#this was originally supposed to be a quick doodle but. Yeah

[aimfall]

passing

[rush-valley]

oh! also heres the lineart in case yall are interested

wouldnt you like a taste of the power?

wouldnt you like to use more than words?

hi i love hades 2 and epic the musical im very Normal™️ about both

[happy-beeeps]

Art for Art's Sake

WC: 2.3k

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Summary: You've always loved to doodle Hunter, but what happens when he finally catches you?

Warnings: none! pure fluff! There's like one suggestive line at the very end.

He’s heard it for weeks now, the sound that's rubbing against his brain. It’s subtle, something he’s sure only he can hear, and it originates from the corner booth you’re occupying. You’ve got your legs thrown up onto the table with your back in the corner, Tech at your right tapping away on his datapad and chatting your ear off about their most recent mission. Hunter is so envious of his brothers’ relationships with you, how easily they come. You and Tech are like two peas in a pod, your friendship quick and steadfast. It’s hard not to love you, he admits to himself, and he wonders if he’s the reason you’re so quiet around him, if he makes you nervous. It’s not for lack of trying on either of your parts, he can feel the way your pulse quickens when you touch hands, and he knows himself well enough that you occupy his thoughts most every day.

“Stop staring, you’re gonna freak her out,” Echo chides, slipping easily into the stool next to Hunter.

“Not staring, just listening to Tech.”

“That's worse,” he laughs, sipping the drink he holds in his hand. “She’s our friend, why don’t you just go talk to her.”

“She’s your friend.” Hunter states, matter of fact. Echo rolls his eyes before setting the drink down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I feel like she hates me.”

Echo is staring at him now, mouth agape. “I thought you were supposed to be the one with the enhanced senses.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s got everything to do with it,” he inclines his head to where you’re sitting. You’ve been peeking over at the two of them, and when Hunter lifts his gaze to see where Echo is looking, you blink wildly before focusing back on your lap, back at that noise he can’t quite discern. “She keeps looking at you.”

He scoffs. “So? I make her nervous. She hates me.”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point.” He stands up and punches his brother lightly in the shoulder. “She likes you.” Echo leaves Hunter at that, walking over towards the booth you’re at. He hears him greet you, then asks Tech to take a look at something back on the Marauder. Tech, always one step ahead but two steps behind, looks confused at the insistence, but relents when Echo practically hauls him out of his seat. The two of them walk past Hunter, and Echo pauses. “Stop being weird. Go say something to her.” 

Omega and Wrecker have long left the cantina in search of snacks, leaving you and Hunter alone, save for a few gamblers and Cid, the latter of which is occupied with an intense conversation on holo with her ale supplier. Hunter heaves a sigh, downs his drink and makes his way to you where you’re sitting, your eyes wide as you watch his moves toward you.

The sergeant makes you nervous. Like, really nervous. When you had met the batch on their first night in Ord Mantell, you had to resist the urge to yelp when you locked on to his intense stare. Sure, the months that have since passed have made way for some of the best friendships you’ve ever had, and of course you appreciate them bringing you on to tutor Omega. Poor girl needs a teacher. You find yourself counting down the hours for their return when they’re off world, or spending long hours chatting in hyperspace when they bring you with. They’re just a nice group of people.

That’s not to say Hunter isn’t nice. He is. He’s respectful and courteous and he always offers you a drink and pulls out your chair when you’re sitting with them, but that’s it. And it’s gnawing at your gut because despite it all, you really like him. Disregarding the fact that he’s got the ruggedly handsome looks of the holostars of your youth, he’s also fascinating. He’s smart, calculating, and serious. You want to crack him open like a book and find out what makes him tick. Plus, you’re certain he’s aware of your feelings, and that’s why he can’t stand to be in the same room as you.

Echo was the first to find out actually, when he caught you unprepared, head peering over your shoulder and looking into your sketchbook.

“Didn’t know you were into drawing.” He stated, and you slammed your sketchbook shut with a fright.

“You could give a girl a heart attack sneaking up on her like that.”

He laughed before settling in next to you. “What’s got you all jumpy?”

Just then, Hunter had returned from the office with Cid, a rare smile on his face, one hand hanging off his hip just right. Echo looked at the sight of his brother, then back at your dopey grin. “Oh. I get it.”

You’re daydreaming now, staring into nothing and thinking about that image, so lost in your imagination that you don’t realize that he’s actually in front of you now, pulling a chair backwards up to your table before sitting on it, legs straddling each side of the backing. You’ve never been more focused on anything in your life than you are at keeping your gaze on his face, and not the way his legs hang lazily open, confident and powerful.

“What's that sound?” He asks, no, states. His voice is like melted butter, and you feel like someone hit a factory reset button on your brain.

“Hello to you too.” You say, tucking your sketchbook back into your bag, leaning your chin on your hands.

“Right, sorry. Hi.” He reaches an arm out behind his head and scratches his hair, smiling slightly and  looking almost bashful for a moment. “Sorry, don’t want you to think I’m being weird. Just can’t figure it out.”

“Well, can you describe it?” You ask, genuinely puzzled now. If this is what it takes to get Hunter to talk to you then fine, you’ll play the game.

“It’s a scratch, sorta. I can’t hear it now. But I’ve been hearing it for weeks, and it’s always by you.”

“Oh? Paying attention to me are you?” You chide, but the way his gaze holds yours makes you suck your breath back in your throat.

“I always pay attention to you.”

You’re both staring at each other now, your eyes wide in shock and his in panic. Did he just-

“Oh gods, I’m sorry, that was weird.”

You smile and shake your head, “No, no it’s not. I get what you mean.”

“Right.” He smiles again, like that rare one you saw a while back and pulls out his datapad. “Mind if I join you? Seemed like you might like the company.”

You bite your lip trying not to burst into a grin. “Not at all, table’s yours.”

The two of you pass the time in a comfortable silence when you decide to risk it. You cautiously, carefully pull out your sketchbook and charcoals, continuing on the page you had left off. His tattoos are much easier to sketch from this distance, and you rarely get the chance to see him up close. You’ve barely begun to scratch across the flimsi in the book when his gaze shoots up, his eyes wild as he looks up at you. “That’s the noise.”

Your cheeks are burning now as he lunges toward the book, not maliciously you know, but your reaction time isn’t quick enough. He’s got your sketchbook now, and begins flipping through the pages.

“Do you… do these yourself?”

You nod, silently, eyes wide as you watch him flip through the pages. Nothing really incriminating is in the first few pages, and you’re hoping he bores himself before he gets too far. “Keeps me busy when the students are testing.” It’s not a lie. You had started drawing in your classroom, but your subject had switched from landscapes to portraits the second you had met the batch. You think you might escape as he slows down turning, when he hits the first page.

“Hey, it’s Wreck!” He grins, holding the book closer to his face. “You got his scar and everything just right.”

“Thank you, Hunter, but can I have it-”

“This one of Tech and Echo is great too. You’re really talented mesh’la.”

“Hunter…” your voice trails off into a near beg as he flips the page, and you watch in horror as his cheeks slowly turn as red as his bandana, and his fingers ghost over the page. You know which one he’s on, the first time you had drawn him. He was sleeping against the back wall of the cantina while you watched Tech and Wrecker play sabacc. His hair was slightly tousled, and you were seated on the tattooed side of his body, and relished the challenge of the shading and detail. In the end, it was a really pretty picture. The issue being just that–he was so fun to draw you couldn’t stop.

There were only two more drawings after the first, one of him and Omega and the other the more detailed piece you had been working on. You had your head in your hands and refused to look at him fully, allowing yourself to peek through one partially unobscured eye between your fingers. What you saw wasn’t disgust or embarrassment on Hunter’s face, but something new, something foreign. He looked at you thoughtfully for a moment before something seemed to click in his brain, and he settled comfortably in the chair. You watched as he carefully plucked at the fingers of the glove on his left hand, before setting it down on the table in front of you. The now uncovered hand moved to rest closer to you, fingertips touching yours.

“Figured I could give you something new to draw.” 

Your eyes widened as you looked over at him, and the smile he gave you made you want to blossom into something new, it filled you with an inexplicable warmth. You looked at the newly exposed skin, and watched as he flexed his fingers. You hadn’t realized the tattoos appeared to cover the entirety of his left side, and couldn’t help but move to trace the bony fragments and ligaments inked onto his skin.

“Did it hurt?”

He shrugged, moving his fingers along yours in a dance as you explored the newfound territory of his hand. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure of it,” you snorted and took the book from his hand. “I’m sorry… for invading your privacy like that.”

“It’s an honor to be considered worthy of your talent.” The statement dripped in something akin to adoration, but he stated it plainly, as if it was the truest thing in the world. He moved your hand onto his wrist, where he used it to gently push the sleeve of his tunic up his forearm. Slowly but surely, more and more black inked bones made themselves visible to you. “If I had an ounce of your talent, I don’t think I’d ever stop drawing you.” You looked up from where you were focused on his arm, and hadn’t realized how close you two were leaning. His eyes looked into yours with such a focused intensity you weren’t sure how you hadn’t melted on impact. The hand not holding yours moved to cradle the side of your face as he looked at you cautiously. “I’m sorry for being so off-putting.”

“You’re not off putting,” you whispered, leaning into the cradle of his hand, “‘m just shy.”

“You don’t need to be, not with me.” His eyes left yours for just a fleeting moment, wandering to look at your lips. “Is this okay?”

“Better than okay,” you breathed, and he smiled at the response, surging closer to you and closing the gap in a flash of lips and the tiniest, over eager clink of teeth. Hunter tasted like cinnamon and something warm and spicy, like the smell of bourbon and a sweet dessert, but also something heavy and leather. He moved to cradle the back of your head as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and you still hadn’t convinced yourself this was even real. How long had you been pining for him, hoping for this day? You weren’t letting a moment go to waste, and your hand moved up to feel the soft tresses resting along his neck, weaving your fingers on his skull. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that until the moment was broken by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Very close to you.

Cid was standing at the table, hands on her hips, shooting daggers into both of your faces. “Look, kid, I let it happen because I’m tired of this ‘will they, won’t they,’ but I ain’t running a brothel. Don’t make me get the broom.” You blushed again and Hunter let out a breathy sigh, but simply smiled at Cid. 

“Can’t promise it won’t happen again.” He handed her a few credits for his tab and a tip, and stood around the table reaching for your hands. “Wanna go someplace quiet?”

Please. You’d go sit in a trash compactor if he kept looking at you like that. “Okay.”

He pulled you up, an arm snaking around your waist as the two of you left the cantina, feeling less like two stubborn adults and more like the lovesick kids you saw in classes. You had finally caught your breath when he took the moment to lean down close to your ear. 

“You know… I’ve got more tattoos I could show you?”

[chibishortdeath]

Woahg, that’s a lot—

Explanations under a cut :3

This is Simon like immediately after defeating Dracula. Just sitting on his knees, hands on his face. He needs a minute, but he’s not gonna get a long one cause the castle is collapsing—

Wow! What a nice happy family :3. I sure hope nothing happens to them! :3 I’ve always liked to arrange the series of events like first Selena and Simon met and got married, then the Dracula stuff went down, so uh yeah uh fan interpretation of their (currently) unnamed kids.

The text here says “where’s momma?”, said by his daughter (who by this point is 2-3 about). Shout out to the artist ability to make yourself really sad—

Just Simon and the kids chillin. He probably was a really good dad, just kinda struggling.

Little quick doodle of the designs of the kids. Agh I need to name both of them (TwT ). It’s hard, I feel like they gotta have nice but cool names, but I just haven’t found any I like yet. Anyway, the one on the left is the older daughter and the one on the right is the younger brother and as of Simon’s quest they are 10 and 7 respectively. The brother would’ve been born the year of CV1 if I have my math right, so when Simon was 22.

Sobbing! It be like that sometimes 💀. This might count as like one part vent art and one part just expression and emotion practice :O.

This one also kinda counts as vent art I guess lol idk. It says “I did everything right”. I was thinking of a specific audio while drawing this and tbh I might actually have to animate something hmmm. Or just still images cause animation is hardddddddd oof. The text isn’t like from the audio or anything either (>< ;).

This one is based on an old insert character here kind of meme :D. The text says “step 1: establish character with a little worry but a lot of determination. Step 2: inflict soul crushing trauma Step 3: inflict soul crushing trauma—“ and that repeats until step 5 lol. The original meme only had two images, but each of these are supposed to be based on specific events so yeah. First one is just pre CV1, then the moment he got hit, then shortly after leaving the castle, then in the graveyard 6 years later, then somewhere in the middle of his quest.

This one is fun!!!!!! It’s an idea for like a double sided keychain :D!!!!! One side has the like CV1/CV4 era Simon swinging on one of those loops and the other is Simon’s Quest!!! And it’s supposed to be the Hanged Man tarot card!!! So cool!!! Idk how making keychains works so if I actually did this I’d probs just make one in shrink plastic tbh. But ough it would be so cool to actually make and sell little fan keychains and stuff (TwT ).

This one I don’t remember if I’ve posted or not but it’s never getting finished 💀💀💀. Gotta love drawing The Character in increasingly dynamic poses and surreal ways.

Ok it’s super late I have to sleep 💀👍

[seastarblue]

Hiii, can I hear about Kaiden's dog? (And also the details of that deathless curse)

You absolutely can!

So. This is her doggo (v quick doodle bc I realized I never drew The Boi):

(He’s supposed to be a border collie)

Uh, his name’s Goose, because he’s a silly goose. The silliest of Gooses, I think.

There’s not that much about him, he’s just a girl in the world man idk. Kaiden adopted him off the street when he was a lil puppy, and now they’re besties :3

———

NOW ABOUT THAT CURSE— (under the cut :3)

Uh 🧍‍♀️ so I haven’t quite figured out the exact mechanics of it YET ☝️ but here’s the gist of it:

They do not have any form of innate magic (which is pretty common amongst humans, to be fair)

They are not affected by spells cast directly onto them (if the environment was manipulated via magic, then they would still be affected. Like if someone set a tree on fire and then shoved a Deathless into it, they’d burn even though that fire was magical in origin. It’s the same deal with helpful spells, too.)

They have gold blood, and when feeling neutral, they have small gold flecks in their eyes. (They become more prominent with extreme emotions, they can go completely gold if they’re Feeling Things)

They can see ghosts? Some can, at least. Our Girl Kaiden can.

Speaking of blood, their wounds (except ones dealt with [insert name of drug that counters the Curse] but that’s a story for another time) heal VERY QUICKLY compared to normal humans. A broken bone could take a week to heal, tops.

Speaking of injuries: the reason it’s called the ‘Deathless Curse’ is because the people who have it have the ability to come back from death, provided they aren’t too mutilated to the point of no return. That point is what I’m having trouble with BUT I’m getting there. Trust.

It’s very stigmatized, because in Niali (and as a whole—Ardenian) society, it’s considered Very Bad to mess with Death itself. Also it’s kinda freaky (in a bad way) to see someone—presumably dead—get up like nothing happened.

It certainly doesn’t help that they don’t know what causes it. All they know is that it affects humans only.

———

anddd yeah I think that’s it? Thanks for the ask @illarian-rambling ! ✨✨

[iheartgod175]

Huckleberry Hound — Avenger I

He moves in the shadows, darkness being his only companion in his path towards the light. His heroic spirit, tempered and matured through many trials, shines through even the blackest of skies. Celestial Warrior, Avenger I, descends upon the battlefield.

The town of Jellystone has driven many a mayor to an asylum. Yet Huckleberry has held the chair for a whopping three terms, with talks of a fourth looming on the horizon. At first glance, it’s easy to see why he’s popular. Coolheaded, unflappable, and possessing the classic laidback Southern charm, he’s seen as a beacon of normalcy in a town where get-rich-quick schemes and other shenanigans run rampant. Aside from a side note about him hailing from North Carolina, however, not much is known about his personal life, mostly because not many get too close. To many in town, although he is a well known public figure, he is often seen as a mysterious, steely-eyed and silent-type stranger.

And if one were to ask Huckleberry Hound, he’d be happy to hear it, because he’d prefer it if things stayed that way.

By day, he’s the untouchable, coolheaded mayor of Jellystone. By night, he is the fearsome and devastating Avenger. He appears to be a regular hound, but in reality, he is a Celestial, ethereal beings of mysterious origins with powers that have been sought after by many, and attained by few. As the name implies, Celestials are not of this Earth, but are born in the deepest parts of the galaxy. As one of the pure Celestials, he can summoned like a creature of myth, often called upon by those who have been grieved and betrayed. Huckleberry is a member of the Warrior class, and while many other Celestials surpass him in both power and combat prowess, he is not to be underestimated. As his name implies, he takes swift vengeance on wrongdoers, often in precise, yet brutal ways—and even if he loses a battle, he will give his opponent his all in combat, commanding their respect.

His umbrakinesis and his dark armor contrast heavily against his personality, which has led to several people, even his fellow Celestials, to believe that he is evil. He attacks his targets with soldier-like precision and dedication, with the goal of protecting the town he now calls home from any and all threats. This reflects his inner desire to serve, and as such, he will not raise his sword against anybody under false pretenses or without justification. He wants no praise for his actions, instead only wishing that the people who summon him are at least put at peace. As such, when his assignment is complete, his powers will lull those who summon him into deep sleep. Those who speak of Avenger afterwards can only describe his armor and demeanor—how his kindness contrasted heavily against his armor. He has an important Astral Skill, which allows him to both heal others and release their souls. In accordance with his powers, however, he will only do so if it’s the deceased’s will that they return or leave.

This was supposed to happen to Droop-a-Long Coyote, who sought immediate justice for the murder of his sister Betty, and inadvertently summoned him. One could imagine Huckleberry’s surprise when the coyote, who worked at the town hall as an intern, immediately came to him and thanked him for what he did for his little sister.

Huckleberry was so stunned that he could only utter one word:

“How?

—

I started Avenger after I finished the line art for Bugs, but didn’t get around to finishing him. However, I got it done over the weekend and I absolutely LOVE how he turned out! Those fabric markers did come in handy!

You knew I had to doodle Huck again before I do the others, LOL XD. And I will do a proper profile for Droopy and the others soon. But yeah, look at him and how cool he turned out!

Next one will hopefully be Reaper. I have an idea for how to design him at long last, and I have had a hankering to draw Ricochet again, so you can expect him soon!

Enjoy!

[pixelbytesquad]

OKAY- so umm- I did mention AS Mira in my Alignment Shift post, then I talked about Mirage and Fire Mira... but I always tend to forget to do a post about another reoccurring Mira alternate I tend to show on here and my side account (@bakugan-doodles)...

I guess it's time to change that-

So- I should finally talk about...

Gosh this image is long

Fun fact, I slightly updated the design just to prepare for this... and then forgot...

Anyways... so here's my genderflipped Mira, or as I call him- Mire-

I am NOT doing a full on genderflip AU (too much work and I don't want to do that- if anyone wants to do it, be my guest-)- however, this isn't just the same story in canon but now it's Mire- it's a bit different.

Now, for a quick warning- Mire's AU has some bits of transphobia present in his story (to make it short... Clay is just an awful father).

I say this because... Mire is trans! Link of drawing I did of him for pride month!

Now, as mentioned earlier- Clay isn't that thrilled of the idea... however, here comes Keith- who would always stick by Mire's side... until out of a sudden he just, disappeared... right when the family was supposed to move to New Vestroia...

Shortly after that, similar to the canon, he'd stumble in Clay's lab and notice Hydranoid... however unlike canon- instead of seeing Keith, there's Spectra-

So, he does run, start the resistance and tries to free the bakugans... however unlike canon, there are some changes to how his story goes-

While he still tries to look for Keith, that mission is pretty much a side quest as he mainly puts his energy into the main mission at hand. There's no moment when he does ditch the team.

And then we get to Earth and when he learns that Spectra is Keith... yeah he won't take it well. Since he saw Spectra in the lab, he pretty much took it as Spectra working with Clay- and learning that Spectra is Keith, pretty much angers him (Julie would have to hold him so he won't just beat the shit out of Spectra).

When the moment comes for the group to just return to New Vestroia... he doesn't betray the team, meaning in his universe, the girls actually end up coming to New Vestroia to help the team- ALSO- not as important but the rest of the resistance on New Vestroia doesn't get captured.

So umm- yeah- dude's just ends up sticking with the team no matter what-

I do need to explain some stuff about him before I'll move forward.

Unlike canon Mira... he's a bit more on the dumb side... but in a charming way?

Despite all that, he doesn't fall into the pitfalls of "trying to find his brother". Mainly because he thinks he'd be just like him (in the sense of disappearing/ditching him) to the team.

There's also him and Ace... while for the most part in canon, Ace's the one to have a crush on Mira, while Mira is oblivious... here both Ace and Mire are oblivious to one another... but somehow still act like they're married couple. (Dan would try to call it out but they both deny it).

My brain's also like "Hey let's give him big brother energy", esp when I think ab the potential interactions he'll have with Runo and Julie.

This is also the reason why he doesn't betray the team when they return to New Vestroia, he's aware he'd leave everyone stranded and ruin the chance for the girls to join them.

So yeah- in short, he may be dumb, but he's- well, sweet, in a sense of "everyone likes this dude".

Honestly this is also why I depicted him once as a shoulder angel- it's also funny to look at him and AS Mira. AS Mira is just the most evil person you'll see, meanwhile Mire is the most compassionate person.

Also ngl, both of them are so different from canon Mira- but I like it? I really like when AU characters can be so different from their original counterpart. Their own person, splintered from someone else.

If you have any question about him or his universe, feel free to ask, I'll try to answer.

Last fun fact: His universe is named "The butterfly effect", to reflect how a tiny change can just spiral into something bigger.

[cerenemuxse]

Jimmy doodle/sketch dump in color ❤

(Ft. cameos of early concept art of my persona's new design. She's still a shapeshifting AI. Space buns are mandatory too.)

Please excuse any writing errors (yeah I mispelled "seperated" oops). The following is the text version of what's written.

First sketch page:

Thomas' Animal Friends s24 e22

Second sketch page (top to bottom, left to right)

I really liked how the expression came out before I added the lion costume so I seperated it.

Jimmy the canonical meow-meow

he's so adorable!

"Thomas' Animal Friends" (S.24 E.22)

*does anything but draw the wheels*

As I was writing this, the more I realized I could make a meme out of it so here it is.

Ok so now that's done with, I can ramble a bit about the drawings themselves.

I started this shortly after doing the Edward sketch dump that had the redraw of a scene from "Old Iron". I decided to draw out pre-rebuild Jimmy in a specific scene that I'm considering getting rid of and rewriting for something else. Poor baby. :[

Also the other sketch with the angy Jimmy is based on another scene in EoSR. Not saying where it's from as it is a bit of a spoiler lol (recently deleted a lot of posts where I did the opposite of that lol)

I couldn't help but draw James from that specifc screenshot. I was going to draw James in that outfit but when i finished drawing the "base", aka him without the costume, I really liked the expression I gave him. Nothing like the original screenshot xd but I really liked it so I seperated them.

Speaking of the lion costume, I had to adjust mine because damn, it just looked really off when I used the layout of the original screenshot. The odd shadow is supposed to be there as they're supposed to be the back legs. .3.

I'm pretty impressed with how I drew that specific James, despite his funnel being incorrectly placed (it should be right smack in the middle of his smokebox). I love this perspective in particular. Oh, and new details as thus one was using the most up-to-date design for him. :] (i avoided drawing the coupling, btw.)

And there's my persona, or at least quick doodles of my persona's new design. The crescent moon horns are gone, which were a mistake tbh. I didn't like them that much. The short hair and space buns stay though. Bottom right is my favorite.

[conventionalwisdomcomic]

Digimon Ghost Game reactions - episode 67

...no, seriously, we’ve all been watching Ghost Game Abridged for the last few episodes, haven’t we?  I refuse to believe that somebody sat down and actually wrote episode 67 as it appeared on screen. This just HAS to be the frankenstein'd amalgamation of a whole stack of subplots and story ideas that were supposed to happen across multiple episodes suddenly condensed down to a few lines.  I mean, that last Gulusgammamon thing... I refuse to believe any writer would willingly squeeze that in as such a rushed afterthought unless something had gone SEVERELY wrong behind the scenes.

And the worst thing is, there’s a lot of IDEAS in this last episode I really like.  I’m on record as being really annoyed when an anime feels compelled to hit the reset button right at the end, so I greatly appreciate it when a season of Digimon is willing to just say “Okay, this is what the world is like now.”  And that goes double for when the concepts teased by that new status quo are as compelling as what Ghost Game teases on the way out... SO IT’S TOO BAD THAT THEY DIDN’T JUST MAKE THE WHOLE SHOW ABOUT THAT.  I feel like I’ve been handed a stack of episode summaries and been left to imagine what it’d be like if those stories were actually told in full.  And that’s not MY job.

Look, Ghost Game is far from the worst Digimon series I’ve seen, but I don’t know if I’ve ever been frustrated in quite this specific way before.  I really was willing to just go along with the whole “spooky stories but Digimon” gimmick, even if it wasn’t really what I want out of the franchise, if that was going to be all the series tried to do.  But instead, after these last few episodes, I’ll never be able to look back on all of Ghost Game’s spoopy business as anything but “that dumb crap that wasted my time when I COULD have been watching a SciFi adventure in the DigiWorld.”  You can’t just tease me with a taste of this stuff and expect me to not resent all the time spent on everything else.

Could the problem be Digimon Seekers?  Did some executive demand the show end on a less Horror-themed note in hopes of having a more natural segue into the next project?  I’ve got no idea one way or the other, I’m just struggling to make sense of all the BAFFLING decisions this show made over the past seventeen months.

But yeah, that’s it from me!  I’ve got no new Digimon anime to react to!  Thanks to everybody who’s stuck with these doodles and ramblings since I started doing them.  If you want more, there’s always my original comics Far Out There and Conventional Wisdom for you to check out, plus weekly comics about OTHER anime debuting on Patreon.  Oh, and speaking of other comics, I’ve been asked if I might start doing weekly comics on one of the older Digimon shows now that the new one’s done.  That sounds fun, but I’ve got a HUGE backlog of other things I was supposed to have gotten done a long time ago, so I really ought to use this newfound bit of free time to get caught up on THOSE, not starting up a whole new project.  So, no new Digi-comics from me anytime soon... unless a whole gaggle of people suddenly started donating tons of money over on Patreon and started begging and pleading for a new series.  THAT would probably change my mind real quick...

[mistralxsoul]

As Flynn finished petting Repede by giving him a final scratch behind the ears, he moved to sit at the table with Karol and Yuri. As Repede came to sit by Flynn, most likely eager to get as much time with his other owner as possible, Flynn quickly smiled in Karol’s direction. “Well, it sounds like it was a good day overall then. Mistakes happen. They don’t really matter so long as you learn from them.”

And he knew for a fact that Yuri was bound and determined to urge Karol in the right direction, both within his education and outside of it. Part of Flynn, of course, wanted to step in and help when he had first heard that Yuri had been teaching Karol but looking at the two of them now seemed to quell any concerns Flynn had in regards to Karol’s education. Yuri was doing just fine on his own. There really was no need for Flynn to be sticking his nose into the other’s work.

Speaking of Yuri, a tiny glance over to the raven-haired man had Flynn notice that Yuri was staring in his direction, clearly lost in his own thoughts. But even then, Flynn couldn’t help the growing embarrassment rising within him as he resisted the urge to reach out and hold Yuri’s hand. Okay, hiding it from Karol was going to be more difficult than he thought. Was their confession truly enough to break the dams and cause Flynn to no longer be able to stop himself from needing to reach out and be touching Yuri in some way? Or was he simply still basking in the new development of their relationship? Regardless, he was really struggling.

Finally, Yuri seems to snap out of his own thoughts as he brings up the idea of playing Karol’s rendition of the game they used to play when they were younger. But now… they were talking of adding pictures? Flynn could only laugh at the idea. “That sounds like it would end horrendously. You know I can’t draw for the life of me, Yuri.”

Karol, thankfully, piped in with a wide grin. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t draw! I think someone not being able to draw makes it more fun! We usually have a timer too. Since Repede can’t talk or draw, he’s usually in charge of letting us know when the time is up by barking at us. But yeah, I got the idea after Yuri and I played the original game! And then I saw Estelle doodling one day and the idea hit me! It’s super fun for us to play when we’re out camping.”

Seeing how hyped Karol suddenly was about his little genius idea, Flynn was suddenly having a hard time justifying turning him down. He and Yuri weren’t the best artists in the world, but out of the two of them, Flynn was pretty sure he was the worst of the two. But then again, he didn’t really expect Karol to have the best art skills either with him just being twelve (or was he thirteen now? Flynn was blanking slightly on when Karol’s birthday was) years old.

“Well… I suppose my scribbles could be rather entertaining in this context.” Flynn finally decides with a quick nod. “I could go for a game or two, if you’d like to play, Karol.” When the young boy let out a victorious little ‘yes!!!’ and hopped up to run and grab some paper and writing utensils, Flynn shot a small but incredibly fond smile over to Yuri before nudging the man’s knee with his own.

At Karol's comment, Yuri could only hope his face wasn't tinging pink. "You think so? Mm... Yeah, I guess he has. Guess that's what happens when you get him out of a work environment." Granted, that was still the truth. Off work Flynn did tend to smile more and shift more out of the armor in even personality. That was true even on a regular day. Today just... happened to have more than expected happen. "Well, as long as he's not busy with work, we can see about him visiting more."

But for the moment, Yuri needed to focus on Karol while Flynn was busy getting ready for the rest of the night. Being able to get wrapped up in homework corrections actually helped a lot with his own focus, and Karol was a good student. He listened when he had mistakes and worked to improve them. They always left notes on the paper so Karol could come back to it later if he needed to.

Eventually Flynn returned and checked in on Karol. Bonding might not be so hard if it was coming off this naturally between them. Flynn was always good at handling kids, even if Yuri did have a lot of experience in looking after them himself. Without all the armor, there was nothing really imposing or intimidating about him. No reason for any kind of kid to feel pressure or nervousness talking to him.

He should have been used to it by now, but seeing Flynn without the armor and looking so normal still gave him flashes of their old lives. Part of him was starting to worry this was something he needed to talk to Flynn about, but... no, he'd been avoiding it for years. Why bring it up now? ...Why was it bothering him so much now?

Karol looked over the paper again as he answered Flynn. "I got some stuff wrong, but..." He looked back to Flynn and smiled brightly. "Yuri sat here with me to correct it and tell me how to do what was wrong." Like usual, of course, but Flynn didn't know little details like that. About their day to day lives outside of things like work. Something Yuri really wanted to change. Life wasn't about work and he wasn't about to let it be.

Yuri handed a folder to Karol that read "Completed" on it, and the brunet slid the papers into it. If there was anything Yuri wanted to be organized about, it was Karol's education. He wasn't doing the best at organizing himself, but when it came to someone else and someone much younger, he had more motivation to handle that, at least.

Briefly, Yuri wondered how odd it would be if... Yuri and Flynn stayed in the same room. Sure, maybe he could get by with the excuse that they'd shared inn beds during Brave Vesperia's most recent world trip, and here, they only had beds for Yuri and Karol. Would that... make sense to Karol? If it were Judith or Raven they would get it instantly. Sleeping on a cot in his own room was an option, but at that point, why not just use the bed?

"So... anything you wanna do for the night?" Yuri sat lazily at the table with Karol, directing the question to Flynn. Karol always liked to hear stories about their lives, but there was always the option for something more relaxing if not outright fun. "Remember that dumb game we used to play where we'd start a sentence and have the other continue it? Karol decided to try to reinvent that as what if we made a statement or sentence, the next person drew it, the following person had to guess what the drawing was in their statement... and so on. Until we stop and see how far we got from the original. If you're awake enough and up for it, the kid was pestering me a few weeks ago to play it again."

[cits-ocs]

Ok since I made that post about marks, I can finally now ramble about Andres and Indah's marks!

So, for Andres, he's a vessel. He was resurrected and became like, quasi-immortal or something. The creature he made a contract with gotta be related to death, but I haven't really seen any Filipino folklore creature that fits that. His powers are related to death, so his marks have to be related to death. I'm not even sure what his death powers should be (but tbh I definitely don't want it so anything he touches dies lol I'm too soft to do that unless someone convinces me to.)

Here's the idea for his marks. I really liked those gradient finger things I see, so I tried to incorporate it. Those black stuff are supposed to be necrosis. I should be adding some marks related to bullets too, since the rough idea is Andres was shot to death, or died a bloody death. The exposed heart is there because... it looks cool. Honestly, I'm not satisfied with this design because it's too plain

Also, this was "drawn" quick because I was rambling about it in a discord server. I was trying to visualize my idea. I've forgotten the original artists unfortunately

Next, Indah!

So, I made the setting AFTER revamping them. Originally, Indah's split-colored hair was because he just bleached it like that. He thought it was cool. But then later on I thought that was off-putting, because he's supposed to be this cool, intelligent and apathetic guy, then you look at his bright ass fucking hair.

(quick note I changed his hairstyle lol this one is a doodle from last year)

Recently, I thought that maybe his mark IS his hair color. Maybe the creature he signed a contract with was like, "you look way too serious, let me fix that for you," and then that's the hair color he gave him. At least it looks like he made a shitty decision when bleaching his hair instead of an obvious sign.

Another thing I thought of and this was just from a while ago, but I was thinking that he could have unique top scars?

In the contract, Indah said he wanted to have the body of a cis man, for the duration of the contract and when he completes it (ok tbh this isn't final. I was more like thinking he gets the body when he completes it. Maybe a better alternative is he doesn't need to do his weekly dose of HRT for the duration, that's it.) And I was just playing Sims 4 a while ago, and I saw there's custom content for unique and supernatural top scars. I got that shit and put one on Indah.

One of the scars was sort of wrapped around the pecs and was a bright color that looked like it was slightly glowing. It gave me the idea that maybe his scars could look like that. Not all of his scars, well maybe even the ones on his face actually

Cuz, idk if I'm making sense here, but Indah appreciates being transgender and is proud of his journey. However, if he got the chance, he'd choose to function like a normal cis man instead. And he got the chance so yeah. That's why I was thinking his mark should be like, unique glowing top scars. Are there bottom scars? If yes then that too

I'm only non-binary, I rarely experience gender dysphoria, but IF I get top surgery or something, and my top surgery scar gets to look cool and be neon? It would be so cool so yeah lol

I have to brainstorm more on both of Andres and Indah's designs

[lonelyyinchicago]

hate - wolfstar

“NO, BECAUSE YOU DONT KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO CRACK YOUR BONES EVERY MONTH AND-”

“I HATE THIS - IT’S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU. SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!”

sirius screamed suddenly and uncontrollably, silencing remus. he advanced slowly, his hair falling across his face.

“do you really think i have no idea what excruciating pain feels like?” he asked, his voice dropping dangerously low. “do you? because i know you know for a fact that my mother used the crutiatus curse on me. that i’ve been tortured. i have scars too, remus. just because i don’t complain about them all the time doesn’t mean i don’t despise them as much as you do.”

“i- sirius.”

remus stepped forward in an attempt to close the gap between himself and his boyfriend. sirius backed away, reaching behind him for the door handle. he fiddled with it loosely before it opened, not daring to break the eye contact until he was out of the room. he turned on his heel, rushing out of the common room before james could stop him.

james paused, uncertain which friend to attend to first. he made his way slowly up to the dorm, flinching just outside the door as he heard a crash.

“remus?”

at first glance the room looked empty, but remus’ shaking shoulders from the other side of the bed soon caught james’ attention.

the bedside lamp was in pieces on the floor, remus’ hands dripping blood as he collected the broken shards of glass.

“what happened?” remus sniffed and continued to ignore james, who knelt down slowly next to his friend. “remus.”

remus looked up, his bottom lip shaking.

“i’ve lost him” he whispered. “i messed up.”

“wh-why would you think that? what did you say?”

“i-i wasn’t listening to him. i’ve just been a shit boyfriend. is that what you want me to say? is that what you wanted to hear?”

remus stood up suddenly, the pieces of glass he’d collected falling out of his lap.

“for fucks sake.”

“hey i’ve got it” james said, still on the floor. “reparo.”

remus laughed wryly - “i didn’t even think of that.”

james smiled sheepishly before repositioning the lamp on the bedside table.

“go get some dinner, remus.”

remus nodded obligingly, having no energy to argue. once remus had left the dorm james ran his fingers through his hair nervously. a quick check under sirius’ bed told him he hadn’t gone flying.

digging his invisibly cloak out from his trunk, he crossed the room to sirius’ bedside table, and retrieved a pack of cigarettes from the top drawer. shoving them deep in his pocket, he left gryffindor tower in search of his best friend.

as james pushed open the hatch onto the roof of the astronomy tower, a sharp wind blew through his hair. he made his way slowly towards sirius, his feet not as comfortable with the loose tiles. he sat down silently, waiting for sirius to speak.

after two minutes of nothing but owls, james pulled the packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. sirius raised an eyebrow but gratefully accepted the gift.

“i thought you didn’t approve” he said, his voice hoarse.

james shrugged, before taking sirius by surprise and lighting his own. he balanced it uncertainly between his teeth but breathed in easily enough.

“what happened to you?” sirius asked, nodding at the lighter james was fiddling with.

“stress - isn’t that what you always tell me?”

sirius almost smiled, and james took the opportunity to continue.

“what hap-”

“i don’t want to talk about it” sirius said abruptly, cutting james off.

“okay.”

james inhaled deeply, blowing out thick clouds of smoke into the cloudless sky. he felt sirius’ eyes on the back of his neck so turned to face his best friend. sirius stubbed his cigarette out before speaking, his voice catching in his throat.

“i’ve lost him, prongs.”

james let a smile form at his lips at sirius’ exact replica of remus’ earlier sentence.

“only if you choose to.”

sirius looked up through his hair and shook his head slightly. he lit a second cigarette, fumbling with the lighter, before giving up and pulling out his wand to light it.

“no. we’re over. james, i don’t know what to do.”

“tell him the truth” james told him. “owww!”

james dropped the shortened cigarette, rubbing his fingers as sirius snorted.

“you’re supposed to stub it out before it gets that close to your fingers” sirius informed him.

“yeah yeah” james said, getting to his feet. “you coming in?”

“sure - in a bit.”

the dorm was silent by the time james went to bed. he drew the curtains around his four-poster tightly, trying to stay awake to wait for sirius’ return.

lying back on the roof with one arm under his neck, sirius stared up at the sky. the night was still, and he lay in silence, the tears unstoppable. eventually his eyes closed, his eyelashes squeezing out the last of the tears.

on his way back from the bathroom, remus couldn’t help but notice sirius’ empty bed. james shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage, before leaving the dorm.

“they don’t count as breakfast by the way.” james made his way across the roof much more quickly in the daylight. “did you stay up here all night?”

sirius nodded, putting the cigarette out on the inside of his wrist.

“SIRIUS!”

james lunged at his friend, his hand coming down hard on the back of sirius’ head.

“don’t do that, mate.”

sirius followed james down the ladder and into the great hall. sirius watched sleepily as james buttered toast for him. remus kept his eyes on his plate, pushing the mushrooms around uninterestedly.

sat on the end of the row, remus let his head fall into his hand, unable to make eye contact with anyone. he’d taken peter’s usual seat, leaving peter awkwardly between the estranged couple.

sirius shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, his quill tracing faint doodles of pain. he slumped over the desk, breathing slowly.

back in the common room, sirius threw himself onto the sofa, his textbook open, covering his face.

“can i copy someone’s notes from that lesson?”

he was met with silence, and sitting up, saw that no one was around other than remus, who was tactically avoiding the question.

“can i copy your notes?”

“no” remus replied shortly.

“moons . .” sirius stopped to check the room was empty before carrying on. “look i’m sorry about what i said last night. i-i didn’t mean it” sirius lied through his teeth for the last sentence, but it would be worth it if it would make remus talk to him.

“don’t lie to me. i don’t even mind that you did mean it, but don’t fucking lie to me.”

sirius made a grab at the roll of parchment in front of remus. he ran round the edge of the sofa away from remus’ outstretched hand to the small table he was sat at previously.

“give it back” remus said from above him.

“two minutes. moons, please.”

“one.”

it wasn’t sirius’ best handwriting, but he copied the notes quickly. he walked up to remus’ desk, holding out the original work. as remus snatched it back, it tore. sirius stepped back, as remus got up from his chair slowly.

even as sirius’ back hit the wall, remus continued to move closer.

“that wasn’t my fault” sirius said, before remus could even open his mouth.

“are you suggesting it was mine?” remus asked.

sirius swallowed the lump in his throat, as remus’ heartbeat drew closer to him.

“yes.”

remus’ lips pushed aggressively against sirius’ his teeth coming down hard on sirius’ tongue.

“really?”

“remus.”

“shhh let me just-”

“NO!” sirius pushed back, escaping remus’ arms. “this was the problem yesterday - let me talk.”

remus gestured loosely and sirius exhaled.

“okay. i can’t say it’s easy to pretend that i hate you because i don’t but you don’t listen to me. i love looking after you on full moons; you know i do, but you’re not the only person who suffers.”

“sirius-” remus’ ran a hand through his curls, as sirius bit his lip nervously. “i’m sorry. i’m here to listen now, if you’ll still talk to me.”

remus led the way to the sofa. sirius sat at the end, his legs outstretched, forcing remus to the other end.

“i just wish you’d listen to me more. like, actually listen, not just nod and kiss my nose as if that makes everything better. i mean it helps” sirius added, looking up at the boy at the end of the sofa with a small smile, “but i made such an effort to make you as comfortable as possible after every moon, but when i came back to school with new scars you just showed me yours and it felt like a competition that i could never win.”

“i’m sorry. y-your scars are beau-”

“no. that’s not what i want to hear. i want you to reassure me the way i always reassured you, i want you to show me that you care.”

“sirius.” remus moved off the arm of the sofa, slowly crawling over the cushions towards sirius. “i’ll do it now; let me do it now.”

sirius’ head fell back as remus’ lips made soft contact with his neck. sirius’ fingers closed around remus’ neck as remus moved away, looking down at the boy below him.

“i’m sorry” was all he could say.

sirius shrugged, pulling remus lower so his head rested on his chest.

“i’m sorry too. i didn’t mean to make you feel bad i was just pissed becaus-”

“i know i’m an idio-”

sirius slapped a hand over remus mouth: “you’re still not letting me finish.”

“sorry.”

“i don’t know anymore, remus. i don’t know what to do.”

remus waited for a moment to make sure sirius had finished.

“about what, love?” he asked, gently weaving dark hairs around his fingers.

“everything.” sirius sat up, his head against remus’ chest. “but i do know that i don’t hate you. that was a lie yesterday.”

remus breathed out, his chin on sirius’ head. he dipped it slightly to kiss sirius’ forehead. sirius looked up, his eyes softening.

“i’m sorry.”

“what for?” remus asked. “you have nothing to apologise for. oh wait no” remus interrupted himself. “you didn’t come to bed last night. you didn’t even come to the dorm.”

“yeah well.”

“your stubbornness is going to get you into some real trouble you know.”

“really? with who? you?” sirius teased. “go on then, teach me a lesson.”

“okay, let’s start with the charms work you didn’t do today.”

“no remus that’s so boring” sirius complained.

“this is me teaching you a lesson.”

as remus picked up the textbook, sirius flung himself into remus’ lap.

“teach me then, professor.”

[stray-tori]

It’s over! *party* - now it’s time for

Merlab bonus insight/rambling! ^^/

Okay, so here I will be talking about various things related to the mermay au, that didn’t make it into the final “story”/version.

.

Original draft - My original draft was sorta like this:

It started out as the very last scene of them parting but originally there was way less bonding and Emma just left without any drama, they still locked hands though pff-

Emma loved her freedom more than she cared about Norman, it’d be a sort of “eyy cool, okay let’s lock hands - byee!” deal.

Here’s a drawing I did in 2019, back when Merlab wasn’t a comic but just standalone drawings sduhdsj - it never came to be posted because Merlab escalated, but it would be their original reunion.

have more doodles:

.

Things that I probably didn’t convey properly but want to point out:

Emma can easily pull Norman into the tank earlier in the story, but on p137 she’s too weak to even drag him further down (he can stop the movement/being dragged) due to the sleep siren and the tranquilizer arrow.

Ray has a higher resistance to Isabella’s lullaby because he’s her biological child. He can also use the siren song ability (as seen towards the end).

Mers communicate per high-frequency sounds that humans usually cannot hear or just barely hear.

.

Things that got scrapped/changed along the way:

Emma was first going to only talk at the end and surprise the shit outta Norman. Basically her only line in the entire thing was “Norman will be killed” or something along those lines. It was supposed to be implied that she could learn the language simply by listening to the other people talk.

edit: i found my original sketch of this!

Originally p89 was going to be a very long scrolling page where Norman would go through and debunk some plans (which were all plans I came up with and scrapped because they didn’t seem plausible anymore) - I actually don’t remember why I scrapped this, I think I wanted to avoid too many unnecessary monologues.

The co-worker was not Don originally, he would just be some random dude.

Originally, Norman was going to encounter not-don-coworker dude and be confronted by him. And end up shooting him. With the “flood the facility”-plan came my realization I’d have to scratch that encounter, which I was happy to do, because Don doesn’t deserve to get killed in an au and because action is impossible anyway :’D

Oh yeah Norman was originally gonna steal a gun and be a little more. uhm. wild. But then I figured if Norman had a gun, the guards must have guns and guns are kinda useless underwater so I scrapped that.

Gilda was originally not in the au at all, but when I changed it so that Norman could physically not enter the tank room, but then had him use two id cards later, I needed a 2nd id card from someone. So Gilda came to enter. I also figured she’d maybe help Isabella, like the older girls do in the anime, and therefore has access to more things.

Oh yeah: Isabella was the head of the facility before I switched it to Krone. I think you can still sort of tell in some of Krone’s reactions because I didn’t change MUCH of the storyboard even after the switch. I changed it because of the Isabella/Ray thing and because I really liked the idea of her lullaby being a siren song.

Originally, the mermaids could only talk per very high frequency sounds, which basically meant they had a sort of telepathy thing going on. The language parts actually came in fairly late, it was more of a short idea, originally Norman was just going to try to learn their “language” but I kinda wanted to give her a name and then that was developed a bit more.

Emma has pretty quick healing! (Mers in general do) - therefore it’s kind of implied that the chest bandages are more an act of decency/respect/human moral, from some point forward. Technically, they wouldn’t care about that as soon as Norman doesn’t take care of her anymore, but I didn’t know how to portray that without limiting myself, artwise, so. I ignored that.

I thought a lot about what the facility’s goal actually is. I’m not actually sure what I ended up hinting/going with throughout the story because my brain is a mess, but there were times where I was thinking of going fully into the realms of human modification or using them in wars or similar - but I wanted the language aspect to be viable so I kind of wishy-washy’ied what purpose the research is actually for.

At some point Emma lashing out on page 53 was much more extreme: She’d try to drown Norman (mirroring the one time she pulled him in playfully), but I couldn’t really find a way to make that believable after how much they’d bonded at that point. Norman would either use a recording of the lullaby (upsetting her more) or try to stab her - he’d then try to make the guards not harm her, since they’d actually come in to immobilize her.

But basically her saving him later during the escape was supposed to be the narrative “comeback” / mirror continuation of that! It still works with the book I feel, personally, but there’s just a lot of mess and missed potential in general hhh-

.

What happens now?

Originally, Norman was going to be actually shown alive/experimented on, and their separation would be outside (but that made little sense so I scrapped it), and Norman was going to obtain some mer characteristics.

Basically he’d have scales, could hear the mers’ frequency (and talk it after a while, even though Emma just uses human speech sometimes to help him) and could breath underwater, but have no actual fin.

About the high frequency: Norman starts to be able to hear it after he transforms, but at first it's just a mixture of random signals he can't quite make out but as he starts to get it more, I would have switched it to "normal" speech bubbles (first with random words, jumbled around) which I think makes sense visually? And I’m somewhat sad I didn’t get to do this.

For those of you who've seen my trio week mermaid art, that’s actually part of that plotline :)

(original post)

Norman can’t deal with the high frequencies at first and transforming in general hurts, his skin is melting and falling apart before it regenerates with more mer characteristics. Emma and later Ray do their best to comfort him! ^^

I scrapped that bc it would have been too long, and I didn’t know where to go with it ultimately. Plus, as the facility developed further, I didn’t think I could write a believable way for Emma and Ray to break him out of there. Though now that Gilda and Don got more sympathetic and bigger roles, they’d probably solve that problem if I tried.

I won’t create this because I don’t have the energy to, but have a barebones plot outline: 1. Norman is a half-mer now 2. Don and Gilda find out somehow 3. 4. Profit, I mean Freedom!

Other fun concepts: 5. Norman goes to the shore to burn the fish they give him bc he will nOT EAT RAW FISH (Ray is fascinatedTM)

6. Emma is like "now we're like the book!" at some point! I found this really cute and wanted to do it at the time, but I’ve grown away a bit from this brand of shipping them. But have the notes I did for the interaction!

Emma: [now we're like the book!] Norman: /// ... Norman :) Norman: *gradles her hair* Norman: Yeah.

“Norman…” “Yeah?” “In book, thing human and mer mouths…” Norman: /// “Why?” Emma: *tilts her head* “Can Noamon and Emma?” Norman: uhm… [Only for… love] <- high frequency convo, it’s less embarrassing than saying it out loud Emma: …? Norman: Uhmm…. Procreation? <- an attempt to have Ray not hear it if he’s near Emma: blink blink Norman: ///// Emma: Noa gwud? Norman: You can it’s just— *peck* Norman: blinks, then chuckles

Ray, coming in: [Are you feeding Halfmer???] Emma: [It’s a hooman thing!! It’s very weird] Norman: soul has officially left his body Arrow pointing at Ray: actually very curious about human culture but won’t admit it

.

Merlab 2.0

If I did this comic now, I would update a bit of the mer lore. I would make it a research facility, which experimented on mystical creatures / “demons” and their shifting capabilities and applied them to humans, or something like that, and mers basically being a byproduct of that.

I would make Peter the head of the facility instead of Krone and Isabella a former test subject that got killed when Ray and Emma escaped. That way most of her stuff would stay somewhat intact. Emma would also have a reason to try and go back there more to investigate and potentially save everyone else or something like that, and Ray is more cynical and just wants to keep her safe. I would probably also try to utilize more aggressive/active Emma better in the beginning before they bond more. I’d also try to stay more grounded than I did and tone down the romantic hints a bit more, and try to integrate Ray more / show what he tries to do.

.

well I hope some of this was insightful / fun to read! ^^/

[huebris808]

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry. 

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years. 

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!” 

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why? 

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place… 

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr… 

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…” 

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

..

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

[teukyo]

One Warm Spring  — Hamada Asahi

pairing: hamada asahi x reader (gender neutral)

genre: fluff, very cheesy lol

word count: 3.2k

a/n: this had no business being so long i apologize D: i tend to overwrite whoops.. oh this is also my first fic so i hope you enjoy ! i’m still a bit rusty lol

Spring; after long nights of endless slumber, the Sun creeps up to the earth, its rays planting warm yet gentle kisses. The orb’s cheeks fill up in heat, flowers of endearment blooming, butterflies catching in the atmosphere’s stomach.

The Earth smiling back, showing a bright welcoming smile, and with open arms, tells the sun “good morning”. 

The quiet exchange of sweet nothings transferred to the buoyant citizens, as everyone would jump in joy about the newly welcomed season.

And during this time of the year, peoples hopes grew along with the blooming cherry blossoms until, they too, find a loved one

With late march rolling in, comes the blossoms fully bloomed, the arms in everyone’s hearts opening to everyone.

Yet, you often found it a mistake to open up your heart in a time full of tender love like now.

Empty confessions mimicked to be heartfelt at the spur of the moment, fleeing away just as quick as the cherry blossoms came and went. You just never understood it.

Snap!

“Y/N~~ the cherry blossoms are coming soon,” your friend, Jihoon sang into your ear, “And you’re out dozing off into dreamland, are you perhaps thinking about participating in the blossoming of love this year?”

You lightly shoved him away, giving him a glare. Jihoon was always jumping around during this time of the season because he never failed to have a crowd lining up to confess him; his ego flying as high as the newly born butterflies.

“Haha, very funny.” You deadpanned, leaving him behind to go to the cafeteria. 

“Hey, you get the drinks and i’ll get the food!” Jihoon shouted, you simply responding with an ‘okay’ symbol with your hand.

Because this was a routine everyday, you had your exact footsteps to the vending machine engraved in your head.

‘11:43—by now everyone should have already gotten their drinks’

‘1, 2, 3, 4.. don’t trip over the crack.. 5, 6, 7—’ beep!

That beep.. wasn’t part of your procedure.

You looked up, your eyes landing on an unfamiliar figure in front of your destination.

Focusing your vision on him, he was made out to be a raven haired boy, his posture slightly hunched over focusing on the number combination assigned to each drink.

His dainty fingers lightly pressing the right combo, pressing each digit carefully like his joints were made of glass

Shoving the crumpled up $5 bill into the slot, his eyebrows furrowing when the machine rejected it

5-5-6-2— banana milk?

You hadn’t realized you’ve been staring at him the entire time until he started walking away, a banana milk in his hand, accidentally brushing past you.

“Ah, sorry” he simply muttered under his breath before continuing on his path. His voice, a deep contrast to the season; hearing his hushed voice chilling you like a midwinter night. His entire presence stood out, almost like a wilted flower amongst the blossoming ones. Yet here you are, warm as ever, feeling the sun pressing warm gentle kisses on the place his fingertips brushed yours.

—

“Y/N? banana milk? you seem to be switching it up today” Jihoon said when you set your drinks down on the table.

“Ah.. i just — maybe i needed a change for the season” you simply responded because, you too, didn’t know why you had a banana milk in front of you instead of your usual chocolate milk.

Throwing your half empty banana milk carton to the trash after lunch, you heard a voice peer behind you.

“Oh! you drink banana milk too! it’s my favorite!” a student you knew the name by Jaehyuk vocalized. You snuck a peek back at the banana milk slowly spilling out of the tiny straw, smiling back at Jaehyuk looking at you with hopeful eyes.

“Ah�� this is actually my first time trying it! And it’s.. good!” you returned, attention on Jaehyuk until you see a much smaller figure peer behind him, a chocolate milk in hand.

“Of course it’s good! don’t buy too much of it though— don’t need it going out of stock on me! cmon Asahi”

Asahi. Asahi is his name.

You took one last quick glance at him, watching him throw the empty chocolate milk carton in the bin.

“Yeah.. The banana milk was too sweet for me anyway.”

—

Squatting down to touch the freshly grown flowers outside the school yard, you had recalled the times of your youth as a child running so eagerly to the same flowers in your hand right now.

Gazing at the pretty pink petals in awe as you wiping the morning dew slightly so it can slide off the petals, dripping to the ground.

Running back into your home, crying for a bandaid because you accidentally poked your hand with one of the thorns on accident.

Such simple yet vivid times you remember that made you cherish life a little more.

“Y/N? what are you doing here— our last class is gonna start soon” you heard your classmate Hyunsuk call. you spotting an ever so familiar figure behind him.

Small yet vivid moments.. how does this remind you of—

“Y/N what are you doing cmon!”

—

After school, you sneakily slid into the art classroom after realizing you left your phone in there. Checking the clock, you had 15 minutes before art club would commence, assuming you had 5 minutes to find your phone before members of the club would start arriving.

You observed the colorful classroom with the array of paintings laying on the drying rack, the paint brushes laying on the counter to dry, the sink covered in copious amounts of colors with its original silver color peeking through. The room gave off the feel of an elementary school art classroom. You guess the term “art is timeless” applies to the setting art is made in too.

“Ah there it is!” you whispered to yourself, snatching it off of the teacher’s desk. The sound of the door sliding open shocked you, ducking down under the table out of instinct.

‘Crap—how do i get out of here’ you thought before hearing a tiny tap on the desk.

And during this time of the year, peoples hopes grew along with the blooming cherry blossoms until, they too, find a loved one

“Uhm.. are you okay?” you looked up, seeing him.

With late march rolling in, comes the blossoms fully bloomed, the arms in everyone’s hearts opening to everyone.

“Oh sorry! I just- I forgot my phone during class so I just came in here to grab it..” you trailed off, quickly getting out of your ducked position and brushing the dust off of you.

You just never understood it.

“I should get going since art club is starting soon” you mustered. Before you could open the door you heard him speak.

“Are you looking to join the art club by any chance?” he said. You looked back at him, unable to scramble words together.

‘Just say yes, say yes, say yes, say yes say-‘

—

You handed out the application form to the leader of the art club, Yoshinori was it?

“Thank you thank you! You can join us for today to see the gist of what goes on” he said while giving you a smile that can easily flutter the hearts of others.

You looked at the room around you seeing Asahi and Jaehyuk, and a freshman that went by Haruto.

To be honest, why did you apply? Your experiences in art were little to none and your current piece you were working on in class was a “dog”— at least that’s what you called it.

“There should be one more person arriving and then we can start” Yoshinori said whilst you and him took a seat.

You stared at Asahi across from you who was absent mindedly looking down at the table, fiddling with his fingers.

‘Cute’ you thought before getting interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“oh! Y/N what brings you here?” you looked behind you to see Jihoon at the entrance, giving Yoshinori a polite smile.

“I think i should be asking what are YOU doing here,” you retorted, knowing very well that both you and him had the same level of art skill, “and I just joined because i’ve been interested in art.”

“Sure—“ Jihoon scoffed, “Asahi told me about this today so i decided to join—“

‘Asahi. How does he know Jihoon?’

“And you’re not even listening to me!” he exclaimed, ruffling your hair roughly, you lightly punching him in the gut in return.

After the commotion died down, everyone went in session, drawing on a piece of paper whatever went into mind. It definitely meditated your mind but it wasn’t appealing— visually.

The room was filled with small chatter, Jihoon’s voice overbearing everyone else’s.

“Your doodles are very cute” you heard him softly speak. You looked up at his paper, your eyes widening at the sheer talent that bestowed upon your eyes.

“You’re a funny jokester” you simply replied, looking at your own paper with a tight lipped smile. You heard him stifle a laugh, warmth flooding throughout your veins.

“It’s amusing to look at— i like the dog” he said, pointing at one of the drawings.

“It’s supposed to be a zebra >:(“ you looked up at him, trying to contain his laughter before calming himself down and continuing to draw on his paper.

“Well it’s fine because art club isn’t necessarily based on skill. i mean, if we have Jaehyuk in here then that says something” he responded pointing at Jaehyuk’s paper. You couldn’t quite comprehend what he was drawing— a person playing baseball??

“It’s a frog by the way”

“HUH?!”

—

You hadn’t realized how late art club ended, but when you walked out of school, you saw the once blue sky turned into an orange hue indicating the late time.

“We hope to see you again Y/N” Yoshinori said. You nodded and hummed in response before taking your leave with Jihoon.

You took one last glimpse of Asahi, sticking out amongst the orange sky. The sun was setting yet— looking at him gave you the exact warmth you would feel on a midsummer day. You watched his mouth slowly bloom into a smile when made eye contact. You think in your mind that spring has never felt so warm.

—

You looked up at the trees in the process of blooming, white buds formulating on the branches.

“The trees are gonna be really pretty in about two weeks or so” you heard a voice from behind you. Him. You clenched the chocolate milk in your hand before turning towards him.

“Yeah— oh sorry i’m blocking the vending machine” you murmured, sliding away.

“Oh no no,, it’s fine,” he said before taking your spot and getting the same drink in your hand, “Are you by any chance— planning to confess to anybody?”

Oh, right. You looked up at the blossoming trees once again. The time of the season you once never understood. The time of the season you once could say you despised. Yet here you are, having the rush of spring flowing down your veins. Is this the adrenaline that everyone feels? The unknown feeling gave you goosebumps throughout your body as he asked you that question.

“I don’t quite know yet,” you simply responded, looking back at him taking the drink out of the machine, “What about you?”

A sheepish smile wiped on his face, his dimple showing ever so slightly. He shrugged before looking at you.

“Only my heart knows the answer to that question.”

—

Over the so little time you’ve known Asahi, you’ve picked up on his mannerisms and his actions.

For one, he was more on the reserved side, and even when he talked his voice would always be on the softer side. You unknowingly started to associate him with winter because he gave off the cold feeling of a winter night. It was also your favorite season.

Most people knew him because he was friends with Jaehyuk, one who was very popular amongst the school. You had heard a couple times in the hallway about how handsome Asahi was. The feeling you felt when hearing that was unknown to you.

He enjoyed drawing a lot; him and Yoshinori were the best out of the club (though you’d be a bit biased if asked whose art you liked more), and he was always focused on his work, always scrunching in a little corner tending to his painting. But yet he always complimented your drawings no matter how bad they were, never failing to give you a warm feeling right after.

You could say you had developed an endearment towards asahi.

You stepped out your home, looking at the once bare trees flutter into pink hues, you thought the cherry blossoms were beautiful.

Today you decided not to walk out with Jihoon because well— confession season is always different with that boy. You had no intentions to get caught up in his relations.

You took timid and slow steps towards school. Taking your time looking at the petals and happy groups walking and aweing at the blossoms. Your mind was also off somewhere— of course it was, it always was.

Arriving at school, you saw Jihoon getting flooded by countless individuals, a letter in most of their hands. You could say the same to Jaehyuk on the other side who was also getting bomboarded. You took your routined steps to your locker, opening it as per usual except— it wasn’t usual.

You watched the letter flutter out, swaying to the floor imitating a loose flower petal. Picking it up with a shaked up expression, you carefully opened it up.

You saw the scribbled up lines at the top of the letter, indicating that the said person was trying to make a poem.

‘ah— who am i kidding? i’m not one with words. i never was. yet here i am trying to pour my feelings out on this letter. but i cant seem to combine the right words to express it. maybe because my feelings could not be described in the first place. maybe my feelings are best not worded out on this crumpled up piece of notebook paper. because if i’m being honest— this is my 27th time writing this and yet i still cant get it down. just.. meet me at class 104B? 4:15 pm after school today? please? -♡

Your grip on the paper tightened, the heart fluttering confession bringing a small smile to your face. You looked back at your locker seeing chocolate milk in sitting atop. You grasped it in your hand, taking it out before closing the locker and heading to class, your hands gripping tightly onto the objects. Unknown to you a figure watching your every move with focused eyes.

As time went by in school awfully slowly, your mind went off to one person only. You had foolishly deluded yourself into thinking that the letter and milk was from him. well— he did see you buy chocolate milk that one time. And well,, the handwriting did have a print of him.

‘Enough thoughts. just wait until school ends and your mind can finally-‘ ring!

You looked up at the clock in shock, realizing that it was, in fact, 4:00pm.

You purposefully gathered up your belongings slowly, trying to pass as much time as possible. Putting your care into every single step taken, from the 1st floor to the second.

Taking a deep breath, you slid open the empty classroom door. It was very convenient that it was just across the art classroom as the club did have a meeting today.

You traveled across the room to look out the window, seeing someone announce their feelings to another under the cherry blossoms. Just last spring you would stick your tongue out in disgust yet here you are somewhat in the same position, your heart aching as each second ticks by.

You watched them hug each other, their feelings being reciprocated, a petal getting caught in ones hair. You looked at the trees and how it really set the mood, almost getting lost in the alluring sight until you heard someone clear their breath.

You turned around deliberately, looking down at your shoes before looking up.

Yet, you often found it as a mistake to open up your heart in a time full of tender love like now. well— maybe not.

It’s him. The person right in front of your eyes is him.

You felt like the sun had just rose, your heart beating out of your chest almost like it was about to burst and run away. You felt the butterflies prance around in your stomach, feeling like you could cough one up right now. Does he feel the same right now?

“Ah,,, hello” he mustered shyly. You clenched the letter in your hand.

“Did you perhaps—“ though it was quite obvious, the slight nod from him gave you your answer.

You observed him, his hair slightly covering his eyes. Lightly kicking at his feet, you had figured he couldn’t compromise the right words.

“I have something for you” he spoke out after what seemed like a few minutes. He reached his hand out, silently telling you to take the initiative to grab it. You placed your hand in his, feeling like your hand was molded perfectly just to cusp his. His grip so gentle you could barely feel him grasp your hand.

Leading you to the art classroom across, your eyes spotting on the covered canvas on an easel. Using his other hand, he took off the cloth, your eyes widening in awe.

Your mouth laid agape as you looked at the drawing of a portrait of you with cherry blossoms in the background. Your heart stammering in your chest.

“Is this what you’ve been working on the entire time in art club?” you asked, eyes still on the painting. He hummed and nodded his head.

“Do you like it? Or is it a bit too—“

“No no! I like it a lot— Actually I love it. I love it so much” you cut him off, looking at him with excitement evident in your eyes. Words couldn’t describe the feeling flowing through you. Is this real?

“Well, I like you a lot too. I was trying to find a way to tell you, so I used my strong suit which is art” he proceeded to tell you, taking your other hand in his. He smiled tenderly at you, his signature dimple showing once more.

“Asahi— I like you too” you beamed, staring straight into his eyes. His smile widened more, his teeth showing. You took this as the initiative to hug him, arms wrapping around his neck, his wrapping around your waist.

You felt the sun shine on you, the warmth of spring immersing through you, your heart feeling more than alive as ever. The cherry blossoms you once thought as a mistake becoming the blessing in disguise for you. You think in the time of the moment that Spring has never felt so warm for you.

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

original post/idea came from @memes-saved-me

and thank you for encouraging me to write it! i had lots of fun <3

———

Steve Harrington’s parents weren’t around often. People knew that, they were aware. Now, they weren’t home much, yes, but they weren’t not home enough for it to be a worrying case of neglect. They still called in, had the neighbor keep tabs, and came home at least three times a month.

When you asked Steve about his family he’d simply shrug his shoulders and tell you that his father had a firm in the city. When someone asked Mr. and Mrs. Harrington about their son they’d wave a hand and mention how ‘he’s just on his way to graduating’ and then change the subject. Was Steve Harrington the perfect son? Maybe not. Were the senior Harrington’s good parents to begin with? Debatable. But they had something close to functional. They digress.

And so, as children who didn’t have prominent leaders in their life usually turn out, Steve was a lost cause when it came to actually living on his own. He had the money for food and his parents kept up with the bills. But he was horrendous when it came to actually keeping the house up to shape.

Until he had to figure it out to save his own ass.

The first instance was messy.

His first party had been wild. Junior year. Half his grade and then some had shown up. He’d gone all out. The long, fancy dining table had been loaded with foods all fatty and desirable. Kegs had been placed outside for peoples free flow. The expensive stereo which had been installed that spring blasted music from a collection of mixtapes. And by the end of the night, the party had been raging. Raging as in fights broke out, people got reckless, everyone started getting destructive.

That was when Steve regretted not having a plan, he was too sober to just let it go and deal with it in the morning. He knew that wasn’t a good idea. Multiple things happened all at once. Someone dragged a keg in from the backyard, too drunk to find the strength to carry it. And apparently too deaf to hear it scratch up the maple wood floorboards. Then, two seniors bashed their heads into the wall. Successfully denting two very noticeable holes in the drywall. But, oh, that wasn’t all the destruction. Some junior (Steve vaguely registered his name as Jake) was thrown into the wall, actively also breaking a shelf there too.

He had turned off the music and then clanged pots together to get them all out. It worked. A little surprisingly.

And then he’d been left with a damaged house to deal with.

He picked up all the litter both indoors and outdoors, put the little leftover food into the fridge, vacuumed, and then went to bed in exhaustion.

===

The next day he’d then been overwhelmed with many worries over the destruction caused to his home. He was just thankful it had been Saturday. He had the weekend to figure this shit out. He went around the house and made a list of everything that needed repair.

1.) The floor

2.) The holes in the walls

3.) That shelf (REPLACEMENT)

4.) The table

Oh yes, the table. His family’s long, fancy table had an abundant number of scratches engraved into it. Something no amount of waxing could fix.

His first thought was to look for all the tools his prestigious father had to offer. So, he looked everywhere. The basement, the attic, the closets, the offices, the shed. And he did find some. A hammer, two screwdrivers with different points, a tape measure, a wrench, a measuring level, and exactly 28 screws. But even that wasn’t enough and he knew. Next stop was the local hardware store.

Mr. Jimmy was the local handyman and he was nice enough to everyone. But not so much to the Harrington’s.

“What’re you doing here, boy? You know, son,” Jimmy’s neglected beard rustled when he spoke and his shop smelled of anchovies and cheese doodles. “I used to know yer Mama. Back in the day. She was a purdy thing, that woman.” He sighed something fond, “I miss that there woman. She’s not the same. Barely see her nowadays.” Steve was used to Mr. Jimmy’s delays, wasn’t subsided too much.

“Hey, Mr. Jimmy,” he stepped through the threshold of the old shop. “I’m looking for some tools today. Think you could help me?”

Mr. Jimmy regarded him with squinted eyes, “You using yer Daddy’s money?”

Steve blinked, “Yeah?” Mr. Jimmy folded his arms impassively. He had obvious tan lines that peaked out through his sleeveless shirt. Skin red over age.

“I don’t want no money from that bastard’s account!”

“But—“

“I’ll have none of it,” the bulky man stepped forward and Steve’s back hit the cold glass door.

“But, Mr. Jimmy, you’d be taking from him. Wouldn’t that be better than just letting him keep all that money for himself?” Steve reasoned. Adding the suggestive and innocent lilt to his tone, worked his bystander charm.

The scornful eyes grew with joy, “Why—“ he laughed suddenly, loud and invasive just as he was. “You’re a rotten little junior, aren’t yeh!” he galloped over to his counter with the same joyous lilt. Steve stood still in case the man swerved into another decision. He watched as Mr. Jimmy himself walked around his shelves, searching. “What kinda stuff you lookin for anyways?”

Steve struggled to find his voice, “Er- Uhm- Hah. W—Well I have to replace some wood flooring, fix a scratched table, replace a shelf, and patch up some holes in the wall?” He received a raised eyebrow before the man started hurriedly piling supplies throughout the shop into the counter by the cash register. Steve didn’t even want to think about how much it would cost. Although, if he thought about it, replacing everything and then paying someone else to do it all was probably more of a hole. Sure, the emergency cash that had added up over time would be gone, but at least he wouldn’t be disowned for the ruined furniture.

“That’ll be $78.75,” Mr. Jimmy pressed some buttons and Steve startled a little when the loud clang of it opening echoed. He pulled out his wallet anyway and dug around for the cash. He handed over four twenties only a smidge reluctantly.

Mr. Jimmy was giddy at least, “This here money will do me some good,” he nodded to himself as he stored the greens away and started packing the supplies in tightly within big paper bags.

“I’m sure my father will miss it,” Steve fibbed, “Keep the change.” And carried the three hefty loads up and out the door.

===

He had Queen playing the speakers and a crow bar in hand. What he was supposed to do now that he supposedly had all of the materials was a toss up to him. But he had to try.

He got down on all fours and began prying between the first ruined board and one of the unscarred ones. It lifted with a creak and he watched it carefully as he moved the bar up and down repeatedly. At one point it didn’t peel off any more and so he went side to side with it. Still nothing. He tried to push forward but there was too much resistance.

“What the hell? Come on you pathetic piece of wood!” he muttered exasperatedly. He pulled back a little and then slammed the bar back under the board. There was a sharp snapping sound that made him freeze. But the board was unstuck. And, oh would you look at that. He was unceremoniously proud. The floor board popped off. He saw that there was some dried up white lines underneath. He decided that it looked like that stuff in the bottle labeled ‘liquid nail’ and placed the board to the side.

He spent the rest of the late morning tearing up floorboards. By the time a late lunch break was approaching, he had accomplished removing all the damaged floor. He went into the kitchen to wash his hands quick before calling for a pizza when he realized the water accumulation in the sink. And it wouldn’t go down.

“Okay!” he cried in frustration, “What the actual hell now?” He got down again and opened the cupboard doors to the pipes coming down from the sink. There were steel pipes that started from the sink and curved around down into the bottom of the cabinet. There were rings that Steve assumed connected them. So to see what was backing up the sink he’d have to unscrew a couple. Right? He got up and dusted his pants off (a lost cause by this point) and went over to the pile of tools by the front door.

He grabbed a wrench, or at least what looked like one the plumber had used when he’d visited once or twice when Steve was a kid. It took him a minute but he finally loosened the mouth of it and fitted the groves over the ring of the pipe. He twisted and some water started dropping down. It started making a puddle so he hurried and grabbed a pot, placing it right underneath. He twisted again and again and again.

He sputtered as some sprayed into his face, “Awe hell! Disgusting!” but he kept twisting anyway.

Eventually it came off. But the water was quickly overflowing. Not to mention rancid. He yelped in shock and ran all around the kitchen trying to find more bowls. He found one, a china bowl that was his mother’s great aunt’s. He yelled out as he saw the grey water streaming down onto the kitchen floor at that point. He ran back and held the fancy ceramic serving bowl up to the open pipe. He sighed in relief as it worked and when it stopped, finally, just barely brimming the bowl, he saw tons of little pieces of orange.

“Who the hell put orange peels in my sink?” he muttered as he carefully waddled out to the back yard. It was cold out and he didn’t have shoes nor socks on. He jogged on his toes all the way back to the tree line and tossed the gross contents into the bushes there. He ran back shivering with a tight hold onto the rim of the china bowl. When inside he set it on the counter and fluttered about gathering towels. He mopped up the rest of the water mess and went to turn on the sink to check his work.

“Wait!” he jumped down in panic just as he turned the water on and off in the same second. The water inevitably dripped down through the open pipe but it was only a little. He leaned his head tiredly against the open cupboard door, face sweaty and hairline damp. He took the wrench and attached the rings back on snugly. Then, he turned the water on with a quick flick at the knob. He laughed happily as nothing leaked and the water trickled down without blockage. He leaned back against the counter and panted as the slight adrenaline rush flowed away.

===

Some time later he figured that he should probably work on the holes in the wall. He had some sort of paper roll made of one thick strip and a big bucket of smooth and pale mud textured stuff. He took the wide spatula thing that Mr. Jimmy had instructed of him to use and stared at the two dents in the white accent wall.

“Ummm,” Steve looked from his full hands, roll of paper stuff around his wrist and mud bucket in one and the spatula in the other. “Well what the hell do I do now?” he asked himself. He could really use Mr. Jimmy’s insight right now. Or Tommy. Tommy knew this stuff his uncle was one of the local handymen. But Tommy had also been the one to drag the keg in so maybe not him. He stepped up to the biggest of the damages and pulled off a piece of the thick paper. He held it up to the wall and blocked off the hole.

“Oh!” he realized excitedly, “I see,” Steve nodded to himself proudly and crouched to set the bucket on the floor. He stuck the spatula in and took some up with it. “Like paste,” he mumbled to himself and started smoothing the mud stuff on one side of the tape strip he’d measured out. He grinned and stuck it to the wall over the hole so that the top and bottom connected to the uncracked wall. He did that same thing until the whole hole was patched up. He looked at the pale ‘paste’ and looked back at the wall thoughtfully.

He started, then, to slather more joint compound (he’d finally read the bucket) on top of the tape (he had also then remembered the rushed instructions Mr. Jimmy had thrown out). He smoothed it out tediously and left it be to repeat on the other hole. When he’d finished with that task he found his arms and pants speckled with clumps of dried and crumbly spackle. Steve didn’t think it would be this messy. He picked it off his arms as he walked back to the upturned floor. He winced as the dried beads pulled at his arm hair.

Now, to get the new flooring in, Steve grabbed the hammer and the cylinder with the glue stuff. He really had no clue what it was supposed to be. But he did have an idea of what he had to do. So, he laid out all the new flooring, which he was happy to note was just about a perfect match to the old floor, and started patching the right lengths in place. When he had the puzzle figured out he stared at the tube thoughtfully. He scratched at the tip to see if it would give and when it didn’t he went to the kitchen for scissors.

He snipped off the cap and held it upright as he ran back to his station. Steve turned over one of the boards and pushed in the bottom to get the contents out. Which proved more difficult than he’d hoped. A spurt squirted out but then it stopped.

“Okay,” he sighed defeatedly, “What the fuck?” he set it down and went back to his pile of hardware supplies. There was an odd contraption that did have a base with the same diameter of the cylinder canister. He shrugged a grabbed it, “Worth a try.” He fitted it in and adjusted it so it looked somewhat how he assumed it should. He set the point on the board plank and pulled the trigger a few slow times until the glue came out. He laughed a loud ‘AH-HA’ and swirled it around. He flipped it over after setting down the canister and contraption and fitted and locked it in as best he could with the hammer. Sure, there was about two dents because he hit it a little bit too hard. But it was in and he only had five more boards to fit in. He felt happy enough.

Throughout the rest of the installment he had managed to not get the ‘liquid nail’ on his hands and there weren’t any too obvious dents in the floor, nor anymore scratches. He went back to his list to cross things out and check his progress.

1.) The floor

2.) The holes in the walls

3.) That shelf (REPLACEMENT)

4.) The table

He knew he had to use that block thing to sand down the dried compound. and then he had to repaint the wall white. But that would be simple. The shelf though, that was something else. He had seven wood planks that Mr. Jimmy had cut down for him already. He just had to screw them together and sand them down. Mr. Jimmy had said something about stain or wax but Steve waved it off, the only thing that went on the old shelf was little boxes that held his great great great grandmother’s spoon collection (something he had stored away before his party).

He went outside to the patio with the small hand drill, the 3x4’s, and the thin screws that he’d bought from the store. He sat criss-cross on the concrete and set up the little shelf. It took fifty six minutes and a couple minor slivers and scrapes, but he had the shelf put together with the screws just barely noticeable. He inspected the wood and decided that it was fine as it was. A close enough replica. He went back inside with it, not bothering to sand all the little nooks, and placed it against the wall experimentally. If he put it down a little the holes from before would be concealed just fine.

He drew two little lines with a pencil down the line where the original screws had been. He knew he needed a post to screw into, that the drywall wouldn’t hold. See? He was learning. He lined up the backing plank and placed the level on top, shifting the shelf just so the bubble was in the middle of the lines. He then drilled a screw through it and into the wall. Before he let it go he drilled in the second with some struggle since the he kept loosing balance. But eventually, it was in the wall. His arms were sore and he felt a headache coming on but he had the new shelf up and if his mother was kind enough to not go inspecting it, it would pass just fine. He laughed victoriously and skipped a little around joyously. He was almost done.

“Just a few more things, just a couple,” he consoled his aching limbs. Drills were hefty little things and reminded him of those wild horses in movies that always tried to buck the cowboys off. He groaned a little as he spotted the mess of a table on his way to grab a snack.

He turned his nose to the visual reminder, “I’ll be back to deal with you,” he grumbled. “I need a damn Jell-O cup.”

===

It was actually the next day that he finally got to it. His parents would be back home Monday and he still had a few things left to do. So much for an easygoing weekend. Tommy had called that morning and asked him to go with him to a neighborhood baseball scrimmage, but he’d said he was busy and hung up. He had been mid-sanding down the dining table. And after three hours of perfecting and perfecting it all again. After so much time getting sore and sweaty and coughing from dust. The table was finally flat and there was no more sign of scratches. He got the cloth that Mr. Jimmy had thrown at his face the day before and opened the strong chemically smelling can. He gagged but dipped it in and started applying the wood stain carefully, following the lines of the wood on pure instinct. It made sense too even if he wasn’t totally sure if it was actually right. But, either way, within that hour he had the table back to its original color and left it to dry completely.

He stared at the bumpy wall of compound. He knew this would be bad. If the wood dust was bad, this mud stuff was going to be worse. He wasn’t that naive.

And he was right. By the time it was smooth he was coughing and in dire need of a glass of water. He was never having a damn party at his own house again. Tammy and Sara could continue to host them, people didn’t react well to the spaciousness in the Harrington house apparently. In a rush and loss of interest in his work, Steve quickly painted over the patches with white and left it to dry. He got the can of wax and rubbed it on around the table in his final task.

He was tired as hell and he still had to go to school tomorrow. And he really needed to speak with the person who put orange peels down the damn sink.

===

On Monday morning, at approximately 5:48 AM, Steve Harrington sat in the living room watching I Love Lucy while eating toast as his parents bustled inside.

“Hello!” he heard his mother chirp tiredly as she entered through the foyer. She hurried over and he gave her as welcoming of an embrace as he could. “How are you, dear? Foods in good supply?” she pulled away to inspect him with her hazel eyes, “Heating system still working alright?”

Steve nodded and smiled, “Everything’s just fine. But I have to go and meet Tommy before school, that alright?” he stepped to the side and towards the stairs.

“Of cour—“ his mother was cut off by the monotone cords of his father.

“Stephano, what is up with this mess!” In that moment, Steve Harrington didn’t think he’d ever felt as much fear as he had in that moment. He bolted to the kitchen.

“What mess?”

His father pointed to the wrench, screw driver, and tape measure on the island counter, “Away with this mess, Steve. Clutter is nothing to approve of. It accumulates and it’s unprofessional.” If he only knew.

===

Years later, when he was in everlasting love with Billy Hargrove and they had their shared, small and cozy Chicago apartment, his handyman skills came back to great use.

“Steve! Steve!” Billy shouted in a panic.

Steve rushed from the bedroom to the kitchen, socks skidding on the floors, “What is it? What happened?” he flocked around his boyfriend and checked for any injuries.

Billy pointed rigidly to the sink, “Somethings up with the pipes or something.”

Steve rose his brows in bewilderment, “You don’t know how to unclog pipes?”

Billy furrowed his, “You do?” Steve nodded and opened the cupboard, kneeling to check the pipes.

“Okay so there’s PVC pipes here, I don’t even need a wrench!” he peaked back up at Billy’s wide eyes. “Can you get me that bucket I usually give you when you get hungover?” Billy nodded and jogged out of the room. Steve got a hand towel and placed it down, “What did you put down the drain anyway?” Billy almost hit him in the face with the bucket when he turned back. He froze and took it from the nervous man.

“Uhm. Potato peels,” he answered.

Steve scoffed, “It’s always peels isn’t it?”

Billy stepped back when Steve started turning the rings, “What?”

“Nothin’.” He twisted it quick and managed to not get sprayed in the face while the murky water and loads of potato peel flowed out into the large bucket. When the flow stopped he reattached the pipes together and hefted the bucket out to Billy. “Put that down the toilet, Tiger.” He turned back and heard the sloshing in the bucket and the grunts from Billy as he went through the hallway. Steve chuckled to himself and wiped up the small water spillage.

When Billy returned he had opinions.

“First of all, that shit was gross as hell,” he left the bucket by the front door before returning into the kitchen. “Second of all,” he boxed Steve in with a smirk in his face, “I didn’t know you were so good at pluming.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Finish making the calzones, Bill, and maybe I’ll show you how to fix that hole in the wall behind Max’s photo hanging in the living room. It’s suspiciously shaped like that baseball I told you not to throw around.”

Billy fumbled for his words.

Steve shook his head, “Don’t think you can hide that shit from me, Tiger, I’m the one that dusts.”

===

The next time was when Max and Lucas visited.

“William, do not throw that!” Steve scolded as he held a pan with tomato sauce in it. Lucas dropped his hands that had been ready to try and catch the ball and Max turned a page of her book from where she was on the sofa boredly.

Billy grinned and threw the football anyway, of course. Steve sighed and then grew furious as the same football smashed instantly into the rickety bookshelf and the sad, old thing crumbled on impact. It fell over from Billy’s uncalculated, rebellious force and the shelves snapped apart from the sides. Books strewn out in a messy wave. Steve stomped over and only lowered his near growl of scolding when Billy showed himself already terrified. Max grinned and set her book in her lap to watch.

“What did I say?” Steve demanded while whacking Billy’s shoulder with the oven mitt. The other flapped his hands back to stop the assault.

“I’m sorry!” he yelped, “I’m sorry! We’ll just buy another one!” Steve glared and whacked his head, lighter than before, but still with vigor.

“We don’t have the money, William! We bought the last one at Goodwill for $14!” He bustled back to the kitchen and put the pan into the oven to cook the sauce the rest of the way. “I’ll just have to go down and ask Jeffery to use his wood scraps and nail gun. He’s always kind enough.”

Billy, who had followed him in, looked skeptical, “Jeffery Jeffery or creepy Jeffery?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Old man Jeffery. And Jeff isn’t creepy, he’s just anti-social.”

Billy went unswayed, “I want to go with you. Let’s go,” he went to the coat closet and Steve sighed, unsurprised.

Steve took his coat and boots from Billy and called to the kids, “Lucas, Max, the sauce will be done in a couple hours. If we’re not back by then just take it out and let it cool please!”

“Sorry, Steve!” he heard Lucas say sincerely.

“Got it, Boss!” Max answered with another flutter of a page in her book.

===

While Steve attached the air hose to the nail gun Billy watched with creases in his forehead.

“What are you ogling, Tiger?” Steve asked as he applied wood glue to a piece.

Billy stooped forward, “Can I help?” he was almost eager sounding.

Steve grinned, “I was hoping you’d ask.” He lifted his own hands from holding the planks together, “Hold that as I nail it together would ya?” Billy nodded a bit unsurely but placed his hands and pushed just as Steve had. Steve lined up the gun, pushed down, and pulled the trigger. Billy flinched at the loud noise and Steve set the gun down and stood up from his focused crouch.

“Are you alright,” he cupped Billy’s cheeks, thumbs gently smoothed the corner eye crinkles.

The other nodded and pecked Steve’s forehead before shrugging it off, “Was just surprised is all.” Steve nodded back and smiled kindly before returning as he was before and finished the line of nails.

Not too long later, the book shelf was put together and Steve handed Billy a piece of sand paper. He showed Billy how to use it and he got complaints in return due to the uncomfortable noise it made.

But they did return home with a lovely new bookshelf. And they’d made it together so it was all that extra bit of special.

Maybe Steve didn’t disapprove of that party all those years ago after all. Look what he got out of it?

The smile Billy got whenever he looked at that shelf filled with Steve’s mystery romance and his own horror thrillers, that fond and euphoric smile was enough for Steve Harrington in the long run.