sarcastic remark.

You had suffered from epilepsy since you were 12 years old. Nam-gyu knew that, he had been there when you got a seizure after school. Your brother knew what to do, but all Nam-gyu had been able to do was to watch you from the side since he had never been in that sort of a situation, not knowing what the hell was happening.

You hadn’t gotten a single seizure in the past three years, thanks to your medication, so you hadn’t thought about it here that much before. The medicine had to be taken twice in a day but now you didn’t have it here, having been several days in a row without a single pill.

Oh fuck. No, no, not right now, Nam-gyu thought.

Then, your legs betrayed you but Nam-gyu managed to catch you before you hit the ground, gently laying your body down.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

“She has to stay on her side,” your brother said, turning your body on the side. “Go grab a pillow or something soft to place under her head.”

Nam-gyu didn’t have a pillow here or anything soft. He was on his knees next to you, starting to fully panic what to do. Soft, soft, soft, something to protect your head. Nam-gyu ended up just placing your head on his lap, not restricting your head from moving but making sure you weren’t hitting it on the floor while convulsing.

He wasn't sure how long it took, probably only a minute or two, but it felt much longer than that. Eventually, your body stopped moving and for a second Nam-gyu was afraid you had actually died, having your body completely limp and eyes closed. He put his finger under your nose, feeling air hit his skin. Okay, you were still breathing, you weren't dead.

Nam-gyu was running out of time, and he still needed to find someone to kill. Someone wearing a blue vest. He had killed one player but it was together with Myung-gi, so he had to find another.

Someone like you.

You would have been an easy target, lying on the floor unconscious, still breathing – not able to fight back. But he couldn't get himself to stab the knife through you.

If he simply left you here to lay down all by yourself, someone from the red team might find you and kill you instead. Nam-gyu groaned and rubbed his face, thinking what the hell he should do.

Nam-gyu eventually stood up and walked to a corpse nearby, gathering blood into his hands from the pool of blood the man was lying on. Then, he rubbed the dead man's blood on you: your shirt (both on your stomach and back), face, hands – anywhere to make it look like you were injured and dead.

"This is really fucking nasty but you don't leave me much of a choice," Nam-gyu mumbled. God damn it, he wasn't made to taking care of someone else – he could barely take care of himself.

There was 15 minutes of the game left. As long as you wouldn't move an inch or breathe too loudly, you'd be safe, he was sure of it. Why did he even care? He didn't. If you died… whatever. He didn't give a damn about you. Of course not.

Alright, maybe he did just a little. Maybe he did have a crush on you in middle school but obviously that had already passed. Of course it had.

Nam-gyu shook his head and left the room without looking back.

“Where have you been?” Myung-gi asked, but Nam-gyu just brushed his question off and walked past him, making Myung-gi follow.

When Nam-gyu had killed a blue vested player, along with Myung-gi, he returned to you, still laying on your side. Not dead, just asleep. Untouched.

Nam-gyu shook your shoulder to get you awake. He'd rather get you out of there by himself than have the guards to drag you away.

"Hm?" you mumbled, still half asleep but slowly stirring awake.

"Wakey wakey, princess," Nam-gyu said, looking you into your eyes now that you were awake.

"Don't call me a princess," you managed to mumble, even in your hazy state, brain like scrambled eggs right now.

Nam-gyu helped you to sit up and lean against the wall. You winced and held your head, getting a strong and pounding headache.

"Where are we? What’s going on?" you asked, confused about the entire situation, struggling to remember what had happened.

"Still in the middle of the game," Nam-gyu explained. "You got a seizure."

You just stared at Nam-gyu with narrowed eyes, tired and sensitive to lights which were surprisingly bright at the moment. You tried to make a sense of this situation but your brain was total mush.

"I think i'm gonna throw up," you muttered, feeling something build up in your throat but nothing came out. "How much time is there left?"

"Around five minutes," Nam-gyu replied.

Your head was killing you right now and you were feeling too exhausted to even sit up, so you lowered yourself back on your side, letting your head rest on Nam-gyu's lap.

It startled him a little but he let you stay there, rest on him for those five minutes.

♧♧

When it was time for the light’s out, you were afraid of falling asleep. What if you got a seizure in your sleep? You liked to sleep on your back the most but if you did get a seizure at night, you’d probably choke on your own spit. Sleeping on your side didn’t feel so natural to you and you’d almost always eventually roll on your back.

You had an idea in your mind but you hated yourself for it. You couldn’t just go and ask him about it. If it would be okay with him. If he could help you out just for this night. It felt stupid to even consider it an option, surely he’d just laugh at you how ridiculous you were being and make you go back to your own bed.

You had mostly recovered from the seizure earlier and the realization of the entire situation hit hard on your face. You hated others watching you have a seizure, it was so embarrassing. Humiliating. In front of your family it wasn’t as bad but with strangers or people like Nam-gyu — people who already kept teasing and making fun of you? Hell no.

Nam-gyu was awake in his bed when you approached him.

“Already miss me?” he teased.

“Can I…” you started, the words stuck in your throat. Oh god this felt so wrong. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Nam-gyu instantly sat up, now curious what you were exactly suggesting.

“Wanna sleep with me, huh?” he smirked, eyeing you from head to toe. “Here? While all these other people sleep? Damn, didn’t know you were such a —“

“I didn’t mean like that,” you spat, interrupting him before he’d go into any further details. “I mean just sleeping. Only sleeping. Nothing else.”

Nam-gyu narrowed his eyes, an amused smile spreading on his lips right after. “Thought you couldn’t stand the thought of me sleeping even in the same room with me.”

“What?” you asked, confused what he meant.

“You know, when I’d stay with your brother and —“

“I was 13 years old for fuck’s sake,” you groaned. “Just, can I or do I leave you alone?”

“If you promise not to snore though,” he pointed out.

“I do not snore,” you scoffed.

“Well, you kinda do. I heard it all the way from— Ow!” Nam-gyu started but winced when you hit him on his shoulder.

“Just forget it,” you mumbled and turned around to leave, but Nam-gyu just grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

“You can stay if you want to.”

“What?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“I don’t mind." He shrugged, trying to act all nonchalant, but on the inside he was going crazy at the moment. Having you sleep in the same bed with him? You being the one to suggest it? This had to be some sort of a dream which he would wake up from any moment now.

You hesitantly laid yourself down on the bed, Nam-gyu backing off towards the edge to make room for you. You swallowed while laying your head on the pillow, Nam-gyu breathing on the back of your head. He moved closer to you so that his chest was now against your back, making sure that you wouldn’t roll on your back during your sleep.

Nam-gyu kept his hand on your stomach. “And no funny business with your hands, alright?” you ordered, being able to imagine how his hands would start roaming around your body at night.

“I’ll try to behave,” Nam-gyu smirked.

You already knew this was a bad idea but you couldn’t figure out any other solution to be able to sleep at ease.

When you woke up in the morning, having slept all night without waking up even once, you felt a hand cupping your left breast.

You hit Nam-gyu on his ribs with your elbow, startling him awake.

“Jesus christ, what the hell was that for?” Nam-gyu groaned, pulling his hand away.

“I said no touching with your hands,” you repeated with a firm tone.

“Hey, I’m a guy with a pretty girl in my bed, it’s simply an instinct I can’t control,” Nam-gyu tried to reason with a serious expression on his face. His arm was numb from your weight, feeling pins and needles all around the limb.

You tried the ignore the fact how he called you ‘pretty’, turning your face away just in case you’d blush.

“Whatever,” you mumbled and got up from the bed.

Nam-gyu looked after you when you walked away from him. He had liked you sleeping next to him surprisingly lot, a little too much maybe. Nam-gyu watched for a moment when you talked with player 456 about something.

He had known you for years when you were kids. Back then you were like the annoying little sister to him but now? All grown up and independent? You definitely weren’t like an annoying little sister anymore. Annoying, probably, but otherwise he wasn’t really able to explain what he was feeling.

All Nam-gyu knew was that he wanted you close to him again.

♧♧

Before the jump rope game, you were getting anxious. What if you got another seizure while you were standing on the bridge? Well, at least people wouldn’t stare at you too long since you’d instantly drop down anyway — looking at the good sides.

Nam-gyu stared at you, biting your fingernail that you always did when you were stressed. A thought of him carrying you over the bridge to ensure that you would reach the other side safely crossed his mind but he knew he wouldn’t manage to do that. He didn’t trust that you wouldn’t suddenly zone out in the middle, even if it would be just a few seconds, and get swept off by your feet. Nam-gyu was sure that you were afraid of the same thing just by the sight of you at the moment.

His own nerves were going crazy too, the crave — the need — for drugs not being helpful at all, making it all even worse. But the crave, the need, for you was even stronger right now.

Nam-gyu took a deep breath and then walked to you. He grabbed you by your arm, turning your body to face him.

“Wha—“ you started but was interrupted by him crashing his lips on yours, taking you into a deep kiss. He had his hand on the back of your head, making sure you wouldn’t escape his hold before he was done.

You were too shocked to even be able to move. Just when you were starting to actually realize what he was doing and you were able to react to the kiss, he already pulled away.

“Just in case one of us dies,” he whispered and winked, the left corner of his lips rising a little. Then, he let go of you and walked to the bridge without another word.

You just stood there for several seconds, looking after him with red cheeks and lips apart from the shock. Lips that Nam-gyu had just kissed. What the fucking hell got into him, you thought. How were you supposed to concentrate on the game now that you had the memory of him kissing you in your mind?

You shook your head, trying to erase Nam-gyu out of your mind, but he was stuck there for good.

Just focus on jumping at the correct moment. Don't think about it, just concentrate on the rope which will kill you if you don't jump on time. Don't think about how nice his lips had felt, just concentrate on the rope which will swipe you to your death if you don't jump on time.

Jump, step, step, step, jump, step, kiss- stop it, step, jump, his lips- shut the fuck up, jump, gap, fuck there's a gap, jump... You were sweating by now, heart hammering inside your chest. Over half way, you could do it. Don't look at the corpses all the way down there, don't look at them. But the kiss, damn, SHUT UP.

When you jumped to the platform among the other players who had passed the game, you could have fallen on your knees and kissed the ground under your feet.

Your gaze found Nam-gyu standing on the side, looking at the time which was running down second by second. Couple of minutes to go.

You walked up to him and when you were standing right in front of him, you slapped him on the cheek before he managed to say a single word. Not too hard to hurt but hard enough to sting a little.

“Why did you do that?” you spat.

“You were the one to hit me,” he stated, holding his cheek with wide eyes.

“Why the hell would you kiss me like that?” you asked. “That was the worst moment to do that.”

“Yeah? So there’s a right moment for that, huh?” Nam-gyu smirked, and you wanted to slap that smile off his face but managed to keep your cool. You just rolled your eyes. “Call it for good luck.”

“I’m your good luck charm or something?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Something like that,” he smiled. “Come on, don’t act like you didn’t like that.”

“Don’t be so arrogant,” you sighed.

“Well, you didn’t get a seizure so it must have had an effect here,” he said and tapped your head with his finger three times. You brushed his hand away.

“You think you kissing me has the same effect like my medicine?” you scoffed and shook your head. “Delusional as always.”

“I saw the way you blushed after the kiss though,” he smirked, tilting his head to the left.

“I did not,” you denied, though it was useless to lie about it to him at this point.

"Mhm," he hummed, amused at your reactions. He took a step closer and tilted your chin up with his finger, looking directly into your eyes. "Do let me know if you want to sleep together again though."

With a wink, he walked past you, leaving you by yourself with confused thought and feelings and heart beating rapidly.

♧♧

[hanniescookie]

💌 death or confess - yjh

pairing - jeonghan x f!reader

genre/warnings - non idol au, romance, fluff, best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, kissing, skinship, use of petnames, mentions of death as a joke, cursing, jeonghan is a little shit but are we surprised

wc - 1.8k

A/N - can y'all tell i'm productive with writing these days? shhhh, no jinx!!! 😭 this is for @kissbyoon bcs i pulled a jeonghan on her and had to apologise 😔💔 i'm so nice, sigh

Jeonghan knows he loves his amusement.

He knows he likes to go to great lengths just to have a good laugh, and he likes to pride himself in making it his love language. Teasing, pranking, lying—it’s all second nature to him. He’s never regretted doing something like that in his life, not even when his sister boycotted him for making her believe her boyfriend was a cheat.

Hence, he’s sure he won’t regret this either. It’s just a small prank, right? He just has to keep a straight face in front of you—something he’s not bad at.

You plop down on his couch, keeping the bag of takeaway on the coffee table as you call out his name loudly. You can’t see him anywhere, but when he does appear with a mug in his hand, he looks disoriented.

You have half a mind to make fun of him, but it dawns on you that he still looks beautiful with his messy hair and droopy eyes. So you just observe him from head to toe, ignoring the incessant beating of your heart. “You look like you went on a hike.”

“Worse,” he falls down beside you, keeping his head on your shoulder and successfully making your breath catch in your throat. No matter how long you’ve been friends for, you can never get used to Jeonghan’s proximity.

“What’s worse?” You ask, eyes fixed ahead at the bag of food you had been so hungry for.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, “Maybe the fact that I’m dying?”

You roll your eyes at him, shifting a little so his head drops from your shoulder. He whines begrudgingly, looking at you with the same sleepy eyes. “What?”

“Just because you’re sleepy doesn’t mean you’re dying. Cut the dramatics and go get some rest. I’ll eat by myself.” You say, moving to take the food when he holds your wrist. His touch is so soft, more gentle than it has ever been as he looks down at your intertwined hands, and you catch him swallowing thickly.

“Y/N,” he mutters, not meeting your eyes. Your heart nearly drops to your stomach. Yes, you’ve seen Jeonghan’s down times, but this feels different. He’s entirely different from how he usually is, and something about that makes you hold your breath.

“I want to tell you something,” he finally lifts his eyes to meet yours, making you pinch your eyebrows together. “Jeonghan I swear to God if—”

“Shh,” he keeps a finger on your lips, momentarily making your brain shut off. It's a two second touch, but you feel it for longer as he sighs, rubbing soft circles on your palm. “I want you to promise that you won't freak out or cry.”

You shake your head, a terrible terrible feeling sinking in your stomach. “I can't promise that.”

“Then I won't tell you,” he shrugs, leaving your hands and sitting back. You lurch forward quicker than ever, as if you need him like oxygen, holding his hands tightly in yours. “Okay, fine. I promise. Now tell me.”

Jeonghan sighs for the nth time, running a hand through his hair like he's frustrated. He makes a show of breathing deeply a few times before meeting your glassy eyes again. The first, tiny, very unconscious wave of regret hits him, but he fails to back off.

“I have about three months left to live.”

The silence that follows his stupid words is deadly.

You continue to stare at him, your heart pounding so loud in your chest that you barely hear any other sound. A massive weight sits on your chest, pressing down harshly on your vulnerable heart. Your eyes sting with hot tears, and you watch Jeonghan look away before they fall.

“I'm sorry, I know I should've told you earlier. But I knew you'd be upset and I didn't want that honestly. I just wish I can spend this time happily with— are you crying?!”

The sobs that rip out of your throat shoot Jeonghan's heart like a bullet, making the conscious wave of regret pool in his stomach. He tries to remove your hands from your face, blinking astonishingly. “Hey! Hey, Y/N, stop crying. Oh my God, I'm not dying. I'm not actually dying!”

You pause, your hands dropping as you look at his concerned face. He has the audacity to give you a smile—one that looks involuntary. “I was…oh my God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—”

“You lied?” You utter the question out in disbelief, studying his features to understand how foolish you've been. “You—it was…you were fooling me?”

Jeonghan shuts his eyes tight, attempting to hold your face but you quickly swat him away. Your face is devoid of the earlier sadness, instead replaced by insurmountable anger. Your hands itch to slap him across his face, but you manage to hold yourself back, instead cursing yourself internally for falling for his obvious lie. And even crying.

“I'm sorry!” He whines, pointing to the ground. “Do you want me to kneel? I'm really sorry. Stop crying, at least!”

“SHOULD I LAUGH INSTEAD?” You yell against your best behaviour, watching him visibly get startled. But you're extremely angry, and you cannot stop the many what ifs from invading your mind.

“WAS THIS EVEN SOMETHING TO PRANK ABOUT?! DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY IN THE SLIGHTEST?”

Jeonghan freezes, taking all your wrath as you hold him by his collar, hot tears streaming down your face. “YOU THOUGHT YOU'LL COME TELL ME THAT YOU'LL DIE ON ME AND I'LL SMILE WITH YOU? CELEBRATE?”

He shakes his head weakly, licking his lips and desperately hoping to make you stop crying somehow. Because if you don't stop crying, he feels like he'll actually die.

“I thought you won't even believe me.” He says in a low voice, making you chuckle dryly. You stand up from the couch, frustratingly pushing your hair away from your face. “Yeah, right. I'm the fucking fool. It's my fault that I ever believed you—my fault that I ever even fell in love with you. Now I can’t stop thinking about your dead face and it's making me want to fucking kill myself.”

One more thing that Jeonghan takes pride in is never being speechless. He's never encountered a situation so surprising that he failed to form words, but right now as he looks up at you from the couch, he doesn't know what to say.

You continue to cry and pace the narrow space between his couch and coffee table, rambling on and on about how much you hate him, and how you want him to stop fucking with your head or you'll strangle him yourself.

One turn and you bump into his sturdy chest. He's looking down at you with the same serious face he had before he started with his stupid prank, and you have half a mind to really punch him on the mouth.

“Get away from me,” you grit your teeth, shoving at his chest to push him out of your way, but he grabs both your wrists, keeping you in place. “What did you say?”

You look up at him, confused. “Jeonghan. Let me go. I’m going to go back home and never see your stupid face again.”

“You said you fell in love with me.” He says, his voice barely a whisper. You feel like you'll burn under his gaze, and your mind automatically repeats all that you said in the past five minutes.

You were wrong. You don't want to punch him. You suddenly want to punch yourself. How could you just say that?! So many years of hiding and not crossing the line only for you to spill it like this?

“I never said that,” you stutter out, looking away from his eyes. “You cannot gaslight me into this shit now. I see through your games and I'm going to—”

“Y/N.” He interrupts in a shaky voice, making you look straight back at him. He smiles, as soft as cotton, and you feel weak in the knees.

He exhales, his hand moving to cup your face. “I am in love with you too.”

Oh no.

You laugh in his face. His smile disappears as he watches you laugh for a while before you grab his collar and yank him close, glaring in his eyes. “I said do not fucking play games with me.”

The smile that reaches Jeonghan's eyes makes you weak in the knees again. His arms wrap around your waist, locking you in place as he quickly presses his lips against yours.

You levitate.

You don't know if you're floating in the air, or dangling from a cliff, or worse, burning in hell. All you can feel is the softness of his lips against yours, and his scent that sends you into an overdrive.

Once he pulls away after about seven seconds, you blink up at him in a daze. He smiles sweetly again, “You know me as much as to know that I wouldn't just kiss you if I wasn't telling the truth.”

You open your mouth several times to speak, but you only feel tears prickling your eyes again. “I hate you so much,” leaves your lips in a whisper as you drop your head on his chest. “I was—I was going to cut ties with you. You can't just do this now and make me stay.”

“I'm sorry,” he wraps you completely in his warm hold, and you can hear him smiling like a fool. “But if I never played the prank, you still wouldn't have confessed to me.”

You hide your face more into his chest, feeling your face heat up. “It's really not true, right?”

“Don't worry angel,” he kisses the top of your head. “I won't die. Not after I've finally gotten the chance to wife you up.”

You pull away in complete astonishment, looking up at him with wide eyes. “People usually…date first?”

“I'm not like usual people,” he shrugs, a ghost of a smirk plastered on his face. You pat your cheeks to lessen your blush, but it doesn't work under his gaze. “Shut up and look away.”

“I'm sorry for making you cry,” he mutters sincerely, making you meet his eyes. “Really. It was a stupid prank. I shouldn't have done that.” You fail to not smile, bringing your hand up to remove a strand of his hair falling into his eyes. “It's okay. Like you said, I wouldn't have…confessed.”

He smiles wide, pulling you closer to himself again. “So like, what are we now? Best friends who kiss?”

You roll your eyes playfully, giving into your wish of smacking his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Girlfriend boyfriend?” He asks, cooing like you're a toddler standing in front of him. You wish to shut him up, and the only thing that you can rightfully do now is kiss him.

So you shut him up, and to your surprise, he cooperates.

[jadefromwattpad]

The Wine

Pedro Pascal x Reader 2.9k words Author: completely inspired by this TikTok, just pure Pedro admiration with a dash of smut bc my writers brain had a mind of its own, not proof read pls forgive me

Pedro looks...different under the light of your friend's kitchen. Or maybe it's the effects of the white wine that dances on your tongue, swirls in your glass. He's dressed simply, casually even. A long sleeve cream henley rolled up to his elbows and a medium wash jean. It perfectly fits the occasion, so why does it feel all too much when his forearm braces himself on the counter and flexes under his weight?

You push yourself off of the wall you've been leaning on, walking the short distance over to him. It's a simple get together, just you and friends. Only six of you all together, laughing and drinking, yet you still find your way to his side. A move that surprises no one but yourself. Everyone is still talking, crowded around the kitchen island. You put your now empty glass on the counter, and he pulls out of the conversation like you tugged a rope.

His voice is a low, heavy timbre, cheeks pink from his glasses of wine or maybe the beer he shared with some of the guys earlier. "Red or white?"

Your eyes meet his, deep, brown, endless. If the light catches it just right, you see things you shouldn't in them. Things that involve you and him and a lifetime that has yet to exist. Your eyebrow arches, a teasing smile across your lips. "Do you have to ask?"

He laughs, "Guess not." His firm hands grip the neck of the expensive white wine he had brought (you tell yourself it was for you). He holds it properly, like a server in a high end restaurant, bottle resting on his bare forearm as the liquid pours into your glass. Your eyes travel up the waterfall of wine, up his strong arms and firm shoulders, up the veins of his neck and the scruff of his chin. He looks special in this light--holy, even. Maybe it's the wine, but the light behind him casts a halo over his head. You hear things that aren't there. A harp, violins, songbirds and the morning breeze. "Madame," he bows his head and offers you the wine glass with both hands like he's making an offering to a goddess.

Your hands touch when you take it. "Thank you. Glad to see there's still faithful servants these days."

His smile is infectious. You hide yours behind the glass. "Anything for you, my liege." He tips his head, and you find yourself distracted by the curls that seem just a little lighter than before. It's times like this when you know this can't be your first life together. There had to have been hundreds where you've loved him just as much as now. Only when you're this drunk, can you admit it to yourself that you're in love with him. And you think he knows. In fact, you don't think he minds.

You look over to your friend who calls your name and begs you to tell the story of that guy in the bar last weekend because you just tell it so much better than I can! And when you talk, you can feel his eyes on you. Maybe you imagined it, but you can feel the heavy weight scan your face, the way you animatedly talk with your arms before spilling a bit of wine and putting it down with a laugh, the white slip dress that drapes over your frame, your bare legs.

Pedro laughs loudly, face balking in surprise at the joke you'd made about this poor guy in the bar who would always be a source of entertainment for your friend group. He laughs so hard that he lightly grabs your waist and tries to muffle himself in your hair as you fondly glare at him and swat his shoulder for interrupting your story. But when the laughing subsides, he's still there. He's behind you now, big, warm arms wrapped around your frame as the conversation switches to his latest press release. You can feel the vibrations of his chest against your back as he talks, head rested on top of yours. You take a rather large gulp of wine at his proximity, the sweetness coating your mouth and clouding your vision. Your dress is so thin, and he's just so warm. You feel a strange sense of satisfaction. Pedro Pascal, with his fan girls and interviews, is pressed against you. He chose to be here with you. And maybe it doesn't mean anything.

But then again, maybe it does.

Eventually the group disperses, some grab one of the wine bottles and slump on your couch with the promise of a card game, one begs for directions to the bathroom, you and Pedro make your way out to the terrace. It's a cool night, the wind blows lightly enough to raise goosebumps but you’re not sober enough to feel it.

“Guess what I grabbed?” He looks at you with a thinly concealed smirk. His hands are behind his back, the veins from his arms travel down—or up, you suppose.

You laugh lightly, leaning against the railing, the city and stars behind you, moonlight casting down. The wine glass in your hand sparkles under this light. “I don’t know.”

He reveals a bottle of wine. “The last of the white. I hid it under the counter.” He places the bottle down on the metal table with a soft clink and sits down on the chair next to it.

“I expected nothing less,” You’re already over to him, standing in front of his spread legs, and examining the label on the bottle. From the corner of your eye, you examine him. His large, muscular thighs are spread apart, hips shifting every so often. His hair ruffles in the breeze with the end of your dress. A shiver runs up your spine.

“Cold, baby?” His voice is almost gravelly, rough with words that get caught in his throat. You’re not sure if your shiver was the result of the wind or him, but still you nod. His large hands hold your waist lightly. “Well, c’mre then.”

You allow him to pull you closer, perching you on one of his legs. You can feel his warmth through your clothes. His thigh feels muscular under you, and you lean back—head and back pressing against his chest. You take another mouthful of wine and say simply, "I missed you when you were gone." It’s not a big deal. Just a fact. Just a friend to a friend. You offer the glass back to him. He takes a sip and holds it on his other thigh. Everything feels entirely too romantic. Maybe it’s the wine.

His hand that had been resting on your thigh draws lazy shapes that make you see things that have never happened. “I missed you too. Always do. I think of you a lot when I'm gone."

The glass is passed back to you. The message is simple. A wine glass in your hand. A ball in your court. Your turn. "I'm glad. I feel like," you pause as if searching for the right wording, "I can feel when you're gone. It's like a hole or something. Does that make sense?" He hums in a way that lets you know that absent feeling is mutual. You clear your throat, because this is uncharted territory with him in so many ways, and hand the glass back. "How was it really? Press tours seem…a lot.”

Pedro sighs, curls tickling his forehead, “They are. It was fine, really. Just somedays I get sick of the constant questions and professionalism. Some days I just wanted to be Pedro, not Pedro Pascal. Does that make sense?”

You nod like you understand what it’s like to have so many people asking so much of you. “It makes sense. Suppose it just comes with the movie star terf,” you jest, poking at him. “Doesn’t mean you can’t be sick of it.”

He hums again in response. He hands you the glass and, just because you can, you place your lips exactly where his seems to have been. It's still warm. You hold the glass now, gazing out at the stars. It’s hard to see them in the city, with all its busyness and light pollution, but eventually your eyes adjust. And for a moment, it’s almost like you’re back home.

“What do you see up there, baby?” He asks, fingers playing with the end of your dress and dancing over your thighs. He looks down at you over his strong nose with an expression you don't see but probably couldn't decipher anyway.

“Orion’s Belt,” you reply, pointing at the three stars that create a line. You feel his head cock to the side, eyes following the line your arm makes.

“I don’t see anything. C’mon, show me.” He gently takes the glass out of your hand and sets it near the unopened bottle of wine. His hands tenderly lift your hips up, bringing you to a tipsy stand. He rises behind you, hand on your lower back as you approach the railing.

Your stomach presses against the railing as you point again, doing your best to describe the positioning of the stars.

“Ahh, I see it now. It’s those three, right? With the bright one in the middle?”

You turn to face him, entirely pleased. “Yeah,” you begin, put your breath catches on your throat at the way he’s looking down at you. The moon is behind him, casting him in shadows but you in perfect light. His eyes slowly dance down your face, across your chest, and to your shoulder where the strap of your dress has fallen down your arm—displaying more of your chest than he’s ever really seen.

His breath is warm against your fingers as he steps closer and slowly slips his finger under your strap. And for one sick, incredibly fucked up second, you hope that he’ll pull it down. But, ever the gentleman—though you desperately wish him not to be—, he brings it back over your shoulder. His finger slides out but doesn’t pull away. It lightly travels dangerously close to the top hem of your neckline, and wanders down your arm. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his finger, cutting through you like a ship through the sea. Parting for him without a real choice.

“Cold, baby?” This time it’s lithe, almost teasing.

This time you don’t nod. You look up into his coffee eyes, energizing you with just a glance. And maybe it’s the wine. But you say, “No.”

His hand has made it down to yours. He searches your eyes, imploringly, questioning. He’s giving you a chance, you realize. To pull away. To walk away. To forget this happened. To act like he isn’t staring at you with such emotion and softness.

He’s holding your hand now, staring intently until something changes. It’s minuscule, but you notice. He tugs your hand, bringing you impossibly closer. His other hand cups your jaw and cheek. And he pulls your lips to his. You react immediately because this is all you’ve really wanted for a long time.

His heat. His breath. His mouth. Him. Him. Him. That’s all the really matters. The years of waiting. The years of wondering. The years between you. None of it matters. It all makes it worth it.

His lips are soft, imperceptibly soft. They ensnare your senses. You thread your fingers through his hair, pulling at the soft root and—god, he groans into your mouth. Pedro’s other hand wanders up to your face, both hands cradling it so passionately. And maybe it’s the wine, but he kisses you like he’s in love. Like he has been for a while.

You’re not sure which one of you pulls back first, but your foreheads are pressing together. His deep, forest eyes are staring into yours like he’s scared you might disappear. But when he finds what he seems to be searching for in them, he pulls you even closer than before. His lips find your neck, immediately finding that spot that makes you squirm under him like he’d studied it. Pedro looks up at you with hooded eyes. The moonlight paints your face like a spotlight as you throw your head back at his movements. A moan rumbles through his chest and suddenly you’re pressed against the railing, pulling his mouth to yours feverishly. His hands slips down and down, tracing the outline of your breasts and the expanse of your stomach before dragging down your side and gripping firmly on your dress. He hikes it up just enough to pull back and stare at your smooth thigh. He grips it tightly, holding it at his waist as you moan out at the contact.

You and Pedro have been close in many ways, but never like this. This had always been reserved for dreams in late, lonely nights or perhaps nights like these with a bit of alcohol and someone with a similar demeanor.

The door to the terrace opens. He pauses and it’s all you can do to look over his shoulder. Your friend is staring at you, the last of the red wine in hand, mouth wide open but an even bigger satisfied expression takes hold. She takes in your hiked up dress, the red spots already forming on your neck, the leg wrapped around Pedro. “Holy shit! Finally!”

You groan, burying your face into his chest as he gently sets your leg down. “Please, don’t-”

But she’s already begun, words she doesn’t have control over tumbling out. “Holy shit! You’ve wanted to fuck him for like ever, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!”

A laugh rumbled through Pedro and you feel your face becoming hot. “Oh no-”

“And you-and he! Holy shit! I totally interrupted didn’t I? I am so sorry! I’ll leave! Just, god please continue doing what you’re doing I can’t take this tension anymore! We can’t take the tension anymore!”

You lift your head just enough to resister everyone else staring through the windows with knowing smirks and an occasional thumbs up.

“You know what, we’ll just go! We were um, we had something that we were doing on the other end of the house right guys?” Everyone immediately shouts affirmatives and tries to scramble away. “Just uh, have fun! There’s an extra bedroom if you guys wanna-”

“Stop it!” You shout, as Pedro laughs so hard it shakes you.

“Right, sorry!” The door slams shut and you hear several sets of feet scurrying away.

Pedro smirks down at you, all handsome features, seductive eyes, and a mocking tone. “So, you’ve wanted to fuck me for like ever?”

You pinch your eyes shut and groan in embarrassment as you shove past him to the table and drink straight out of the wine bottle. "This is quite possibly the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me, so I would appreciate it if-"

"Me too." You go speechless, borderline dumb. What..? "I've been thinking about it for years." Oh. You open your mouth but only gape at him like a fish, stumbling into the chair behind you. But he knows, because he knows you in ways nobody else ever could or ever cared to. He kneels before you like a man at the altar, gently taking the wine bottle out of your hand before taking a rather large swig himself. "Might need a little more liquid courage for this."

You laugh, loudly. It's still him, still Pedro, and his stupid joke in the most stressful situation you've ever been in just proves that. The bottle clinks on the floor, and you're still laughing not really comprehending just what he could need the liquid courage for. You don't know until he gently cradles the back of your shin and brings it to his lips. He kisses the constellations up, up, and up. His facial hair brushes your inner thigh and you tense at the sensation. He looks up at you from between your legs with those big, doe eyes. "I'll stop if you want me to, baby. Just say the words."

"God, don't stop." He smirks against your skin like he knows you wouldn't say no and is entirely pleased.

"I won't, baby. I won't," Pedro assures voice thick with something heavier than lust yet somehow lighter. He continues pressing soft kisses up until he's just under the hem of your dress. You feel his hot breath between the apex of your thighs. He pushes the end of your dress up and you lift your hips obediently to make it easier for him to get closer to you in any way possible. "I've wanted to taste you for so long. I know she's sweet, please? Will you let me?"

"Yes," you reply, breathless.

His hands run up the length of your legs and softly grip your hips. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. The cool air hits you immediately, but then his mouth is on you. You gasp out as he nearly buries himself in you. His groan vibrates your pussy and you grab onto the metal table. "Fuck, baby. Even better than I imagined."

And even though there's so many words left to be said and so many things to straighten out and clarify, when he looks up at you through hooded eyes something tells you that everything will work out exactly how you dreamed it would.

[chrisbambi]

introducing  .  .  .  

⌗ ⋮ frat!chris && dancer!reader 🩰 ⸝⸝

۶ৎ

frat!chris ──── chris is that douchebag every girl swoons over. he never pays them any mind though. especially since you came along. he’s always hungover, at a party, or one of your performances. even if he acts like he doesn't care, he does. always quick to run you a warm bath after a long rehearsal, always there to massage your back when it's full of sore muscles. he's annoying, yeah, but he still cares.

dancer!reader ──── you were deemed "dolly" by chris. your movements always graceful beyond belief. you're always quick to give him sassy attitude. you practically live at your studio. and you're in every style of dance, mainly focusing in ballet. and it always amazes chris at how you can wear your pointe shoes and not die from the pain. anytime you aren't at the studio or at an audition, you're with chris. either cuddled up in his arms or showing him the new choreography you learned that day.

──── their dynamic ⋆˚࿔

everything about the two of you is warm and inviting. chris is always driving you to and from rehearsals. he acts like he hates it, but he especially enjoys the rides back from rehearsal. at around 8pm — when he gets to hear everything that made you mad that day. just the sound of your voice makes him happy. even if you are not in a happy mood yourself.

chris would never stick to one specific girl, but now you’re his lock screen. a photo from one of your photoshoots. you’re in a contemporary costume. while he loves seeing you in your big tutus and pointe shoes, he has to admit that the more lyrical contemporary dances are his favorites.

you always look for chris in the audience, he’s always there. your smile immediately becomes brighter than it was before when you catch him in the audience. his arms crossed as if he doesn’t wanna be there. but his eyes say otherwise. and immediately after you get off stage you’re running into his arms, kissing him and getting red lipstick all over his face.

bath time isn’t taken lightly. after every rehearsal he’s running you a bath as you take your hair out and remove your makeup. he’s adding all the bath bombs and lavender scents to help relax your muscles and calm you down.

weekends are for relaxing. if it’s not a competition. the two of you snuggled up on your couch in your cozy apartment. and chris is catching up on school work while watching you show off the knew skill you learned. he’s always warning you though. “careful, dolly. don’t go breaking your neck on me now.” he scolds, watching you trip over yourself one too many times now.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝓜el is talking . . . omg omg omg au !! so i’ve been wanting to do a dancer!reader au for quite some time now… bc fun fact: i’m a dancer too! tho i quit ballet a few years back i still do dance all the time :D i hope y’all like this au :))

⤷ ⌗ taglist ⸝⸝ . . . @lilyswirly @viviansturns-side @delilahsturniolo @sturnsflirt @viviansturns @k-pevensie28 @sturniolo-szn2 @h3arts4nat @silenceb3tweensongs @matties-angel

[brotherwtf]

Oomph so like a bit into their relationship, maybe post war? But like..

John had always topped when they had the time for it during the war (mostly blow jobs and quick stuff otherwise) because he had done it before and Gale hadn’t but.

Post war, they finally have the time and John tries bottoming? But like giving up control like that is kinda hard? Especially in the moment. (Especially post war after being prisoners and having no control at all)

But Gale is so sweet and so kind and John feels safe enough to do it? And it blows John’s mind.

But like it’s sweet and slow and warm and just 🤷‍♀️🥰😊

Love your stuff so much!

YES obsessed with the idea of John finally giving up control, but it's also so good bcs both of them are such control freaks, God they're so verse

during the war, Gale needed more help relinquishing control, needed someone to take the reins lest he go crazy, needed someone to tell him what to do and control him for a brief moment so he doesn't run himself right into the ground because of all the responsibilities he has as a leader, and John is happy to oblige by taking control

but something switches in the Stalag specifically, John had been so used to helping Gale, taking some of the control from him, but he felt like he was useless in the Stalag, couldn't help anyone, much less himself, and Gale could see John spiralling like this and tries to help, tries to take some of John's mental burden, but John refuses, chooses to suffer by himself instead

after the war, when John is still a little fucked up, he reaches for Gale, reaches for him and moves to fall into their normal positions, tries to take control himself but Gale grabs his wrist, kisses it delicately and presses his nose into John's cheek, tells him to relax, he wants to take care of John, wants to ease some of the mental anguish, let Gale do all of the work, and Johns horribly nervous but he nods, lets Gale drag him to their bedroom

of course Gale is so gentle and loving, never lets go of John while they undress, holding him like he could break and honestly, John feels like he might underneath Gale's touch, has never been held or treated this gently before

Gale whispers to him, talks him through it as he preps him with perfectly long fingers, lips all over John's chest and face, pressing kisses with those perfect lips of his, and John finds himself gasping and groaning through it as Gale holds him

even when Gale finally fucks him, it's perfect and for the first time John feels like he's making love with someone instead of fucking them, Gale's arms holding him up and their faces pressed together and for a moment John forgets about the war, forgets about his mental anguish, all he can see and feel is Gale, and God it's so fucking perfect

bottom John is a treat, I think it's good for them to be verse lmaoo

[bacchanal-if]

Thinking about what makes E obsess over MC so bad...

Since its not about their looks as you've said, that rules out "love at first sight" I think. And you've said before (correct me if im wrong!) that the deal is one that James is not too happy with but went along with anyway for a reason we don't know yet. And E is the richest person around and already has influence and power so its not like they can gain a whole lot that they don't already have from a deal with James. And then I believe we haven't truly met E prior to when we'll meet them in earnest, just passing by or a greeting at parties if I remember correctly.

And then I wonder if E's amassing of wealth has anything at least in part to do with wanting to have the MC. "Get so rich and powerful that their only choice is to marry me." I wonder this partly because MC isn't a set age but that's also just a customization choice for the player (I assume👀) more so than being integral to this.

So I think that either MC is in grave danger somehow and in an effort not to lose them, E wants to put them in their gilded cage for protection or there was a "throwaway" interaction between MC and E at some point that stuck with E so much they made it their life mission to marry MC. Bc given their character i dont think they'd be so chivalrous as to propose marriage to MC to save them from another potential suitor who may hurt or mistreat them nor do I think they're doing this for any financial or material gain. Cuz its also interesting that you've said multiple times that while E does want to possess MC they do still want MC to fall in love with them. I feel as tho they wouldn't really care about the latter if it was all transactional to them (though i do understand the logic that the object of your obsession loving you makes possession more pleasant/makes them more compliant but i don't think that's the basis for E here).

Insert that "ive connected the dots"//"you didn't connect shit" meme

The romantic in me wants the "ive loved you from afar for so long now I can marry you" type deal but I know better LOL

I love thinking about E's shady motives they make me crazy 💙

I am absolute heart eyes over here because of all of the thought going into this analysis! You really thought it over and, clearly, have a great understanding of them. I wasn't having the best of days so to see this truly brightened it. To doubly confirm some things:

James is not happy with it

The MC has never met E, but they would have seen each other

"Get so rich and powerful that their only choice is to marry me" is one that I will debunk, though I do like that trope, because the timeline wouldn't add up regardless of MC's age (which is a customization choice and ages other characters accordingly)

You've hit a ton of things spot on, and I can honestly say that you are the closest I have ever seen on this blog to coming across the why. If it weren't for all of the events going on in the background that haven't yet been brought to light, I truly feel like you could crack it!

[your-mommy-ems]

okay its time for me to put my two cents in the glorious rivals ring after gaining some context.

spoilers ahead :)

ok for starters.

i would like to ask you all to relax, take a chill pill this is literally not that deep, it is a BOOK, words on paper, let that sink in before you start screaming and turning on people because of an opinion. yes that opinion might not align with yours, but that does NOT mean you have to force/argue with someone to see it your way because you think you are right.

firstly why are we so pressed about character's behaviours??? you say you want more complex characters and you cant even handle a teen (is he still a teen lmao i dont remember) losing his mind because his gf just got kidnapped AGAIN.

yes violence isnt the answer and neither is what he said but, people are allowed to make mistakes. if i were jameson and my gf just got kidnapped and its bc some random person i've know for like two days that my brother just fell in love with was telling someone i hate info about things (again running of the little context i have) i would crashout too??? like we're not all perfect

yelling at lyra like that probably was a bit much (and hitting grayson but more on that in a sec) but he doesn't trust her and from what ive gathered he probably thinks he's trying to PROTECT grayson from someone he doesn't trust. has he even been given a reason to trust lyra? (i dont think so?) and grayson who's in love with her is trying to PROTECT lyra

and on the flip lyra is obvi being manipulated by *gags* eve and alice so we cant expect her to be in the know with everything so she's literally innocent in this lmao 😭😭

also are you guys LITERALLY forgetting that grayson and jameson used to fight in tig.... like the straight up just started tackling and fighting each other in front of avery??? im 100% sure grayson can handle a punch my guys. jameson was not VIOLENTLY ATTACKING him bffr are they not hawthorne brothers

you're hating on one character for having an outpour of emotions and practically forgetting all the dickish things good ol' gray was doing in tig and all that (i mean sure he wasnt throwing down and saying go to hell but still) characters dont have to be simply good or bad, they are entitled to a range of emotions and choices and some they make can be bad as long as they LEARN from those mistakes and apologise which im like 90% sure jameson WILL DO

you guys are acting as if jameson's done a full 180 and simply flipped everyone off and told them to fucking die while lighting a bomb thats underneath them all. like guys i cannot stress this enough ITS WORDS ON PAPER 😭😭😭 WHY ARE YOU GETTING SO HEATED ABOUT SOME CHARACTERS 😭😭

calm the fuck down, stop saying characters are ruined before you've even read the book, give it a chance before we start going on and on about how everything's changed (of course it was, this series was never about the core tig characters - grayson excluded - obviously we're going to see the original ones through a new light.) also JLB is entitled to do whatever she wants with this series its HERS just because you think she "ruined" a character does not mean its true

again bc some of you need to hear it:

just because you think your opinion is correct does not mean it is NOR doesnt it mean you can argue/force your opinion onto someone else. calling people names or insulting them because of an opinion ABOUT A BOOK

GUYS ITS A BOOK GET OVER IT 😭😭😭

[apt-comix]

[Image Descriptions: photos of a quartered, 8-page stapled zine featuring handdrawn pencil sketches on printer paper that has been edited on gimp to enhance all the flaws of the paper in a purpley-red sloppy effect. The cover is just the penciled words "Hopping On The 'People I Think About A Lot' Train (with thanks to tumblr just scramratz for the concept)". There is also the logo on the side, showing a drawn hand holding a power drill with the words "A.P.T. comix" on either side.]

[first page. "Christine, for whom I bought the pregnancy test, and then smuggled the piss-soaked stick in my purse, so her father couldn't find it." A barely-adult blonde girl in a t-shirt and skirt hugs a barely-older adult with too long tangled dark hair wearing black shirt and jeans with a purse hanging from their shoulder. The blonde is crying with her eyes closed but smiling, as one of the hands wrapped around the brunette holds a pregnancy test with just one line on the screen.]

["The lyft driver whose name has been lost to my ride history, who offered to stay with me in the dark when we arrived at the Radiology clinic too early." The drawing shows two adults, one an older and tired version of the first brunette now with shorter hair, smiling and exiting a car driven by an equally-tired man with a mullet. The background has been scribbled in black with the pencil.]

["Kathleen, my grandmother's daughter, who stopped talking to me 5 weeks after we discovered each other." The drawing shows the faint outline of an oldish woman with long, light hair, smiling with her eyes closed as she props her face up with her hand. In the corner it says "(I'm still not entirely sure what she looks like.)

["Britrney W, whom I missed out on a relationship with because I knew our tastes in music were vastly different." It shows the brunette person, now a teenager with short hair that has long strands of hair on the side, holding a backpack and looking dismayed as a teenage girl (also brunette) excitedly holds up a CD with a heart drawn on it.]

["Brittney F, whose death is still never secretly stop feeling guilty for." It shows an empty park bench at the edge of a pathway, a bouquet of flowers on the ground in front of it. Of note, because of the enhanced flaws, it shows the ghosting of the cover's words mirrored on it.]

["Louis, my summer romance, who ghosted me the day they found out their cancer was terminal." It shows the sketched photo of a person with very short, thin hair and wearing glasses. They look tired as they hold a happy cat. On their sleeve it is written "despite everything, it's still you."]

["Cassandra, whom I knew for all of 3 days before she was kicked out of the homeless shelter in the dead of winter, and left me her coat anyway." It shows a woman in her thirties, exhaustion aging her, staring at the reader with a wry smile while wearing a winter coat with the fuzzy hood pulled up. In the background it is penciled dark. End I.D]

The scramratz comic that inspired this can be found here (my reblog with the image description)

Commentary under cut

Some day I'll make a lighthearted comic

Rip my ink levels lmao. The intent until the very last moment was just a plain pencil comic on white printer paper, but while trying to clean up and heighten contrast on one of the panels on GIMP, I clicked a button to see what it would do and it was baller as hell so I did it for the whole thing. It has blue tones on my laptop but printed more red, even tho it's quite clear on my tank printer that I had plenty of blue ink

First comic without Electric Zine Maker bc it doesn't work on my new Linux 😭. Instead I used Scribus Zine Templates by MetaParadox on Itch, then had a hell of a time trying to get my setup to actually print the page and not the individual panels, before I realized I needed to export it as a PDF then print it from my native PDF viewer, not from Scribus directly. So much wasted ink 😭😭

I was originally going to do a comic just on losing Louis twice, but this is all you're going to get about it bc i couldn't get thru editing it and realized it came out more as making their cancer about me than I felt was justifiable anyway

I haven't spoken to any of these people in years, some in a decade or more

[off-mozzarella]

(From the body swap AU)

Hii! I'm very happy to see that my body swap comic was so well received, so here's a little something as a thanks for all the support <3

I'm excited to keep sharing my drawings, I hope you like what I make!

[heatlightning-mp3]

hey. gonna try and make this short. i am finally out of arizona and with my boyfriend which is VERY exciting. health is still pretty bad, though - just got discharged from hospital this afternoon. i couldnt bring any of my meds with me and medicaid wont cover out of state rxes so i need to get as many as i can afford out of pocket until i can in to establish w/ a new pcp. also only have my walker with me - gonna have to save up for a used folding electric wheelchair so i can stop being housebound because my previous is broken and still in az lol

please help 🙏🏽 need to get my meds filled tomorrow, ive been off them way too long now and it feels pretty shitty ngl

pypal | vnmo | cshapp | kof1

[nebuladreamz]

A little different than last year's, but here we are again. To say that this past year hasn't been absolutely wild would be a lie, cause HOLY SHIT MAN

This year's birthday is. A little different for me, but you already have the silly comic to show that so I won't make like a broken record oops

But, despite the changes and hills that life's decided I should climb or throw at, it hasn't changed the fact that I'm so genuinely fucking thankful to the people that I've known since joining this fandom. I'm not even kidding when I say that being here has actually changed my life for the better. I know I said something similar last year, but this time, hoo boy it sure turned up the AMP and test how far I could go.

So, to everyone, both new and old; thank you for being here :D

@garbagechocolate @darkxsoulzyx @smoljeanius @bunmuffin @skizabaa

@tuzesdays @sleepykas @fernzwing @kandidandi @starsketchez

@just-a-drawing-bean @notdysfunk @ilsole @amberluvsbugs @cloudyvoid

@nomsthecat @alfinefalf @nosleepygay @theblog-with-thestuff

@cacaocheri

(Edit: ty kibbits for informing me of the. Fuck ass tagging system)

AND TAGGING OTHERS BECAUSE. POINTS. BONKS WITH HEAD. GETTING TO EITHER INTERACT OR TALK OR WHATEVER IS ALWAYS A DELIGHT

@ohno-the-sun @kibbits @ink-yy @saltyfryz @kaprisvn

@hierba-picante @sunny-sophies-garden @cookiiemancer @sneeblbop @justaduckarts

@pepethehumanz @crystalmagpie447 @woolysstuff @mocha-illustrates @duhsty1

@sanchensky @pillowspace @victarin @witherfide

[I DEFINITELY GOT SONAS WRONG AND THESE AREN'T ALL THE SILLY PEOPLE I KNOW BUT IM SITTING HERE AT 2:30 IN THE MORNING JUST KNOW YOU'RE THERE IN SPIRIT HANDING YOU ALL POPTARTS WAUGH]

[cozmic-ash]

Back in winter 2022 I started working on a comic of one of my favorite nsfw oneshots, Practical Demonstration, made like five pages, and then promptly dropped it cause I was still in the midst of Art Block From Hell, among other reasons

but the fic series recently got an update and I read it on a flight last week, which has renewed the brainworms :)

The comic's FAR from finished (I've thumbnailed the entire thing and it comes out to twenty-eight pages, while I have thirteen of those pages in varying stages of completion) but I've been having a lot of fun working on it and forcing myself to try and learn new things (backgrounds/environments, in this case) in the pursuit of Harvey Smut LOL

I thought I'd post some WIP shit here, in case ADHD gets my ass and I end up dropping it again 😭 pray for me

[cinematicnomad]

THE TERROR ▸ how crozier addresses goodsir

[fumifooms]

What if we were both magic prodigies and it otherized us in different ways and we devoted ourselves to protecting a family member who has general other goals & priorities. What if we both did self-sacrifical devotion in opposite ways.

What if we were dark mirrors of each other and where I've grown overcontrolling you've grown complacent. What if, bought as a servant into a pretty loving home, ownership and control is what love looks like to me, and to you neglected and lonely growing up, love is gratefully taking any scraps of it you’re lent.

By belonging to someone, even if she comes back injured or fails at finding Delgal, she feels like she belongs and is cherished, by owning someone he feels safe in them not leaving him.

She’s what’s tethering him do you see… And he’s the only thing giving her direction and purpose in her state. She needs a compass and he needs a support.

They’re both so out of it 😭 It’s the weirdly intense and unearned mutual trust and reliance on each other?? They’re each other’s weird little comfort codependent teddy bear. Or at least they were headed towards that before SHE DIED THEN HE DIED THEN THEY BOTH FORGOT ABOUT EACH OTHER AND NEVER MET EVER AGAIN. Though she’s also the guard attack hound keeping him safe… And vice versa he heals her and can rewrite her very being with just one wave of his hand. They’re both so so mentally and physically vulnerable both but they cling onto each other. They can’t perceive things accurately but despite it all someway somehow they stumble into something closer to resembling companionship just before they both die. Falin is just that kind and Thistle is just that lonely. Overworked.

We both haven’t lived for ourselves in a very long time, haven’t we.

They both have a similar devotion to the people they love but again the difference is that Thistle starts overtsepping while Falin is self-effacing. The other difference between them is that people care about Falin <3 People have given up on Thistle long ago, and he has given people reasons to, while people refuse to give up on Falin. Yaad has a mini arc about it dw about it it’s ok he’s not all alone in the end 😭😭 He reached out for Marcille’s hand but they already all wanted to help him, they just had to be given the chance to, Yaad just had to be given the chance to, it’s okay I’m okay

Hey what if we learned to get in touch with our own identity and the world around us and living in the present again through being in the worst codependent situationship ever.

Falin and Thistle sitting in a tree, sucking on flowers together because they’re h-u-n-g-r-y 💕💕💕

I bet he’s only ever thought of flowers as useless ornaments. Weak weeds. But she shows him they’re tasty and useful and good and pretty in their own right too and deserve existing without proving their worth and waaa <33 Thistles…... Did you know thistles taste sweet if you remove the thorns and eat them?

"Even as a chimera, her kind nature remains" you can’t suppress her in the way that matters. You can’t soothe him in the way that matters. It’s doomed. You’re doomed. It’s all doomed. Save me.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

so REVENGE, HUH? or justice, if that makes you feel better. it tastes the same when cooked just right. 'I REALLY WANTED A BROTHER.' such a shame to burn a bridge you so desperately wanted to keep, especially when it wasnt even you who started the fire. especially when you hope that not a single fragment of that bridge ever washes ashore.[MAY IT ROT FAR FROM MY SIGHTS] an unfortunate loss! atleast he has his friends.