#it’s been over a year why do I still have this hyperfixation HELP

[dysfunctional-doodle]

apparently this blog is going to be the td takes of my tmnt hyperfixation—

Good. I’ve had this turn into a hyperfixation for over a year now and by god I need to take some people down with me

[seventh-district]

why have i suddenly been gripped with the desire to get back into fishkeeping

[sunshine-on-marz]

Lost and found

Spencer Reid x Reader

In which Spencer almost loses the love of his life, literally and figuratively

TW: angst with a happy ending, criminal minds level depiction of violence, mentions of death, it takes a little to get to the actual plot but trust me it’s worth it, (tell me if i missed any)

Word count: 3.3K

To know Spencer Reid was to be absolutely enthralled by him. You were both 16 when you met, granted you were 16 in your junior year of highschool and he was 16 working on his 2nd PHD, but you were both 16 nonetheless.

It had taken some convincing to get a place in his life, not because he didn’t like you or your company, more because he was waiting for your ulterior motive to show itself, or for your patience to wear thin. It never did.

You knew vaguely about his mother, mostly through a news article you found from a few years back, talking about the prodigy like he was more of circus attraction then a 12 year old. It had mentioned that he also took care of his sick mother, and with his hyperfixation on finding a cure to schizophrenia, you’d connected the dots.

But you still didn’t want to assume.

“Hey Spence, why’re you so set on finding a cure?” You ask, gesturing to the 8th book on schizophrenia you’d seen him read in the 3 months you’ve known him.

“My mother” he says, closing the book and placing it infront of him. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m curious about what goes on in the mind of Spencer Reid” you smile “though, I’m sure you could tell me exactly what’s happening up there, down to the chemicals”, he laughs at that

“I could give you an idea” he says, you hover your hands over the book, he nods, you open it to the last page.

“508 pages, how long would that take you to read?” You ask

“A little under 10 minutes, if I had to guess, I don’t know how many words are on each page” he says

“Well I’m not counting so I guess we’re gonna have to stick with an estimate” you joke, he smiles again.

You sit in silence for a minute, just looking at each other, and the book. There’s a light tension, unasked questions float between you.

“Can I be invasive?” You ask, Spencer nods

“You usually don’t ask first” he smiles

“You suck” you reach to hit his arm, you don’t. “I won’t hit you before asking about your sick mother, actually”

“I appreciate that” he laughs “but what do you want to know?”

“What’s her name?” You ask, he seems a little shocked.

“Diana.”

“And you take care of her?” You already know the answer, but he’d never said it explicitly.

“Yea” he nods, he looks at you like he knows what you’ll ask next

“Well, tell me if there’s ever anything I can do to help. Her or you, I can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to do alone, props to you spence” you smile, and if someone saw his face right now, they’d assume you asked him- well not many questions would dumbfound Spencer Reid but that’s not the point.

“You’re not gonna ask if I hate it? Or if I want to put her in a home?” He asks, sounding more confused than you’d ever seen him

“Do you want me to ask that?” You counter.

“No.. not really” he looks at his hands, which are rubbing together. A nervous habit of his you’d picked up on rather quickly.

“Well then I won’t ask it” you smile, so does he.

It’s a week later when he tells you why he’d been so shocked that day.

You were on his front porch, about to meet his mother for the first time. He said she’d been having a good day, and though you weren’t exactly sure what that entailed, he said it with enough excitement that you decided to just ask later.

“When you first asked about my mom, you asked what her name was” he says, you nod.

“Thats usually my starting point, yea” you laugh softly “why, was that the wrong thing to ask?”

“No- no no no. It was the perfect thing to ask! I just- you were the first person to ask what her name was before you asked about what’s wrong with her” he says, and he looks sad, so you offer a hand. You know he’ll say no, but you don’t miss how he smiles everytime you offer.

“Wanna tell me about her? I never know what I’m walking into meeting my friends parents, I would’ve brought her flowers but I didn’t know what kind she liked” you say, and his smile goes from soft to wide and bright.

He is ineffably beautiful.

“She likes lilies” he smiles “and she’s really nice, when she’s, yknow” you just nod. And then he holds out his hand, you take it. And that’s the first time you ever touched Spencer Reid.

You met his mother that night, it was uneventful, but it was nice.

That’s a lot of your friendship with Spencer. Uneventful, but nice. More than nice, it’s wonderful. He’s wonderful. You’re there when he gets his first PHD at 17, your there when he has to put his mother into assisted living, you’re there when he gets the letter saying he’s been invited to the FBI academy, you even drive him to go meet Agent Gideon.

You see him off at the airport when he goes to Quanico.

And that’s the last time you see your best friend.

After a while weekly phone calls became monthly, and monthly became and occasional text on birthdays and holidays and informing the other of big achievements, but by his 3rd year as an agent, friendships were hard to maintain.

You’d accepted never seeing your friend again.

Spencer hoped he’d never see you again, because he knew he didn’t have the guts to reach out, and he knew that the only time his teammates seemed to see old friends was when they were a part of a case.

But he also knew you.

And he recognized your necklace the second he saw the pictures Penelope had on the screen.

“The second and third victims haven’t been found, but they’re believed dead” JJ says, Spencer barely hears it.

“I need air” is all he manages to say as he rushes out of the room. Derek went after him and caught him as he collapsed.

“Hey man, what’s goin on?” Derek asked him, holding onto Spencer’s shaking shoulders as he tries to stay upright.

“I can’t- she can’t- she can’t be dead” his words were barely audible and even less coherent.

“Do you know one of the victims?” Derek asked, and Spencer nodded.

He more than knew you, he’d held you while you cried, he’d slept in your bed the night his mom went into care, you were the only person there for him at his graduations, he’d helped you decorate your first apartment. You were so much more than someone he knew. And you were so much more than victim number 3.

“Spencer? Hello?” Derek’s hand waved infront of Spencer’s face as he zoned back into reality.

“Sorry” I he muttered as he started to stand up. He and Derek walked back into the briefing room, he doesn’t apologize for his outburst, he just sits and waits for Penelope and JJ to continue. They do.

“Well, 3 girls went missing in New York City within a span of a week. The reason we’re on this case is because they all worked for the same law firm”

Spencer takes a shuttering breath.

“The first victim, whose body was found dumped in a dumpster by a homeless man, was 56 year old Mrs. Shelly Kailee, a lawyer at Shelly and Dylan law firm, she was a co-owner along with her Husband Dylan. The two other victims, who are still currently missing, are Darleen Calvin, and Y/N L/N. Darleen is 28 and a practicing attorney at the same law firm, she’s only been practicing there for a few months after graduation from University of New York in January. Y/N is 25 and is working as a receptionist at the law firm while working on her law degree at Cornell. Both girls are reportedly very sociable and very kind, but from what we’ve been told, Y/N seemed to be more acquainted with everyone while Darleen seemed to just have a large group of friends. That’s the only information we have on them” JJ says. It seems everyone’s eyes drifted to Spencer, but his were dead set on your face on the projector. Smiling. You had the same smile. You were still wearing the same necklace you wore every day since he gave it to you at 18 when you graduated. You were still as beautiful as he remembered.

“She wouldn’t let anyone take her to a second location, not without a fight. We’re probably looking at a fairly athletic man, unless we find out that she sent someone her location. Then it’s probably someone charismatic, charming, played himself as a friend” he says, and everyone nods.

“You think she’d fall for that?” Morgan asks, he gets a few glares. But Spencer nods. “I think I saw her have a conversation with a homeless man once because she thought he might be lonely.” He says “so yes”. Hotch clears his throat “Spencer is there any possibility she’s.. changed since you knew her?”. Spencer shakes his head “we only really fell completely out of touch a few months back, she seemed pretty much the same the last time I called her, which was probably 6 months ago”

You could’ve cut the tension with a knife.

“Spencer I’m sorry-“ Emily says, he cuts her off.

“You can be sorry if we find a body” he says. And they get the message.

“Wheels up in 10” Hotch says.

Spencer works that case like a dog. There’s not a moment where he isn’t doing something to find you. Something to make sure you’re okay.

A few times, Derek had to pull him out of the police precinct, just so he’d get a couple hours of sleep.

He was beside himself.

Then the tapes showed up.

On the front steps of the police station, there was a box, with 4 tapes, each labeled with a date of the days you’d been missing, the most recent being from the day before.

The first started with a voice they later confirmed to be Shelly’s. A final message to her husband and kids. Tearful messages to each one about how much she loved them. And then a gunshot.

The second tape was worse. It was of you and Darleen. Spencer recognized your voice immediately, he could tell you were holding back tears. Darleen on the other hand was sobbing. You were both pleading for you life. You were a bit more composed, and he quickly recognized some of what you were saying as examples he’d said to you when talking about what usually does and doesn’t work on killers.

He never intended you to have to put those lessons to use.

And the selfish part of him wonders if you thought of him when you spoke.

The 3rd tape is the shortest. It’s just a gunshot and a scream. Your scream. He, for the first time in his life, sincerely hopes that you watched someone get killed.

The final tape is just you.

And it breaks him.

There’s a few seconds of silence before your voice starts.

“This is a message for Spencer Reid, and the rest of the FBI. My name is Y/N, and if you’re listening to this. I am dead.”

And his face falls.

“Spence, meeting you in highschool was the greatest thing I’ve ever done. And I love you, I love you so much Spencer. And I hope-“ the tape ends.

Spencer listens to that tape another dozen times.

The cops find Darleen’s body before lunch.

He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He listens to the tape again. And then it hits him.

You had never once said you met Spencer in highschool. You always, always made it a point to say that you were in highschool, but he wasn’t.

And it was currently summer, and the highschool was empty.

“Guys I know where she is-“

Hotch cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Spencer she’s dead” he said, his voice wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle either. Spencer could’ve punched him.

“They’re at the highschool. Trust me” his voice was shaking, not with doubt, but with fear. Fear that both he and Hotch were right, and that in a couple hours he’d see you again under the worst possible circumstances.

But they went anyway.

He was zoned out most of the car ride, ignoring Derek’s questions of if he’s sure he can handle this.

For Spencer, it doesn’t matter if he thinks he can, because he has too.

He’s a few feet past the doorway when it really sinks in that he might leave the building again with your lifeless body in his arms. He pushes the thought aside. It felt like betrayal not to try and have hope, because for Spencer, you were hope incarnate. It would feel disrespectful to take that from you without asking first.

He heard it before anyone else did.

He all but ripped the door open, the local PD turning on their heels at his aggressive movements.

But there you were, in a chair, sobbing into your binds. He was infront of you in seconds, shouting for someone to cut the ropes holding your wrists and ankles as he removed the cloth from your mouth.

“You’re okay, you’re alright now, I’ve got you” his hands gently holding your cheeks as you leaned forward into his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso once they were cut free.

“I knew you’d come- I knew it. I told him but he said you wouldnt find me so- so in the tape- oh my god did he send you the tapes?” He cut off your manic rambling with soft shushing

“I know you knew, you always know, and yes we got the tapes. You did good, you did everything perfect. I understood.” He assured you, running his hands through your hair.

Emily came up to you and Spencer, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Does she know where he is?” She asks.

He starts to speak, but you do it first. “Maybe the janitors closet? Or the bathroom? He- he made us scrub the floors, he was like- he was psychotic about it” you say, she nods and leaves the room, Spencer just tucks your head back under his chin.

“You’re doing so well” he whispers

“Spencer I want to leave” you cry

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you out of here” he says, slipping his arm under your knees and lifting you. You probably could’ve walked, but no one was shocked that he chose to carry you out.

He asked the EMTs more questions than your frazzled mind could even think of.

“Dr.Reid, she’s going to be fine. It’s cuts and bruises and maybe a few pulled muscles, she will be fine once she gets some fluids and a good meal in her system. “

He still didn’t believe it.

He didn’t believe it when the nurses told him the same thing, he didn’t believe it on the car ride back to the precinct after you were discharged, and he didn’t believe it when you sat next to him during your cognitive interview.

He’d fought Hotch about giving you one, but Hotch said that having a solid story will help make sure the man who did this is kept in prison for as long as possible, and you’d volunteered.

“You really dont have to” he says, you shake your head

“Spence i can handle it” you say

“Im not leaving your side.” He insists, you laugh a bit, which all but calms him down.

“I didnt think you would.” You offer your hand, and for the first time he accepts the invitation.

The interview makes you cry, which could’ve been predicted, but it still breaks Spencer’s heart.

After that he sets a semi-permanent ban on anyone asking you about what happened.

JJ brings you a change of clothes and you thank her profusely as she walks you to the bathroom and helps you wash your face and body as best as you can with wet paper towels.

Spencer anxiously waits outside.

“She’s with JJ, man. You can go outside and take a breather if you need” Derek offers.

“I’ll go outside and take a breather with Y/N when they’re done. Im sure this isnt where she wants to be right now.” Spencer says, Derek sighs.

“Spence, that girl might be one of the most well adjusted victims we’ve ever seen, she’ll be okay if you step away for 5 minutes-“ Spencer cuts him off

“I wont” he says “do you not get that? She’s well adjusted, Im not. I am not well adjusted to almost losing her and im not well adjusted to having her back so Derek would you please stop suggesting that I need space from her because space from her is the last thing I need right now” they stand in silence for a minute until you leave the bathroom.

“Spence? Everything okay?” JJ asks as she walks out of the bathroom after you, you quickly finding your place leaning against Spencer’s side.

“Yea we’re good” Derek answers for him, placing a firm hand on Spencer’s shoulder, and leaving with a small nod of understanding.

Spencer guides you outside.

He sits next to you on the bench outside the precinct, your head on his shoulder and his arm around you.

“Im really glad you picked up on that” you say

“Picked up on what?” He asks, his hand moving from next to you on the bench to your lap, resting on top of your own.

“The highschool thing, i honestly didnt know if he’d even send the tapes, kinnda figured he was making them for himself” you say, interlacing your fingers with his “but I figured it was worth a shot”

“It was smart” he says, squeezing your hand “took me awhile to realize”

“Did it?” You ask “and here i was thinking you were a genius. Spencer when have i ever skipped a chance to brag about you?” You smile at him, he shrugs.

“I was under a little stress” he says, pulling you closer.

“I know, im sorry I scared you”

“Dont apologize, this is not your fault. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” You just nod.

There’s silence for a while, it could’ve been hours, neither of you would’ve noticed, or minded.

“Do you want to move in with me?” He says it before he even realized he thought it, immediately looking just as shocked as you. “I am so sorry- i just- well i figured-“

“Spencer” you grab his hand. “We’ll talk about it” you say, and that seems to be the right answer as he wraps you into a hug.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay” he whispers, you nod.

“It doesn’t require moving in for us to stay in contact” you say

“But you’re so far” you just nod in response. “I dont want to lose you again” he whispers

“Spence you didnt lose me, im alright-” he stops you

“Thats not what i meant. Not entirely” he clarifies, you sigh and pull him into another long hug.

“My lease ends next month” you hum

“See you in Virginia next month?” He asks, you smile

“We’ll talk about it”

There’s never a conversation about if you’ll move in. Spencer just Venmo’s you (he got Garcia to teach him how) 300 bucks along with “plane ticket or take out dinner for a week” which makes you laugh, and it also makes you call him to ask approximately how much of your stuff would fit in his apartment, he says he’ll make as much space as you need.

A month later you show up to one of Rossi’s dinner parties hand in hand with Spencer, JJ hands Derek 20 bucks, and slowly, everything falls back into place.

(PS: Spencer makes sure you have everything you need to finish school online because he’ll be damned if you gave up your dreams for a man, even if he himself is that man.)

Remember to reblog with feedback!! Reblogs make the world go round and feedback helps artists keep creating!

This might be the longest fic ive ever written. This took 2 days and a few tears but finally it’s done. Im tagging the pookies bc Ykw i worked too hard not too @the-phantom-author @thesockbehindthewashingmachine @mariasont @st4rgzer @canonically-a-genloser

[altf4d3lete]

My Thoughts on the Wednesday Novelization:

Okay so I have no clue how long this post is going to be, so bear with me. This is coming from someone who has been hyperfixated on the show for over a year and has watched it through multiple times, written fanfiction about it, and debated the characters and their motivations tirelessly.

1. Characterization

First up is the big hitter. The characterization of Wednesday specifically, since the book is written in her voice. I’ve seen a lot of controversy surrounding this. A lot of people have been saying that Wednesday was too emotional, that she was too sympathetic and cared too much about what other people think. To this, I heartily disagree.

We see throughout the book how she gradually begins caring more about the others around her. At first, she sees them only as allies; which is a very Wednesday thing to do. She only compromises because people like Enid or Tyler offer her loyalty, and she feels the need to offer something in return. And of course, the more they offer her their loyalty, the more she feels as though she can open up to them. She’s still human, after all, Addams or not. While most people would assume (wrongly) that Wednesday operated on a strictly “take, not give” mentality, it’s clear in the show itself that this isn’t the case. She still compromises in the show. The only reason people don’t agree now is because they created their own perceptions on why Wednesday was compromising, while it was clear to others all along that this was because she wanted to keep her allies close in case she needed help.

Wednesday, in the novelization, approaches everything from a strategical standpoint. Which is exactly how I’d expect her to approach things. She keeps a careful catalogue of her enemies and suspects, of who she can or can’t trust with evidence. Which, again, is what I had gathered from Jenna’s acting in the show.

Concerning the care she felt for Enid, among others:

I do not think the way she felt about Enid or the way their relationship developed was out of character at all. Wednesday said it herself, it felt to her as though Enid was the only one who accepted her up front no matter who she was or what she said or did. Enid was the only one who didn’t expect her to be someone else or a simple projection of what she wanted. Wednesday appreciated Enid’s willingness to be an ally even knowing that Wednesday wasn’t a good person. And it caused her to grow attached to the one person who accepted her no matter what. Even when Wednesday put her in danger, Enid still came back. And Wednesday appreciated that more than anything. I really think it’s incorrect to say that it’s out of character how much Wednesday cared about Enid. Enid was Wednesday’s first real friend, and put her life on the line for Wednesday. Of course they’re going to be inseparable, in Wednesday’s words, after something like that.

2. Theme

I’ve read a lot of books and done a lot of English classes and writing in my time. I usually look for themes in books, and it’s pretty clear to me that the theme of this book is friendship and navigating it, as corny as that sounds.

The entire book follows Wednesday learning what it means to be a true friend. What it means to open up and be vulnerable with others, what it means to put trust and confidence in them, and what it means to rely on others. Towards the end, there’s a passage where she realizes she’s never been alone.

In this book, Wednesday learned what it means to grow and foster a community of people who care about you. People who you can rely on. She comes to care about Enid, Eugene, even Bianca. All of them help her in some way, and all of them give her a shoulder to rely on at some point. She learns that having allies are nice, but having friends, people who are truly in your corner, is even better. And that there are specific ways to treat friends, and specific ways to keep them. She learned that sometimes compromises are important, and that it’s okay to not agree with some things, but it doesn’t mean that has to be the end of the friendship. And she learned just how deeply her care for her friends, as well as their care for her, truly goes.

One could say that this book is corny. One could say that it’s cringe, or that it’s not canon to them. All of that is completely fine. But in my eyes, this book has absolutely done Wednesday’s character justice and proven what I already knew: she’s not a psychopath like so many people paint her out to be. Maybe she was in previous iterations, but this is a new iteration, a new character. And she most definitely cares deeply about those who show their loyalty to her, about those who prove to her that they can trust her. Enid, Thing, Eugene, even Bianca. They created a sense of community to battle a common enemy and won. And Wednesday learned that she couldn’t have done it on her own.

I’m excited to see how her character continues to develop in season 2 and further. I’m excited to see how those around her affect her in new ways, and who she’ll ultimately grow to be. I loved this novelization of season one, and I loved the insight it gave us into Wednesday’s thoughts and her character arcs.

Anyway! That’s all, thanks for reading 🫶

Edit: my bad this turned into an essay. If I missed anything or you want my opinion on anything, let me know :)

[amxrany]

!! CHAPTER 7 / DIASOMNIA ARC SPOILERS !!

Hey guys I'm awake and well now let's continue (Rook's Dream):

We find ourselves in Savanclaw where we find Savanaclaw Rook and I honestly love him here he looks like a dog I left outside in the rain by accident (affectionate)

Now everone's confused as to why Rook's in Savanaclaw, but then Rook drops the bomb that Vil is in RSA and everyone's like "WHAT?!"

Stop Rook is literally just being the biggest neigevil oshi cuz he just wants Vil and Neige to be besties 😭. He's so open about it too like he's literally geeking about their interviews together to the point that he's squeezing Grim and Epel cuz he got too excited (he's so fr for that honestly). But then Sebek snaps and Rook apologizes because no one in Savanaclaw is a neigevil fan as well :((

But Ortho encourages Rook by wanting to visit his room so that they can learn about Neige and Vil. Grim questions the decision, but that's like the only way they can break Rook out of the dream, and now Rook's just murmuring to himself and how he will introduce them to Vil and Neige

Once they're near Rook's room he literally told them not to barge into his room and the gang did exactly what they're not supposed to do

AND OH MY GOD ROOK'S ROOM IS JUST????

(pov: you're in a neigevil oshi competition but your opponent is rook hunt)

SEBEK THOUGHT THIS WAS A RITUAL ROOM FOR A SECOND AND ROOK IS CURRENTLY LOSING IT 😭😭😭. Apparently Rook has been hiding his hyperfixation for THREE YEARS and he can't just let the group go...until they watch DVDs of neigevil interactions

This went on for five hours and Rook was gushing, sobbing and crying over it, Silver actually slept for the first time in the realm of dreams because of this 💀. Before the group leaves, Epel couldn't help but ask Rook if he still remembers what happened during VDC, an d Rook mentions that he remembers that Vil and Neige performed "Yahoo, Yahoo" together.

The group meets again with Idia, and they're discussing the events of Book 5, and how the entire incident during VDC might have been the root cause for Rook's dream to turn out like this. Because in this dream, Rook never transfers to Pomefiore because Vil was never in NRC to begin with. Rook was most likely haunted by that incident because he trusted Vil so much, that he'd rather have Vil and Neige be friends instead of rivals to prevent the whole overblot situation

SO NOW THE GANG IS THINKING OF A WAY TO WAKE UP ROOK BY PERFORMING ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL

(I REALLY WANT TO SEE THE WHOLE THING YA'LL TO WHOEVER HAS A LINK TO THE RHYTHMIC PLS SEND IT TO MEEEEEE)

But their positions are the following: Vil - Epel Jamil - Ortho Epel - Sebek Kalim - Yuu Ace - Grim Deuce - Silver

Basically Epel had to teach the others the entire choreography of Absolutely Beautiful and he said it's fine if they don't perfect it because in the original they weren't able to perfect it as well. But then everything suddenly goes blurry and we get dream Vil and dream Neige suddenly performing "Yahoo, Yahoo", and now Rook is back to being an oshi again.

But Epel wasn't having it, he points out to Rook that the real Vil looks more sinister and had a more sharper look to him and that he was more poisonous and beautiful. That's when Epel told Rook that he was a far worse traitor back when he voted for RSA if he tells the words that Vil wanted to hear to the fakes.

That wakes Rook up, he remembers everything now because he was wondering why he cried during their Absolutely Beautiful performance. Idia then gives Rook the "invite" to join them as well. Rook changes clothes and fights

Btw I just wanna show you guys his groovy here because it's that special to me

Idia was laughing because he now has a video of Sebek dancing and Sebek is just yelling at him that he won't forgive him if he showed it to anyone.

Surprisingly Rook mastered thew magical girl transformation faster than the gang, but they're learning. Rook also tags along with the gang to save the last person, Vil

AND WE'RE DONE WITH ROOK'S DREAM, JESUS CHRIST IT GOES FROM UNSERIOUS TO SERIOUS IT'S FUNNY. But I'm covering Vil's dream last, see you then!

Next: Vil's Dream Previous: Epel's Dream

[critterbitter]

HELLO HI ID LIKE TO ASK WHAT PROGRAM AND BRUSHES YOU USE CUZ IM LITTERALY EXPLODING EVERYTIME I SEE YOUR ART

actually actually... *pulls out whole stack of paper*...I have. a FEW,, a good few,, questions to ask. they are not many I swear 😇

OK SO FIRST OF ALL HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST???? everyday I log onto Tumblr I always see something new from you and I get very very happy. But then I start to question my own existence because not even I CAN SPEED RUN ART LIKE THAT. AND SO SPECTACULARLY TOO

Last question! how do you color and make it look so well?? just. How. I need to know. This is a CRY FOR HE-

anyway thank you for being one of my favorite artists that always feed my brain rot, pls keep making amazing art because like a little yamper I will follow behind and stay updated.

(Stands there)

Response and thoughts under cut!

First question! What art program I use!

Mostly procreate, along with a handful of brushes! (Specifically the Jing Set and some custom stuff, which is really just a circle brush with the shape changed to a square.)

Second question! How do i draw so much!

Okay so. I am. Ahhah. Unemployed,,,,? No, I do freelance illustration, but hmm. A studio job would be nice.

i graduated college last year and I’m very used to eight hour art shifts. The body sort of remembers to keep working, even though I no longer have storyboards or visdev homework to do.

Also. The hyperfixation is a deep vast tunnel I STILL have not seen the end of the light to, good golly. (I have dreams now about the kids committing shenanigan crimes. I wake up in cold sweat and write them down in a journal. It’s like being the mouthpiece to an angry god.)

So the overall gist is: I was trained to be a storyboard artist with a visdev background, and I’m using that higher education to draw funny muppets because my brain’s funny.

I also DO have a queue, and I’ve been treating this as a sort of inktober project. I am definitely going to slow down soon though! Maybe. Hopefully. Ah… (sheepishly drops my kofi here)

Third question! How do i color!

I. I, uh. I dont know man the coloring demons have a grip on my soul and i just go along for the ride. But also, if it helps, i prefer to limit my pallets to only a few colors at a time. Lighting is king, so if you can figure out if you want to focus on either on your lights or shadows, you’ll have a much easier time composing. That, and symbolic colors— idk, something hits different about art drenched in gold with a tiny hint of a man staring into the blinding horizon, or a green leafy environment with a single dot of artificial red. I also like using blue and purple for shadows, and I’m a big fan of muting colors with only one or two that pop— one of the reasons why I was so attracted to submas in the first place is because from a design aesthetic, they’re both super funny muppet men AND really cool train guys that have a limited pallet and thematic apparel.

Overall response! THANK YOU SO MUCH. This goes out to a BUNCH of people who sent me inbox queries— sorry for not responding, it’s a tad overwhelming because some of them are story questions even I don’t really know will go yet, and others are words of praise and I’m selfish and like scrolling through the inbox to look at them when I feel down. I am more of an artist who sits in the corner and sprouts like a potato rather then a branching vine who socializes, but I really do see people’s responses and they make me go :)))))

Okay ramble over. Thanks for coming to the soapbox, and good luck on creating!

[carni-val]

When you know, you know [Carmen Berzatto]

pairing: Carmen Berzatto x Reader

summary: Carmy has a problem saying I love you, but he's got no problem showing it.

warnings: Slight angst if you squint really hard, some fluff

author’s notes: Yeah, it's been a year since I've written something but my current hyperfixation on The Bear has really inspired me to write. Carmy's struggle with saying I love you is so real, but I sincerely feel he's an acts of service man. I hope you all enjoy it and thank you so much for reading!

She stood at the opening of the door, looking down on him. She worked a full shift and she was still as beautiful as when she woke up this morning. He, on the other hand, looked dishevelled; he was sure of it. His hair was all over the place from running his hands through the mass of curls with a thin sheen of sweat layered over his skin and he was still a little self-conscious about the smell of the restaurant that had clung to him upon his arrival, as Sugar mentioned earlier.

She didn’t seem to mind though as she knelt down on the floor beside him. Overdue invoices and notes scribbled down in his brother’s chicken scratch surrounded him on the office floor.

She was closer now, and yes, still beautiful.

“Hi,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hey,” he couldn’t help but huff out a sigh.

Prepping the menu and serving it to all the customers was more than enough work for the day, especially with the disastrous system Richie insisted on upholding. The bed he’d been dreaming about collapsing into, beside her, seemed to get more and more distant with more of the shit he uncovered in the office. Who knew an office so small could have so much shit hiding in it?

“Still sorting, huh?” her eyes held sympathy for him, noticing how tired he looked.

“Still sorting,” he confirmed, his eyes softening when they met hers. “I think it’s gonna be another long night for me tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Can I help?” she asked, already scanning the documents.

“No, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Why don’t you go home and go to bed?” he reached out and stroked her cheek with his hand, cupping her jaw with the palm of it.

She leaned into his touch, “You’ve had a long day too, and I’ve got the day off tomorrow. Let me help.” She settled down on the floor next to him. “What can I do?”

Carmy’s gaze lingered on her. If he thought about it all too long, he’d break down, he was sure of it, so he simply asked her to organize the overdue invoices — ones for the restaurant, ones for the inventory and so on.

“Yes chef,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

Carmy felt the laugh escape him before shaking his head. He watched her for a moment.

He really—

He couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence. Maybe it was something to do with Donna, or the fact that he never really had a girlfriend before her, or because he still couldn’t figure out what the hell she was still doing with him.

His breath caught as he felt a twinge in his chest. He brought a hand up to soothe it and she looked over at him.

“Bear?” her warm hand reached up and pressed against his. “You okay?”

The concern in her eyes stole his breath but it soothed the ache in his chest. He felt a hint of embarrassment, desperately not wanting to have a panic attack in front of her. He didn’t want to scare her.

So he just nodded and let a smile stretch across his face, albeit tight-lipped.

She wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push him. She just took his hand in hers and kissed his tattooed knuckles.

His smile cracked, revealing his teeth, and it was more genuine. She seemed convinced, releasing his hand and turning back to the work.

“You hungry? Can I make you something to eat?” he asked instead.

“I’m okay, I had a late lunch.”

“Are you sure? It’ll take me a minute.”

“I’m sure,” she smiled up at him. “I just wanna get this done so you can get to bed.”

Her hand reached up and held his cheek this time. She ran her thumb underneath the bag of his eye. After kissing the palm of her hand, they got to work.

After almost three hours of sorting, Carmy excused himself for a smoke break.

“Can I make you something?” he offered once again, standing in the doorway.

She shook her head, deciding that he’d done enough cooking for the day. Although she was starving at this point, she just wanted to get Carmy home and to bed so he could rest.

Although he lingered at the door for a moment, to probably try and convince her, he decided against it, leaving the office with his cigarettes in hand.

She knew he loved to cook for her, always watching her as she took the first bite of anything he cooked for her, but seeing the toll the restaurant had taken on him after only just a week was beginning to worry her. That’s why whenever her stomach grumbled, she let out a cough or ruffled some papers around to try and mask the sound. She knew Carmy would put her before himself and she couldn’t allow that.

She decided she’d eat once he went to bed, or maybe when he got into the shower.

Yeah. The shower seemed like a good idea.

A great one actually.

Spending three hours sorting through paperwork seemed like enough to call it a night — seven hours since she had lunch. Her stomach grumbled again and she could swear she smelt hints of beef, sautéed onions and peppers in the air.

She really needed to get home.

At the thought, the door to the office opened and behind her stood Carmy with two plates, a sandwich on each of them.

“Carmy-“

She began to protest but he stopped her. He knelt down, not having to dodge copious amounts of papers now that everything was sorted into neat, organized piles.

“I could hear your stomach from out there,” he nodded his head towards the kitchen.

A sheepish expression overtook her face as she looked down to the steaming contents within the sandwich.

“This looks and smells amazing, Bear.”

“Tastes even better,” he held out a plate to her.

Eagerly, she took the plate in one hand and picked up the sandwich with the other and took a bite. Flavours melded together to cause a more than satisfactory feeling to overcome her. Her ravenous stomach finally settled while begging for more at the same time.

She hummed as she chewed, nodding her head in complete ecstasy. Carmy laughed, ducking his head and shaking it slightly at her theatrics. She laughed along with him.

His bashful expression made her heart swell. He had never been more attractive to her. Seeing him do the thing he was so talented at was a sight she could never grow tired of. But the drive and determination that oozed out of him as he worked to whip this restaurant into shape opened up a whole new side to Carmy that she’d never seen before. 

She loved him.

Not that she would say it again, because the one time she did, she watched how catatonic Carmy became. After his sincerest apologies, she assured him it was okay.

She decided to let it hang in the air and let him say it when he felt okay to do so.

In the meantime, she’d revel in the ways he showed her.

[littlejuicebox]

Little Lockpick.

Okay this is the last addition for the weekend.

My ADHD hyperfixated on Dadstarion and now I need to focus on my big girl life and job for the week.

Definitely didn’t mean to go this crazy on the writing but hey, when inspiration strikes. 🤷‍♀️

I really need to update these headers at some point. Problems for future Gina.

Summary: Toddler Gale has developed new magic skills and wants Papastarion to open a lock NOW. Right now. Tav has some interesting news after an appointment.

Tags/Warnings: kids, babies, parenthood, fluff, idk what else?

*

Astarion is in his office, trying to work, which is almost impossible with Gale sitting on his lap. The toddler is fiddling with something in his small hands as his father reads over a scroll for the second time, trying to focus on the words. It’s become increasingly difficult to do so as frustrated huffs and grunts escape the almost-three-year-old.

“Daddy! Help!” Gale exclaims, pulling Astarion’s attention from the scroll and down to the little silver-haired boy. The toddler is shaking what’s in his hand up at his father, nose crinkled in displeasure.

“Hmm…” The elf murmurs, taking the little toy — if you could call it that — from his son. It’s a small padlock. The toddler had been trying, quite incessantly, to open it for nearly half an hour. It was enough to keep Gale pre-occupied while his mother went to her appointment, but now the toddler is getting frustrated and his father knows there will soon be a melt down if the issue isn’t remedied.

“Little prince, where did you find this?” Astarion asks while handing the tiny metal lock back to Gale. The silver-haired boy climbs off his father’s lap. Uncoordinated legs take him over to the bookshelf along the office wall, and he points to the bottom shelf.

“Found here! Right here.” The toddler babbles, crinkling his white eyebrows at his father, wondering why the older man is asking him such a silly question. Gale is growing more impatient, upset that Astarion simply isn’t doing what he asked and opening the lock. But no, daddy insists on asking him these questions instead, “Why daddy? Why? Open it!”

Tiny fingers grip the loop of the lock again, trying and failing to release the mechanism with sheer force. The child’s two little arms aren’t strong enough to pry open the lock. Gale is growing more and more frustrated. Red patches flush across his cheeks as he grunts, compelling Astarion to move from his chair and crouch in front of the toddler, intending to placate him.

“We need a key to open the lock, Gale. I was hoping there would be one near where you found the lock but I don’t think—“ The elf starts, but he’s cut off by a high pitched wail escaping his son.

“OPEN! OPEN! OPEN!”

The little boy is throwing himself on the ground now, still gripping the offending toy. Fat, frustrated tears are falling from his gorgeous green eyes. He’s practically the spitting image of his father, and even in his tantrums he is a beautiful, adorable thing. But Astarion begins to panic, knowing Gale needs to calm down, he needs to calm down before—

The toddler shrieks at the top of his lungs and a powerful gust of wind comes from nowhere, knocking Astarion onto his back and sending a flurry of papers shooting off the desk.

It’s ironic, Astarion thinks, that his son is named Gale and the first spell he can unintentionally cast is a gust of wind whenever he’s throwing a tantrum. The elf is groaning in pain as his eyes clamp shut; he is trying desperately to regain his composure before he addresses the toddler. These terrible twos have been… well, terrible. Astarion’s patience is running thin.

He remembers his wife’s coaching. Deep breath in, long exhale out. The poor little prince doesn’t know any better.

The wind scares Gale into silence. He doesn’t yet understand his powers, and when he sees his father knocked prone on the floor, he starts crying again. They’re sticky, snot-filled, guilty tears, this time. He doesn’t understand how he conjures the wind, but he does know that the damage is his fault. Despite his current tantrum, Gale is an overall empathetic and sensitive boy, and the vision of the damage he’s done worries him.

“Sorry, daddy!” The toddler gasps through choked cries, sitting himself up and bunching his hands in tight, worried fists which he brings to the sides of his face, “I a bad boy!”

Astarion rolls himself up to a sitting position and scoops the child into his arms with a belabored sigh, “You’re not a bad boy, Gale.”

He soothes the child in a soft coo as he rubs small circles on the little boy’s back. Gale’s small body continues to wrack with sobs as his father places a kiss on his crown of silvery curls and whispers, “You’re just an exceptionally powerful one. But you get that from your mother, little prince.”

The elf stands, taking his son with him in the process as he walks out of the office, headed towards the bedchambers and still rubbing the little boy’s back as the toddler begins to calm down.

The papers will just have to be cleaned up later.

*

“Again, again, daddy!”

When you find your husband and child, they are both laying atop your bed, facing away from the door. Gale is giggling incessantly and clapping his hands together, asking his father to repeat something.

“There you two are. What are you doing?” You ask as you enter the room, one hand on your stomach. You’ve just come from an appointment with Jaheira.

The two men turn their heads and grin at you practically in unison. It makes you chuckle. It’s truly startling, how similar they are from their looks to their mannerisms. You catch sight of Astarion’s old lockpicking kit between the two of them, and your eyebrow cocks curiously.

“Are you really showing our toddler how to pick locks, Astarion?” You ask as you make your way to sit on the bed with the rest of your little family.

“Yes. But it’s a bit of a story, love. I’ll fill you in on the details later.” Your husband responds, handing the padlock and one of the tools to Gale, where he attempts to mimic the previous motions of his father. His tiny tongue sticks out as he focuses.

Astarion moves to kiss your cheek and then lightly brushes his fingers against your abdomen, subtly greeting the growing life inside, “How did the appointment go?”

“Good…” You murmur in a long, drawled out way. By your tone and the large grin spreading across your face, your husband can tell something is up.

His eyebrow cocks as he assesses your face, trying to decipher the thoughts behind your eyes. Whatever it is, it obviously isn’t bad news, and the knot in his stomach he’d constantly carried prior to this preliminary check-up is starting to finally subside as he analyzes you.

It took a long time to conceive this round; you two had nearly given up. When you finally missed your moonblood, both of you were waiting with bated breath for the first month. This experience was a sharp contrast to Gale’s conception, which happened easily, by accident and without much thought. Both of you had been emotional, nervous wrecks up until now.

“What is it, darling?” Your husband asks, smiling despite himself, simply matching your energy.

“Jaheira is almost certain it’s twins, Astarion.” You respond, and then you’re laughing as you watch your husband’s face turn from shocked to excited to worried to overwhelmed all in the span of a few seconds.

“Twins?” He asks, dumbly, trying to process the new information. A hand comes to rake through his curls as he exhales through the shock, “Love, we might need to hire some more help, I know you said you didn’t want to, but—“

“Yes, I was thinking the same. Especially if they’re also going to show Gale’s same penchant for spells.” You agree, and at the mention of your son’s name he perks up and grins at you, proudly showing you the lock, “Speaking of which…”

You reach into your robe pocket and retrieve a small beaded necklace before patting your lap, and beckoning to your son, “Come here to me, my little love.”

Gale obliges happily, crawling over to settle in your lap. You kiss the crown of his head and then clasp the small necklace onto the toddler. Astarion is watching you curiously, his head tilts to the side as he brings his hand to grasp the necklace and examine it. The toddler sure does love that lock, he’s barely acknowledging either of you as you speak around him.

“It’s a dampener,” You explain, “I was telling Jaheira about the recent development. She gave me this. It won’t completely take away Gale’s powers… but it should help to reduce the strength of his spells until he learns to control them himself.”

Astarion nods with a relieved sigh, “Good. If I’m being honest, darling, I was worried he might accidentally hurt you.”

You nod knowingly and then groan as your stomach begins to growl. The appointment took a bit longer than you thought; it’s past your usual lunch time. You begin to stand, pulling the toddler in your arms with you as you say, “Now how about lunch in the sunroom? I’m starving.”

Astarion hums in agreement, “Go on, my love. I’ll grab the food and join you two in just a moment.”

You nod and carry Gale out, singing softly to the little boy as you head to the sunroom, leaving Astarion to gather his own thoughts for a moment.

The elf throws himself back on the bed with a groan, running his hand through his curls once again. Twins.

Twice the joy. Twice the work.

Astarion cannot help but to laugh, and then smile, even though he knows the next few years are going to be hectic. Perhaps more hectic than he’d imagined. Before long he’s rolling off the bed and headed to the kitchen, planning to prepare a platter of sandwiches and tea for himself and his two — four — little loves.

[kanejbr3kker]

Okay I need to vent. This morning I saw this on my fyp:

(btw I'm choosing not to reblog the original post and instead just post screenshots because this is definitely a rant and since the creator and I clearly have different opinions, so I decided it's just better to leave them out of this)

Anyways, I saw this and I got pissed. Very very pissed. And so I spent 2 and a half hours writing a whole three page essay explaining everything wrong with this.

So here it is. (:

First of all, the Darkling does every single thing listed here for Nikolai, excluding cutting people’s fingers off, but he does commit mass murder, which I personally consider to be worse than cutting off someone’s fingers. 

Anyways, let’s first just address Nikolai’s reasons for doing each of these things and then the Darkling’s reasons for doing the same things.

Cutting the fingers off a man: Nikolai was a teenager who wanted to help his incredibly war torn country. He felt helpless, and even once he became a privateer, a lot of people still disrespected him because of his age, so he proved his ruthlessness by injuring one person, so he could help save his entire country. 

Usurping the throne: First of all, Nikolai was second in line to the throne, and after Vasily died, he would’ve been first. Also, the current king was an ignorant rapist who let the rest of the country go to waste to fuel his own luxuries. Nikolai wanted to rescue his country from war and a ruler that was doing nothing to stop hundreds of people (many of them kids) from dying in unnecessary battles.

Lying to Alina/hiding information from her: All Nikolai did was hide his identity from Alina to get her safely away from the Darkling who had just kidnapped her for the second time in less than a year. Kissed her without her consent: Okay, let’s just preface this by saying Malina was what got me hyperfixated on the Grishaverse, so seeing Nikolai kiss Alina did upset me, but he did it spread hope to the Ravkan villagers. They were also already spreading around a fake engagement, so while it was wrong, it wasn’t like he was trying to manipulate her. Nikolai was just trying to make their marriage more believable. (I’d also like to address a scene later in the book where Alina actually wants Nikolai to kiss her, and he says no, knowing that she just wants a distraction and isn’t really in love with him).

And now for why the Darkling did all the same things. 

Trying to usurp the throne: The Darkling hates the king, but not because he’s a terrible person, but because he’s ignorant and the Darkling knows he could be using the Fold to expand Ravka’s power. The Darkling usurps the throne so he can try and take over the country, not because he wants to save it.

Lying to Alina/hiding information from her: Unlike Nikolai, he wasn’t trying to protect her. The Darkling lied to Alina so she would believe that 1) he was in love with her and 2) he wanted to save Ravka. We know this isn’t true. When Nikolai lies, he does it to protect Alina, but when the Darkling lies he does it to manipulate her.

Kissed Alina without her consent: The Darkling tried to convince Alina he was in love with her so she would be easier to manipulate. Alina even says she doesn’t know how he feels about her, and that she doesn’t believe he loves her, but that she wants to be wanted by him. 

And now for everything else the Darkling does:

Mass murder: He destroyed an entire town just to prove a point. 

“Gifting” Genya to the Lantsovs, and then allowing her to be continually raped by them

for years. More than anything else, I feel like this proves just how terrible he is.

Killing his own mother: No explanation needed, that’s just awful.

Threatening to kill Mal to make sure Alina stays in line. He enslaved Alina. He put an unremovable collar around her neck that forced her to do whatever he wanted, and then promised to kill her boyfriend just in case that wasn’t enough.

Using kids as bargaining chips. Using grown people is bad enough, but kids. Sure, they’re Grisha, but they aren’t strong enough to fight back, especially after seeing their captor kill Ana Kuya, who helped care for them while they were in hiding. (Also just felt like adding that Nina was one of the students who he used as a bargaining chip. That’s honestly pretty unimportant, but if you needed another reason to hate him.)

Killing Alina’s mother figure: Again, he did this just to prove a point. He wanted to show Alina that he could hurt the people she cared about, and that was his only incentive.

So that the first 75% of my rant, but I also made the mistake of looking at the comments on that post and added a whole extra page responding to those.

Saying that the same thing can be applied to Kaz is so fucking disrespectful. Kaz is a traumatized teen. Is he violent? Yes. But he only hurts people who have hurt him, his friends, or other innocent people. Oomen nearly killed Inej, as well as the other crows, so Kaz hurt him because he cared about his friends and was mad that they were almost killed. When the Darkling kills people, it’s out of greed for power and the fact that he knows it’ll get a rise out of Alina.

And then this. Kaz calls Inej an investment because he values her. She said four words to him and chose to pay off her indenture. She ended up being not only an incredible spy, but an incredible friend as well. Kaz didn’t need to pay off her indenture, but he did because despite everything terrible that he does, he’s still a genuinely good person, and didn’t want to see a woman being exploited the way she was. An investment is something you value, which is why Kaz calls her one.

Also, Kaz makes a big point of Inej not belonging to anyone. He didn’t force her to get the Dregs tattoo, because he didn’t “want to be the one to mark her again.” He recognized that she was an independent person, and by not making her have the tattoo, he was giving her the freedom to leave Ketterdam when her indenture was paid off. Also, when Inej tells Kaz she wants to leave Ketterdam, he literally buys her a boat so she can leave. That’s not how you treat your property.

And as for the Darkling, he used Alina’s power to start a civil war. What he does is beyond redemption. The Darkling exploits and manipulates women. He abuses and assaults them to reach his own goals, most of which involve destroying the rest of the world so that Ravka stays in power. Comparing him to two kids who just do what they have to to survive is so disrespectful, and clearly you misunderstood the messages of the books if you think that Kaz and Nikolai are the same as the Darkling.

So that's my little anti-Darkling rant. I've already tortured my frienda with this, so if they didn't think I was insane before, they do now lol.

[mackjlee9]

kay i'll take advantage of the hyperfixation bc i'm hyperfixated too 😋 this one is quite angsty? Depends on how you wanna do the end bc i'll leave it up to you

u see how in re6 chris asks leon if he will protect ada despite all the damage she did and he says yeah he is? What if instead of chris asking is leon's long term boyfriend since raccoon city?

like reader kinda knows he's still not over ada bc let's say reader went with him to rescue ashley in re4 and well, ada was there and shit.

so with that reader this time KNOWS leon is till not over ada no matter how much time has passed and he feels kinda betrayed bc they had a full ass relationship since raccoon city and it's been YEARS.

ending up to you ofc depending on how interested u are on writing this lmao. bye byee 💖

Ehe- I tried lol

Leon Kennedy x Male!Reader [Angst]

Maybe spoilers if you haven't played/watched re6?

Masterlist.

Resident Evil 6

(M/n) almost couldn't believe how awful this vacation was turning out to be.

From shooting the president to chasing after Ada herself, Helena could look at him with an apologetic look in her hazel eyes. (M/n) hasn't explicitly told her that he and Leon were dating, just said they were together on a vacation to relax and unwind a bit from their job on the D.S.O, but the situation had become worse than they initially thought.

And now Ada was involved? Well, when wasn't she honestly, that woman seemed to have some sort of GPS on Leon because she always showed up wherever he was, it was rather odd, still, he didn't question it, coincidences were pretty common in this kind of job.

Just look at it this way, they met with Sherry a while ago and now Chris was here too.

The three of them chased after Ada, Leon in front, and (M/n) right behind him, while Helena did her best to keep up behind them, but she was injured and she was struggling to keep up the pace. (M/n) stopped and made sure she was okay, before realizing how far Leon had run already.

"(M/n), go! I'll... I'll be fine, you go after her," she said gently pushing him away, and (M/n) hesitated for a moment, but Helena's reassuring smile helped him make up his mind.

He continued running after Leon, hearing two more foreign voices echo in the building, his eyes observing how Ada was cornered by two BSAA agents and as one of them pulled the trigger, Leon hit the gun away, immediately getting involved in a fight with the man. (M/n) arrived just in time to catch a stumbling Chris and prevent him from falling when Leon kicked his stomach hard enough to make him lose his balance.

Chris groaned from the pain, even when he was kicked over his bulletproof vest, Leon has always been known for having strong legs after all.

"Here," (M/n) mumbled while standing up and helping Chris get up from the ground, hearing him grunt a small 'thank you', all the while still being pointed by Leon with his pistol, "Leon-"

"Shut up," was all the blond said, making him swallow and nod, standing back whilst Chris and Leon started arguing. About Ada, and why she needed to die. (M/n) saw Leon clench his jaw, tightening his hold on the grip of his pistol, his cold blue eyes staring into Chris', "She's a key witness, we need her."

"A witness? She's the one that did all of this!" Chris replied, angry at what Ada had done, and probably at Leon for stopping him earlier.

"No, it wasn't her, it was Simmons, the National Security Advisor," (M/n) looked at them, hearing Helena's stumbling behind them and he helped her stand up. He wasn't sure what he was expecting the outcome of this discussion would be, but something told him he wasn't gonna like it.

"I lost all of my men because of that woman!" Chris yelled as he approached Leon, who kept a firm stance, not even blinking at his outburst.

"And I lost over seventy thousand people, including the president, because of Simmons!" He replied back with the same tone, followed by a deafening silence, the light of a chopper landing on them through the window.

Chris sighed and looked down, shaking his head before staring back at Leon, "She works for Neo-Umbrella, you know what that means?"

(M/n) watched as Leon sighed, "I do."

Glancing back and forth between the two of them, (M/n) took a deep breath, and took a step forward, slightly covering Chris with his body, he doesn't know what made him do it, maintaining eye contact with Leon's blue eyes, that remained cold and serious.

"After all she did to you, to me, to us... You're still gonna protect her, Leon?" The few seconds of silence that followed made his ears ring, the fact that he had to think about it let him know his answer.

Leon's stare hardened, seemingly unfazed by (M/n)'s words, not caring about the pain in his voice.

"I am."

(M/n) released a dry chuckle, turning around and walking away, "I was scared you were gonna say that," he mumbled as he left, finding another way to go downstairs. While he waited for them, he saw a flash of white, soon followed by Ada's body gracefully flying with her grappling hook.

They made eye contact for an instant before she ran away again, like she always did, never deviating from her mission.

He unzipped his pouch, his fingers wrapping around the velvet box, gripping it tightly as tears began gathering in his eyes. (M/n) had planned this vacation perfectly, wanting to make it special and memorable, after all, he and Leon had been in a relationship for 15 years... Or so he thought, because it seemed like he was the naive one who thought that way, when Leon was clearly smitten to Ada, after everything that happened... Everything he had done to make Leon happy...

(M/n) sighed and rubbed his temple before lowering his hand to grab his pistol, but before he could, he hit one of the pouches around his hips, his world freezing and breaking down piece by piece when he realized what he had kept safe there during this whole ordeal.

All of it had been wasted, maybe... Someone else would appreciate all his efforts?

But who? He has never loved anyone other than Leon, and it's not like he could simply move on to someone else, that wouldn't be fair to the other person.

(M/n) observed the black box in his hand, hearing the footsteps of Leon and Helena approaching his position, and he had to dry away the tears that had managed to run down his face, turning toward them with a hint of a smile, putting the box back and closing the zipper again.

"We have to keep going, let's go," he will figure out what to do when all of this is over, but right now, they had a job to do.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi! Do you have any tips how to not lose interest in a story and be enough interested to start/do write if? Personally I just get hyperfixated on a story idea I have, do the brainstorming, even the planning, sometimes world building and if I get serious I make lists about almost everything but never end up writing even if I have interest still, but at most cases at the point I could start writing I just loose interest and get bored of a story when I'm done figuring out what it'll be about and maybe because I don't really like thinking about the climax or the end of the story...

Hyperfixation on Planning Story, But Can't Write It

I do have some tips on rekindling your interest in your story, which I'll link below, but first I think it's worth addressing the specific issues you mentioned: that you don't like to think about the climax or end of the story.

Have you thought at all about why you feel that way? There are a few potential reasons I can think of:

1 - Your story doesn't have a conflict, so your story doesn't have a natural climax or ending. Stories revolve around conflict, or in other words a problem that needs to be solved. This problem could be in the character's heart and mind (internal conflict), in the character's situation/life/world (external conflict), or you can have both at the same time. Many stories these days have a parallel internal and external conflict. Stories are ultimately about someone (or a bunch of someones) trying to solve a problem. In order to solve that problem, they need to reach a particular goal or accomplish a particular thing. The bulk of the story will be their struggle to reach this goal as they overcome the obstacles along the way. The climax of the story is where they face down the cause of the conflict once and for all, whether that's a villain (like an evil wizard or corrupt corporation) or a force (like illness or a natural disaster) and try to solve the problem once and for all. Everything after that is the aftermath... whether they succeeded or failed, patching up their "wounds" from the "battle" (again, it doesn't have to be actual wounds or an actual battle), and settling into the post-conflict life. That's your ending.

2 - You have a conflict, but haven't figured out how it would be resolved, so the climax and ending are fuzzy. If you have a conflict but aren't sure how it would be resolved, it might help to think of the conflict as a problem that needs to be solved. For example, in The Hunger Games, the conflict was the Hunger Games Event... the problem was that Katniss volunteered to compete which put her life at risk. So the solution to the problem was to survive the event.

3 - You know what the climax and ending are, but you are enjoying the characters and world and don't want the story to end. This is one I think many writers can relate to. It can be really hard to let go of a story when you've enjoyed writing it, have gotten attached to the characters, and feel comfortable/familiar with the world. It can also be a little scary to think about diving into a whole new story. But, we do have to learn to let go of stories when they're finished and let them come to their natural conclusion. You can always go back to the world and characters, even if just for yourself, later on. It wouldn't be weird to write "fan-fiction" of your own story, and many writers turn these kinds of stories into prequels, sequels, companion series, and companion short stories that their readers enjoy, too.

Here are some tips for getting excited about your story again if you just need your motivation rekindled:

Guide: How to Rekindle Your Motivation to Write 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! Getting Excited About Your Story Again Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists Feeling Unmotivated with WIP

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking | ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

*t-poses into inbox* TIS I! 🎨 ANON!

We don’t talk about how I had to spend 5 minutes making sure this complies to your rules because I have a lot of mental disorders so I had to make sure this doesn’t cater to them lmaoooo

My hyperfixation is Tokyo Ghoul despite it being literal YEARS but whatever (I’m watching it again currently)

Ayato Kirishima with a male!S/O who has a hard time controlling his kagune (i.e when he’s scared he accidentally activates his kagune, when he’s angry it’s there. You can essentially think of it as emotion based) so he has a hard time hunting for food and doesn’t like to go out in public because of that

If you need more I gotchu but do your other requests before mine I know I get priority but nah I can wait

Kirishima Ayato - With Ghoul Male Reader Who Can't Control His Kagune

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Hello 🎨pallette anon, I'm finally going to write your request after however long after you sent it to me. Sorry about that. By the way, college classes have been a major reason why my posting schedule has been all over the place, I swear I meant to get to this sooner. Anywho, I hope this is to your liking, and once again sorry for the delay. —Benny🐰

Warnings -> Mentioned Death, Mentioned Cannibalism, Mentioned Murder, Alluded Past Trauma, Ayato Being a Sweety

                                                                                                   

🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀

🐇 While he definitely wouldn't say it out loud, Ayato is incredibly concerned about you almost every hour of the day, though when he has important matters to attend to that worry is pushed to the background but is certainly still there. He's worried that you'll end up getting caught and killed or, worse, taken and experimented on by the CCG, so he's the slightest bit thankful that you stay inside more often than not. Ayato does make sure to drop by your place often to see if you're still there, and if you go out, he makes you tell him what you're leaving for and the exact time you left through the front door; he's not fucking around when it comes to your safety.

🐇  Usually, Ayato hunts for the both of you; he wants you to be able to go and get food on your own eventually, but until he's able to help you keep your emotions in check a bit better, he won't allow it. He may or may not enjoy being relied on by his cute boyfriend, but you didn't hear that from me. When he brings home a meal, he'll snack on it on the way to your place, but don't worry, he always makes sure to leave your favorite parts alone; Ayato just adores when you give him that happy grin while your cheeks are stuffed with the flesh of his latest game.

🐇  Often if you begin to have a panic attack or have strong emotions and your kagune begins to show itself, Ayato will 'reluctantly' grab onto your hand and give it a comforting squeeze. Although that squeeze tends to be a bit too tight most of the time and leaves you with an aching hand afterward, don't tell him that; he'll beat himself up for accidentally hurting you and won't touch you again for quite a while after that. If you're both at home, Ayato will drag you into bed and pull you against his chest, his hand rubbing your lower back under your emerged kagune to coax you into slumber.

🐇 When you both go out, be it for house essentials, food, or new clothes to replace the ones permanently stained with blood, Ayato always stands behind you and watches for potential threats or things that may stress you out. Suppose he sees that something is beginning to upset you, he'll grab you by the arm and physically turn you away from it, distracting you with an interesting object that's being displayed in a shop window or quietly telling you a piece of information about himself that you didn't know. Ayato is a pretty closed-off person even to those he's closest to, so he uses these hidden nuggets of information to his advantage whenever he's taking care of you.

🐇  Ayato is a very busy person, so he can't be with you as often as he'd like to be; to solve this problem, he's taken to leaving you little gifts around your place. A cute rabbit phone charm that he asked Uta to help him paint to look like his old mask, a few of his hoodies, random stuffed animals that he found on the side of the road, a couple of severed fingers for you to snack on in a take-out box, anything he thinks will make you feel better, to be honest. One time, Ayato even went out and bought you one of those cute squeaky stress balls whose eyes pop out when you squeeze them; it was a rabbit, of course.

🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀•♡•🫀

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my masterlist!

[bunnithebard]

Through the Walls

A/N: So sorry about the radio silence!! But I'm going to double post to try and make up for the long break so those that are interested in where this little blurb goes can still enjoy my ramblings! Thank you dearies!

**Just a reminder that I'm moving from my other account (bunni3thebard) to this one, so that I can have more independence from my random trash account that's just an amalgamation of memes I enjoy lol–also, I can't remember who made the page break bats, so if you may know send me their name and I can at them accordingly. I just saved it on my phone one day cause I thought it was neat!**

Title: Through the Walls

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: You’ve been in Hawkins for almost a year now. It was nice, an escape from painful memories and a way to start fresh. After so long isolating yourself, you decide that it’s time to make friends, get to know someone so you’re not so alone. One of those friends happened to be your Cryptid Neighbor.

Chapter 1: Silent Scream

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

Your neighbor was a cryptid.

At least, you were convinced they were.

You knew someone lived there because of the lights that would come on and off, and the shadow figures moving behind the curtains. Not to mention that the walls were thin as fuck, so you heard them watch TV and play guitar and listen to metal music obscenely loud during the midnight hours.

But even though they kept the same crazy hours you did, you've never seen hide nor hair of them.

You started to make theories about what kind of person they were. Like that they were a burn out whose parents paid for everything for them so they didn't work, just farted around all day–hence the 4am jam sessions.

Another theory that had struck you one night while working a double at the Hawkins ER was that they were a drug lord and had to keep odd hours to evade the police.

But you wrote off that theory since you'd thought it up while sleep deprived after an 18 hour shift.

You entertained the idea of a squatter, but then why would they have electricity?

You had finally come to the conclusion that you were lonely as fuck and you obsessed over the identity of your mysterious neighbor because you were long deprived of human companionship and thus you hyperfixated on a superficial meaningless thing to distract yourself from being alone.

Or maybe they were Mothman…

Thankfully the grocery store kept late hours on the weekend, and that's where you found yourself on your free Saturday night. You'd woken up naturally around seven pm, even though your alarm was set for nine, and decided to putter around your house until your alarm went off so you could feel like you were properly lazy.

You sat contemplating cereals for a few meandering seconds, sure your eyes were blinking at an astronomically slow pace. You'd smoked a bowl to help you sleep and felt like it hadn't completely left you. You just hoped your eyes weren't red.

Grunting, you shoved both boxes into your cart and turned to move on to the next aisle when you crashed into someone else's cart. "Shit." You hissed below your breath, rubbing your stomach where the handle of the cart had roughly jabbed into you.

"Damn, sorry about that!"

Looking up you met the soft face of a brunette woman who looked about your age with her hair pulled back into a messy bun and long-sleeve black shirt falling off one of her thin shoulders exposing her bra strap. She gave you a sheepish smile and you shrugged.

"No harm no foul, although if you do it again I'll take it personally and make no bones about it: I will cry." She snorted, making you grin in triumph.

"Don't worry. I don't make it a habit of accosting people in the grocery store." She pulled her cart back from yours.

You hummed, "Good to know I'll be a one-and-done hit-and-run."

Her smile was cute. She had a strong jaw with a petite nose that scrunched up adorably as she grinned.

"I'm Nancy." She'd offered her hand.

You hesitated.

It had been a while since you'd earnestly interacted with someone outside of transactional exchanges, like for work or buying things or paying bills. People were messy. Maybe it was the paranoia from your past–trauma you couldn't shake that clung to you like a second skin–but you'd been wary of making friends on the off chance your name gets around and spreads to corners of places you didn't want it to go.

It was ridiculous. Narcissistic in a way.

So you ground your teeth and mustered a smile hoping it looked genuine and shook her hand.

You stood outside staring at the moon for a while dressed in nothing but a size 8XL shirt you snagged from Wal-Mart cause it was soft. You knew you should smoke inside, no telling when someone might rat you out to the cops, but the moon was full and the stars were bright. You weren't used to how clear the sky was in comparison to the city, even after a year.

Your eyelids fluttered, vision hazy as the weed worked its magic.

Nancy had invited you to some neighborhood get-together next week that was popular in Hawkins. Said she hadn't seen you around before and was surprised you'd survived a year without becoming the talk of the town. You blew out a heavy stream of smoke, humming to yourself thoughtfully.

But that had been the point, right?

Keep a low profile, stay hidden.

Sighing, you took another deep drag of your joint, holding the burning breath as tight as you could. You watched the stars dance in your vision before you finally exhaled.

God you were fucking lonely, though.

You scrubbed at your head, mussing up your hair. Curiosity was easy to take hold in your high state, so you peered towards your neighbors apartment and saw a shadow in front of the curtains. You squinted, eyeing the light blue fabric for a while since your vision was blurry. You could've sworn you saw a sliver of it be pulled aside with tentative fingers. You blinked slowly, sighing heavy through your nose and mumbled to yourself, "Fucking bigfoot in there for sure."

Turning back around to your apartment door you sucked in the last bit of the joint and dropped the roach to the ground, bending over to squish it with a rock to make sure it was out. Standing with a groan, you walked barefoot back to your front door. You were like, 90% sure the complex was just repurposed from an old Motel 6, but it was cheap and they sprayed for bugs every Tuesday, so you didn't complain.

It was small, enough space for your bed with a loveseat to watch your shitty TV that sat on top of your dresser and a micro kitchen they built in the corner next to the door for the bathroom. There was no kitchen sink and the fridge was half-size, but you were one person so you didn't quite care enough to complain. You did wish the fridge drawers were a bit bigger so they didn't catch on all the food packages you shoved in there.

Maybe it was because you were high, or lonely–or maybe a combination of the two–but you slid your hand across the wall that connected your apartment to your cryptid neighbor's. Then you tapped the starting notes for "Shave and a Haircut". You waited a breath, not sure if they had even heard it.

But then there it was: "Two Bits".

You grinned, giggling like Scooby Doo as you danced over to your bed, throwing yourself down with a bounce on the cheap twin.

Since you had smoked, sleep came easy. You were lulled into dream after weird dream courtesy of Miss Mary Jane. There was one where you went grocery shopping with Bigfoot and another where you went on Jerry Springer because you were pregnant with Mothman's baby.

You were curious what kind of cryptid your neighbor was.

The neighborhood block party was, for all intents and purposes, a Hawkins bash. 

Apparently it was a pretty regular affair every few months: a potluck with a few dad's who wheeled their grills to the end of a large cul-de-sac to cook up some burgers and dogs, some artsy fartsy mom's who made crafts for the younger kids to do, and sparklers and poppers for the older kids to get into mischief with.

There were maybe fifteen to twenty adults and a smattering of an equal number of kids. 

You had brought a shitty box of cookies from a bakery a few blocks away from the hospital since you couldn't cook anything on your extra small stove. You also had switched shifts with Beverly–fucking ray of sunshine she was, grunting and groaning about working on a Saturday night, but you had taken her Sunday so she could get bent–so that you could be here, at this lovely affair. 

You were starting to have regrets.

You watched a few pre-teens wave sparklers around in glee, making to poke and prod one another with the burning end. You wondered if you should step in, knowing that there were some second degree burns waiting to happen, but a random mom came over and grabbed each kid's wrists in warning. You slunk away to the food table.

You set your meager contribution down and turned to eye all the adult women, trying to find your potential petite new friend.

They all had their hair done up in that style where their bangs spiraled out in delicate feathering with the ends curled towards their shoulders. Some had simple ponytails decorated with hair bands and colorful scrunchies. You ran your fingers through your hair self-consciously; you hadn't done anything, merely brushed it and hoped for the best as you donned your nicest pair of jeans and a thrifted Van Halen '79 tour shirt. You figured since it would be outside the party would be a casual thing, but the dresses and blouses these housewives wore made you think you were a little unprepared for the mandatory 'Sunday Best' dress code. 

You fiddled with the ends of your shirt. 

You contributed to the sacrificial neighborhood potluck, maybe the Gods will be pleased enough to let you leave without seeing Nancy.

You turned to make a break for it and nearly bowled over the brunette in question.

Cookies were not a good enough sacrifice.

Her smile was bright and her blue eyes lit up at seeing you. "Hey, you made it!" She went in to hug you and you tensed, locking your arms to your side in the world's most awkward exchange of physical affection.

She gave a nervous smile and pulled away, "Sorry, too soon for hugs?" Her chuckle was used to try and break the tension and you were grateful as you laughed along.

"No, it's just–I uh… haven't really hung out with anyone for a while, so I guess I'm just getting back into the swing of how friendship works." You shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck.

Her eyes sparkled at your admission of seeing her as a potential friend. She grabbed your hand and pulled you over to a small group that hung around the edges of the block party.

The first one you noticed was a taller Hispanic man with the most beautiful hair you had ever seen in your life. It was lustrous and hung past his hips, swaying gently with his movements. He smiled, eyes half-lidded but sweet, giving you a gentle nod as Nancy motioned to the group, giving your name.

"This is Argyle," she pointed at the man with the incredible hair.

"Robin," next was a thin, lanky woman with messy dirty blonde hair that hung a little past her chin. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose and a charming crooked smile. She wiggled her fingers in a sweet hello.

"Steve," the man next to Robin was broad-shouldered with a just as square jaw line. His eyes were slightly turned down at the ends, giving him this sweet puppy-dog stare matched with a megawatt smile. He had some random freckles and moles that decorated across his face and the visible areas of his arms that made him look a lot younger. He nodded to you, giving a weird wink that you were sure was supposed to come off as charming, but was mildly unsettling.

"And my husband, Jonathan!" The last guy had a small upturned nose with a low brow that was covered by messy strands of mousy brown hair. He gave a shy smile, nodding to you while bouncing lightly. Over his shoulders he had a baby vest strapped to him and a very crabby looking baby facing outwards. Their face was scrunched up, looking more like a potato than a child, and they had wispy brown hair that was stuck up wildly like their head had been rubbed with a balloon. 

Nancy smiled proudly, tickling the cheek of the child that gave a low, annoyed hum for an impressively long amount of time. "And this is Eliza, my daughter."

You gave a pinched smile, waving awkwardly. "Hey." 

"'Sup Brosephina," Argyle smiled, offering you his fist. You chuckled, tapping yours against it lightly. "A pleasure to aquaint with you." He stuck his hand back in his pocket, the other holding the neck of a Pabst. 

"An enjoyable aquaint with you as well." You rocked awkwardly onto your heels.

Argyle's smile grew and he nodded, "Right on." He laughed.

"Hi," you looked over to Steve who held out his large hand in greeting. You shook it, noting that he was gentle when shaking yours, but gave a squeeze before he released you. His smile was adorable, but he was definitely trying to flirt. You were curious if it was just an unconscious thing, or if he was actually putting in effort. "Nice to meet you." 

You gave a soft nod in reply, but before you could fully pull your hand away, Robin shot forward and grabbed it giving you a few firm shakes, "It's really good to meet you, I think I actually saw you a while ago–my girlfriend's daughter broke her arm and I remember you gave us all strawberry Jell-O before we left."

Your eyes widened and you pointed at her with your other hand, "Oh yeah! Dotty! She was freaking adorable. How's her arm?" 

Robin's smile was glowing and she squeezed your hand tightly, "She's good, her whole class signed her cast and when she got it off she begged to keep it even though it smelled like old shoes."

You barked out a laugh, unknowingly squeezing Robin's hand back, "Hell yes, that's awesome. A trophy of her triumphs! I recommend a pantyhose sock full of cat litter, it helps a ton with the shoe stink."

Robin's eyes widened and she gave a dramatic gasp, "That's freaking brilliant, oh my god, thank you!"

Jonathan snickered, "You got chronic stinky feet?" He teased, eyes glimmering as he bounced his daughter.

You smirked, dropping Robin's hand and leaning into your hip, "Maybe, or maybe I've learned a thing or two from working with older nurses. But I could also have insanely stinky feet, and now you know my shame." 

Everyone laughed and you felt your smile grow, your shoulders relax, and you let yourself feel like you belonged. 

You didn't feel so alone anymore.

The block party ended up not being bad. Although, a guy named Andy Barker had tried to hit on you when you went to grab a hot dog ("You like 'em long and juicy, huh"–barf) even though his wife was within eyesight. Nancy had warned you that they often did that: flirt with other people in front of each other to get their partner jealous.

It was absolutely insane, small towners were bonkers.

You had snagged a bag full of cookies for the road, not including those from the bakery you had gone to as they were a little rubbery and sad. Argyle gave you a high five.

"Choice snack Brochacha, need a muchie master to inspire your partaking in said chocolate chunks?" You blinked a few times, unsure of what in the hell he was trying to say. 

Jonathan snickered, leaning over to translate, "Do you want some weed with that?"

Needless to say: Argyle was your favorite.

Pocket a little heavier with two freshly rolled "Blunts of Friendship", as Argyle called them, and a couple of sandwich bags full of pilfered cookies, you walked up to your door with a smile. 

You had made friends. 

It was nice, this feeling. You hadn't been able to know companionship, even platonic ones, in such a long time it was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Maybe not all the weight, but it was lighter and it felt good to breathe with a little less paranoia pushing you down.

You jiggled the keys into your lock but stopped, turning ever so slightly to look at your neighbor's door. It was a gawdy yellow with a plaquard of gold painted numbers reading "2D" decorating it. The paint on the numbers and the door was chipped in places and faded from natural weathering. You didn't see any shadows in the window and the light wasn't on. It wasn't surprising since the sun was still, technically, out. 

It was sunset, the sky lit up by a golden-amber glow that slowly sunk into the royal purple of the evening as it met the horizon. Night would fall soon.

You weren't sure what compelled you, maybe the giddy feeling that came from making new friends, or from having a really good day, but you strolled over to the door and stared at it, feet placed only a few inches away. Looking down at the bags in your hand, you placed one of them against the wall next to the door and sighed.

Nerves were starting to eat at you and you looked at your apartment door that was about ten feet away, then back to 2D's. Sucking in a deep breath for strength, you gathered your bravery and knocked on the door three times before booking it to your door: 2C. 

Slamming your door behind you, you kept the lights off and took deep gulping breaths. That was the fastest you'd ever run in your life, you're sure of it.

You slunk to the floor, splaying your legs out in front of you as you caught your breath, thumping your head back against the wood of your own gawdy yellow door. You shut your eyes.

You don't know why in the fuck you decided to dong-dong-ditch some cookies for your cryptid neighbor. 

Maybe it was because you had developed a weird relationship with them in your head: mysterious being that occupies the shitty motel-esque apartment next to you that may know your struggles because they keep the same weird hours you do. You had put too much thought into them and they became a being you considered a friend in the fantasy of your mind. 

You wanted to include them in the block party.

You had sat there for a good ten minutes, breath caught, and you didn't quite know what to do with yourself now. You didn't want to go to sleep–no matter how fucking tired you were from staying awake during the day–but you were at an impasse of not knowing where to go or what to do. 

And that's when you heard it.

"Shave And A Hair Cut".

The smile that spread across your face pushed the apples of your cheeks up so high you could see the tops of them in your vision. You laughed softly, bringing your hand up to the wall and replying.

"Two Bits".

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[steddie-island]

Wiggly worm Wednesday🪱🖋️

I was tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation and @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson

There are brain worms today but they're pretty angsty ones-- with a happy ending, because I can't let something just be angsty!

CW for recreational drug use, talk about addiction, mention of canon character death, PTSD

This is another long one, these get away from me somehow.

No pressure tagging @runninriot @stervrucht @rozzieroos and anyone else who wants to do this. 😌

I keep listening to My Fault by Shaboozey and seeing Eddie, rolling in the fame and glory he fought so hard for. He wonders why that doesn't fix him, wonders why he still has dreams about Chrissy Cunningham dying in front of him, why he still wakes up in a cold sweat with a mob hot on his heels.

Even having the love of his fucking life there doesn't make it all better, doesn't make it go away. Besides, Steve has his own shit, his own nightmares, his own trauma he's still trying to work through. Eddie refuses to be a burden.

So he turns to booze, and to drugs. He parties harder and harder, until he passes out hard enough that he doesn't dream (at least, he doesn't remember dreaming).

Steve knows something's changed. He's not an idiot, he's lived with Eddie for a few years now. He's seen enough rock stars on a downward trajectory, has had a few who crashed on their couch. Eddie's going down and he's going down hard, and Steve is fucking terrified.

He talks to Eddie, who insists he doesn't have a problem, he's fine, Steve's just being a worrier the way he always is. Eddie finally promises to slow down when Steve breaks down in front of him and literally begs.

And it's a promise Eddie means to keep, only slowing down means the dreams come back harder, stronger. So he doesn't slow down for long.

Steve tries to stick around and help him, but he can't handle seeing the way Eddie starts to look like a hollow shell of himself. He's still a livewire on-stage, but there's something more manic to it. The rest of the band notices it, too. Eddie tells them all to get off his dick when they try to have the same talk that Steve had with him.

Finally there's a breaking point. They're at an aftershow party. Someone flirts with Steve (something they're both used to because, fucking duh, Steve's hot). Only this time Eddie snaps, and he ends up breaking this poor asshole's nose, getting his own ass kicked a little, and he leaves in cuffs.

Steve leaves that night. Calls up Robin, who knows how worried he's been, and she and Vicki come help him pack his bags and come back to their little apartment to stay for a while.

Eddie's mugshot is all over the tabloids, followed by news of Corroded Coffin cutting their tour short, taking a break.

Then Eddie disappears from the public. It was one thing for the band to be as pissed as they were, but coming home to an empty apartment (not empty empty, but empty of the only thing he really gave a damn about besides Warlock) almost did him in.

So Eddie, for the first time since he left Hawkins, goes home to his uncle Wayne. Wayne helps him detox. And it's fucking hard. Eddie wants to give up, almost does a few times. Wayne catches him leaned over the bathroom counter and doesn't stop him, just says he hopes the hit is worth losing Steve forever.

Eddie hates him for a few days, but when the worst of it is finally over and Wayne brings him hot chocolate in a chipped Garfield mug, he instantly melts.

That isn't the end of it, though. There are meetings to go to. Apologies have to be made, and not just to the band and Steve. Eddie makes his way down the list, saving the most important person for last.

Finally he does show up at Steve's (Robin's) door, though. He thought about showing up with flowers and candy and the notebook full of songs he's written to try to show Steve just how sorry he is. He doesn't do any of that, he just apologizes. Asks Steve out for coffee.

They get to sit and talk, and it's like old times again. Steve's still cautious, but he has the man he fell in love with in front of him again. When Eddie drops him off at Robin's again it's with a kiss so gentle, so tender, it nearly makes Steve cry.

He moves back in a week later.

divider credit

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Lynette with a reader that loves cats

characters: Lynette x gn!reader 

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: I wish everyone a lot of fun in Fontaine, I love it and all of the characters I have seen so far, so I look forward to finally be able to write for them.

Also: this fic is completely spoiler free, so feel free to read even if you didn’t play the story yet

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Lynette

Lynette preferred for her brother to do the talking, silently sitting by his side while appearing to mind her cup of tea, only to analyze their guest whenever they weren’t paying her any mind, it was a routine as time, one both of them had mastered perfectly over the years.

And yet, whenever it was you that came to visit, it fell apart before it could even begin. Was it because you wore your heart on your sleeve, didn’t hyperfixate on her brother like their other guests liked to do, or because Lyney conveniently always excused himself whenever the three of you were in a room, mentioning how he still had to work on the props for their next show only to shoot his sister a supportive smile while leaving the two of you alone.

While she couldn’t exactly say that she wasn’t at least slightly worried by her brother's behavior, one even she found hard to understand, even though the two of them always prided themselves in knowing what the other was thinking, it would have been a lie to say she didn’t enjoy your time together. Both of you sharing an interest in tea and being fond of cats, although yours seemed to cross over into adoration at times.

You had decided to accompany Lynette on an errand of hers, not wanting her to have to carry all the materials for the magic pockets herself, only to get stopped at the earliest opportunity when you were ambushed by a cat you had grown familiar with, the small animal running circles around your feet until it was being pet, something you complied with without any hesitation.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t stay any longer. I promised to help with something”, you told the cat while continuing to pet it, only for the small thing to meow in response.

Lynette could have sworn she saw you turn into liquid and melt in front of her very eyes, your face contorting as you had to try your hardest not to squeal in response, something made even more difficult when the cat licked your hand, causing you to turn towards her with childish excitement in your eyes. Cute.

“I want to pepper your little face with kisses, who allowed you to be so cute? I wish you’d just let me pet your ears”, you continued to talk to it, ignoring most of the world, the only exception being the excited looks you threw her way whenever the cat meowed.

“You could always pet mine”, Lynette caught herself thinking, the words almost slipping out of her slightly opened mouth only for her to close it shut just in time to stop herself, her cheeks turning red as a consequence.

“Don’t you think he’s the absolute cutest?”, you once again turned to her, your hand still occupied with scratching your furry friend’s chin. Just as the words had left your mouth, Lynette had left her position to squat down besides you, slowly petting the cat as a small smile made its way onto her lips.

“You’re so cute, I love you.”

You always knew that she liked cats, although hearing her put her feelings into words was a whole other experience. That being said…

Why was she staring at you?

[oneshlut]

Your Valentine (Veneer x Reader) [Headcanons]

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Summary: General Valentines headcanons for Veneer

Extra Info: Happy Valentines!! Hyperfixation on Veneer so why not lmao,, Takes place pre-canon! Since Veneer is such a difficult character to write for with reader inserts and whatnot, I tried to keep the reader's occupation and all up to interpretation. I'll work some stuff out if someone requests meeting and crushing headcanons!!

Believe me when I say that Veneer is an absolute sucker for Valentine's Day. As a kid, he adored making his own letterbox for the holiday in class, and even as he grew older, he loved giving Valentines gifts to his friends, and especially Velvet! Velvet never really participated in the holiday other than wearing pink, but he didn't mind.

As you probably know, he also loved being the center of attention. Being absolutely spoiled growing up, receiving at least five valentines every year, then upping the rate of valentines he received as a pop star by at least 1000%, Veneer wasn't taken out of the spotlight often. This caused him to become a bit of a brat when it came to receiving gifts.

However, Valentine's Day quickly became a bit of a bore without a real "valentine". The letters he received began to repeat themselves, repeating the same phrases over and over.. couldn't his fans be a bit more creative than just "be mine"? Veneer would rather just buy gifts for himself at this point.. which wouldn't be too bad of an idea. Ooh, maybe he could get those new pair of shoes he's been seeing everywhere!

His perspective on the holiday quickly changed, though, as soon as he found himself a valentine. Well--a future one, he supposed. Who could turn the Veneer down, anyway?

And so, we introduce you to the scenario. You were the one to change his point of view, you were the one he wanted to spend Valentine's with. Of course, he denied his feelings at first. Why would he even think about romance? He had a job to do! Which was to be famous! And sing! And.. other things-! Veneer didn't have the time to date--especially if he had to present himself as taken to the public.. Ugh, that was way too much work. Not like he was nervous about being rejected or anything, he wasn't allowed to be..

As of the week before Valentine's Day, the two of you were "just friends". That's what you thought you two would ever be. He's.. Well, you're sure he's got better options than you. He was famous, for god's sake! And you were.. you were sure he didn't like you back. And how wrong you were.

Veneer definitely got a lot more fidgety as the holiday was approaching. It started out with the simple tapping of fingers, to bouncing his legs, then to wrapping his arms around eachother (via stretchy limbs). This nervous behavior wasn't going to just pass over Velvet.

Velvet was used to Veneer being nervous sometimes--especially before a big show. It got annoying for her to deal with all the time, but this jittery side of him was extremely new, and suspicious. He wasn't his usual sassy self, and the thought made Velvet even more irritated than usual.

When Veneer was confronted by this behavior by his sister, he immediately shrugged it off. Stage performances definitely helped with his acting for this scenario. Outright denying his sister of his strange behavior--despite the video evidence of him fidgeting during interviews--he quickly changed the subject, drowning out Velvet's interjecting voice. Okay, now she was pissed.

Not for long, though. Considering their upcoming performance in five minutes, Velvet took a deep breath and acted rationally for once. Even throughout the performance, Velvet could still tell something was off about her brother. Whatever--she had better things to worry about than her lame brother. Velvet could care less, as long as Veneer didn't mess up their image or anything.

And with that, Veneer was in the clear. But still extremely nervous. It was now only the day before Valentine's, so he had to ask you today or never. Why was he even nervous? He was confident about himself in every way, the thousands of gifts sent to him throughout the week proved that he deserved to be adored, why wouldn't you think the same?

Well.. thinking of it more now, you treated him more than just a celebrity. You saw him as a person--someone with feelings, someone that deserved to be treated with kindness. You always brought that point up to him when Velvet would treat him poorly. The fact that he deserved more. He never really got your point--after all, Velvet was his sister! That's what siblings do, they fight, they tease, and they have to do everything together. If he wasn't what Velvet wanted him to be, who was he? Veneer didn't get your point until now.

So--that was the main reason he was nervous. You saw him as his true self, accepted him as his true self, and.. you were aware of his flaws. That's what he was afraid of.

Either way, he persevered. Veneer isn't one to back down from something, especially when he's already committed with money and all. That's right--he went classic! A rose of your favorite color, a box of your favorite chocolates, and the nicest accessory he could find in the most expensive-brand store in the city. Unfortunately, shopping for Valentine's items in public as a famous celebrity drags a lot of attention to him. He normally loved the attention, but going shopping without his sister wasn't a great look on the news. Especially when it would eventually track back to Velvet herself, who didn't give Veneer permission to leave. But that was the least of his concerns at the moment.

News spread fast in the city, so it didn't take long for it to reach you aswell. Hearing that Veneer was out shopping for a Valentine's gift for his valentine made your heart drop slightly. You shouldn't have been disappointed, it wasn't like you were expecting anything. Nevertheless, the thought.. upset you. Clicking your phone off of the news website, you put it away, sighing outside of his door.

It took a bit of searching, but Veneer eventually found you outside of the door to his room. Why would you be here, of all places? You also seemed to be pretty deep in thought, not noticing him at first. He tapped your shoulder, and you immediately jumped, snapping out of your daze.

Honestly, Veneer was the last person you expected to see at the time. You figured he would be off to meet his valentine, busy with someone else to confess and--.. and suddenly the pieces started to come into place in your mind. His hands twisted behind his back, the rosy color that covered his cheeks, and the way he avoided eye contact. With that realization, your face flushed the same color as his did.

Saying that Veneer was anxious would be an understatement. When he gets nervous, he tends to overuse words like a middle school girl, confessing with multiple "like"s and "literally"s. It's funny, don't worry.

And if you accept? Well, he knew that you would. Totally. That doesn't stop him from overreacting, though. At the simplistic words of "Of course", he immediately loops his arms around you multiple times. Again, via stretchy limbs. Overjoyed, you embraced him in return. Veneer couldn't be happier at the fact that he was your Valentine.

He'll deal with Velvet's fury later.