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I made art of Hector from Date Everything!!!! I wanna draw more!!!

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🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇 ANTI DEPRESSION BAT ATTACK 🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇 🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

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If you’re LGBT reblog and tag with your opinion on beer.

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Twin tails ✨

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here's the story. i know expressvpn has been recommended in some 🏴‍☠️ how-to posts but it is not trustworthy. the parent company, kape technologies, not only used to distribute malate but has ties to multiple state surveillance agencies. and be careful where you look for info about good vpns, because kape technologies owns a bunch of "vpn review" sites too

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new pages of Chapter three of Into the Inkwell just arrived! Read on from where we left off, here!

as ever huge love and thanks to @lizzybeanbutt for being my quality control <3 Read all of this Doctor Who and Lux Imperator fancomic from the start, here!

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SAY NICE THINGS TO PPL

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after that they were vetoed from standing less than a 5meters radius from each other

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“Hazbin Hotel fans are gonna make the Homestuck fandom cringe!” Is perhaps the funniest sentence I have ever heard in my life

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Can we please get hector x sick reader please and thank you ........ 🙏🙏🙏

Date requested: 8/4/2025

Fandom; Date everything!

Type: one-shot

It started with a cough.

Just a dry little ahem here and there, nothing worth worrying about. But by the third day, it had turned into a chest-deep rasp that left you curled up on the couch under three blankets, staring blearily at the flickering TV.

You weren’t expecting company. Which is why you startled when you heard the low, warm voice from the vent above your head.

“… You don’t sound right.”

You tilted your head toward the sound. Hector’s half-lidded eyes peered through the grate, his hands gripping the metal edges as though he might pull it off and climb out—though you knew he wouldn’t. He never left his vents unless he had to.

“I’m fine,” you croaked, voice breaking. “Just a cold.”

He didn’t sound convinced.

“You’re flushed. Your breathing’s heavy.”

You laughed weakly, which only set off another fit of coughing. He flinched at the sound, as though each rasp was a blow to his own chest.

“… I’ll be right back.”

Before you could ask where he was going, the vent was empty. You expected him to vanish for hours like he sometimes did. Instead, ten minutes later, you heard a soft click from the attic door. Then the slow, careful sound of feet on stairs.

Your blanket cocoon rustled as you sat up, just in time to see him at the bottom step. Hector—actually here, in your living room. His hair was loose and messy, framing his warm brown eyes; his human arms stuck out awkwardly from his HVAC-like torso, carrying a small bundle.

He avoided your gaze at first.

“I, uh… brought tea. And… tissues. And… uh…”

You blinked at the mismatched pile in his arms: a tea mug (still steaming), a half-empty tissue box, and what looked suspiciously like one of his own vent filters.

“What’s… the filter for?” you rasped.

“… It’s clean. Fresh air. Helps you breathe.”

The honesty in his tone made you laugh, softer this time. You patted the couch beside you. “Come sit with me, Hec.”

He hesitated only a second before lowering himself down, the couch dipping under his weight. You felt the faint hum of warmth radiating from his metal frame, like sitting beside a living space heater. Without asking, he draped the blanket more snugly around your shoulders and set the mug into your hands.

The tea smelled faintly of mint and chamomile— probably stolen from your own kitchen. You sipped, letting the warmth seep down your throat.

“You didn’t tell me you were sick,” he murmured after a while, voice low.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

He gave you a look that was almost hurt.

“That’s… what I do. I worry about you.”

The words made your chest ache in a different way. You set the tea down and leaned against him, feeling the odd but comforting combination of warm skin and cool metal.

“You should be in bed,” he continued, shifting so you could rest against his shoulder. “Your heart rate’s too high, your hands are cold… You’re not going anywhere until you’re better.”

You closed your eyes. “Yes, Doctor Hector.”

A pause, then:

“I mean it.”

When you peeked up at him, his cheeks were faintly flushed. He reached up, brushing the back of his fingers across your forehead, lingering like he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away.

“I’ll stay here,” he said finally. “As long as you need me. Even if you fall asleep. Especially if you fall asleep.”

Your lips curved into a tired smile. “That sounds… nice.”

You didn’t remember drifting off, but you woke later to find the tea still warm, the blanket tucked more securely around you, and Hector’s arm curled protectively around your waist— his steady hum and soft heat lulling you back into sleep.

And for the first time in days, your dreams felt warm, too.

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2005

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Hi! Could you write some headcanons of Hector (Date Everything) with Hanahaki Disease? With fem reader! Of course it would be angst and maybe some fluff and comfort at the end because I like angst but not too much 'cause I end up crying :'^ thanks! 🌸

Date requested: 7/31/2025

Fandom: Date everything!

Type: headcannons

(Hanahaki Disease)Hector x Fem!Reader

💨 It starts slowly. Hector doesn’t even realize what’s happening at first. He thinks the strange tightness in his chest is just… overexertion. Or maybe stress. But it’s not.

💨 The first time he coughs up a petal, he panics. He retreats deep into the vents, where you can’t see him, hiding behind grates and ducts, ashamed.

💨 He knows what Hanahaki is. He’s read stories. He’s even cleaned the filters of others who’ve had it. He just…never imagined he’d be the one to get it.

💨 Of course it’s you. You, the one who spoke to him kindly from the very start. The one who complimented his eyes when he was too nervous to show his face.

💨 The one who said his writing was beautiful. That he was beautiful. But he thought…maybe you were just being nice. Just polite. You could never love a… thing like him. Just a voice behind a grate. A machine in love.

💨 Hector becomes quieter. When you call for him, it takes longer for him to respond. He says he’s fine just “tinkering with the air ducts” but his voice is weaker, like it hurts to speak.

💨 You notice petals floating out of the vents sometimes. Pale pink or soft orange. You think it’s some weird air freshener at first.

💨 Then one day, he doesn’t answer at all. You find him in the attic, hunched over, coughing into his hands. Flower petals litter the floor. He doesn’t hear you come in.

💨 When he finally looks up, his eyes are glassy with pain. His mouth is stained with blood and blossom. And he just says: “I’m sorry. I tried not to feel it. I didn’t mean to love you.”

💨 You rush to him, he flinches. He doesn’t want you to see. Doesn’t want your pity. Doesn’t want to make things weird between you.

💨 You cradle his face anyway, brushing petals from his lips with shaking fingers. “You idiot,” you whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because if you didn’t love me back, I’d still rather die with this in me than risk losing you.”

💨 Your heart breaks. You realize all the moments where you dismissed your own feelings, your longing, your nightly talks with the vent, your racing pulse when he’d call you beloved in a whisper, thinking he was joking. He wasn’t.

💨 You stay with him for hours, curled beside the vent casing that forms his upper body. You run your fingers through his curls and let him rest his cheek against your lap.

💨 When you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him, it’s not a miracle all at once. But the coughing stops. The petals stop falling.

💨 Hector weeps quietly “I thought I was meant to be alone.” “No,” you whisper. “You were just waiting for me.”

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If ANY of yall EVER do this shit to me, im deleting every single fic out of spite.

If I ever catch one of yall doing this to another author and I know youre a follower of my work I will block you personally on every platform

None of yall are the fic police. I DESPISE genai. I think its an insult to art, humanity, and the planet itself. But aint not a single fucking person here qualified to pick apart a strangers fic looking for a gotcha moment to make yourselves feel superior. If you think something is ai you can ask the author (most are proud of the ai use and will just tell you straight up) if they say yes you have your answer and can warn people. If they say no and you dont believe them you block and quietly keep it between you and maybe a close group of friends. Spreading misinformation is DANGEROUS. And NONE of you doing this shit are anywhere near qualified to do it.

THIS GOES DOUBLY FOR ARTISTS.